Disclaimer: I don't own anyone.

A/N: Sorry for the delay! I was swamped with a few projects for my internship, had a paper to write, and other shenanigans. This has been posted without outside proofing, so tell me if something's wrong. Read on!

Chapter 10: Contracts

-JW-

Penthouse

Gotham City

Keeping quiet and following orders was what Joey did best. It was difficult to be a leader, especially with his loud-mouthed sister in tow. If she could, she would take over Tim as leader of the Titans and lead them all to destruction. Well, she was getting better about keeping the violence under control. Somewhat.

"We need to flank them," Wintergreen said. "We have three guns. We should split up."

Alfred nodded. "Rose, stay with Wintergreen. Joey, come with me." He pointed to the hallway. "Our best bet is to get to the basement. We can get into the Batmobile and exit that way."

Gunshots popped near them. Alfred and Rose began to fire upon the advancing attackers, who made no move to slow down. Wintergreen threw away one of his crutches and limped after them, fumbling with his gun. Grunts of pain echoed in the hallway as Alfred shot out a man's kneecap.

"Apologies," Alfred called out.

As Joey watched he realized that Alfred wasn't shooting to kill, though he could if he wanted to. Rose and Wintergreen were certainly going to kill people. It made his stomach twist just thinking about it, but he couldn't stop them. Not while they had a good chance of dying.

Amid the shooting and the shouting and chaos they somehow made it down to the lower levels of Wayne Tower.

"Wait," Joey signed to Alfred. "I have an idea. Can you knock one out?"

"Of course." Alfred loaded another magazine into the gun. "Wait here."

Please be careful, Joey thought. He knew that Dick would be so unhappy if Alfred got hurt.

A bullet whizzed past Joey's head. Spinning around, he saw a masked man dressed all in black rushing towards him. Joey kicked and punched his way free, silently apologizing for each hit. He ripped the man's mask off and stared straight into his startled face.

Contact!

He possessed the attacker. One of the more pleasant side effects of his powers was the ability to read someone's most recent memories. After a few moments Joey gained complete control.

"It's me, Alfred," Joey said in the man's voice, which was rough and unfamiliar. "One moment, I can access his recent memories."

Voices Joey didn't recognize floated through his mind, some in languages he didn't recognize. He did, however, recognize one name: Wintergreen.

"What is it, Joey?" Alfred asked.

"This is not an attack upon the Bats,"Joey said.

"What do you mean?" Alfred asked.

"Wintergreen's presence attracted them."

A sudden boom distracted them. The walls shook. Bits of plaster sprinkled the floor.

"REGROUP!" Alfred shouted. "We have someone trying to come in through the back!"

Within seconds they regrouped, with Rose carrying Wintergreen on her back. How she managed to support Wintergreen's weight was beyond him.

"You're going to break your back, girl," Wintergreen said. "Put me down."

"Oh, quit your whining."

Despite this, Rose did set him gently onto the floor. Joey was suddenly struck by the thought that Wintergreen looked decades older than he remembered.

All four of them gazed steadily at the door, waiting for whoever was behind it to burst through. Beads of sweat rolled down Joey's face as he waited, the air pregnant with tension.

The walls trembled again. The lights flickered. Time passed so very, very slowly. Light footsteps pattered on the floor on the other side of the wall. His breath sounded much too loud in his ears.

With a terrible roar of sound the walls busted open, revealing a familiar burst of eggplant purple and a head full of red hair.

"Batgirl! Batwoman!" Rose exclaimed.

Joey was so surprised to see them that he accidentally slipped out of the man, leaving him slumped on the floor. The two women scanned the area to make sure that no one else was around before turning towards them.

"Alfred," Batgirl said, "are you okay?"

"Don't worry, no one's hurt," Alfred replied.

Groans of pain emanated from the man Joey had just possessed. Rose kicked him in the face.

"Can I shoot him?" she asked.

"No, we don't kill anyone in this house," Alfred said. "At least not while I'm around."

All six spun around as heavy footsteps thundered towards them. Before anyone could shout out an order Joey found himself engaged in battle. He moved instinctively to protect Wintergreen, who had raised his gun to shoot.

"Never mind," Rose cut-in. "We need to cut these losers down."

Blood flecked Joey's face as he moved, his movements fluid and precise. Perhaps he had inherited some of Slade's moves after all. Or maybe Mom is still way better than he is.

A shrill note filled the air. Their attackers stiffened, as though listening to someone. Both Rose and Wintergreen took the chance to shoot down two of them. Without so much as a backward glance the attackers fell back. What was going on?

-SB-

Wayne Penthouse

Gotham City

"Why are they retreating?" Rose demanded.

Of course Wayne Tower would be attacked while Dick was gone. How convenient. Before any of them could say or do anything their attackers were gone. After dealing with the wounded men Alfred made sure that Wayne Tower's security system was back online. Everyone stood in the basement of Wayne Tower, which served as Dick's Bat Cave. Steph watched Alfred mess with the security system.

"This was just a warning," Steph said suddenly. "They never intended to kill anyone, if they could."

"What makes you say that?"

"I'm not sure."

The question then was: why? If what Joey said was true, then were Slade's attackers after Major Wintergreen? They had attacked him in Jump City, so the only logical explanation Steph could think of was that they wanted to finish the job. Yet if this attack was a warning to Slade, then why bother cutting down all communication?

Because whoever kidnapped Slade's wife knows that Dick is working with Slade. Yes, that made plenty of sense. Barbara's voice floated over them, updating everyone on what the hell was going on.

"Communications are restored on the eastern coast," Barbara said. "No one else was attacked except for Wayne Tower."

"Does anyone have any idea who was behind this?" Rose asked.

"Batwoman and I think that Jason Todd had something to do with this," Steph said. "He mentioned working for someone. From the sound of it, he might have been coerced."

"But he's Jason," Roy said. "He's beaten most of the Batman villains to a pulp. Who could coerce him?"

The only people who knew enough about Jason's exploits after his resurrection—Bruce Wayne and Dick—weren't there to help. And if they managed to get a hold of Dick he could only tell them so much. They would have to make do.

"I bet I could beat some sense into him—" Rose said.

"No one is beating up anyone," Steph said. "I'm tracking him. Here, let me pull up the info on the Bat Computer."

A single bleeping dot betrayed Jason's position on the computer. He was leaving Gotham. Boy, could he move fast.

"He's running," Steph said.

"Running where, though?" Rose leaned against the desk.

The little red dot stopped.

"To meet someone," Batwoman said. "Turn on audio."

Jason's voice, defiant and angry, floated over them. "I did what you asked me to do. Give my stuff back."

"It was never yours to begin with," a male voice said. "My employer is patient. You are not done."

"Yeah, well I am!"

"You have not yet re-paid your debt."

Repaid his debt? What, did Jason make a pact with some demon? Did he have to sacrifice his firstborn child or what?

"I never asked to be in it in the first place!" Jason cocked his gun. "I'd rather be dead again."

Last night Jason sounded nervous, but not scared. Now he was practically pissing his pants. Dying wasn't something that Jason was scared of, that much Steph knew. So what was it, then? What was so important to him?

"We both know that's not what you want, Jason."

"I'm done here!"

Gunshots filled the air. A whimper. Labored breathing.

"Jason!" Alfred, this time.

Riveted, they listened to see if he was still alive. While Steph disliked Jason, she didn't want him dead. She didn't want anyone dead.

"You're crazy!" Jason snarled. "I...argh..."

Sounded like he was hurt bad. Oh boy, not again. Better not let anyone else pull a Joker on little Jaybird. Steph pulled her cowl back over her head. Time to boogey with Jayjay's blackmailers, whoever they were.

"We're gonna try a different tactic," Steph said. "Help him. Maybe then he'll be reasonable. Get the wine and cheese ready, Alfred. We have a date."

-DG-

Somewhere in Croatia

It only took a few hours for Slade to get his European contacts together. Dick may have good contacts among the capes, but not so much among normal people. Damian stayed near him all morning, still silently mourning the death of the girl.

"Thanks, Squirrel," Slade said into his communicator. "You've outdone yourself this time."

"Squirrel?" Dick raised an eyebrow.

"Nickname. His real name's Maurice. One of the my other trusted contacts."

I suppose I would have met him also, if I stayed with you. Dick said nothing. He didn't want to give Slade fodder for more apprenticeship jabs. Slade continued talking to Squirrel, ignoring both Dick and Damian.

"That contusion was not on your face this morning," Damian said suddenly.

"What?" Touching his face, Dick realized that Slade's punch must have darkened into a bruise. "Don't worry about it."

A punch to the face was the least of his problems. Dick would deal with Slade later. Dick had learned the hard way that aggravating a fight wouldn't solve anything. Suppressing the urge to punch him back was difficult, but he forced himself to end it quickly.

Slade went to go talk to a potential pilot. As they waited for Slade to return, Dick's communicator rang.

"Hey Babs," Dick said, flipping it open. "What happened? I wanted to talk to you yesterday."

"All communications were down," Babs replied. "There was also an attack on Wayne Tower."

"What do you mean Wayne Tower was attacked?" Dick demanded.

Damian looked at Dick as he yelled into his communicator. Dick should have been there, not here off on some rescue mission with Slade.

"Dick," Babs said firmly, "do what needs to be done over there, and do it fast. Gotham needs you."

"We were attacked too. Ninjas. Original, huh?"

Babs frowned. "It can't be coincidence. I'll look into it."

"No one was hurt during the attack, right?"

"The attackers broke into Wayne Tower, but Rose and Joey happened to be there. They were visiting Wintergreen. Wayne Tower needs to be fixed up, but no one was hurt. Oracle out."

He shut the communicator and began to rub his temple. Fantastic. Just what he needed to hear right now.

"What was that about?" Damian asked.

"Some villains decided to throw a party while I was gone." Dick put away his communicator. "We need to hurry up."

Slade walked back towards them, looking concerned. "Something wrong?"

"Nothing. Problems at home."

Always poking his nose in Dick's personal business, wasn't he? After Slade's little pep talk the earlier Dick didn't feel like talking to him. He's definitely hiding something, but what? Perhaps more investigation was needed.

"They'll manage," Slade said.

"Yeah, sure," Dick replied.

A dark-haired man followed behind Slade, though he stood a ways back. Smoke trailed from the cigarette stuck between his yellow teeth.

"I got a pilot," Slade said. Slade waved him over. "This is Anton."

"Hello!" The Russian accent was prominent. "You need ride to Istanbul? I will give you ride to Istanbul."

He wore a coat that Dick was certain belonged to some former Soviet general. If he had to guess an age, Dick would have placed him somewhere in his late fifties. Black stubble encased his face, which broke into a friendly smile.

"Is he trustworthy?" Damian asked in a low voice.

"No one is really trustworthy when you think about it, Wayne," Slade said. "We could all betray each other if we wanted to."

Those kinds of jokes may seem funny to Slade, but not to Dick. There was something odd about Slade's behavior, though Dick couldn't quite put his finger on it. Up until today he had blamed Slade's increasingly bizarre behavior on Addie's absence. Well, his behavior wasn't that unfamiliar, but what was making him irrational? It wasn't Damian's behavior, it was something else.

Punching Slade back wouldn't have benefited anyone. If Slade really didn't know who sent the ninjas, then his anger was understandable. Didn't make it acceptable, though.

"You're a pilot?" Dick asked in Russian (admittedly very rusty).

"Ya. I've done business with Mr. Wilson here before."

There were so many things he never told the other Bats. Sometimes, as part of a coercive language-learning strategy, Slade would make him speak in nothing but Russian. It had been annoying, to be honest, but it forced him to learn the language.

"I'm impressed," Slade said.

"Skills are skills," Dick replied, shrugging. "You taught me Russian, I just happen to use it."

"Come!" Anton waved them over. "Let us go!"

All this traveling made Dick feel sluggish. He was tired of running away, just barely moving forward towards their objective. For some reason he was certain that Slade was feeling the same way. Their little ball of hate was the only one with any energy, although Damian seemed to be trying to make up for the girl's death by putting a cap on his sarcasm.

Something nudged his elbow. Looking down, Dick saw Anton pushing a flask towards him. "What's that?"

"You look unwell," the pilot said. "Care for a pick-up?"

Dick took the flask, opened it and sniffed. Whoa. Pure vodka. How Russian.

-DW-

Airplane

Grayson had fallen asleep in his chair, his head lolling against the window. The Soviet (for Damian was certain that the man was a Soviet, despite the USSER's collapse many years ago) hummed a tune as he piloted the plane.

"You should sleep," Wilson said.

TT. Sleep? No, at least one of us needs to stay awake to watch you, Wilson.

"I don't need to sleep."

Besides, Grayson needed to sleep more. Of late, he hadn't been sleeping well. Probably an old habit he picked up from living with Deathstroke. Eh. It still boggled Damian's mind whenever he thought about the fact that Grayson had lived with Deathstroke during the apprenticeship. It was unacceptable.

"You scared of me, Wayne?"

"Hardly anything frightens me, Wilson."

"Everyone has their breaking point."

"What was Grayson's?"

"Sadistic, aren't you?" Wilson smirked. "His friends were."

Damian knew his breaking points. It was good to know them before going against a better or stronger fighter. Though, it was hard to truly find a breaking point without going mad. Continuing to stare venomously at Wilson, Damian frowned.

"Are you responsible for the contusion on Grayson's face?"

"If I am, what are you going to do, kill me?"

"Once this is over, I will."

"Dick won't like that."

"It is nothing less than you deserve."

Grayson had made it clear that this kind of harassment was unacceptable. Though Damian wanted to kick Wilson in the testicles, they were, after all, in a cramped plane. A fight would be better suited on the ground. A frown twisted Wilson's face.

"This is your last warning, kid. Threaten me again and you will regret it."

Damian's eyes narrowed. He glanced sideways at Grayson, who was still fast asleep. "Duly noted."

"Why don't you just go back to your mother's?" Wilson asked.

"I have lived there most of my life. I need to expand my horizons."

"You know," Wilson said. "Your mother got you here. Can't you ask her for help?"

"I do not wish to ask my mother for help again."

Access to his mother's contacts and supplies wasn't something Damian wanted to do often. He wished to separate himself as far as he could from her.

Wilson shrugged. "It was worth a shot."

"You have contacts as well, Wilson. Isn't that how you obtained this communist's aid?"

"No stereotyping, Wayne. Just because he has a rather...shady history...doesn't mean he's a commie."

"True. Besides, it is better than my mother's help. You would not like the side-effects of her aid."

"The same could be said for any al-Ghul."

"Save for me."

No matter what anyone thought, Damian considered himself his father's son. That was why he took his father's name, rather than his mother's. "I will not aid you. I'm only doing this for Grayson."

"Go to sleep, kid." Wilson leaned his head back, clearly intending to try to sleep himself. "You're gonna want the rest."

Wilson crossed his arms over his chest and shut his eye. Damian positioned himself between Grayson and Wilson. After a few minutes Wilson opened his eye.

"What?"

"Nothing. Please, continue resting, Wilson."

"Are you afraid I'm going to hurt you?"

"What kind of a question is that?"

Wilson? Hurt him? TT. Wilson should be the one frightened. As the seconds passed Wilson shook his head. "I will not harm a child... unless you make me."

"You threatened to kill the Titans."

"They were not children then."

How did Wilson differentiate between a child and a teenager? Did Wilson disregard the fact that the Titans were teenagers? While the Titans were a force to be reckoned with, there was no pride to be had in over-powering a teenager or a child.

"What you did was despicable and cowardly."

Wilson gazed at him steadily. "You're more like Dick than you think."

"And why do you call him that?" Damian asked suddenly. "He is not Dick to you. Dick is a stupid and rather puerile nickname, and only his friends call him that."

No other villain who knew Grayson's identity called him that, only Wilson. Amusement flickered across Wilson's face. "You don't consider him your friend, then? Or your brother, which by the way he legally is?"

"He is my mentor." He is looking for a weakness, Wayne. Don't let him have it.

"Ah. I see." Wilson sighed and shook his head. "You're afraid that I'll hurt him."

Damn. "He should not have helped you."

"I'd rather not be nagged by both of you," Wilson replied finally, rolling his eye. "Please, go to sleep. We can chat about this in the morning."

The conversation was done. Crossing his arms over his chest, Damian huffed and settled down in his seat.

At least Wilson appreciated his talent for killing people. Having grown up with an ability to kill efficiently, Damian had a difficult time trying to stop it. Contrary to popular belief, Damian did believe in the sanctity of life. Well, life that mattered, anyway. Grand-father was always going on about how most of the world's population could be destroyed to balance out destruction against nature.

Wilson's files said that he was a filthy mercenary, albeit one who worked with a personal code. There had also been files on Wilson's family. Every single one of his friends and relatives held an impressive record, save for Wilson's firstborn. He sounded like an idiot.

You are untrustworthy, Wilson.

Anton took off his headphones and turned to face them. "We need to refuel in a few hours, okay? We stop in Bulgaria. Perhaps you will see Viktor Krum, eh?"

He laughed irritatingly at his own joke.

-SW-

Bulgaria

Anton landed to re-fuel in Bulgaria early the next morning. Slade hardly slept during the flight, though Little Wayne eventually nodded off. The plane's lumpy landing woke Dick right up. Everyone on board took the opportunity to get out of the cramped airplane to take a piss. Slade watched Dick stumble towards an outhouse before answering his ringing cell phone.

"Do you want to put a baby monitor on me?" Slade asked. "It won't take long. It'll be less work than you calling me up every twenty-four hours."

"We don't want to run the risk of your new partners discovering us."

"It won't take long for him to realize—"

"We will deal with that when it comes."

"Listen," Slade said, "whoever you are—"

"Suleiman Matar."

Finally, a name. Whoever this Suleiman Matar was, he was acting as the voice-piece of his employer, whom Slade had definitely run-into before. It annoyed Slade that he couldn't talk directly to his employer; he had never liked middle-men.

"Look, Mr. Matar," Slade said, "is there any other way to do this?"

But what I really want to say, Mr. Asshole, is that once I get there I'm going to skin you alive. Does that sound nice?

Negotiation, however, required a little more finesse than that. Considering the status of Mr. Matar's employer, it would be unwise to improvise.

"There is no other way. Don't try to negotiate. Your word is your bond, isn't it, Deathstroke?"

"This is extortion, not a contract."

"But why should it matter to you? You would have done it anyway, for the right price."

"No, I wouldn't have. I have standards, a code of honor—"

A sharp laugh cut off his monologue. "You're a very funny man, Deathstroke, do you know that?"

"So I've been told."

"You've wasted enough time. You should have come straight to Qurac. You will come with what my employer has requested, preferably undamaged."

Funny, how Slade never had enough time for anything these days. He clenched the strap of his bag tightly. "Yeah, yeah, I've got things covered on my end."

"Would you like to speak to your wife?"

Sweat slicked Slade's hand. "Yes."

The phone was passed on to someone else, who then passed it on to Addie. He heard her breathing into the phone, as though summoning up the courage to say something to him.

"You know who we're dealing with?" Addie said. "This is big, Slade. Leave me be."

"And let them win? No, I can't allow that."

"Your pride has nearly gotten our family killed, Slade. I'm perfectly capable of escaping myself. Get off this continent."

"It's not that simple, Addie—"

"Will you stop calling me that—

"There was an attack on Wayne Tower," Slade said.

"I know," Addie replied. "I heard them talking about it. It doesn't make sense."

"Joey, Rose, and Wintergreen were there. That's why."

Addie hardly mentioned Rose. She didn't care that Slade had a daughter. The only indication that the news had affected Addie was Rose's age. Assurance from Wintergreen convinced Addie that Slade didn't cheat on her. I would have never cheated on Addie.

"We don't negotiate with terrorists, Slade."

"Maybe you don't, but I do."

The incident with Jackal proved that Slade didn't negotiate with terrorists, and look where that got him. No one had really won that day.

"I know what they want," Addie said. "Don't do it."

"I have to. For you."

Not my cup of tea, Slade thought. It's not my kind of contract, but it is a contract. I will complete it. To add insult to injury his new employer had promised to wire him money in addition to Addie's release.

"For me?" Addied echoed. "Slade, I told you to leave me alone."

"I've left you alone for fifteen years. You're the one who tried to hunt me down."

"Only because you were hurting other people!"

So, that was the only reason why she came back: to kill him for hurting Grayson ten years ago. Once the boy was out of harm's way Addie had retreated to the shadows. Where she went was anyone's guess, even to Joey, who joined the Titans shortly thereafter. She only appeared when she was needed. And now...this wasn't the way he wanted to see her again.

"I'm not going to leave you there to die!"

The mother of his children could not be left to die alone in a prison cell. Even putting his personal feelings aside, Slade knew that Joey would never forgive him if he turned back now.

"There's another way, Slade!" Addie shouted. "You can't let them win! You of all people—"

"That is enough, Ms. Kane." Mr. Matar took the phone back.

Addie continued to speak harshly to her guards, spitting out colorful imprecations that almost made him smile. She hadn't changed one bit.

"Your time's up, Deathstroke," Mr. Matar said, taking the phone back. "We have tried to...speed things along. We will continue to do so until you complete your contract."

"There's no need to speed things up. Don't you trust me?"

"My employer doesn't trust you."

"Everything will go according to plan. I've got everything under control."

The more they tried to control things, the chances of everything going wrong would increase. If there was one thing Slade hated the most, it was when everything spun out of his control.

"It better be."

Mr. Matar hung up. Repressing the urge to smash the cell phone against a tree, Slade put it back in his pocket and sighed. Even Waller knew what the real plan was, and Slade hardly trusted him with anything. Slade had told all of his associates (save Wintergreen and the kids) what he planned to do after he discovered he didn't have any other choice.

"Slade, do you have any aspirin?"

Slade swore loudly as he spun around to face Dick. The kid could sneak up on people now. That's because you taught him how to, Wilson. Dick took a startled step back, his eyes widening at Slade's annoyed expression.

"You okay?" he asked warily.

"You stay in the plane with Wayne," Slade snapped.

"Why?"

"Just do it."

Great, if Dick found out mere seconds after Mr. Matar lectured him that would be real swell. But what if he did? What would happen if he did tell Dick? He was Batman, after all.

The risk is too great, Slade thought.

Slade didn't fail to notice that Dick took his time turning his back to him. Hiding all of this from one of the world's best detectives was exhausting. He just had to keep everything under control.

A/N: Mwahahahaha!

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