Dick wrenched open his eyes, however much his lids didn't want to listen.
His sight was blurry for a moment before it focused, his room was dark, and being that there were no windows he couldn't tell what time it was without looking at the clock. The wild ebony hair shifted as the boy twisted his tired body to look over his shoulder at the clock on his haphazardly neat desk.
11:17 A.M.
Dick blinked slowly and shifted to a more comfortable position, snuggling into his pillow and closing his tired eyes. He began to stretch his legs out, a tired sigh escaping as he did so. Then it sunk in.
11:18 A.M.
"Crap." The acrobat shot out of bed, a nearly panicked look in his sky blue orbs.
Dick threw the covers to the side, he thought he had set his alarm last night, maybe Slade snuck in and turned it off. Whatever the case, he had a mission in less than an hour and he had just woken up!
Dick winced when a pounding headache made itself known, nearly forcing him back onto the bed. He wavered where he stood, closing his eyes and raising a hand to his head as if that would make the pain go away. He clenched his jaw and moved off anyway, headaches were minor, he wasn't going to let a mere headache keep him from the mission.
The ebony haired boy ran to flip the light switch, flinching at the sudden bright light, and ran to his desk which had his dark Renegade suit draped across it. As he reached for his suit he remembered Slades words, he had said this mission was in civilian clothes, which was odd, but Dick wasn't about to question it, Slade would explain when he thought Dick was ready. The acrobat redirected his hand to the belt slung over the chair, he clipped it around his waist under his clothes, he should probably change considering he had slept in this but he was on a time crunch. As fast as his pounding head allowed, Dick scoured his room for socks and grabbed his shoes, tying them a little too tight.
He stood up fast and slightly became dizzy, he waited for a few precious seconds for the world to stop spinning and wracked his brain for anything else he might need before going to get brea-lunch. He seriously couldn't think of anything, but Slade would remind him if he did forget anything, so he figured he was safe.
Dick ran out of the room, shoes lightly slapping against the stone floors, he ran a hand through his hair but knew it was utterly hopeless to tame his hair. He latched onto the lip of the wall that rose into the arch that separated the kitchen from the hallway, he used the edge as leverage as he spun into the room.
"Cutting it close are we?" Slade asked, rising a cup of coffee to his lips the moment he saw Dick enter the room.
Dick was a little out of breath with his panicked running, he let out a huff of indignation. "My alarm didn't go off, would you know anything about that?" Dick asked as he went straight for the fridge, giving a side glance at the casual shirt and pants his mentor was in, clothes he didn't often see the big bad mercenary in.
"Are you suggesting I would sabotage my own apprentice?" Slade asked as he put the cup down, eyeing the back of the boy's head, slightly amused by the obvious bed-head.
Dick threw open the fridge and grabbed the milk, looking over his shoulder to his mentor and then froze in confusion. Slade was eating eggs, why was he eating eggs for lunch? Dick knew their schedule front to back, he could probably do it in his sleep, he had even done it with his eyes closed once, Slade was not for mixing up meals, though he would skip them sometimes.
"Why are you eating eggs?" Dick voiced his confusion, utterly bewildered by the out of place plate of eggs.
"Late breakfast." Slade grunted as he shoulder another forkful of dark yellow eggs into his mouth (Slade liked lots of pepper on his eggs).
"You slept in too." The boy deduced flatly, but he wasn't sure, Slade would just skip the meal if it was too late, and he was pretty sure 11: 27 was too late.
Slade shrugged, neither denying nor confirming the acrobats deduction. "Maybe the power went out."
Dick shut the fridge door and turned to his mentor with narrowed eyes, something was definitely going on. "Did not, my clock would have been blinking and the time would be messed up."
Slade only shrugged again, the corner of his mouth twitching upwards. "You forget to check your surroundings my apprentice."
Dick knew Slade had done something, something with the clocks. The acrobat looked immediately to the microwave where in green numbers it said 10:27 A.M.
Dick frowned and gave Slade a 'not amused' glare. "You changed my clock." The ebony haired boy accused.
Slade leaned lazily back in his chair, let out a slow relaxed sigh. "On the contrary, you forgot to check the calendar. Gather all the facts before making an assumption Dick, you know not to rely on only one source." Slade nodded his head to the calendar on the wall. Dick would have retorted with the fact he and Slade made assumptions with only minimal knowledge (usually only from one source) all the time, until Dick followed and realized the date. November 4th.
He slapped a hand onto his face and groaned tiredly as he dragged his hand down. "Daylight savings... I'm an idiot."
Slade got up from his seat, a low chuckle emanating from his chest. "Only when you choose to be." The casually dressed mercenary deposited his dishes in the sink but kept his cup of milk, taking the jug Dick left on the counter to refill it. "Now I suggest eating before we start this mission." Slade said with a pointed look.
Dick nodded, shaking himself out of his self-loathing thoughts and getting his game face on. There was work to be done, personal matters shouldn't interfere, there was a time and place for personal matters, this was not one of them (at least to Dicks knowledge it wasn't). "I might take an Ibuprofen though, I'm feeling much better but my head is killing me." Dick informed, knowing Slade would want to know.
Slade made no comment as Dick had to stand on his tip toes to reach the shelf that housed their medicinal drugs. In no time Dick also had a plate of eggs, using the pan his mentor had used and adding lots of pepper as Slade had done (they had similar taste in scrambled eggs). The boy sat in the chair opposite to where Slade had sat, Slade still standing near the fridge with his cup of milk, forking at the steaming yellow and white scrambled eggs.
"So what mission could we possibly do during the day? I thought we worked only at night?" Dick started, punctuating his question by stuffing his mouth full of eggs.
Slade didn't answer right away. "Not all missions can be done at night, this mission is more of a mission-prep. There's a drug deal going down between Two-Face and Black Mask tomorrow. We were hired by Black Mask considering his deals have been going awry lately and wants assurance he'll get his money or his drugs, which ever one comes first."
"And they're doing it during the day? I guess it's one way to avoid Batman but it seems a little risky, more risky than at night I mean." Dick questioned between bites, more confused than ever, if not a little frightened, but he wouldn't let that show. And he definitely shouldn't show what exactly he was afraid of, it was pitiful if he was being honest, being afraid of sunlight. He really shouldn't dwell on his fears, he might need to meditate soon, if last night was anything to go by. Slade had him doing meditations for awhile now but Dick had slowly taken over doing them himself, it calmed him and let him face his fears on a more stable field of battle.
"They aren't." Slade clarified with a grunt. "We're scouting the site, there's a skate park right next to it but otherwise surrounded by tall business buildings. We're going during the day to scope out the site, set land marks, and make note of anything that could be useful or harmful to the deal."
The acrobat nodded slowly, swallowing his food before speaking. "Oooohhhh ok, so this is more of like an undercover recon mission." Dick clarified, sitting back from the eggs to make sure he was understanding correctly. With Slade it was always better to ask before hand than go in with the wrong idea, he'd done that a few times in the early days, it hadn't been pretty. One should always check to make sure they're hot wiring the getaway car, not blowing it up.
"Yes." The mercenary said with a dip of his head, then lifted his glass of milk. "I'll be checking out the buildings, you're going to the skatepark."
"ooOoo human interaction!" Dick joked, smirking and making fun of the fact he'd never met a kid his age before. Besides Artemis... but that had been very brief and, technically, she was older than him.
"Don't loose focus my apprentice." Slade said in warning after lowering his drink, his single eye narrowing.
Dick snorted. "Pfft, I won't, besides, it's just a skate park, I've done much more dangerous things." Dick returned to his food, thinking the conversation was over. His gears were turning at the new information, watching drug deals was a common job for Dick to receive, Slade would get some of the more dangerous ones but occasionally he'd get a kill job too. Black Masks deals had been going bad lately, and honestly, Dick wanted a challenge. He wanted to know who was responsible for such a hard blow to the crime lord that would have him go crawling to Deathstroke of all people. He must be desperate, and his attacker must either be really good (as in goodie two-shoes) or good (as in good at being bad).
"One more thing Dick." Slade said, the acrobat in question rose his head from the plate to twist around to face his mentor, something in his tone told him this was to be taken seriously, or more seriously in Slades case.
Slade set his cup to the side and folded his arms over his chest, his single grey eye met Dicks blue ones. "Sportsmaster was the one who gassed you, it put something inside you and I have yet to identify it." Dick felt his stomach drop and grow hard, suddenly the eggs didn't sound so pleasant. "I want you aware of your surroundings today, I don't know what he's planning or why he's targeting you but I want you aware of it."
Dick nodded slowly, mind racing with sudden worry. Sportsmaster? What would Sportsmaster want with him? "Maybe it has something to do with The Light?" Dick suggested, but he knew his mentor had probably already thought of that.
"I won't rule anything out yet." Slade replied. Dick nodded slowly, so he had thought of that possibility. "Now finish those eggs, we have things to do."
"Yes sir!" Dick brought back his carefree attitude with a mock salute with the fork, that was sure to mask how worried he actually was, drown it with joy and no one would suspect a thing. Dick shoveled more eggs into his mouth though his appetite had been soiled by the news of his attacker, he just needed food. Which brought back another question from the acrobat. "Why were you really eating eggs at 10 in the morning?"
Dick was surprised to get an honest answer. "Didn't sleep, I was working."
The acrobat gasped obnoxiously, knowing full well how often Slade skipped meals. "You nearly skipped breakfast! There's some hipocracy going on around here," Dick playfully pulled up a hand to point accusatorially at his mentor. "You hound me about food but don't even take care of yourself!"
Slade rose an eyebrow, was that concern he heard? Of course, Dick was always compassionate like that. At the beginning, Slade had thought it would be hard to get the boy to take life, but out in the field his compassion dried up and left only cold hard resentment. "When you're an adult you don't have to worry about how many meals you have a day, but you're still growing."
It was Dicks turn to raise an eyebrow, so he does care. The thought was sarcastic but it was still comforting, in a house made of stone it was easy to forget not all of it was cold and heartless.
"Meet me in the garage in 15 minuets." Slade shoved off the counter and walked away, Dicks eyes followed the back of his mentors large form until it disappeared around the corner.
One minute he's being scolded by Slade, the next Slade is worried about him, then turns around and acts like the worried part never happened.
Such a weird dude.
-0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0-
Dick's hand clenched over his skateboard, his black helmet obstructing (or protecting innocent bystanders from) his ebony mat of hair and shadowing his sea green eyes from the sun that rested high in the sky above the iron jungle that was Gotham. Right now he wasn't Renegade on a mission, or a Dick Grayson, he was Robin Wilson, son of Slade Wilson. He wore contacts for his eyes but other than that he was basically the same, Slade had forged all certificates and everything to make Robin Wilson a real person, and right now Dick was putting it to use. Robin Wilson was the alias he took when in public, Dick Grayson was legally dead, Robin Wilson wasn't.
His shaded eyes jumped from place to place with his nerves bubbling right under his skin. He kept finding nice shadowed areas, away from the accusing beams of sunlight he was subject to, but he bit back his complaints because it would do nothing to help the situation. Besides, it was mission time, not facing fears time. He could already tell this mission was going to be bumpy, his mind couldn't get rid of its nerves, but he pressed on anyway.
The well-built form next to the lanky boy shifted as the duo walked, the older man's single eye roaming while his white hair was combed back neatly.
"Remember, don't have too much fun kiddo." Slade hissed under his breath. Dick kept walking as if he hadn't spoken but responded just the same.
"Same goes for you."
"Think you can handle it?" Slade asked, meaning more of Dick's nerves with being so exposed in sunlight along with Sportsmasters threat hanging over his head like Eeyore's rainy cloud. Slade knew of his apprentice's uncomfortableness in the sunlight, it was a side trait he got from spending so much time in the shadows at night with Slade. Of course that was minimal to the actual reason Dick didn't like the sun, it was like the circus spotlights illuminating his parents bloodied forms, and that is what made Dick so antsy every time daylight was mentioned. Dick was a broken boy, Slade understood that, he couldn't get the boy to become the perfect apprentice without breaking him further, and that was not the plan.
Slade was taken from his thoughts by Dicks response, then was annoyed by the fact that he had gotten lost in thought.
"Can birds fly?" Dick retorted with a smirk, one that Slade couldn't see but could guess he was wearing by the tone his voice made.
Slade grunted. "Well I'm not going to wait for you to grow wings."
The acrobat snorted in response, then sensed the need for quietness, they were about to begin the mission, the road was coming up and all traces of banter left as the mission began.
The duo approached the skate park, Slade drifted away as Dick neared the entrance, both had their eyes (or eye in Slades case) roaming. The mission was afoot, both mercenaries were on their way and on their own, a dark circle in one ear on each person for communication purposes, also in case of emergencys.
Dick held a lazy smile as he had already spotted 5 good stations for sniping right here on ground level, and obvious in and outs from the road, he'd have to keep looking for the really good places but that was the point of going undercover into the skatepark.
The acrobat then adopted a more stern look on his face, because at the entrance to the skate park were two ratty kids, both were staring down anyone who passed too closely. One had greasy long yellow hair and the other with short curly black hair, each were around equal height, a good head or two taller than Dick. Black hair kid had chocolate skin, a rather large nose, and baggy pants. Yellow Hair also had baggy pants, but his nose was long and narrow, like the beginning of the joke 'why the long face?'
Must be some type of kid gang, they both got skull shirts, and plenty of kids inside have similar tastes in clothing. Dick thought, but I still need to get in.
Dick let a smirk befall his face as he marched right up to the two 'guards'. If it came to a fight Dick would win, easy. But the mission didn't call for conflict, Dick would avoid a physical confrontation unless absolutely necessary.
Yellow Hair noticed him first, dark brown eyes narrowing and pushing himself off the gate to meet Dicks pompous march. "Bug off kid, you don't get in unless you know someone inside." Yellow Hair crossed his arms.
Dicks nose turned up, unable to contain the smile his next remark would make, "So I'm assuming you don't know anyone?" Dick put his hands on his hips while holding his board under one arm, tilting his head ever so curiously with his snarky smile.
"He said get lost kid." Brown Hair came up, his voice deeper than Dick originally would expect, but of course puberty comes at different speeds, Dick was still waiting for his growth spurt. The young acrobats focus came back as Brown Hair stepped forward threateningly.
"I don't want any trouble." Dick raised his hands innocently, his board rising too, exposing the underside to show the black and orange design. It held no meaning to other people besides an interesting color choice considering it was a certain mercenaries color scheme, but to Dick it was simply a familiar affiliation.
The kids didn't react to his skateboard, Dick didn't expect them too, but he did expect them to react to his jumping straight up and using Brown Hair guys head as a spring board over the fence and rolling to the ground on the other side.
Dick let a cackle slip past him as he started running through the mass of dark clothed teenagers in various stages of goth and emo-ness, the angered and yelling voices of the 'guards' fading behind him. Dick dropped the skateboard and jumped on, keeping pace to his original running speed.
He swerved between kids, getting strange looks for his unorthodox attire that separated him from the other kids. Was an all black shirt really that different from the silver skulls outlined on everyone else's black shirt? Apparently.
The acrobat went down into a stone gully, relishing the speed like he did at night with the motorcycle and grappling hook, but it failed to have the same thrill. As it usually would when one isn't being shot at compared to not being shot at. Dick sped up the side and slid across the lip of the gully before going down again.
The minuets wore on and soon it was almost an hour he had been here. Besides the odd looks he wasn't given much trouble, though he did have to give the two 'guard' kids the slip every now and then, Dick would have counted the mission more than successful. He found places to hide, places that would be good for cover if a gun fight were to break out, a nice exit and entry that would perfectly fit his motorcycle.
Apparently Dick was too invested in the mission, because suddenly he was knocked off his feet and sprawled on the ground.
Dick groaned as he sat up, he could hear other kids 'ooo'ing at the collision, some hiding laughter as it usually was funny to see someone fall. He rose a hand to his head but realized the helmet would stop him from that, so he redirected his efforts to his eyes, he pinched the bridge of his nose to stop his swimming vision, the headache the medicine had been dulling spiked.
Then he realized he wasn't unscathed, his shin had a cut on it, right where another persons board had slid against it. Dick scowled in distaste and looked to the person who collided with him. For all the protective gear his butt still hurt from being landed on and his shin stung like a fire, though his pain tolerance was a lot higher than most kids, they'd probably be crying, Dick was just ticked off.
The first thing he noticed about his collision-er was that she was a girl. Second, she wore a green shirt unlike the other kids black shirts. Third, (it was embarrassing that it took the third fact to recognized her) she had dark hair that seemed much too big, like a dark mane of a lion, her skin was tan though was a bit on the rosy side. It was Jade, Sportsmasters first daughter.
Dick scrambled to his feet, unsure if he should gain a fighting stance or not. By now the other kids watching returned to their skating and conversations, the show was over, but the tension was tightening between Dick and the possible enemy. His knife was in his boot, it would only take a second to grab it. His fingers twitched at the thought, his nerves were already high as he was out during the day, then he just so happened to run into the daughter of the man trying to ...do something, probably not kill, but something... to him.
Jade got to her feet slowly and elegantly like a cat, she wore a smug smirk and placed a hand on her hip, one of her sais outlined on her black leggings.
"Boy blunder, what a coincidence."
"Jade." Dick nodded curtly, inside his nerves were running amuck, outside he was all business. He proped up his board with his foot before tucking it under an arm, realizing he should not be in this situation alone. "What brings you here? It's unlike the adult daughter of a mercenary to be slinking around these types of kids." Jade was connected to Sportsmaster, but that didn't mean she represented him, but it was concerning all the same. It wasn't a coincidence she was here when he was.
Jades dark hair cascaded down her back as she shifted her position, posing with a hand on her hip, her head tilting ever so slightly as she answered his question with her own question. "Why do you care where I go and who I hang out with?"
"I care when it means you run into me." Dick said tightly, he didn't like this one bit, he raised his hands up to his head and took off his helmet, making it easier for Slade to identify him from afar and secretly pushing the communicator in his ear.
"Where's your stalker?" Jade asked, ignoring his reply.
"Stalking." Dick answered simply, Jade wanted to know where Deathstroke was, so he alerted her that he was watching, witch meant she was being watched as well. Witch probably limited her ability to do whatever Sportsmaster told her to do out here.
Jade's face screwed up into an interesting emotion, like annoyance but not really, somewhere deep inside she was satisfied by something, but was acting like she was annoyed. Her lips were pursed into a line and her half lidded eyes held distaste but her eyebrows said she wasn't, she looked almost bored. "Pity." Jade huffed. She twisted with a swoosh of her dark mane-like hair and walked off.
Dick was stunned for a moment. What? That was it?
The acrobat ran after the older mercenary, confused and a little angry. He grabbed her wrist and spun her around, she locked eyes with him, making the boy freeze.
"What does your father want with me?" He asked lowly, almost in a growl, his stormy green eyes suddenly cold and angry.
"You got the wrong idea kid, it's not what he wants with you, it's what he wants you to do." Jade smiled smugly, like she just won something, it only made the younger mercenary more confused.
She wrenched her wrist out of Dick's grasp and walked off, disappearing into the crowd.
Dick made no move after her, she wouldn't help but make more confusing and morbid statements. He stared after her, gears turning, he rose a hand to his ear and pressed the comms button, his other arm holding his helmet limply, his bloodied shin forgotten.
"Slade-"
"I heard. Let's head back, we can squeeze in a training session before going out tonight, if you're up for it." Slades grumbly voice interrupted.
Dick nodded numbly, glad he didn't have to relay his situation, "and what about-"
"Later, clearly if Sportsmaster wanted to do something he didn't do it, let's just get back home."
"Alright, I'm coming to you."
Dick wasn't so sure, Jade had looked much to happy, whatever Sportsmaster wanted to happen happened, and it got under Dicks skin that he didn't know what it was.
-0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0-
Jade slipped the slender metal piece into her hand from her sleeve. A needle was at the end and the glass inside was dark with blood.
"Did you get it?" A voice crackled into her earpiece.
She resisted rolling her eyes but only half succeeded, her green orbs rising to the bright noon-day sky before falling back down on the trapped blood in the metal container. "Of course." She replied lowly, leaning back lazily onto the bricked wall of the alley she stopped in. The metal blinked yellow at the end, then turned a shade of green.
"And?"
"You're in."
-0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0-
"Did you have fun?" Slade asked, in Deathstroke uniform, not looking up from his task of sorting and setting aside weapons for Dick to either put away or clean. Dick himself was currently in Renegade uniform, sitting on the garage desk and swinging his legs back and forth as he licked at the chocolate ice cream cone in his hand. His wounded shin had a bandage over it (under the suit of course) but it wasn't bleeding as much as he thought it would, witch he was grateful for, shin injuries hurt like heck.
"Sure, it wasn't as fun as going out at night, for obvious reasons, but for what it was worth I guess it was fun. Before Cheshire showed up at least." Dick mumbled the last part but otherwise gave a truthful account. Slade had already asked for his version of the story but this was a different question than what Slade had asked when they got home.
It was after dinner now, Dick had fished some ice cream from the freezer and found some waffle cones in their pantry, deciding a treat wouldn't be declined after the successful mission (he had gotten a nod from Slade when he rose the ice cream bucket up and pleaded with his big round blue eyes, on the condition he eat it quickly and clean the blades Slade would set out).
Slade's helmet was set next to Dick, the smaller mercenary's mask on his lap. Dick attacked the ice cream after he answered Slades question, silently enjoying talking about his day without the business aspect involved.
Apparently the young acrobat wasn't quiet enough about his Cheshire comment because Slade addressed the problem Cheshire brought up. "Let me worry about Sportsmaster, you focus on your training." Slade looked up for a moment at his apprentice before returning to the weapons on the metal desk. The gerage, like everything in their underground home, was grey and concrete, it housed all their weapons and their larger tools like the motorcycles. The two vehicles were on their kickstands not too far away, pulled out for later use. "How's school?" Slade asked after a few moments of silence, side eyeing his apprentice.
Dick evaluated the question as he licked around the base of the ice cream, catching any melting chocolate. He hummed in response before explaining.
"School is fine, pre-calc-trig is a breeze, I'm especially good at the trig part." Dick returned to licking for a moment then continued. "History is fine, dates are getting easier to remember witch is good, but not exactly fun. Chemistry is fun though, the math in it is almost too easy."a smirk slipped onto his face as he spoke, laughing a little when he thought of one lab that he had needed Slades help with and it was hysterical that Slade didn't even know what to do, ending with a small chemical explosion and a laughing 12 year old.
"What about coding?" Slade grunted in question, placing a few more knives into the 'to be cleaned' pile.
Dick eyed the pile of knives and various swords Slade was gathering, most of witch were only rusted, only a few had actual blood on them. "It's going good, but it's almost to easy, I want a challenge. I feel like I'm-and not to gloat here-too good and if I continue doing easy stuff I'll loose the edge."
"I'll see what I can do." Slade huffed, inspecting another sword, then set it down to pick up a small gun in its holster draped on a hook, a touchy subject coming to mind. "How's your aim?"
Dick winced, "I... could be better... you know I'm not too fond of gun training."
"Victory often demands sacrifice." Were the wise words Slade had to offer, words Dick heard every time the topic of guns came up. Dick just didn't like guns, there wasn't anything he could pin point about them that he didn't like, he just didn't like them. He had used them many times though, per Slades orders, his aim really wasn't that bad, it just want on par with Slades expectations.
"Be that as it may, I'll do what I need to do when the need arises, not before." Dick argued, frowning down at his ice cream.
"Then when the time comes you will fail"
Dicks swaying legs stilled.
Failure wasn't an option, Dick learned that early, but they've also had this conversation before. Of all the things Slade had Dick do, this was where Dick drew the line, he wouldn't do it. He didn't know what he wasn't going to do because he had killed plenty of times with a gun before, but he knew he wasn't going to do it. Slade couldn't do anything to convince him otherwise, absolutely nothing, and Slade knew it too.
"There's a target tonight, mine, you're coming with though. We can work on that aim." Slade stepped back from the desk, dropping the subject of Dick's stubbornness. Having sorted the weapons the mercenary reached for a different shelf, lifting up a large and long gun, checking its magazine before tossing the smaller gun to Dick.
The acrobat caught it with ease with his frown still in place, the ice cream didn't sound so refreshing anymore, but he finished it off anyway, Slade didn't like it when he wasted food. Dick knew he just avoided a yelling match, Slade didn't raise his voice often, and when he did it was very serious and very dangerous. He could feel his mentors anger and disappointment rolling off of him in waves, he hated disappointing him, it was risky to do so, but there were just some things that Dick would not do. He felt like Slade liked that fire in him, and that turned into respect and that's what made him back down, though he didn't always.
"Target practice, before the mission. Let's go."
Dick felt the pit of his stomach fill with dread.
-0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0-
Renegades hand was steady, even in the complete darkness of the alley he saw his target with startling clarity. He cleared his mind, void of all emotion, his masked eyes half lidded in his calm state. His finger didn't even tremble, his heart beat steady as a rock. He closed on eye to straighten his aim, and closed his digger over the trigger with zero hesitation.
The shot rang out and echoed in the streets, going up the brick alley and into the cloudy sky. It was dark as always, dreary really, almost raining but not quite.
Renegade breathed out and shot three more times, almost emptying the barrel and hitting each target head on in quick succession.
Until the last target he faltered.
Deathstroke stepped in front of the target calmly, with his hands behind his back casually and looked to have no intention of moving. Renegade's eyes widened with terror as he realized the trigger was still being pulled. He yanked the gun to the side, his training finally kicking in after the wave of panic that washed over him. The sudden movement of his arm swayed the rest of his body, his ebony hair slick with the mist hanging loosely over his eyes.
The bullet was spun out of the barrel, the end caught by the tip of the gun, tilting the bullets direction. For a horrifying second the bullet sped straight for the stoic mercenary, then it went wide and hit the brick building a few hairs away from the armored man's shoulder, a few inches to the left and he would have gotten his heart.
Renegade lowered the gun, reminding himself to breathe.
"Good. Sharpen those reflexes, anything can happen in a battle. It won't be like practice where the targets are staying still and no other force impedes your aim." The heavy voice of Deathstroke said, almost softly.
Renegade nodded silently, going to reload his gun from the bullet pouch on his waist. Deathstroke rose a hand to stop him, a simple gesture that signaled his apprentice his meaning.
"That's enough for now, I expect less hesitation, you don't have time to hesitate in the heat of battle." Deathstroke strode forward with powerful steps, though they were silent. Renegade nodded again and Deathstroke almost tilted his head in question, what had him so rattled? Usually Renegade was bursting with quips and jibes, he had barely spoken a word since they left the house.
"My target is a few blocks away, spot for me from above, I'll be on the same level as the target just in a different building."
"Yes sir."
Deathstroke eye narrowed, something was definitely up.
As Renegade passed his mentor, Deathstroke laid a heavy hand on the boy's shoulder, staring at him until he met his gaze.
"Something is wrong." The mercenary stated, it wasn't a question.
Renegades frowning face threw up a smile, he was trying to get Deathstroke off his case, it was a horrible attempt. "It's nothing I can't handle."
"I'm not mad at you." Deathstroke said, though he was disappointed by their earlier conversation he wasn't angry at the boy, and sometimes he needed to remind him of that.
Renegade looked down and grumbled, "...I know that..."
"Then why are you suddenly deciding to cease the assault on my ears with that high pitched voice of yours?" He attempted a lighthearted jab but only made his apprentices face screw into a scowl.
"It's not high pitched."
Deathstroke sighed, knowing only one way to get his apprentice to spill the truth. "Whatever is bothering you is affecting your ability to carry out orders."
Renegade sighed in defeat, looking down and mumbling something intelligible.
"Renegade." Deathstroke said in warning, alerting the boy to the fact he had not made himself clear.
The younger mercenary listed his head to the side, bitting his lip as a war raged in his head. When he finally spoke it was hesitant but also conveyed his frustration in an almost kind tone. "I just... don't like the idea of someone I care about being in front of the bullet."
Deathstroke withdrew his hand from his apprentices shoulder, he knew it'd be something about the guns but he didn't realize it would be about him too.
"Unfortunately, Renegade, that's the kind of life we live in, there's always a gun pointed at me, and you."
"Yeah, but this time... it was me holding the gun..." Renegade said lowly.
"If that's how you feel about it then we should have nothing to worry about. From that distance the bullet would have grazed off the armor, so even if you did hit me I'd be fine. There's nothing to worry about." Deathstroke moved on, heading for the motorcycles parked in the shadows.
Renegade felt something lift from his shoulders, and it wasn't his mentors hand. Deathstroke was right, from that range it wouldn't have killed his father figure, and he counted on the fact that besides from practice, his surrogate father would never be in front of his gun.
Renegade ran to catch up with his mentor, giving a side glance to the sheets of metal set up for his target practice, he did a double take when he saw something familiar. The orange street lamp bathed half of one sheet of metal, the hole his bullet had made looked more like an eye, the shadowed part of the metal like the second half of his mentors covered face. It made him freeze for a second, seeing his mentors firm gaze in the soulless pit of the bullet hole. He shuddered and moved on, smacking a smile back on his face as he returned to his mentors side.
"We leave the motorcycles in the alley below our target, you take the roof." Deathstroke relayed, giving his apprentice a stare as he watched the young acrobat get on his smaller motorcycle.
Renegade didn't answer for a moment as he adjusted his seat, he turned and tilted his head in mock confusion, a smirk plainly evident. "Our?"
Deathstroke rolled his eye but couldn't suppress the small smile that rose on his features, not like Renegade would know anyway. "You know what I mean, now get going, we don't have all night."
"In that case I'll just sit back and enjoy the ride." Renegade said with a shrug. Contrary to his words, Renegade sped off, doing a small wheelie as he exited the alley.
Deathstroke let a deep chuckle resonate from his chest, quiet enough to be unnoticed, his apprentice had too much energy, it amused the mercenary.
It was a quick ride to the target, Renegade was already scuttling up drain pipes and windows to get to the roof as Deathstroke rolled in. He parked quickly and quietly, lifting his larger gun with one hand as he entered the old building he chose to stake out for this mission. It was a very old building, everything was brittle and dusty, there would be clear evidence of his position here if the cops would even check this area, but then again he was Deathstroke, the cops wouldn't come after him unless they wanted a death wish.
It was nearly pitch black inside, just enough light from the outside street lamps to navigate the old building. He went up the stairs (not trusting the elevator) slowly as to not create more noise than necessary and the boards didn't seem to get the memo and squeaked with every slight movement. Renegade would already be up these stairs by now, a benefit of being so small and light. In reality Deathstroke hopped Renegade was silently sitting on the roof, waiting and observing.
-0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0-
Renegade resisted the urge to itch his nose, sitting still was a hard task when he was so full of energy, and this mist didn't help at all, made his hair damp and hang over his eyes in an annoyingly itchy way.
The clouds above him were a soft orange, reflecting the lights of Gotham back down on the city of crime. He felt a bit exposed up here but he had already made sure his surroundings were well scouted before hunkering down near the lip of the roof, waiting.
He didn't flinch when the gunshot when off, he didn't flinch when he heard the target scream. He flinched when he felt the building shudder and the sound of wood and concrete breaking, he looked down to see two forms getting to their feet.
Deathstroke and Batman.
Batman must have gotten word of their mission, Renegade shrunk lower into the shadows but still kept his head over the edge to see the fight, unaware of his heart rate rising with worry. Batman was bad news, Deathstroke didn't like Batman, at least not when Renegade was around. Deathstroke had told him he thought of Batman as a formidable opponent, but when Renegade was in the picture he was to keep out of sight and away from Batman. The young mercenary always thought it was because Deathstroke didn't think he was ready, and he was scared because he didn't know what else he would need to take on Batman.
Renegade refocused on the fight, realizing they had begun to clash while he was in thought.
Deathstroke and Batman were both weaponless, though each kept pulling from their pockets a new knife or batarang. But right now they were locked in a fierce hand to hand fight, and Renegade couldn't tell who was winning.
His heart clenched when a sudden sound made it to his ears, his masked eyes widening.
-0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0-
Batman threw an elbow into Deathstrokes face, making the mercenary stubble back and give the Dark Knight some breathing room. He slipped a batarang into his hand and ran forward, hopping to finally catch the mercenary but knew from many close calls before that it most likely wouldn't happen. He was here for answers though, not to catch him, although it drew a wedge into his heart at the fact he wasn't able to stop the murder of one innocent businessman who was one of the few Justice League funders who had no ties to the actual League.
Deathstroke dodged the batarang and rammed him with his shoulder, Batman twisted and with both fists pounded down on the shoulder.
There was a sickening 'crunch' and Deathstroke grunted in pain. Batman backed away for a second, he hadn't meant to maim him, but both men look up when a young voice broke the silence.
"DAD!"
A small black haired boy had a horrified look on his face, a black and orange mask covering his eyes. He stepped forward over the lip of the roof, giving Batman a full view of the fabled son of Deathstroke. His suit was dark gray and black, two stripes of orange going over his rib cage and bigger band around his gloves that extended to the boy's elbow. The young mercenary has a utility belt like Deathstrokes, two leather straps crossed his middle and behind his shoulders were two hilts were visible.
Batman's eyes narrowed.
Renegade's face twisted into a sneer, he scowled and jumped forward, doing multiple summersaults through the air before landing in a roll that the boy quickly ran from. Renegade took out a single blade and with a war cry he advanced on The Dark Knight.
Batman sidestepped the blade, a little confused, worried, and angry this child was attacking him. The boy looked no older than 11, he should NOT be running around with the likes of Deathstroke, son or not.
"Renegade." Deathstroke growled, there was a hint of warning in his voice, the surprising part was Batman could have mistaken it for worry.
Renegade ignored his mentors comment and rolled under Batman's legs, he sliced at the vigilanties feet where Batman jumped but slammed down on the blade, forcing the boy to stall.
Renegade discarded his katana in favor of rolling away from a kick sent in his direction.
Deathstroke tried to put his shoulder back in place but it wouldn't work, he half knelt with a glare pointed at Batman.
Renegade threw a few smoke bombs and tossed a few disks into the fog, hoping to distract the Dark Knight. Renegade turned his back on the fog and ran up to Deathstroke, he placed his gloved hand on his mentors shoulder and the other on his back. With a jerk of his hands the shoulder popped back into place.
"We're partners, sorry Master but your getting your butt handed to you." The young voice of Renegade said, sounding so sure.
Deathstroke grunted and stood, Renegade stood with a hand rising to his back to grab his other katana. Deathstrokes hand caught his shoulder, the look in the mercenary's eye told the boy there was no more use for the blades in this fight. Renegade let his hand drop and settled his gaze to the Batman coming from the dissipating smoke.
"So you have a son?" Batman asked with his permanent scowl, his eyes narrowing on the shorter mercenary.
Renegade opened his mouth but was cut off by Deathstroke.
"Renegade." Again his voice was laced with warning, the boy in question tossed a glare up to his mentor.
"I wasn't going to answer him, I was going to ask when we can start beating the crap out him." A smirk crawled onto the boy's face as he spoke, a child-like air following his cool demeanor. A tiny bit of Batman was scared by this, no child should ever find joy in beating up someone else, much less a hero.
"Scramble him, we shouldn't be here long." Deathstroke ordered.
Renegades smirk grew. "Heck yes, I love scrambling."
Batman's stoic form figured enough was enough, the two were talking as if he wasn't even there, but their odd number of eyes never shifted from their hard look on him. The Dark Knight dashed forward, heading for the bigger mercenary first, Batman needed more information about 'Renegade', he was going to get it by observing.
But before Batman came anywhere close to Deathstroke a body slammed into his torso, he felt something slam onto the sides of his head, effectively discombobulating the vigilante, and legs wrapped around his chest. The Dark Knight staggered backwards as the weight made him dip back, he was going to fall. His arms went up to grab the small mercenary on his head but suddenly the weight lifted, forcing Batman's head to hit the ground instead of Renegade who was on his back. Batman recognized the move, Catwoman used that move on him many times, though the figure on top of him was much smaller.
Renegade swung his own punch to the confused man's face, then he stood on the man's chest and backflipped out of kicking range. The boy held up a hand dramatically, he pushed a button with an evident smirk. Small explosions erupted where Batman had felt Renegade slap his hands, right over his ears.
Batman got to his feet by rolling back, giving himself some reprieve to figure out what was going on, his head ringing and if he wasn't being attacked from all sides he might have been impressed. Deathstroke
lunged at him with a punch, one Batman dodged by moving to the side and delivering his own blows to the mercenary's now unprotected side. Batman then grunted as his back became pelted with sharp jabs, he didn't need to look to know it was Renegade. He twisted into a kick, one that almost landed, while he kept the bigger mercenary at bay with another lunge. Renegade was driven back, the boot scraped his chest but it was barely a scratch, Renegade had turned to avoid the full brunt.
Renegade rolled off to the side, Batman was focused on Deathstroke, he didn't see the small mercenary scamper silently over to the Batmobile.
Renegade placed small devices on the edges of the vehicle, each small, circular, object blinking red before turning a shade of green, then he jumped inside. Warnings started blaring but he ignored them in favor of plugging a wire from his glove into the dashboard. His masked face was illuminated by the holo-screen that appeared from his forearm, casting himself and his near vicinity into a blue hue.
His free hand flew over the holo-screen, typing with practiced speed, his narrowed eyes never blinked. The warnings and the flashing lights died away and Renegade smirked.
"Yeah, real scrambled, I know someone who isn't going to be feeling any aster any time soon." Renegade mumbled to himself, his smirk growing with every code typed. "He's gonna have to take this into the shop, heh."
Finally he unplugged his holo-glove and peaked into the darkness to find his mentor and Batman still at it. Both looked worn out, Renegade could tell they were hiding it from each other but he could see it in the way their chests heaved and they hesitated for a tenth of a second before throwing themselves back into the fray.
Renegade hopped out and quickly changed position, shooting a grappling hook to a nearby roof. He flipped up and crouched on its lip, he tapped a button on his glove and smiled down on the duo. He waited a second more before putting his fingers to his lips and let out a sharp whistle.
Smartly, neither fighter wavered at the sudden sound, but Deathstroke knew what it meant.
Deathstroke sent one more smashing kick to the Dark Knights leg, causing the man to kneel for a moment. Renegade jumped down with a cackle and grabbed onto another ledge, breaking his fall and giving time for two slender vehicles to appear, the motorcycles being on autopilot.
Renegade slipped onto his easily, flipping a switch to turn off the autopilot. Deathstroke leaped backwards away from Batman and ran after his bike, he jumped and ran across a nearby wall to mount his motorcycle.
Deathstroke took the lead and sped away, Renegade trailed after him, pushing yet another button that caused dark smoke to exit behind his vehicle, covering their escape.
Batman stood wordlessly, a disembodied cackle fading from the air. He glanced at the Batmobile and saw it was smoking and sparking. A wheel popped off with a crash of metal on concrete and it rolled in front of the vigilante, the tire circled and circled before coming to a rest, the calculating eyes of Batman still narrowed in the direction of the young mercenary. Batman rose a hand to his ear, calling the Batcave to inform his sons of his encounter.
Did I mention this is a reverse bat-fam? No? Well, it's a reverse Bat-fam.
Here are ages and aliases;
Dick- 13, Renegade, Robin Wilson.
Jason- 19, Robin.
Tim- 20, Red Robin.
Damian- 24, Nightwing
So yeah, they're totttaallllyy going to be in this don't you worry. Also idk if I should have split this chapter or not but I didn't so yay? The title 'Scrambled' worked for the whole thing sooooo... meh. Biggest chapter yet, 8750 words, and plz note the 'yet' muahaha.
As for my other books... I'm so sorry and I'm going to update I swear, but I got REAAAAALLLY good inspiration for this so I literally busted out 6000+ words in one day (before it was around 3000, then I got the inspiration and started writing). Also I've rarely had the time to write so I'm doing my best and I won't abandon any of my books, just a unplanned hiatus.
See y'all around, idk when the next chapter will be or anything... soooo... yeah.