AUTHOR'S NOTE: This inspiration came to me out of the blue. Sure, the chapter is kinda short, but I figured you guys would like an extra treat regardless. And besides, I think a lot of you would appreciate this. Enjoy.

Chapter 4

He loaded up his sniper rifle. Letting the click of the bullet entering the chamber echo in the little room. Across from him seated at a bare, white table the blind alien turned his head. No doubt his super hearing kicking in as he picked up the small nuances of his visitor's heart. Heard the blood pounding through the man's veins as he loaded the weapon with red kryptonite bullets.

"You know that's not necessary. I have no intention of hurting you. Besides, I can't exactly move with my…bracelets." Kal-El said calmly. Raising his wrist he jingled the kryptonite bracelet secured firmly around his wrist. He also had another one on his left hand and both ankles. There had been a lot of debate about whether to install a special UV light system when only generate the light of a red sun, but this had been put on hold. Experts had argued over Superman's eyes healing eventually due to his kryptonian DNA. To install the lights would impede his body's natural ability to repair itself. So they allowed it, but only until his eyes had healed.

If they ever did.

"No shame in taking precautions. I've heard you're a sick bastard at heart." His visitor responded. The kryptonian heard the click of the gun as the chamber was loaded. Then more clicking as the man began to load up his hand pistol as well.

"Do the guards know you're here?"

"If they're burning in hell and cursing my name out, most likely yes." His visitor said easily. At this Kal-El's nostrils flared as he moved to get up. A shot rang out and he felt a burning sensation along his shoulder.

"Hey, sit down flyboy. Next bullet is between your legs, understand? I just came to ask you a few questions. Nothing to strenuous for his majesty. Now, what can you tell me about Superboy?" His visitor demanded. Clark blinked for a moment thrown by the question. The heavy drugs they had dumped into his system impaired his thinking to a great extent. For some reason his visitor seemed content to wait him out as the alien gathered his thoughts.

"He's strong. I…think he has the same abilities I do."

"Any weaknesses?"

"Superboy is half…human. So that impedes him quite a bit. I remember seeing what looked like a sticker on his arm. I assume it suppresses his human DNA and allows him for a short amount of time to have my powers."

"Huh, I didn't know that. Thanks for the info, Supes, you ain't as useless as I first thought you were. What about the guy he's attached to? You know, the other blind one."

Superman's lips went into a thin line at those words. Bruce Wayne. His last vision had been of staring directly into Superboy's eyes. He had seen the clone's eyes begin to glow red like a demon's before for a split second he had looked to the man formerly known as Batman. Bruce standing there in the crater where Superboy had landed. Looking for the first time completely calm. He swore he had seen a flash of pain over the man's face. Even as if, despite his years of being a captive, some old part of Bruce still mourned the loss of a once good thing.

"He's better than I am, you know." Superman spoke up to his visitor.

"Yeah, he's worth ten times then you are I bet. Anyone else would have just killed you. What you did is ironically worse then anything the Joker ever wanted to do. You know, I actually told him all of it. How Bruce became what he was. The entire story from start to finish."

Superman remained silent. Horrified by what he was hearing.

"That's right, I gathered up all the baddies he's ever had to face in Gotham. Well, most of the major players anyway. Quite a few of them just assumed Bats when A-wall at first only to pop back up later. Only the Joker was aware it wasn't the real deal. When I told him the truth of it all he was furious. Then after that he just started laughing. He found it all hilarious."

"What possessed you to do such a thing? Do you want Bruce killed?" Superman asked. He heard a chuckle from his visitor before he felt the cold steel of the barrel of the gun being pressed to his temple. Heard the click as the trigger was pulled back.

"You did too, ironically. Now you're all weepy you lost your favorite plaything? Supes, you contradict everything you've ever stood for. Despite all the shit you've done the world still thinks of you as the next coming of the Messiah. Pathetic."

"So why come to me?"

"I needed some more information. Besides, I had a few loose ends to clean up. After the Joker had his last laugh I shot him in the forehead. Guy went down like a sack of bricks. Shot his girlfriend too. Harley something? Oh well. For good measure I cut his head off too. Here, you can't see it but you can feel it."

Kal-El jumped when he felt a wet thump land by his hand. Alarmed he tried to get up and move. Instead, this stranger shoved him back down. Hitting the former hero with his pistol causing blood to well up on Clark's temple.

"Feel it."

"No!"

"Look, you sick, disgusting bastard. Do it or I start blowing your limbs off. I've already put down the Penguin, Mr. Freeze, the Croc, Two-Face, and a whole lot of other fuckers who should have died a long time ago. You'll just be another mark on my wall. Feel it!"

With a shaking hand Superman reached out. He felt the strongly gelled hair of the Joker's. The sharp nose and the small hole in his forehead. He could still hear the blood slowly dripping from the head. Freshly cut the alien realized sickeningly the man must have just committed the murders. He felt bile rise in the back of his throat as he turned his head away. Throwing up on the floor as his captor took a step back. Cursing roundly at the added stink and kicking Superman for good measure.

"I'd go on and tell you how pathetic you are, but you already know that. Now, do you have any idea where Bruce may have gone off to? Huh?" His captor demanded. Wiping the remains of vomit from his mouth as his sluggish mind began to work.

"He would go where he felt safe. I would guess…anywhere Alfred is. When he started to lose his mind he would often start rambling on about that old man."

"Thanks, Supes. See? I ask a question, you give me an answer. You ask me a question, I blow out your knee caps…"

"What?"

Outside of Arkaham Asylum Deathstroke calmly sharpened one of his many blades. A long, ragged edged army knife he had taken off the desk of one of his targets a few months ago. Leaning against the van he heard the inevitable two gunshots. The high pitched scream from inside made him raise his head only for a fraction of a second. He listened for a while longer as the scream tapered off into a wail. Another shot resounded after a few minutes.

Deathstroke calmly slid his blade back into his belt. Opening the door to the van and getting in the front seat. He started the engine and sat back with his arm draped casually over the wheel. Waiting patiently as a second later a black figure with a red mask on appeared near the front entrance of the asylum. His black ops outfit shiny with freshly spilt blood in some places. For a moment the masked figure looked behind him as if checking for guards. Taking out his pistol he fired two shots into the building then made a run for it. Sprinting down the hill towards the idling van. Without waiting Deathstroke started up the engine, took it out of park, and began to make a U turn.

"Hey, HEY! Stop! You fucker!" His partner yelled. Deathstroke ignored the protests only slowing down a fraction of a second long enough for his partner to grab the door handle, leap into the passenger seat, and then floored it. A bump in the road causing the door handle to slam shut.

"A top notch mercenary, and you're still to slow not to smash your fingers in the door." Deathstroke said calmly. Beside him his partner cursed shooting him a glare for the tease.

"I had to take care of some business."

"Well, next time take care of it faster. A split second spent dealing with a target can mean your life. A clean shot. Unless they the bastards deserve it just finish the job and get out of there."

"You don't think Supes deserves what I just did to him? I should have taken my time with him."

"That's if I believe you, Dark. Next time just grab him, throw him the back, and we'll just pack him along with us. I'm not spending a weekend in a high security lock up again because you're sorry ass needs to get off again." Deathstroke said calmly. Beside him his partner made a disgusted sound in the back of his throat. Reaching he removed his red helmet. Beneath revealing a black mask over his eyes and mussed black hair. Sharp, aquiline features making him what Slade liked to refer to as a pretty boy.

"Fuck you, Slade."

"I don't fly that way."

"Whatever. Just go, will you? You drive worse than my grandma."

"Do you even have one?"

"DRIVE!"

Slade chuckled as he stepped down all the way on the gas pedal. He weaved easily through traffic acting as if he were making a delivery. He had disabled the security systems to the asylum ahead of time. No one would be going up there until they started to smell the dead bodies rotting inside. While the mercenary didn't support a whole scale man slaughter, considering the men inside had hurt countless innocents made him turn his head this time. He was no hero. Oh no, not by a long shot. But if putting down a few rabid dogs took out some of the competition in the process and gave him some good karma to boot…well hell, why not?

When they reached the outskirts of Gotham Slade let up on the gas. Taking back roads where he could and constantly checking his radar and police scanner for any signs of pursuit. Other than a few miscreants who had been caught downtown doing graffiti, the police were quiet. In the passenger seat Dark glared out at the passing scenery. Angrily tapping his fingers on the windowsill as they drove.

Eventually they came to their stop point. Getting out of the van, which was a flower delivery service, they grabbed their weapons. While Dark took care of pushing the van over the cliff Deathstroke went to work on recovering their bikes. Wheeling them out just as the van disappeared over the edge. The sound of screeching metal sounding as it hit the cliff wall. Spiraling down to the bottom as it collided with the side from time to time.

"Not setting it on fire?" Deathstroke asked. Dark snorted shrugging his jacket on. A silver emblem of an eagle with outspread wings flashing in the sunlight.

"I set the bomb to do it in a few minutes. Figured to let the fireworks start after we're long gone. Give the cops something to worry over. Besides, you and I need to book a flight."

"Is this before or after I call my private jet?"

"Fuck you, Slade. I got it covered. We need to get to England. Pronto." Dark Wing insisted. Deathstroke sighed deciding not to bother arguing the point with his partner. They had been working together far to long for this to be an issue. Usually when the younger man got something stuck in his head he would go at any cost to achieve it.

"Fine, but you're paying for first class. None of this coach crap like last time."