AUTHOR'S NOTE: This is the sequel to Personal. This story will make more sense if you read that first. Since Season 3 (YEAH!) doesn't air – in the US – until end of January 2017, it won't have a role in this story. It's my understanding that Season 3 is supposed to start 6 months after Endgame.

Revenge

By Red Blaze 16

Prologue:

Nightwing stood near the entrance. Young Justice had just been given the privilege of operating out of Watchtower. Mount Justice was gone. Of course, the Justice League had assured the team that they were in Watchtower because they had earned it, not because the team was without a place to call home.

Aqualad was assigning the different members to the different teams and giving each one of those squads a different mission. Alpha team would be Superboy, Miss M, and Beast Boy. Tigress, Kid Flash, Bumblebee, and Guardian would make up Beta. Gamma was Blue Beetle, Lagoon Boy, Robin, Static, and Wonder Girl. Of course, it wasn't the original Robin, since he was standing away from the group, wearing a different costume and going by a new name.

And it wasn't the original Kid Flash. Wally had...died two weeks earlier. It still tightened something in the dark haired hero's throat to hear that name and not see Wally, his best friend. His best friend who had died a hero and saved the world.

"Business as usual," said Nightwing, before he turned and walked away.

Nightwing had already spoken with Aqualad. He needed to take a leave of absence from the team. Wally's death had hit him hard. Actually, he was surprised that Artemis stayed on the team, though with a new name. The blonde haired green costumed archer was now wearing an orange and black costume and went by the name of Tigress. Dick wasn't totally sure of her reasons for wanting to stay, but he hoped it provided her the comfort she needed. Dick just wasn't ready to return to Young Justice. He knew that Barbara was ready to step in as Batgirl, if Aqualad needed additional help from the Bat Family.

While Aqualad continue to give the needed information to the various squads, Nightwing left the Watchtower and returned to his apartment in Bludhaven. On the rooftop of his apartment building, he changed his clothes. The costume was put into a dark gray gym bag. Dick picked up the bag and slung it over his shoulder. Now the 19 year old was wearing a pair of faded light blue jeans and a short sleeved black t-shirt. Where he had been wearing his boots before, now he had a pair of sneakers on his feet.

Slowly, he climbed down the metal fire escape stairs, until he reached a window that gave him access to his apartment. He tapped the window on the edge, to dislodge the lock he had set when he left earlier to go to Watchtower, than he quietly opened the window. He slipped through the opening than turned and closed the window.

Dick turned and looked at his apartment. It was small and usually messy. Dick rarely had time to clean it. Alfred had offered more than once to come over at least weekly to clean the apartment, but Dick kind of liked it messy. It was a one bedroom apartment. The kitchen and living room shared one room, with different flooring to divide the large room into two areas. There were only three doors off the main room. One door was the entrance to the apartment. One led to the bedroom. The last door led to the bathroom.

Dick made his way across the room, walking between the coffee table and entertainment center, toward his bedroom. He needed to put away his gym bag that contained his costume. Of course, now that he didn't living in Gotham, he didn't have a Batcave to store his stuff. He had a loose floor board in the closet where he usually stored all his hero belongs.

Dick had just place a hand on the door knob to his bedroom when movement caught the corner of his eye. He turned and dropped his gym bag, as he felt something sharp hit him in the neck. Reaching up, he pulled the object from his skin. He glanced into his hand and saw a small dart.

"I was wondering when you'd show up."

Turning toward the voice, Dick's eye sight started to blur. Standing in the shadows of the bathroom door, Dick could make out the figure of a man. Though the drug that had been on the dart was already working fast in Dick's system, the young man recognized the figure standing before him.

"Deathstroke."

The killer stepped away from the bathroom door and into the light. Dressed mostly in black, Deathstroke wore his orange and black mask. His sword was sheathed on his back.

"We have unfinished business," said Deathstroke, as he drew back his arm. "I never got my answer."

Attempting to dodge, Dick tried to move to avoid the blow, but the drugs slowed his system. Instead of the punch hitting him in the chest, Deathstroke caught Dick's right shoulder and spun the younger man around. Losing his balance, Dick fell backwards and landed hard on the coffee table. Not meant to take the weight, the table broke. Dick's hand relaxed and the dart rolled away and under the couch.

Deathstroke walked over to the young man. With his left hand, he reached down and grabbed Dick by the shirt. Drawing back his right fist, he punched Dick in the face. Once. Twice. On the third blow, Dick's eyes closed.

"As I said, Grayson, we have unfinished business," said Deathstroke, as he stood back up. Slinging the younger man over his shoulder, Deathstroke left the apartment.

AUTHOR'S NOTE: I will not be as fast at posting updates of this story as I was with Personal. This is still a busy time of year for me – crafter – and I will post as often as I can.