Slade Wilson stood in the concrete garage, the white lights on and his helmet tucked under an arm. He looked down at the apprentice in front of him, the boy looking up confusedly at the words Slade had said moments before.
"Not coming? Why?"
"There's a meeting I must attend, The Light requested me specifically and I suspect they've had meetings without me. So I'm going and if Sportsmaster is there, I'll deal with him." Slade said. The young mercenary looked down nervously, resisting the urge to tug at his gloves, a tic he was working on getting rid of.
"What if..."
"If Batman intervenes you get out of there. Salvage the mission if you can, but if it compromises yourself then leave." Slade turned and donned his mask, walking over to his parked motorcycle. "It's no different from any other drug deal you've overseen by yourself before. Plans change, adapt or be left behind."
He heard Renegade sigh, then the scuffle of Kevlar on metal as his apprentice slid off the metal desk he'd been sitting on. "Alright... but now it's going to be boring."
"It's only boring if you make it boring." Deathstroke grabbed the handlebars of his cycle and pushed back the kickstand with his boot. "And please refrain from killing anyone without reason."
Renegades smirk grew. "Pfft reason? What's that? I thought we were murderers."
"Renegade." Deathstroke narrowed his eye and forced his apprentice to keep his steel gaze.
The young mercenary rose his hands in surrender, backing away into the hallway as he spoke. "I know, I know, I was being sarcastic."
Deathstroke refrained from sighing, Renegade was so fickle at times. "There is a time for sarcasm and a time for solemnity, I suggest you work on knowing when that is."
"Yes sir!" Renegade mock saluted and turned to disappear down the hallway. Deathstroke watched for a second longer before lifting a leg over the motorcycle and revving his engine.
Deathstroke pealed out of the garage, going down a long corridor of concrete before an incline gave way to a parking lot. The lot was empty, as it usually was, considering the building and it's parking spaces had been abandoned for a few years now. But the foundations were solid and the road had yet to wear with weathering, the bunker itself was underground, under the shopping center with no real connections between the two buildings besides the garage.
The light of the dying sun bathed the world in a burnt color, dusk setting with a surreal feeling.
Deathstroke's mind was busy, filled with thoughts of his apprentice.
Deathstroke had seen the boy once before their first face-to-face meeting. Over four years ago, he had seen the boy running in the grimy allies of Gotham. Fleeing three men in grubby clothing, no doubt part of the homeless of Gotham, and part of the creeps.
The ebony haired kid was out of breath and stumbled a few times in his bare feet, Deathstroke had deduced he had been running for awhile. Then the boy slipped and fell, landing on the wet cobblestone ground with a grunt and a grimace. The three men surrounded him, each wearing a perverted grin and the boys crystal blue eyes widened as he got up to press himself against the wall.
Clearly the boy was in trouble, this had no meaning to Slade at the time, so he had turned away, returning to his work.
He ignored the boys warbled cries and the laughter of the three men, it was only when a third party entered when the mercenary's attention was returned to the scene.
"Hey! Leave him alone!"
Slade looked down once more, a 14 year old kid in a nice dress suit and gelled back black hair with cold blue eyes stood defiantly in the middle of the alley. Slade almost rolled his eyes, that kid was begging for trouble, kids like that got kidnapped every other day, sometimes for ransom and for... other things Slade didn't indulge in. But what stopped him from rolling his eyes was the fact that that blue eyed boy was the second and youngest ward of billionaire Bruce Wayne, Jason was it? The newest Robin. Of course Slade had known Batman's identity for awhile, but it was fair because Batman knew his as well. But this ally just got a little more exciting.
Jason stomped forward and shoved the men aside. Slade shook his head in disappointment, the kid would have to act below his skill level, why not take a moment to become Robin and lay the real beat down if he felt so inclined to help this child. The men were confused for a moment but their smiles quickly returned.
Slade couldn't hear what they were saying, but Jason grabbed the hand of the trembling child and pulled him closer in a protective manner, his face wrinkling in anger.
Jason kicked at the men while the smaller boy ran off down the alley, one of the men not preoccupied with the vigilante pulled away after the child. Jason grunted and followed, now a chase with the small child in front, a grungy man behind him, Jason running after him, and the two remaining perverts after him.
The small child ran up a few piles of trash, lifting his feet to hit the wall and pushing off to leap across a high fence in a startling feat of acrobatics. The boy landed in a roll and kept running on the other side, the three men stuck behind the fence and Jason used the men as a vault to get over. Jason ran after the kid and that was the end of his first sighting with the small acrobat he had yet to realize was Dick Grayson.
It was days later when Slade found the boy again, except this time he was in Deathstroke garb and not expecting to find the boy in the gutters, asleep.
Deathstroke stood over the child, standing so close he could see the child shake in the cold winter air of Gotham. The boy's ebony hair had lost its shine, matted in some places and sticking up in others. His clothes were in tatters, rips and tears along the bottom of his pants suggested he ran often, his bare feet were blackened with dirt and grime, a bit of blood mixed in as well.
Deathstroke lowered himself into a crouch, getting closer to see the details on the boy's face. The boy's eyes were rolling under the tightly closed lids, his parted lips were chapped and had a few blood spots. His body shook with the combination of the freezing rain and a nightmare. Along with the rest of the boy's body his face had a bit of blood and dirt on it, smearing the boy's chalky skin and making it difficult to see how pale the boy was.
The dark clouds rumbled with thunder, freezing rain began to trickle down onto the duo, slowly getting harder until it made the metallic 'tink tink tink' on Deathstroke's armor.
Deathstroke stood in silence a moment longer, letting the rain be an ambiance to his contemplating.
Finally he came to a fateful decision.
He leaned forward and dug his gloved hands under the sleeping boy, he pulled him close to his chest, finding the boy held a stuffed elephant in his dirty hands. The boy didn't wake, but continued to shiver, tugging the little elephant closer and closed eyes tightening. Deathstroke started moving, walking down the alley until he started climbing up, careful to not jostle the child more. He made it to the roof and began running, getting to his destination before he got too wet. Though the water would just roll off his metal plating he didn't want the boy more wet than he already was.
What made him bring the boy anyway? He had no obligation, no one paid him to do it, he didn't owe the boy anything. Well, now the boy owed him, but he had only thought that after he'd picked the boy up.
Deathstroke climbed into his apartment, the open window letting the slight breeze make the curtains sway. He turned to shut the window and he laid the boy on a stiff, cheap, chair while he left to change. He came back quickly and found the boy still shivering, tightening his little ball of limbs while his teeth chattered. Slade leaned over the back of the chair and lifted the boy up, holding him close to give him warmth as he walked to the bed.
This apparent was made for one person, a single bed in the small living-room like area held a tv across the mahogany comforter and a window at the beds side. There was no door to the room, but an archway leading to the sorry excuse for a kitchen, a microwave and a counter that held a cheap coffee maker and a desk to the side with an office chair.
Slade shifted the boy to one arm as he pulled the heavy covers back, he laid the boy down then pushed the covers on top and tucked them around the shivering boy. His damp hair was getting his pillow wet but Slade didn't mind for now, this boy needed warmth.
He stood back up and let the boy be, silently wondering if this was a good idea or not. He paused when he left the room, looking back at the small lump under the covers, just a few black hairs peeking out under it. The blankets shuddered and moved with the child's breathing and shivering, but it was slowly becoming more labored as the boy entreated a deeper sleep.
Slade moved off, going to his 'kitchen' to grab some coffee and get to work on a different mission assigned to him.
It was the next night that the boy stirred, Slade had slept in the chair that night but didn't get much sleep as he had many things to do. He checked on the boy regularly but found him ever sleeping, at one point he grew worried he had helped too late and went over to check for a pulse. His cold fingers brushed against the warm neck of the boy, finding a steady heartbeat and deep breathing. Slade returned to the kitchen, sitting at the table and looking over some papers, blueprints of a house he was to break into.
The lights were all mostly off, save it be the one directly over Slade so he could see the paper. The night was dark but the curtains were drawn over the windows to keep prying eyes away.
Slade didn't look up when he heard a shift from the covers, he didn't react when a small thud spoke of the boy's awakening. He heard louder breathing, the small patter of bare feet, then the metal 'shhhnk' as the curtains were drawn back. Curious little one isn't he?
Slade ruffled his papers and gave a casual grunt in an attempt to alert the boy he wasn't alone. The shuffling feet grew softer and slower as the boy came closer, peeking around the archway that seperated the bed from the rest of the apartment. Black hair came into view and startling blue eyes were wide as they took the scene in. Slade finally looked up and laid the paper down, the boy stuck to the shadows and didn't come any closer, dirty fingers clinging to the lip of the archway.
"Sleep well?" Slade asked, reaching for his cup of coffee.
The boy shifted his hands up to his chest, clutching that dirty stuffed animal in a meek and lowly manner. Nerves probably, waking up in someone else's bed would probably do that. The blue eyes never left Slade as the boy gave a small slow nod.
"Hungry?"
The boy nodded again.
Slade pushed his chair back and rose, earning a tiny squeak of fear from the boy as he did. He turned and walked to the counter that housed the coffee maker, the water already hot. From the corner of Slade's eye he could see the boy shuffle back, his limbs shaking. The child was afraid.
Slade ignored this for a moment in favor of grabbing a blue container from the corner of the counter and a paper cup from another. He popped the lid off and shook the container until some of the brown powder fell into the cup, he closed the container and set it to the side. He grabbed the hot water from the coffee maker and poured it into the cup, steam rising as the hot water hit the cold air. He reached for a straw, a coffee straw, and began to stir. He turned and walked back to the desk, with his free hand he pulled one of the random decorative chairs over and set the cup on the table. He sat in his seat diagonal to the one he set for the boy, he found the boy cowering where he had before and gestured to the chair.
"Hot chocolate." Slade said with a grunt, returning his gaze to the blueprints in front of him.
When a minute passed without movement from the boy Slade looked up again, the boy had said he was hungry right? His gaze met the child's and Slade realized the real reason for the boy's hesitancy.
"It's alright, I won't hurt you."
The classic reassurance had obviously been used before as the boy shrunk away more instead of feeling reassured. He could see the boy's pupils grow small and his tremble extended to the rest of his body, his breathing becoming louder, more shallow, and quick.
Slade leaned back in his chair, wondering how he could change the boy's view of him, clearly time on the streets made him fearful and quick to distrust, which wasn't exactly bad considering it's Gotham. But then Slade realized his simple action caused the boy to distrust him more.
The boy whimpered and stumbled back until his back hit the wall, he slid down and kept himself in a ball. A few tears leaked out and reddened the boy's face, crystal blue against a pinkish red, staring in horror at the calmly sitting mercenary.
Slade thought for a moment before he got up, knowing any movement on his part would only send the boy into more hysterics, he decided to show the boy he meant to harm in the only way a street kid could understand. He walked past the child, who cried harder as he did, and went to the closet on the other side of the wall, there on the top shelf was a cream colored blanket. He grabbed the blanket, scowling as he realized it wasn't as soft as he envisioned it.
The mercenary made his way back over to the child who continued to cry and tightened his fetal position. Slade studied it for a moment before recognizing the paradoxical position of calm panic, the child was scared yes, but not to a dangerous level. The boy wouldn't flee, but he would not let himself be in more danger than he already was, a preemptive panic, the boy should have deduced by now that Slade was not out to hurt him.
Slade sighed and draped the blanket around the kid, he didn't stay long and returned to the desk. He lifted the steaming cup of hot chocolate for the boy to see, "You can sit here when your feeling better," Slade picked up a pen from the table and scrawled something across the paper cup, "This cup has your name on it, if it gets too cold I can reheat it."
Slade was given no response but the cries of the child softened. He settled in his seat and went back to looking over the blueprints. It was easiest to memorize buildings by floors, his target was near the top, thankfully the building next door was so short he could stand on the roof and shoot in instead of go inside and make a scene.
It was an hour later that the boy moved, slowly rising and keeping the blanket wrapped around him as he shuffled towards the seat that was his. He watched the mercenary as he came forward, watching for any threatening movements, when he saw none he climbed up onto the cheap apartment chair. He pulled the blanket around him as he settled in the seat, keeping his knees to his chin and settled his gaze on the cup of not-so-hot-chocolate in front of him.
It didn't bother him that the cup was now cold, or the powder had all gathered at the top, his eyes widened at the words on the cup.
Dick Grayson.
The child looked up quickly, his chest tightening as his nerves claimed him once more. Slade figured he must have found the name on the cup, a hint to the boy that he knew who he was.
"Please, d-don't send me back..." The child spoke, crystal blue eyes wide with fear as he shrunk back in the seat.
"Are the streets really better than the orphanage?" Slade asked, taking another sip of his own drink. He resisted the urge to smile when the boy looked down in thought, actually thinking about the comparison.
"...D-detention center..." the small acrobat mumbled, fear clear in his informational enlightenment.
"Mmm." Slade acknowledged as his mouth was currently busy with the drink he was emptying. There were only two reasons Dick could have been placed in a detention center. One, he was a genuinely bad kid, wich Slade highly doubted, the boys mannerisms testified of that plainly enough. Two, and the more likely one, the orphanages were full. Either way, the last flying grayson didn't look like street life was his style, though there was little choice in the matter. Once Slade set his cup down he sighed deeply and looked over to the ebony haired boy. "The police declared you dead a few days ago."
Dick scowled in thought, fear and relief flashing across his still red features, a fisted hand came up to wipe at his nose.
"You're a ghost now, boy, what are you going to do with your freedom?" Slade asked, leaning forward in his char to reach a far paper.
Dick watched as the man reached out, grabbing a stack of heavy papers. Slade saw his bright blue eyes narrow the tiniest of bits, the boy was curious, not the first time Slade had made this observation. His hand came back with the desired paper, the newspaper.
Slade slapped the paper in front of the boy, showing him the date on the corner. "Nearly a year huh? How's street life treating you?"
Dick stared at the date, hands coming up to grip at the table edge, Slade deduced the boy was caught in the torrent of memories the date brought up. It was almost a year from the day The Flying Graysons fell, of course that didn't become relevant to the mercenary until their traumatized child ended up in his apartment.
Dick's eyes focused back in and he looked up nervously to meet Slades one eye. "...s-scary..."
"I'll bet." Slade huffed. "How about this, I won't tell the orphanages or any authoritative adults that Dick Grayson is alive, IF," Slade paused, emphasizing the 'if', "you take a shower."
He saw Dicks face twist up in confusion. "I-I don't want to stay..." he said in a small voice, his hands shifting closer together, like he was afraid of the mercenaries response.
"I'm not saying you have to stay, I'm saying you have to take a shower." Slade said simply.
Dick looked down in thought, clearly thinking about the proposition that was almost too nice, it made him suspicious. "W-where?"
"In the bathroom, I'll find you some new clothes while you're in there, I'll set them on the counter if you're still showering when I get back." Slade stood from his chair and for the first time the boy didn't flinch.
"Okay..." Dick said in compliance, he shimmied down from his chair and kept the blanket with him as he walked over to the bathroom near the front door. Slade watched with amusement, the blanket dragging behind the kid like one of those hero's oversized capes.
He heard the shower turn on and Slade took that as his cue to leave, but of course not through the front door.
Slade went out in the middle of the night to a Walmart, and shoplifted the small articles of clothing in his jacket pockets, he even managed a heavy jacket under his own. His bat-traceable shopping record did not need to know he wanted a t-shirt and jeans for a 9 year old, a small one at that. He was, although, unable to shoplift from a shoe store, so he used one of his many fake accounts and personas. He smiled at the cashier as she wrapped his shoebox and eyes him as he was noticeably without a child and was buying children's shoes at 1 in the morning. "For my nephew, last minute birthday shopping." Was the excuse he gave and quickly went out the door, hoping to return before the child finished showering.
Slade entered his apartment through the window he had exited and found the shower was still running. He walked quietly over to the bathroom and opened the door slowly to deposit the clothing without the child's knowledge. He returned to the table and brought out a laptop as he waited for the child to be finished.
It wasn't too long before the water shut off but was much later when the boy finally exited the bathroom.
"Oh good, I thought you had drowned, was about to come in there." Slade said, not looking up from his screen and not at all looking like he was about to get up.
Dick shuffled nervously in his new clothes, a big jacket over a short sleeve red shirt and long jeans, a pair of durable black and yellow shoes adorning his feet.
"Fit well enough?"
"Y-yes sir."
Slade huffed through his nose as a smile tugged at his lips, he finally shifted his gaze to the little acrobat. The matted hair was now a little fluffy and shinier, though still it's charcoal black, he looked a lot more clean and the shoes seemed to fit him fine.
"You didn't drink your hot chocolate, you hungry?"
The boy fingered the zipper of his puffy jacket, looking down at his covered feet, Slade just then realized the boy had stuffed the elephant into the inside pocket of the jacket. Slade found him nodding sheepishly, probably embarrassed he had to get help from this stranger.
"Now I can't give you any hot meals." Slade said and stood, going to the counter and walking past it to the mini fridge next to it. He opened it and his graying hair was illuminated in a white light. "But here's some fruit." He rummaged through the contents of the fridge, when he straightened and shut the fridge with the weird 'slap' of plastic on plastic he tossed an apple to the boy.
In which the boy flinched and braced for impact instead of tried to catch. The apple hit right where his hands would have been, near his stomach, Dick took a step back and calmed his breathing, leaning down to grab the rolling apple.
Slade inwardly winced but thought nothing more of it. He didn't speak again when he went through other cupboards and brought out some granola bars. "You can stuff these in your pockets." Slade informed, the child inched forward and reached up to take a few, the bars disappearing into this coat pockets.
Dick shuffled back, eyeing the window and looking back down at his feet. "T-thank you... f-for..."
Slade watched him stutter and grasp for words, clearly the boy was still quite nervous. "Leaving right now? It's still dark."
The small acrobat nodded, his eyes trained on the ground.
Slade sighed and knelt down in front of the boy, laying a heavy hand on his shoulder. "I won't stop you, but you have to take care of yourself out there, not everyone is as nice as me." He inwardly winced at the lie, he really wasn't one of the nice people of Gotham, his hit count was much too high, but the kid didn't know that.
"I-I know..." Dick nodded slowly, shifting his feet in a way Slade realized the boy was uncomfortable with his closeness.
"Alright. Now if those three men come looking for you again, if they corner you, you scream as loud as you can and run." Slade said, the boy's head snapped up, eyes wide, surprised that this random stranger knew of his tormentors. "If that doesn't work, you kick them where the sun don't shine, alright? I'm not always here, and I won't leave it open for you, but if you need a place to lie low, you can come here."
Dick must have been in shock because his mouth only gaped as he stared at the man, a few squeaks coming out but no words. Finally the boy shook himself out of his frozen state and attempted to thank him without crying. "T-th-thank y-you s-sir."
Slade was about to respond when the boy leaned forward and suddenly the mercenary was being hugged. Slade was at a loss for words for a moment before he patted the boys back and grunted uncomfortably. "Slade Wilson. You're real polite you know that?"
Dick released the mercenary and sniffed in to stop himself from crying anymore, "Thank you Mr. Wilson."
"Look after yourself kid." Slade said and the child moved off, heading for the window.
Once the child was gone Slade shook his head to clear it, he needed to focus on his mission, not the small, vulnerable, tiny, acrobat that he would probably never see again.
...Then why did he offer his home to him?
Deathstroke drifted to a stop, his memories ending as he arrived at his destination.
He didn't think much through the casual tasks of hiding his vehicle and entering the building that was to be The Lights meeting place. Well... second hand meeting place. The Light themselves would not show, they would be in a virtual meeting on secure lines and technology, provided by the combined forces of their technological members.
Deathstroke entered the dark and hollow room, eye set for any suspicious movements or bodies. The air was stagnant, nothing had changed in this room for awhile, but of course if anyone with a brain wanted to infiltrate this place, they would know to infiltrate months prior to make sure any unnatural objects might become mundane and less suspicious. Only after a thorough scan from his eye and a thermal and electrical setting in his mask did he feel secure. He was alone.
A few screens were displayed in front of him as he dove deeper into the darkness, each screen hummed to life, only a bright silhouette of the figures appearing on each screen.
Deathstroke waited silently, until another screen turned on, but it was colored and the silhouette was not a silhouette but a recognizable figure. Deathstrokes eye narrowed and his fist clenched at his side, his burning gaze fixated on the mercenary on the screen.
Sportsmaster.
"Good. We're all here, now we can start." Vandal Savage began.
"I'd like to begin with The Brain's folly. For being such a smart brain he did something incredibly foolish." Queen Bee started, her voice laced with venom.
The Brain defended himself, his accent as thick as ever. "I was experimenting on the Kobra-Venom given to us, Kobra-Venom we need to be able to inject in whatever we please and get the results we desire."
"Taking the brain of Captain Marvel is not experimenting with Kobra-Venom! Those kids recognized the drug, and the inhibitor collars from Belle Rev! The League will be onto us, we need to throw them off our scent." Lex Luther intruded.
"We must get rid of the kids, they've become more than bothersome gnats, they could potentially stop us. This must not happen." Ra's al Ghul stated. "The mole has no interest in the mini league, its mission is to infiltrate the Justice League, not their sidekicks team."
"And what good does a useless mole do us if we're found out before the mole can serve it's purpose?" Lex Luther asked.
"I purpose a quick and easy solution." Ra's al Ghul said.
"Which is?" Klarion asked, his creepy voice never failed to send shivers down Deathstrokes spine no matter how much he tried not to.
"Another mole." Ra's al Ghul revealed.
"Then what's the point of the mole? Isn't it a little late in the game to introduce another infiltrator?" Queen Bee asked.
"Temporary infiltrator, as you say, so late in the game, the mole's mission is total annihilation of the mini league."
"Why on earth would the league let an unknown into their ranks when they already suspect a mole?" Lex asked, disbelief accenting his voice.
"It will work because they will let their guards down once he is inside, he will be their age, he will enter their inner circle after the bout of blame, they couldn't possibly think he is the mole. They will take pity and have mercy on him. They will be suspicious, but not to the degree of destruction the mole is capable of. They will not see him coming, he's been trained too well."
"Who?" Black Mata spoke up for the first time, speaking the question on everyone's mind.
"Renegade."
Deathstroke's eye widened. "No." He didn't even realize he had said it out loud, he was not going to let The Light use his apprentice like a puppet.
"I'm afraid the process has already begun. You have no say in this matter."
"He is my apprentice. I am the only one who has any say in the matter. And I say he will not do this."
"Sportsmaster?" Ra's al Ghul prompted.
"The microbes are already coursing through his body, if The Light wishes it, I will have full control over your apprentice. He WILL infiltrate the mini league, weather you say so or not."
Deathstroke bit his lip, they started this without him, they knew he'd be against it and went with through with the plan anyway.
"This is a long term solution, we need something to fix this mess right now." Black Manta pointed out.
"Injustice will come soon. Presently, I hope that our mercenary will be more willing to corporate, because as much as we need his child, we could just as easily take him. And of course, Deathstroke knows more than most that there are worse things than death." Ra's said lowly, if not dangerously, the threat hitting home with the mercenary in question.
"Why was I not notified of this plan beforehand?" Deathstroke asked, keeping his temper in check and ignoring the threat even though his mind spun with fear fueled images of his apprentice in various stages of torture and pain.
"You didn't need to know, and by judging from your reaction, The Joker is right, you are getting soft." Sportsmaster said, a sneer plain in his voice even if his face was covered by the ski mask.
"Have your apprentice ready by tomorrow, your apprentice has a week to settle in the ranks of the mini League before we start our plan."
Deathstroke didn't say anything but shut off the communications, entering himself into the darkness.
His mind was adrift, fear spiking through him as he fought to keep it down, the Light was not supposed to use his apprentice, that was not up for debate. But the threat still hung over his head, weather Deathstroke liked it or not, Renegade was going to be used.
Deathstroke stood silently, gun raised to his shoulder, eye set looking through the lense. He had a leg propped on the lip of the roof, gravel crunching beneath his foot, shifting to a more stable stance.
The night was quiet, about to become much less so, the target settling in its home, unknowing of its predator closing in. The sky was clear, the full moon casting cold shadows, the mercenary positioned so his shadow did not escape the roof and potentially compromising his position.
Deathstroke was distracted by a sound, a scuffle of the gravel and a metallic thud as someone perched on the air conditioning unit near by to his left. He didn't move save it be the shift of his eye.
Dick Grayson sat on the metal air conditioning unit, head tilted in question, coat puffed around his face and hands stuffed in the warmer pockets. His breath puffed out into the wintery air, the boy didn't look alarmed by the mercenary in front of him, if anything, he looked curious.
"Waiting for someone?" Deathstroke asked, breaking the silence.
Dick seemed to be taken from his thoughts, perking up and shifting in his seat. "No." He replied rather cheerfully.
"Then why are you here kid."
"I-I want something." the ebony haired child seemed sheepish, the persona Slade remembered from a week before.
"We all want something kid, now get lost, this isn't something you should see." Deathstroke said, returning his gaze through the lense to his target.
He was about to pull the trigger when the child spoke up again.
"You kill people?"
Deathstroke sighed. "Yes."
"...Can you kill someone for me?"
Deathstroke rose an eyebrow, not that it'd be seen, but he was surprised by the question. "That's not how it works, I am a mercenary, I kill for money. What business do you have in killing someone anyway?"
Dick looked down in disappointment, then shuffled through his pockets, pulling out a wad of crumpled ones and a few fives. He thrusted his hand out, crystal blue eyes pleading with the mercenary. "Please?"
Deathstroke narrowed his eye and pulled the trigger.
The boy flinched but his gaze never wavered, neither did the outstretched hand full of pick-pocketed money.
Deathstroke stepped down and slug the gun over his shoulder, his target dead and he could now focus on the child. He walked to the boy, his shadow reaching over the small acrobat. That was when he noticed the blood on the boys hands, a few cuts and bruises along his face, the jeans were already starting to wear thin on his knees. The jacket had some stains on it, questionable substances no doubt picked up from dumpsters, along with the rank smell.
"Now who would Dick Grayson want to kill?" Deathstroke asked, crouching down to be level with the boy with his hands on his knees.
"T-Tony Zu-Zucco..." Dick stuttered, shifting in unease at the mercenaries closeness.
Deathstroke straightened to his full height, crossing his arms as he looked down at the boy. "A mob boss huh? What's your quarrel with him?"
Dick looked down, swinging his legs around while his heels bumped together repeatedly, clearly it was a personal offence. "H-he... he is the reason I-I'm... alone."
Deathstroke hummed in response. "The Falling Graysons was no accident was it? How do you know it was him?"
"I-I... I-I saw..." The boy kept his head down, his feet stalling as he could sense the boy was near to tears if they weren't already falling.
Deathstroke let him cry for a moment before he put a hand on the boys shoulder, kneeling to be level with him once more. "You want revenge don't you, justice for their deaths. I can help."
Deathstroke would have to choose.
His blood boiled with anger, once you care about someone in any regard, its damaging, you can't stop. He hated it. Renegade was a weakness, but one he was willing to do anything for, and that's what made him dangerous.
He would send Renegade on the mission, only Renegade would not know that it came from the Light, or its purpose, he wouldn't know anything. Renegade would follow orders blindly because he trusted his mentor, Deathstroke would have to rely on that trust, and he would rely on his fears and let them come to pass. Every nightmare of Renegade leaving him, of the heroes taking his apprentice would have to come true, it was the only way to alert the heroes of the plot, save Renegade. If Renegade was kept from him then so be it, as long as his apprentice was safe and happy, thats all Deathstroke cared about.
Anything for blood.
Anything for his son.
Well well well, what do we have here? A Deathstroke that cares??? Heh, it's gonna get spicy soon, lets see if Deathstroke can save his apprentice by giving him away.
6148 words mah peeps, see ya around!!