Luthor's Assassin

Shatter

"So... Dr. Fate tried to implant fake memories in my mind to try and get me to betray you and Luthor?" Dick asked, glaring at a wisp of blond hair that he could see out of the corner of his eye. He really, really hated blond hair... although he didn't look as odd as he thought he would. It was almost as if he was... familiar with seeing himself as a blond? It was the strangest feeling, but Dick didn't know what to think of it.

"That is correct, apprentice," Slade explained smoothly, his eye narrowing as he checked Dick over. He inspected the blond hair for a long moment, and then nodded. "The dye will do it's job well. The police will never suspect Richard Grayson as Renegade, Luthor's Assassin."

Dick almost winced at the title. Luthor's Assassin... was that all he was now? Was that all he lived for?

"They seemed so real..." he whispered, remembering the sudden flashbacks Fate had caused. A heavy hand clamped down on his shoulder and squeezed- not hard enough to bruise, but hard enough. A warning.

"Don't be fooled, boy," Slade growled, releasing his shoulder. "It's all lies... the Justice League attempting to corrupt you. I expect better from my apprentice."

Dick lowered his head, nodding obediently.

"Of course, Master," he said, narrowing his eyes at the floor. He had a strange feeling... something was wrong. And his assassin senses hadn't failed him yet...

Before he could continue with his train of thought, however, he was distracted by Luthor entering the room.

"Ah, Renegade. I see you are properly... disguised now."

"Yes," Dick confirmed, as if it hadn't been obvious with his blond hair. "I still fail to see the point of this." He glared at a strand of blond out of the corner of his eye again, wishing it would return to it's normal shade of black. "And it's very distracting."

Luthor frowned.

"As I've said before, the police seem to believe that Renegade has blond hair. Who are we to correct them?"

"Where the heck did they come up with something like that?" Dick muttered darkly, but, as expected, no one answered him.

"I have a mission for you, Renegade," Slade informed him, smoothly managing to change the subject. Dick sighed inwardly and faced his master, awaiting instructions.

"The police need to see you in your new disguise. Go public. I trust you will do something acceptable- a robbery, or an assassination. Your choice."

Dick nodded, but shifted uneasily.

"But if I reveal myself, won't the Justice League know where we are?" he asked, and Deathstroke looked at him.

"Oh, you won't be doing it here in Chicago. I believe it may be a better idea to head to a city we've never been in before... Steel City, for example."

Dick nodded again, and reached over to grab his mask from the small table by the wall. He examined it for a second, before putting it on.

Renegade was ready to strike again...

But why did he feel so... wrong about it?

_Line Break_

His feet really, really hurt.

And his stomach had been growling for the past thirty minutes.

Wally was pacing frantically around the waiting room of the Mt. Justice medical bay, struggling to remain calm. Several hours ago, Wally had been taken out of school early by a very nervous Uncle Barry, who refused to tell him anything until they had reached the mountain.