Ch. 10 – Allies
Slade quickly caught up to Jericho, not really after all that much effort. He found the blonde sitting slumped up against a wall, covering his side with his hands. Bright green hues met his mask as Slade approached, and crouched down next to the mute to see what the matter was.
Jericho carefully moved his hands, shutting his eyes at the sight of what they had been covering; some of the wounds he had received, a trio of tiger claw slashes, had ripped itself back open in his escape. They were now bleeding rather heavily, and obviously causing him a deal of pain.
"Come on, I have another place we can go," said Slade, as he picked the boy up and seemingly trying to avoid causing any discomfort for him. With that, Slade hurried down the tunnel, away from the police station, making his way farther into the depths of Gotham City right under its roots.
When finally they were in open air again, it was already dark out. Slade carried Jericho through the city, coming to an old nightclub, called "The Gotham Masque", a slightly obvious title for one of Slade's hideouts. However, they were not alone.
"What's this? Someone seems to have stumbled into our funhouse, boys!" came a strange cackle from a man with green hair and a white face, wearing a purple suit. Jericho looked at the man, wondering what exactly was going on.
However, he didn't really get to wonder for long, as two large men with painted faces like clowns came from either side of Slade, and charged at him. Immediately, Jericho jumped into the one, while Slade fought the other. In moments, the masked man had taken out the one clown, and allowed Jericho to jump out of the other before knocking him unconscious. As he was unable to stand, the blonde sat on the floor, bleeding slightly, looking rather uncomfortable until Slade picked him back up.
The purple-clad man blinked, not having expected this. "Now now, let's um…Let's talk about this! You don't seem like the kind of man in league with the flying rat, maybe we can come to an accord," he suggested to Slade, a little surprised.
Slade was silent. This didn't bode well for the man with the green hair.
"Wait, wait! I can help you out, you seem new in town, right? Well then, perhaps I could show you the ropes! I know every hole in the wall in Gotham, and all the ways to avoid the bat!" He threw in, trying to win this argument that seemed to be with himself.
This caught Slade's attention. The masked man had in fact been wondering how he could avoid Gotham's protective shadow. "Perhaps you could be of use after all," said Slade, almost as a thought given voice.
The strange man seemed a little relieved. "The names Joker! Pleased to meet you!"He said, as he pranced down from the stage and held his hand out to the two.
Slade's one visible eye narrowed, not taking the hand. "You will have to try harder than that joy buzzer, if you plan on killing me. I wouldn't recommend a second attempt," The masked man walked past him without another look, heading over to a broken down old couch and setting Jericho down on it.
The Joker paled slightly, then laughed it off a bit awkwardly. "Your better at this game than you look, whoever you are," he said, seeming truly surprised by it.
"My name is Slade," came the reply, ignoring the somewhat compliment; he was re-bandaging Jericho's side.
The little blonde watched a moment, as the old red bandage was replaced with a fresh white one, until Slade spoke. "…I was too late getting back there," He said, causing Jericho to look at him with wonder, "…Herald was already dead by Robin's hand."
Something broke. The world, perhaps. It was one thing for the Titans to hate him, the child of their most dangerous enemy…but Herald? What had he done?
"They though he had betrayed them and helped you get away," Slade explained, not making eye contact with the boy who seemed to have gone into shock with the news.
Jericho was staring blankly, not looking at anything, not registering what it was he simply saw. They wouldn't really do that…He understood that they would hurt him, he knew that for certain, but…Herald? He hadn't helped Jericho, and the Titans wouldn't have just killed him without being able to confirm or deny their suspicions…would they?
Slade tied off the bandages, and now his one visible eye met Jericho's green hues. "I'm sorry, I know you still thought of him as a friend," he said, in the voice of a concerned parent.
For a moment, there was silence, and then the masked man spoke up again, "…Jericho, do you remember my offer?" He waited for the boy to nod, and then said, "If we work together, we can keep them from ever doing something like this again. We can keep them from hurting any more of your friends."
Again, silence. Then, slowly, Jericho nodded a second time; he wanted to keep the Titans from hurting anyone else.
"Jericho, you are strong, but I will help you perfect your talents…Your skills are unique, certainly…but we will make them faultless," Slade told him this as he lay upon the couch, still too weak to stand, and this encouraged the boy to heal more quickly.
The first moment that Jericho was able to stand on his own, Slade began to train him; The boy was already agile, and able to fight, but that wasn't enough. He needed to be stronger, faster, and more cunning. He needed to be more like Slade himself.
Even with the injuries still present and holding Jericho back, Slade pushed him forward. Jericho wore heavy weights around his wrists and ankles at all times, and heavier ones when sparring.
When the mute thought he couldn't continue, the masked man pushed him anyway, forcing him to continue his training until the boy thought he would simply snap, or his injuries really did prevent him from continuing. If that happened, Slade would stop him and the wounds would be tended, but then they would go on.
Soon, Jericho began to change; his body had more muscle to it, toned and almost hidden, but certainly his strength was increasing quickly even though the boy took no notice of it personally. Slade noticed; his son was becoming the apprentice he always wanted.
The one thing that troubled the masked man was that he couldn't seem to drive the idea he wanted into Jericho's mind firmly enough. "Jericho, don't think about going easy on them. The Titans will kill you, slowly, if they catch you again. Last time you were lucky I came back when I did," he repeated over and over, trying to make it sink in.
"If you are caught, you must escape. By any means escape, or you will die," Slade's words were ever present in the blonde's mind. He wouldn't allow himself to be killed. He wouldn't allow himself to be caught. He wouldn't allow the Titans to kill someone innocent again.
Jericho worked hard, harder than he ever had before, to work until he could complete a day of Slade's training without wanting to collapse. He worked until he could wear weights up to twenty pounds on each limb and barely notice. He worked until he could hold his own and stalemate against Slade himself when sparring.
After a month of training, Jericho discarded his well-loved outfit, and traded it instead for the black and orange uniform. He slipped on the metal plates, and heavy boots. Finally, he dawned the metallic S on the orange section of the outfit. Jericho had at last decided to join his father's mission to relieve the world of the Teen Titans.