Winging Death

Family Bonding

"If you don't want to start training, I understand-"

"No, I do," Dick cut him off, "I know how to use the guns. Jason taught me all of that, but a gun will be too nice for Bruce. Too impersonal, he'd never know it was me. Teach me how to use a sword, so he can look in my eyes as I drive it home. So he can know his tricks didn't work."

"As you request, Richard," Slade stood up to leave, a smirk playing at his lips, "Oh, and you should come up with a name if you want to fight with me. Nightwing was their creation, this one is all yours."

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Jason didn't know what he was doing. Sat alone at a bar, on his twelfth shot. He didn't know if it was safe to let the outside air hit, to figure out how drunk he really was.

"Rough night?" The bartender asked as she poured yet another shot of Gin.

"Rough couple of months," Jason replied, "How drunk do I have to be for you to stop serving me?"

"Too drunk, you don't want to go there," She replied, "But if you want, I can get you free drinks at my place."

"Tab please," Jason quickly changed the topic as he downed the drink and the girl, reluctantly, brought over the bill for him to pay.

Guess he was going outside now anyway. He put his jacket on and went out into the crisp night air. Yep, it was hitting now. Drinking had been a bad idea.

He reached in his pocket for his phone and dialled the first number he thought of. And immediately hung up. Dick wasn't there. He wasn't going to pick up, he was walking home. 

He got three steps further before the emotions overtook him again and he found himself falling to the floor, tears now appearing. He crawled over to a dark alley corner and curled into a ball. Almost as if he was back on the streets, the way he should be without Dick there to help him. He didn't remember falling asleep there, and he didn't see the unknown caller that lit up his phone.

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"You stole my phone yesterday," Slade said as a greeting as Dick stepped into the training ring, "Made a single call, no reply. But you didn't leave a message. Who was it?"

"No one important, my old landlady," Dick lied as he fought to keep his heartrate steady, "Telling her to keep the apartment clean, the money will keep coming in."

"And she won't tell anyone she got an unknown call? She'll know what your message means?" Slade asked.

"She'll know. It's part of the package, if you hang up after no answer straight away, it's a missing renter and she knows when to keep her lips sealed," He replied, which was the truth, "She rents flats in Blüdhaven. She knows what she's doing."

"And how do you plan on getting the money to her?" Slade continued his questioning as he threw Dick a sword who caught with ease.

"I was hoping Wintergreen could set something up," He said as he tried to balance the sword, yes he could hold them, he'd had to fight against them so much, but wielding it was a different matter, "Just a cash drop with the apartment number on it."

"We'll make the first one today," Slade said as he picked up his own sword, "You ready for your lesson?"

"Born ready," Dick smirked and the two began to discuss the weighting properties and sharp edges and uses of the sword.

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It was nearing the end of the week and Dick had become proficient in the use of his sword. Not skilled, but enough to be able to use it basically in a fight.

"Mister Grayson, I'm afraid we need your help," Dick turned from his planning to see Wintergreen in the doorway.

"What is it?"

"Mister Wilson has been taken hostage by Joker, he and the Batman are both in danger. If you don't help they'll both be killed," Wintergreen explained.

"Where?"

"Come with me."

Dick followed Wintergreen into a car, blacked out windows, and was driven through Gotham, he recognised where he was, the old movie studios. He vaguely remembered a scandal two years ago about the owner renting them out and never producing a movie. Now they produced small scale movies, but never any good. Popularity went so downhill Dick would be surprised if anyone knew it still existed. Slade must have been the new owner, who knew he could do mediocre directing. Probably hired street thugs and aspiring actors. 

They drove through until they came to Ace Chemicals where they quickly got out and headed inside. It was the second room, Wintergreen following just behind Dick, that gave fruit. Hung above two vats of acid were Bruce and Slade. Both unconscious.

"Finally, someone turns up," Joker laughed from the platform just behind them, "Was waiting to have some fun."

"What are you planning?" Dick asked as he double checked the hostages, both somehow uninjured.

"Just some fun," He replied, "Am I not allowed to have fun anymore?"

"No, no you're not," And Dick pulled out a pistol from his pocket, taking the safety off, "Now you're going to let me cut them down and then you're taking a bullet."

Dick didn't know what was worse, that those words came out of his mouth or that his first reason not to follow through was that Jason wanted the honours.

"How about I put them down for you," A cackle escaped the Joker's lips as he pressed a button and time seemed the slow.

The ropes snapped and both men went falling towards the acid below. He didn't have time to save both, he had to choose. The choice was easier then it should have been as he leapt towards his saviour. His body was a dead weight as they sailed over the acid and landed on the hard surface the other side. A splash told him the other had landed in the acid, quickly followed by screaming which almost too quickly fell silent. He had chosen. He had chosen Slade.

Dick couldn't see Slade's smirk from where he watched on the CCTV with Psimon. His plan had worked, the boy wonder was his.