Issue 31
Grudge Match
"Almost everyone is on board with the plan," Oswald spoke softly into the phone surrounded by the plush confines of his office in the Iceberg Lounge, "There are a handful of holdouts surprisingly loyal to the little brat but most see the situation for what it is."
"I agree," he continued after listening for a moment, "Anything he wants to happen is the exact opposite of what we should be doing. Technically he's at our mercy. Our people are the ones doing the heavy lifting." Another pause as the person on the other end spoke.
"Yes, Black Mask will handle those details. Everything will happen when it needs to. I should be straight with you about that. Some people are nervous about giving you the holy grail. They're worried you might do something that can't be taken back. Not me of course, we've always managed to live together with a mutual respect. There's no reason that has to change." He waited again.
"I understand," Oswald ended, "Here's to our bright future. We'll wipe out every bit of resistance remaining between us and this city. Thank you for bringing me into this. I'll make sure it goes to plan, Joker." Methodically Oswald removed a cigar from his desk, cut the tip, and lit it with a match. For an entrepreneur like him he felt no excitement or anticipation. Oswald only cared about results and until this mess concluded all he had to consider were fleeting possibilities.
"Is that all you've got?" Damian asked as he packed his utility belt until each pocket bulged with every conceivable gadget he could think of, "I need to be ready for every outcome." Sitting by the door Tommy Elliot stretched out his legs crossing his feet at the ankles. He still wore his iconic Hush trench coat and bandages over his face.
"What else is there?" Tommy chuckled, "I gave you their last base location, their plan to execute your dad, and the time it's going to happen. All you have to do is save your father."
"Can I count on you if things go bad?"
"I'll be on SECURE's side so the short answer is no," Tommy answered.
"Why?"
"Because I agree with them. After they told me the truth I believe in what they're trying to do for all of us," he sighed, "You won't agree but at the very least you might understand."
"What should I do if things get out of control?" Damian wondered.
"Kid," Tommy began more seriously than Damian had ever seen him, "The only thing you have to do is survive. If you don't make it through this all of it will be for nothing."
"I wish Jason was around. I could use him to watch my back," he complained lacing up his boots.
"He's got his job to do. You do yours."
"Okay I'm ready," Damian stated standing up straight emblazoned in red, yellow, and green. Determined he spread the domino mask across his eyes. Tommy stood now and lit a cigarette shaking his head.
"Nobody's ready for this," he said slipping the lighter back into his pocket, "but we're going to do it anyway."
Otis sat on the steps on Ma Gunn's house after dropping baby Judy off for the night. The dim, yellow porch bulb gave him just enough light to read. A few days ago Firefly delivered a letter to him from Pam, a final goodbye in what seemed like a mountain of endings. Carefully he unfolded the paper as his fat rat friend Oscar sat attentive though illiterate on his lap. By the first four words he read Otis felt tears well up over his friend's loose, pretty handwriting.
My dear, dear Otis,
I fear we're never to meet again though it's impossible to know such things. For too long I thought I could live in your world but now I understand the incompatibility. I'm an outlier from the outliers. Some might argue all life is equivalent but they ignore the beauty and inherent danger in our variety. Once relatively recently I envied your easy nature and eagerness for friendship. I wished that I could approach life like you do always looking for and finding the best in people. Truly it's a special gift but it's not me.
I made a serious mistake as we all have but I already see it doesn't make me a bad person. Maybe there aren't any bad people just bad choices we make but in you I know there's a goodness that has incredible potential. I hope you have a chance to utilize your talent and I'm confident you will. All I really want you to know is I valued our time together even if it wasn't enough. It could never be enough but a time comes when the best option is to move on and try something different.
As your friend I want you to be happy. That's the best I can hope for so be safe and never conceal or turn away from that something special that makes you, you.
Love always,
Pam
"Is everyone ready?" Otis asked the lone rat who quietly approached his feet. The rat squeaked solemnly and attempted a salute with his stubby paw.
"Okay, half of you are with me and the other half stay and guard the baby…outside the house please. Ma Gunn will kill me if she catches one of you sneaking around there again," Otis ordered and the rat disappeared into the undergrowth. Finally he stood and struck out towards the meeting place. Behind him came formation after formation of his rat soldiers. Six across and ten deep they marched and the groups stretched endlessly behind their master who whistled a happy tune.
Jervis awoke underneath a shady overpass to the belligerent sound of Alice banging trashcan lids together. As his heart skipped a beat he canvassed the hazy, sweltering street with vacant eyes. Alice or the Anti Life Equation, whatever she wanted to be called, rarely let him sleep. For weeks since the experience with the World Hat she tormented him making it impossible to communicate with those who cared about him. Jervis felt like ages had passed since he stumbled out of Arnold's apartment and couldn't find his way back.
Alice constantly reminded him of the horrible monster he hid inside himself. She promised there was no solution to his misery. He was what he would always be so he bore that burden honestly. To be hopeless was a form of liberation in and of itself. Giving up, admitting defeat held an attraction all its own. Without hope nothing existed to miss or long for at all. Jervis understood happy endings didn't happen for everyone and not everyone deserved them. Still stumbling through the worst alleys and slums Gotham had to offer he wondered how much more penance his sins would require.
Harley stood in front of the mirror in her new apartment. After carefully scrubbing her face she looked at the makeup in front of her. When Harley left she told Joker while he watched his favorite televangelist on TV. Nonchalantly he asked her to lock the back door on the way out and that made her laugh. She laughed because they didn't have a lock on that door, never had and he was clearly inarguably insane. Yet some part of her felt hurt that he waved her away without a glance or maybe it was a recognition of the truth that he wasn't capable of caring.
Now she wiped the condensation from the mirror and wondered what face she should wear. On the shallowest of surfaces people saw Harley as a wisecracking bimbo with a taste for the baddest of boys. She was a female counterpart to chaos incarnate. Some with more nuance saw Harley as a battered woman caught in an abusive spiral she couldn't break. Perhaps it could be argued that Harley served in a role of ancient sacrifice. She was the virgin thrown into the volcano or the accused witch at the stake.
Maybe subconsciously the good in her recognized the threat of that unbound evil in him and knew it must be tamed or tempered in its own way. How many punches had she taken for the world? How many times had she suffered to keep the devil occupied, distracted? How much worse could it have been without her? That's what she worried about as she tossed each piece of makeup into the trash one by one. From now on she would wear the real face that lay underneath the mask and never watch a victim make another victim again.
In a prison cell now less comfortable and accommodating than its predecessors Bruce hung by his wrists linked by a set of heavy duty shackles. Someone dressed him in his Bat suit while unconscious and left him like a piece of trash, discarded and helpless. Countless times he faced capture and even torture but he never felt as disillusioned as this. Currently his son fraternized with his greatest enemies making unguided decisions marred by their manipulation.
All of his friends vanished like they never existed and the ones who locked him away did a better job of cleaning up the city than he ever did. More than anything that bit of doubt ate away at him. Their methods if lacking a certain subtlety proved surprisingly effective against the recidivistic tendencies of Gotham. He understood SECURE's plan and his part in it but there was still some missing piece he didn't comprehend, the motivation behind it all.
No matter what he would continue to refuse their demands since his affirmation was the only bit of agency he had remaining. Suddenly Selina appeared at the door and unlocked it. Wearing leather pants and a collared, white button up she or the spirit inside her sashayed towards him dragging her whip behind her.
"After this is over the women will be returned, unharmed and without memory of the past months," Selina stated neutrally, "This is your last chance to help us set you free, Bruce. Much tragedy can be averted if you take control willingly otherwise it will be forced on you at the expense of the ones you love."
"I won't do it. Nothing you can do will make me kill them," Bruce maintained stubbornly.
"What about your remaining family? Damian and Jason are lost! They need you more than the world needs those super powered scum," Selina goaded, "Your father gave up everything for you but you can't give up who you are for the benefit of your sons."
"Don't talk about my father!" Bruce yelled ferociously.
"If you want to run around in a costume and get shot at that's your business but the moment you took the first Robin you crossed the line. Regardless of how well Dick turned out you should have recognized how lucky that was after Jason. Instead you put him in the ground, absolved yourself of responsibility, and took another one. You never said it but the implication remained.
It was his nature, his impetuousness that led to his death. Jason wasn't cut out to wear the mantle of Robin. It wasn't your fault for putting a boy in a situation he wasn't emotionally equipped to handle. The fact that man hasn't killed you yet is all the proof you need to see you're wrong about him and a lot more too," Selina stated but Bruce had no response.
"Before we begin," she continued, "I want to tell you a secret or rather the reason for it all. The terrible secret of everyone. You've seen countless timelines and universes but the truth is there's only one…and it's about to be made right here." So Selina told him the truth about the Source and a lot more but Bruce still refused to believe her.
Edward Nygma sat in a different prison cell underneath Arkham Asylum. Intensely he studied the names scratched into the wall and imagined his numbers in the grand scheme of it all. The events now in unstoppable motion avalanched down from a single question imagined so long ago. The answer came out to something as terrible as it was beautiful.
"The end of Batman," Riddler sighed, "when things go so horribly right."
SECURE's final and most entrenched stronghold ran underneath Gotham International Airport covered by a massive hangar that always remained empty. Hours ago scouts went out to scour the area ensuring no traps awaited them. Hard, skin stripping rain began falling at sunset and now carpeted the entire city. Slade received the signal from the scouts that the path lay clear and led the massive group across the runways towards the enormous hangar.
Next to him padded the thoughtful Ratcatcher hands shaking with adrenaline and nerves. Behind him and off to his left Pix followed keeping a close eye on her teacher. Though the crowd of rogues was enormous no one spoke a word until Otis noticed the blinking light on a small box attached to Slade's hip.
"What's that?"
"A dead man's trigger," Slade stated over the pouring rain and pressed the button as it began to beep. Otis didn't ask for any more details but watched Gotham's skyline as lightning regularly lit up everything in the distance. A sharp slap on the shoulder brought him back to the situation at hand as Slade stared down at him.
"When it gets hot and I lose control keep them away from me," Slade ordered through his one eyed mask.
"Who?" Otis asked confused and Slade glanced over his shoulder at the crowd making momentary eye contact with Pix.
"All of them," he answered mysteriously. As they approached the hangar doors they spread into a few large groups setting up for the choreographed insertion. Barriers were set up outside the entrance made of ice or rock or energy fields by those who could manipulate matter. From the back next to Oswald Damian gave the order to attack and multiple members fired on the doors at once. As the doors exploded only Slade stood alone, unprotected against the fiery blast. Through the smoke and dust his eyes immediately spotted the large number of SECURE troops ready to attack once visibility cleared.
Without a word Slade sprinted through the breach while the enemy fired over and over at him as he closed. Gracefully he jumped over the first few rows landing in the middle of their formation. Slade pounced on a heavily armored man driving both swords down through his shoulders. In one seemingly endless moment the soldiers surround him stared at Slade in fear of his proximity before they could wheel their guns in his direction. Also in that split second Slade felt his feet touch the ground he realized how many bullets he'd already taken.
Like the autonomous process it was, his immune system immediately kicked into overdrive. Reckless instinct rose up like boiling water and his blades met the meat of his foes in a fluid, attention grabbing dance of death. Still he took bullets from every direction as he killed indiscriminately and slowly faded from consciousness as the combat serum in his blood seized control. An inexperienced leader may have pause at Slade's impressive rampage unwilling to commit more troops than necessary but Damian and Oswald both understood it was time to push.
The command rang out and repeated across the teams so they all bum rushed the doors at once from different directions. In response to the advance the first row of SECURE soldiers dropped back only to be replaced by the second row equipped with dangerous energy weapons crafted from the captured technology of both heroes and villains. The Militia prepared for this eventuality however and Clayface stopped the charge stretching his arms as wide as he could to protect all those behind him.
The Absence slid a heavy metal disk under the gelatinous man that had wires running back to a heavy metal harness worn by Lockup. With the press of a few buttons on his wrist the disk activated producing a low humming sound. Made by Professor Strange the Black Hole as he called it was a trap designed to capture and funnel almost any kind of energy through the disk and into the storage harness.
It worked perfectly as the line of soldiers shot barrages of colorful beams toward them. When the energy blasts got caught in the Black Hole's field they spun in a downward spiral until absorbed by the disk. Clayface's malleable wall blocked any shots that slipped by the device. The metallic harness Lockup wore sang as it sucked in the enormous quantity of energy channeled into it.
"Hold!" Damian called as they withstood the assault. Unfortunately SECURE refused to pause the attack and Lockup's harness grew hot beginning to smoke as it reached the end of its storage capacity.
"Shut it down!" Oswald screamed but Lockup shoved him away still pushing buttons on his wrist attempting to extend the life of the compensator. Desperately Damian pulled at random wires trying to disconnect the human bomb as it was obvious what was about to happen. Joker stood motionless next to him enthralled by the blinking emergency lights on the harness. Abandoning the Batman costume Joker arrived for battle dressed in a green suit of the original style but seemed distant and distracted.
Finally one of the Trigger Twins grabbed Damian dragging him away while everyone else scattered. Lockup shone with a neon yellow light and exploded throwing Joker among others off their feet. Pathetically the Clown Prince rolled on the ground after taking the full plasma discharge that began melting the features from his face. Over Joker's screams of pain Damian stood and called for a spear head attack.
Like they practiced Bane lined up behind Clayface whose fortifications degraded under the continuous attack. Big Top, an extremely heavy woman from the Circus of the Strange ran at Bane who caught her foot and launched her high into the air. The oversized woman landed in front of SECURE's line and slammed the concrete producing a shock wave that ripped through their enemies. With SECURE in disarray Damian called for the advance and the Militia surged brutally forcing the troops from their positions at the door.
As they entered the hangar Damian could see his father chained to the wall on the other end with the infamous Tripping Darlings. For some reason they allowed him to suit up but even the sight of his father alive and struggling gave Damian a renewed vigor. It wasn't too late. On the other hand they encountered another problem. Between the Militia and his father laid a sea of SECURE soldiers packed nearly shoulder to shoulder with more pouring up a wide stairwell at the far end from their holdout below.
Worse than that in the midst of their polished armor Deathstroke still fought all comers from every side. They still hadn't brought him down though he was drenched in a mix of his blood and theirs. When Damian caught a glimpse of his face since the mask had been torn away he saw no humanity left in that eye, no understanding. Deathstroke was out of commission now a fully feral beast at the very bottom line of humanity.
Obviously the serum that gifted him with near invincibility only enhanced what already existed and that was the unstoppable will to survive and continue. Deathstroke's armor hung torn and holey over his frame shredded by bullets and blades. Like a rabid dog uninterested in words he couldn't understand he only read the language of fear in his enemies' eyes. When his dead man's trigger began beeping he was too far gone to even hear it over the screams and explosions.
At the front entrance Damian watched the chaos around him as the Militia tore into SECURE's army. Death surrounded him as men and women were flung through the ceiling, burnt to a crisp, or eviscerated everywhere he looked. For a moment Damian stood awestruck at the damage and destruction resulting from his actions and utter grief blinded his judgment. Wrestling with the sudden shame Damian felt a hand wrap around his ankle weakly so he looked down to find a severely injured woman staring up at him.
"Help me," she mouthed but no sound passed her lips. Damian then understood what a critical mistake he made to try and tame these insurmountable monsters.
"Oswald!" he cried when he saw the Penguin and Killer Croc towards the rear of the melee, "Signal the Evac team for rescue. We need to pull him out before this gets worse!" Damian approached but Penguin ignored him continuing to watch the fight umbrella at the ready.
"Hey, are you listening to me?" Damian demanded grabbing the short man by the collar and spinning him around roughly.
"Piss off, kid," Penguin laughed blowing smoke in his face from a fat Cuban cigar, "You're not running this show anymore. Why would we rescue him when we can wipe them all out at once? Nobody blackmails me and gets away with it. Did you think we were friends?" Damian felt Croc looming behind him and realized he made another mistake turning his back on the massive freak. A rough scaly hand wrapped itself around his neck announcing the betrayal so long coming.
"You're done now," Croc stated smugly, "There'll be nothing but us when this is over."
Across the battle and unaware of the double cross Otis slipped cleanly through the crowd striking with his small sword as Slade taught him. Perhaps the greatest talent he possessed aside from his big heart was the acceptance of his own limitations. The first lesson Slade beat through his head during training, Otis knew a small stature brought strengths and weaknesses others didn't have so he chose his battles wisely striking where opportunity presented. He relied on discretion and misdirection much more than head to head conflict thus improving his odds of survival.
Reaching the side of the room he climbed nimbly up a cargo crate to view the carnage. In the middle of the room Deathstroke still battled alone and besieged. Not surprisingly Otis found SECURE troops backing away forming a circled around Deathstroke as he roared madly. The dead man's trigger attached to his belt blinked furiously and before he could decide on his next target something strange happened.
A pure black disk appeared above him and slipped over his body vanishing him instantly. Before Otis's eyes his mentor disappeared without warning and the soldiers stood stunned until they thankfully conceded turning back to the front lines. At the back of the hangar Otis saw Batman chained to the floor struggling against the shackles. Three women that Otis didn't recognize stood around him while off to the side stood a masked Hush.
The women seemed to be having a conversation nonchalantly while the chaos spread in front of them. Surprisingly none seemed concerned with the result of the battle. In fact the fight appeared to lean towards the Militia though a steady supply of reinforcements constantly poured up from the stairwell below. Glancing behind him Otis noticed something awful approaching from outside the hangar.
Finally back on his feet Joker staggered towards the commotion blindly. The fiery plasma from Lockup's batteries still smeared his face lightly smoking and his eyelids had cauterized together like his lips. As he approached the demolished doors he slowly grasped the skin around each eye and forcefully tore them apart. Blood ran around his eyes and down his festering cheeks like tears but he could see again. Instead of tearing his mouth open like his eye lids like Otis expected Joker simply smiled at the slaughter he viewed through blood tinted vision.
Deathstroke reappeared in the foggy Slaughter Swamp outside Gotham amidst the calls of unseen birds and chattering insects. Dark, damp looking trees stretched out of the uneven ground bent and unsteady in the saturated soil. For a few moments the rain ceased and a break in the storm clouds revealed the swiftly waning moon's soft light. He roared at the disappearance of his enemies as his body screamed at his mind for something to destroy. Covered with bullet holes and cuts and burns his immune system raced to repair the immense damage.
"Slade!" a voice cried from behind and he spun to see the five of them he saved not long ago. Once called the Teen Titans these heroes fought Slade to a standstill on multiple occasions. When Slade found them in the morgue of SECURE's facility he attempted to use his blood and its healing properties to bring them back from the dead. Not only did it resurrect them it allowed Slade to control them with his willpower. Disoriented and disturbed from the gift of a second life they received one order from their new master: kill Deathstroke.
After he raised them Slade sent them away to wait for his signal. That alert came from the dead man's trigger he wore on his belt. His plan was to throw himself at SECURE's army killing as many as he could while pushing his body towards that instinctual madness. Once he became injured and angry enough the Titans would pull him out and finish the job aided by the same serum that fought so tirelessly to keep him alive. If Slade could have seen past the enraging agony that coursed through him he would have realized the plan succeeded flawlessly.
Leading this team as usual Nightwing stood in the front, the original Robin, Dick Grayson, the golden child of the JLA now a very grown man. After his parents tragic death at Haley's Circus he was adopted and raised to be the first Robin to Batman proving himself one of the greatest heroes the world had ever seen. Everything came easy to Dick unlike the later incarnations of Robin. Dick wore armor of black and blue carrying Eskrima clubs at the ready.
Next to him Cyborg scanned the area for friendlies or other signs of life. Vic Stone experienced a terrible car accident that damaged his body nearly killing him. Luckily he was reconstructed with a cybernetic exoskeleton and replacements for any extremities or vital organs he lost. Half man, half machine Vic served as a walking arsenal for the Titans equipped with a sonic cannon arm, missile launchers built into his shoulders, and other various ballistic weaponry.
Behind his best friend Cyborg, Garfield Logan watched their injured nemesis struggle to maintain his footing. Originally called Beast Boy he preferred Changling now. During a sickness as a child he received an injection meant to save his life but it also turned his skin green and allowed him to alter his form into almost anything he could imagine. Though considered a wisecracking easygoing man, he hid a deep pain over who he was despite the incredible talents. His balled up fists resting at his sides grew and shrank reflexively.
At the back of the group the hooded mysterious figure of Raven sat cross legged levitating two feet above the ground. Born to a human mother Raven gained her mystical power from her father, a demon named Trigon. Haunted her entire life by the machinations of Hell she remained the most solitary and closed off member of the team. She possessed extremely advanced telekinesis, teleportation, and psychic abilities though her most potent weapon was a deep empathy for all things no matter how twisted. Even now she reached out with her mind half entranced attempting to make contact with Slade.
On Nightwing's other side stood Terra the beautiful blonde princess of Markovia. She was a kind of geomancer who could control aspects of the earth. All five held personal grudges against Slade but none so much as Terra. When she was younger Slade used her manipulating the teenager into a life of crime and hedonism. It took a long time for her to break free of Slade's influence and she never forgave his disgraceful actions. No one was surprised to see her charge first headlong at the man she so detested.
Screaming like a banshee she raced down the hill followed by everyone except Raven. As she neared Deathstroke Terra cocked back her arm as a rocky fist shot from the ground and struck him across the chest throwing the villain through the trunk of an enormous tree. Blood sprayed from his mouth as Deathstroke fell to his knees. Before he could shake off the concussion he took a giant horn through the stomach from Changling who shifted midstride into the form of a giant green rhinoceros.
They exploded through tree after dense tree as Changling attempted to crush his enemy to death. Instead of writing on the horn sticking through his back Deathstroke tore the belt of grenades off his back and ripped as many pins off as he could holding it between himself and Changling whose eyes went wide. The resulting explosion rocketed them in opposite directions knocking Changling back into his human form and shredding Deathstroke's hand into a dripping roasted chunk of meat hanging off his wrist.
With the stump shoved under the opposite armpit and a hole through his stomach a foot wide he turned back to his attackers nowhere near defeated. Without going on the defensive or waiting for his body to heal Deathstroke rushed forward like an organic tornado. Terra reached out and rocked the earth beneath up and down until it rolled like the ocean with waves of mud pushing him back to keep their distance. Unhindered he ran up each one with amazing agility still gaining on them until Terra summoned everything she had for one last wave three times the size of the others. It crested looming over him and Deathstroke leapt barely skimming the top.
On the slide down the other side he drew a .45 with his good hand and managed to clip her in the shoulder sending the woman spinning. At that moment Cyborg opened fire from the sonic cannon in his arm smashing Deathstroke into the leveling ground. Somehow he managed to hang on to the pistol and swung it towards Cyborg but Nightwing intercepted kicking it from his hand. Unconsciously Deathstroke drew his bow staff and rained blows down on Nightwing who managed to deflect most with his sticks.
Head to head they dueled back and forth over the broken ground weapons clattering across the quiet like machine gun fire. When Cyborg rushed him from behind Deathstroke planted the staff, drew his sword, and ran the blade back into the large man. Just like Drakon Cyborg took the sword through his throat halted by its momentum and his own fatal shock. Retracting the blade in a fluid motion he slashed the sword across Nightwing's chest from hip to shoulder slicing the distracted man like a piece of paper.
Nightwing fell like a cinder block yet still managed to reach out towards his fallen comrade beside him. Deathstroke stumbled away confused and racked with wretched pain from his innumerable injuries. Even his superior body succumbed to the loss of blood and open seeping wounds.
"No!" Terra screamed when she saw the other Titans fallen. As he growled and lurched toward her the ground ripped open around his feet rumbling an ominous warning. Even in his madness Deathstroke's mind still retained its tactical foresight so instead of attempting to dodge the attack he used it against his opponent. Using a grappling line he whipped it towards the woman wrapping it around her neck and pulling her into his embrace. As the geyser of magma erupted from behind them he grabbed her by the hair and forced her to look up while they were enveloped by the molten liquid.
When that cleansing shower of fire abated he emerged no longer recognizable as a man. Terra's body fell smoldering on the ground and still Deathstroke stood dripping flame and melted skin from his frame. Turning back to the hill he heard a small voice call his name and saw Raven motionless still sedately levitating. Amazingly he began to run at her completely insane now from the pain.
Before he could reach her she opened her black eyes and a nearby tree uprooted instantly. Using her incredible telekinesis she swatted him like a baseball and he flew through the air slamming into a bank of jagged rocks. He found himself fighting with extraordinary effort to gain his feet while Raven waged a war in his mind shutting down control of his nervous system.
"Why Slade?" Raven asked in his head but he couldn't understand, "Why can't you just die and let go? You're a spoiler. Everything you touch is cursed with death but that's over now. This is where you find your peace." Still he battled to his feet and saw he was surrounded by the Titans he previously put down. Healed by his own blood still active in their veins Nightwing, Cyborg, and Changling wrestled him to the ground as Raven continued the mental assault.
Forced to his knees Deathstroke looked up to see his bloody, skinless counterpart Terra holding his own sword in front of him. Already the tissue sprouted fresh layers across her body rewriting the skin that so easily shed away. Not a single hair remained on her body but the most terrible retribution shone in her eyes, hotter than the core of the Earth. He screamed but couldn't articulate any words. Even now he raged against death with the last remaining vestige of man's animal instinct.
Guttural and fervent he roared against the irremovable shackles of death, the unjustness of a gift given and taken away again. His own blade cut through his flesh like it had so many others. Repeatedly Terra hacked into his neck until it finally severed rolling off his shoulders. Although decapitated his arms and legs continued to spasm against the ground as dark blood mixed with the muddy puddles below his torso.
Like children they stood dumbfounded at their instantaneous freedom. Slowly the Titans' minds returned enough to comprehend what happened as the source of their mind control released its hold. They did Slade the courtesy of digging a hole and burying his head and body separately. Only Dick stayed behind to mark the grave. He found a large rock and scratched the briefest of epitaphs into the stone. It read simply "The Terminator".