A/N: Hiya!

Another chapter! Yay! This one was really hard to write but the ending was fun.

Warning: Rated M for Language, controversial themes, and child abuse. If you are uncmofortable with any of those, the exits are all around you. If not, please enjoy the chapter!

Disclaimer: I only own the villain. That's it.

(P.S) to some of you, the first part may seem unrelated, but it will be clear soon.

Here we go!

"Emelia!"

A small levitating girl looked up from her book as her mother shouted from downstairs. Yes, you heard me right. She was levitating. Why? We'll get to that later. "¿Sí?" she called back.

"¡Ven a la cocina para la cena!" there was then a thump from downstairs, but Emelia just ignored it. It was probably just the cat knocking over something. Again.

"¡Un momento, mamá!" the girl lowered herself onto her bed from her floating position, swung her feet off, and ran down the stairs to the kitchen. She stopped dead at the sight that greeted her

Her mother lay prone on the floor, a sticky red substance seeping from her stomach onto the wood floor. Her eyes and mouth were slightly open, a shocked look on her face.

Her father stood above her, panting. In his hands, he clutched a long wooden spear that was covered in blood. At the sight of his daughter, an animalistic grow left his throat.

"¡Mamá!" Emelia shrieked, running towards the body. She knelt down and checked for a pulse, but there was none.

Smack. A backhand sent her crashing to the floor. Holding a hand to her cheek, she looked up with terror at her father, who was now advancing on her, bloody spear still in hand.

"You ungrateful freak!" Emelia shrunk back even more. Her father never spoke English, unless he was really mad. "You see what your unnaturalness has brought upon our family? You see what it has done to your mother?"

"B-but father, I did not do anything!" Emily attempted. Her father just backhanded her once more.

"Yes, you did! You brought on a deep depression to our lives! It was simpler without you. Now, you have messed with our minds and made me kill my wife. And for that, you must pay!" Her father reached into his pocket and pulled out a switchblade.

Emelia backed up into a corner, curling into a ball. Her father brought the blade down, and it cut into her left bicep. A scream tore through her throat. He kicked her in the face, causing her to slam her head against the wall.

Stars swimming in her vision, she didn't even notice when her father grabbed her by the forearm. He dragged her out of the corner.

Emelia sobbed as her father hit and kicked her in every place he could reach. He brought the knife down again and again until every part of her body was covered in lacerations. Her left eye had swollen shut, and she gazed drunkily up at her father.

"P-por favor. ¡D-deténgase!" She choked out. He just ignored her and stomped on her right elbow. A loud crack echoed through the room, almost drowned out by Emelia's blood-curling scream. She let out cry after cry as he continued his work.

Finally, he stopped, standing up to gaze down at his beaten daughter. "You brought this on yourself. I have no choice but to rid this village of the demon that inhabits it." With that, he reached into his pocket once more and pulled out a shotgun,

Emelia, through the haze of pain, glanced up. When she saw the gun, an icy terror grabbed her by the throat.

"N-no!" She managed, her good arm shooting out.

A strangled gasp echoed throughout the room, followed by cries of agony. Blinking, Emelia could see her father grasping at his eyes, which now had a green substance spreading out fro around them. Two thorns were embedded right beside his hands.

Emelia gasped. She shot out her hand once more and two more thorns shot out, one hitting him in the chest, and one in the neck.

Her father ceased in his yelling, and his hands dropped as he keeled over and hit the ground, dead. Emily shakily stood up, shrieking as pain shot through her body. Focusing, she lifted off the ground and levitated out of the room to get the weight off her leg.

She almost made it to the front door when her powers stopped working. Dropping to the ground, she landed on her side. Agony once again tore through her, drawing a scream from her throat. Nevertheless, she stood up again and shakily limped onto the streets, not once looking back.

Thud.

The teenage girl sighed as the acid of her projectile rotted the dart board. Time for her to get a new one. Again. She concentrated hard and watched as long, sleek spikes sprouted from her finger tips, the points dripping a green substance. The girl brought her hand back and slung the thorns forward onto the now blackened dart board.

A tingle went down her spine as a drawling voice sounded behind her.

"So you're the new girl in Gotham?"

The girl whipped around, instinctively moving into a fighting position.

"Relax. I'm not here to fight you." The voice once again said, this time with a slight hint of amusement.

"Then what are you here for?" The girl stood and drew her body up. "I was not expecting any visitors."

"Well, Thorn," the girl's eyes widened at the blatant use of her title. "Negotiation, mainly."

The voice's owner stepped into the light, and Thorn almost choked. Standing there, red eye and all, was Deathstroke the Terminator.

Thorn shook herself. Why, out of all people, was Deathstroke here? He was one of the most prized mercenaries in the world, and a super soldier at that.

"Why?" She questioned, slowly taking a few steps forward. "I do not believe I have anything of value to you."

"Not at this moment, no. But, you will," Deathstroke looked at her with a piercing eye. "Very soon."

"What is it that you want?"

"Your mercy during your strike tonight." Thorn narrowed her eyes. Just how much did he know?

"You see," Deathstroke continued, "there is a certain boy I have gained... interest in."

"In what manner?"

"Well, even I can't live forever. Once I'm gone, I will need someone worthy to step up and take my place."

"An heir."

"Precisely."

"So you want me to bring the boy to you?"

Deathstroke shook his head. "No. It is not the right time for me to strike. Merely spare him so he can be mine for the taking."

Thorn's eyebrows shot up. "And what shall I receive from this?"

"An amazing warrior for the time being. And, a tool that can ensure your success."

"You seem to have a lot of faith in this boy."

"He is perfect. A prodigy. And, with me as his master, he can become even more."

Thorn thought for a moment, then spoke, "Alright. You have a deal."

Behind the mask, Deathstroke smirked. "Excellent."

"So, who is it I am keeping alive?"

A/N: I considered spoiling who it was in this chapter, but I decided to be mean. Besides, it might be a little obvious. If you know Deathstroke and his history and where else he is from.

Anyway, translations:

¿Sí? = Yes?

Ven a la cocina para la cena. = Come to the kitchen for dinner.

¡Un momento, mamá! = One moment, mom!

Por favor. ¡Deténgase! = Please. Stop!

So, with that I bid you farewell. Review! No flames, please! I will see you all next time!

-Hogwarts914