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CHAPTER 11 ~ Grand Design
Previously...
As the light once again scintillated to life, Dick found himself looking down the barrel of a gun.
Dick. 21:13 hours. December 17th. Ritz-Carlton - Gardenia Lounger ~ Kitchen. Gotham.
You'd think Dick would see his life flash before his eyes or something equally epic - but, no. As he gazed at the steely device that was sure to be his end, all he could think was that he failed.
He failed Roy. He failed Wally. He failed his teammates. He failed the league. And, perhaps most importantly, he failed Bruce.
The fallen Boy Wonder recognized this without inflection; in far too much shock to feel anything other than a resigned sense of defeat.
As darkness began to tug him under, Dick watched dispassionately as Slade's gloved finger tightened on the trigger.
I'm sorry...
The fluorescent light ceased forebodingly - the pitch black like a blanket encompassing him. Dick stiffened as a screech of metal ring out in the darkness, awaiting the painful impact.
One that would never come.
As light flooded the cavernous room, Dick simultaneously noticed two things: That the gun was no longer in Slade's grasp and that there was a familiar lithe, ebony object embedded in the wall.
Shifting his gaze to the far side of the room he saw someone he never thought he'd see again.
Batman.
Dick smiled serenely, despite himself.
As he slipped into unconsciousness a single though echoed in his mind.
Bruce is here. Everything's gonna be okay...
21:19 hours. December 17th. Ritz-Carlton - Gardenia Lounge ~ Kitchen. Gotham.
Batman and Deathstroke had been fighting for what felt like an eternity. Their quarrel decimating the (formerly) luxurious kitchen. Nearly everything breakable was broken; cabinet doors ripped off their hinges, dishes lie in jagged pieces across the concrete floor, stainless steel chef's tables overturned and dented, the glass surfaces of the appliances smashed to smithereens, damaged fluorescent lights emitted menacing showers of sparks.
Both possessing genius and martial arts mastery unparalleled in anyone but themselves - neither could get the drop on the other. Neither could stay on top for long.
The winner of this fight would be determined by luck; whoever has the misfortune of stumbling first.
Batman shoved Deathstroke backwards and up against a wall covered with cooking appliances - stoves stacked upon one another in sets of three. Taking hold of his mask with both hands, Batman forced Slade's head through the glass door of the highest stove.
Unable to free himself from Batman's hold, Slade delivered a swift, yet powerful kick to the Dark Knight's solar plexus - momentarily giving him the upper hand.
Apparently, a moment was all he needed.
In the blink of an eye, Deathstroke brandished a gray disk, emblazoned with a silver "S", and whipped it at Batman.
The Caped Crusader tried to dodge the projectile, but not in time to avoid it entirely. As it clipped his bicep, the device erupted in torrents of a burnt orange, sticky substance - much like the gadget Red X used on Superboy at Queen Towers.
Batman struggled to free himself from his viscid confinement, while Slade made to reach for the fallen gun - his fingertips nearly brushing the cool metal, only to have it vanish in a canary yellow blur.
Deathstroke whipped around to see Batman working at the copper vines with the sharp edge of a bat-a-rang - beside him stood Kid Flash, waving the gun tauntingly.
"Souvenir!" Wally quipped.
At this, the speedster received annoyed looks from both Batman and Slade - neither appreciative of his immaturity.
Paling under Batman's glare, KF hurriedly pretended to lock his mouth and throw away the key.
Irritated, Slade launched another saucer-like device - this one aimed for Kid Flash.
"Eeep!" Wally squeaked, dashing away.
The second the steel disk collided with the wall, it exploded in a shower of flames.
Despite leaning as far away as he could in his ensnarement, tendrils of fire danced dangerously close to Batman's masked visage.
Wally, once again, instantaneously appeared beside Batman, tugging at the sticky orange ribbons in a futile attempt to untether him.
"Distract him while I try to free myself." The Dark Knight ordered in a commanding, yet whisper quiet tone.
With a quick nod, KF flashed in front of Slade and exclaimed. "Can't touch this!"
Kid Flash began running super speed circles around Slade - a veritable blur of neon yellow.
Observing Deathstroke's nonplussed expression, Wally began to run even faster; pushing his abilities to their limits.
Slade made no movement, looking positively bored.
What the heck is he doing? He's just standing there, like 'Whaz up?' Wweeeiiirrddoo! Well, at any rate, it's keeping him from goin' after Bats, so I guess-
KF's thoughts were jarringly cut off when, without warning, Slade's hand struck out in a Karate chop to Wally's throat.
Kid Flash fell to his knees, desperately gasping for air. While any oxygen he did manage to get caused him to cough violently - a vicious cycle.
Deathstroke roughly grabbed the speedster by the scruff of his costume, dragging him back through the expansive kitchen.
Dick. 21:31 hours. December 17th. Ritz-Carlton - Gardenia Lounge ~ Kitchen. Gotham.
Dick groggily opened his eyes, wincing as stark light caused his vision to swim. Tentatively, he raised himself up on his forearms - his body protested achingly at the movement.
When his vision came back into focus, he saw that Bruce was trapped against the wall in a viscid, copper web.
"Batman..." Red X began, but halted when he heard a hacking cough.
Dick turned just in time to see Slade re-enter the kitchen, dragging an incapacitated Wally behind him.
Dick's eyes widened in shock.
What did Slade do to him? What is Slade going to do to him? And - Wait a minute! What the hell is KF doing here in the first place?
Slade stopped in front of the kitchen's massive freezer - tossing Wally in as if he were garbage before sealing the titanium door.
Luckily, from Dick's position on the floor he was just out of Deathstroke's eyesight.
The acrobat whirled around to face Batman, meeting his eye with a beseeching gaze.
"Can you get out of that?" Red X whispered softly.
The Dark Knight gave a minuscule shake of his head in the negative.
Damn.
Looking back in the direction of the freezer, Dick saw Slade moving in their direction.
Shit.
Red X moved to retrieve a throwing X from his utility belt only to find that his belt was gone.
Must've lost it when I flew through the kitchen doors!
Fuck.
Glancing over his shoulder, he could see Deathstroke growing nearer.
I'm running out of cuss words...
Deciding his only option was to fight, no matter how much in vain the attempt may be, Dick made to move to his feet. Only to keel over due to the acute pain originating from his injured ankle.
Ugh. I have to fight! Get traught, damn it!
Dick rose to his feet, willing himself through the pain - absently realizing just how close Slade's footfalls sounded.
As Slade rounded the corner, an expression (Surprised? Impressed?) flickered briefly in his eye when he witnessed the conscious and standing Boy Wonder.
"I admire your tenacity, Robin. It is too bad you couldn't follow orders - I would've kept my end of the arrangement if you had."
Dick peered at Batman in his peripheral vision for any reaction to the fact that Red X and Robin are one and the same. He saw no sign that this was a revelation to him.
"Would you have?" Dick challenged, turning his focus back onto Deathstroke. "I'd have been caught eventually. It's not possible that I could win every time. So, when my mask was removed and identity revealed - can you honestly say you wouldn't have killed everyone I love in this world in that very second?"
"Yes."
Dick was bewildered. "Wha-What?"
"I wouldn't have harmed your friends, Robin. I'd have merely retrieved you from them." Slade replied formally.
"Why?"
"This was never about the Justice League. Or your team. This was always about you, Robin. I wanted to acquire you as an...ally."
"Why me?" Dick demanded, incredulity coloring his tone. "Why not a member of the League? Or why not someone powerful? Like Superboy?"
"The members of the League are adults. Stuck in their ways. Fully formed minds. You, on the other hand, are young. Impressionable. Moldable. Talented. I could do wonders with you on my side - given that I'd re-trained you to get rid of the poor habits you've gained from the Bat, naturally. Someone like 'Superboy' doesn't interest me. His abilities have been given to him. He's nothing but raw power. You weren't born knowing how to perform extraordinary acrobatic feats. You weren't born a master of martial arts. You weren't born with the ability to hack into the Pentagon. You learned those things. Your profound capacity for knowledge is what I desire in a comrade - a protege."
Robin gaped at Slade, baffled by the unexpected turn of events.
After an surreal moment, he awoke from his shocked stupor.
"I will never be your protege. My loyalty lies with Batman and the League." Dick stated threw his teeth - gritted in determination.
A wicked glint sparkled in Slade's eye as he reached behind himself, slowly drawing a mighty, cruelly curved sword from it's sheath on his back.
"Pity."
From here, there are two places this story can go and I've had a lot of difficulty figuring out which - so I am asking y'all to give me you opinion.
OPTION 1: This story ends in a few chapters. Have the climax, conclusion, etc. Then end it. Which would be 1 to 3 more chapters. With this option I have a clear grasp of the plot and how to write it. This is the safer option.
OPTION 2: This would cause this story to turn into a longer, possibly much longer, series. With this option my plot line is more abstract - as in, I know what the next few chapters would be (basically, at least), but I have no clear idea what so ever on how it would end. This is the riskier option.
Please give me your opinion!
Thanks for reading! Please review! :D