A/N: This is what fear of a heavily weighted Essay due in a couple of days will do to me. After downloding a new song as well. Just a scribble, really.
Enjoy.
Summary:
Nightwing was through. This time, Slade had gone far. Too far.
Better watch out, Slade Wilson. There's no place you can hide in now. Nightwing's here … to bring you Hell!
Rated T: for violence Implied Raven/ Nightwing Shipping
"The Fiercest Enemy Is The Man Who Has Nothing To Lose."
- Cigarette Man 'X-Files'
He'd let his weakness show.
He knew one day, he was going to regret it. That one day, he was going to make himself sick with the regret that burned from within him. And that day was today.
Now, he was paying for it. Through her. Through them. All because of the one damn bastard who grew obsessed over him.
Just looking for a worthy opponent...
A dark shadow passed over his face as he placed a hand over the glass window, imagining touching the body lying inside. But he couldn't. Not now. Right now, he had some business to take care off.
Time to take a little piece of the Hell he's been living in… to the Tormentor of his nightmares.
Slade pasted his hand to his rib pierced side. He glared behind him.
"What the matter, Slade?" The voice taunted behind him, lost in the shadows that almost engulfed him. "Not in the mood to fight your apprentice anymore?"
"Dear boy. Your antics amuse me. You actually believe you have a chance against me. How quaint."
"I'm not the one with one third of his blood spilling onto the floor."
"What is the matter, boy?" Slade stepped into the light shinning through the shingles of the warehouse, "Was it just me or did I hear the cry of an injured black bird in our last … encounter?"
The shadowed body landed silently yards ahead of the Terminator.
"You can't hurt me anymore Slade. Your antics don't have the same effect on me as they did as a boy."
"On the contrary my boy, if my actions did not effect you, as you say, then you would not have searched for me tonight. Henceforth, you stand before me now."
"Why her Slade?"
"Perhaps it was a personal vendetta. Or perhaps she was at the wrong place at the wrong time. Either way, a man's at his fiercest when he has nothing to loose."
A worthy opponent...
"But you're wrong."
"Am I?"
"A man's at his fiercest when he has something worth fighting for!" The shadow launched forward, pummeling Slade's face with a steel toed black boot. Slade's body jerked backwards several feet, landing motionless a few yards away. But in a blink of an eye, his mediocre laughter erupted the gentle fall the dust had taken at their movements.
"Ah. Good memories. Your outer appearances might have changed, Robin. But, inside you're still the same hot tempered, obsessive, vengeance-fueled boy I knew I could mold into the perfect replacement for myself."
"Wrong again Slade. That's two in a row for you." Not giving him a chance to regain himself, the Night bird moved at lightning speed, sending the villain across the decaying floor. "Really Slade. You're old age must be catching up to you."
The man remaining up heard the satisfying sound of bones cracking.
And the fun was just getting started. After all…
Hell had an opening for one man more.
His blood too dripped from his body to pool gently at his feet, to fall down the edge of the weathered building, to paint the brick crimson.
Red and blue lights flashed far below him. He knew he was staring up at him, even as they towed him into the back of the ambulance. He placed his index and middle finger, as if to pierce his own eyes, eyes that were tired of his torment, and slowly rotated them to point at the now paralyzed man, his middle finger going down as he did so. He knew his message had been received.
I. AM. WATCHING. YOU.
He regarded her now. Changed into a costume he never grew accustomed to. But for this place, it was safe. And safety is what they needed now.
He knew she could feel his presence. She always had. He wasted no time in pulling a chair effortlessly near her bed and sinking exhausted into the vinyl surface.
He had done it.
They were out of danger. He knew his enemy did not deserve death. No. Death would have been too merciful. No, he had let him live. She would not have liked him to have his hands stained by Slade's blood. The stain would not have gone away.
However, he could not do them harm anymore.
Wilson was now a nut case. Much more than he was before. And he made sure of that. There was no escaping the Hell hole Nightwing had sent him too. Not in his life time.
He captured her frail hand, hands that had butchered many. Her appearance was deceiving. Delicate features opting for a delicate spirit. But it was anything but. He kissed the hand and gently placed it down on the plump stomach of the woman. He traced his own fingers on the surface of the stomach of the comatose woman.
"I did it."
He didn't know what reaction he had expected. Maybe not at all. But her pulse quickened then, making her eyelids shudder, press together tightly and finally slowly, pry open. Amethyst eyes dilated to the sudden light upon her face. Her face, framed with deep mauve severed locks turned from the burning sensation to face the man who woke her from the darkness that had consumed her.
She saw it in her eyes what he had done.
He had broken his own set of rules. He had broken his morality. He had broken his own spirit. To brake Slade's own black soul.
She soon found his head on her breasts, his large arms around her slim self. His warm radiated into her cool body.
"Shhh. Shhh." she soothed.
Finally, their personal Hell was over. But for Slade, from every night on, his Hell was just beginning.
PLAYLIST:
"Won't Back Down" - Fuel
"Getting Away With Murder" - Papa Roach
A/N: Feed back would be welcomed. Just expressing myself again. Critics as well welcomed. ...except hate mail.