WOO! LAST APPRENTICED! WOO!
Anyhoo, sorry for the absence, been working. This is a high pressure, short time slot type of job, so once it's done I should be back again.
As this is the last Apprenticed, I sure would appreciate some overall feedback on them. As in how much they wasted your time.
Be warned, I kinda amped up the melodrama here. Sorry for the corny.
Totes don't own the Titans.
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"You look shocked."
"No."
"No? Good, now-"
"No." Barely a whisper but it was loud enough, and Slade understood.
"No." He sighed, but didn't stand, still working at the gun. "Dick. You know exactly how this little effort's going to end. So-"
"Nobody was going to die before!" he'd found his voice. Hearing it made him stronger. "You aren't going to kill him. You aren't even going to try."
Slade still hadn't looked up. Why hadn't he looked up? He though Dick didn't mean it? He thought he was going to back down? No chance.
"Do I need-", he screwed on the silencer, "to mention the Titans?"
He hadn't forgotten them, he'd not been thinking, but he hadn't forgotten. Dick swallowed. But he was being strong. Not picturing them- Starfire, Raven, Beast Boy Cyborg, your friends- , not imagining them in pain, not thinking how they'd be dying from the inside out, not remembering that it would be as much his fault as Slade's, not- he stopped there, breathing slow and measured, and made himself say what he knew. Ignore what he felt.
"They wouldn't want this. Not even-" not, not, not, "Not even if it would kill them."
And as he said it, he knew it. They wouldn't. They were better than that.
Slade took a while in replying, and when he did, it was just a distracted, "Really." Still not looking, still working at the gun, still-
Ignoring you.
Dick growled, fists balled, jumped- he landed on Slade's other side and kicked at the gun, managed to hit it, knock it sideways, flip back, land, crouched. Eyes on Slade. "This is over. Slade." Felt good to use that name again. He'd made him call him 'sir'. Had he imagined that? It was unbelievable.
And now he looked up. Finally. That felt good too. Back to normal. Except-
Dick looked down at himself, saw the suit, the armour, the black and orange, that 'S'.
"You're going-" Slade stood, voice dangerous and low, "to wish you hadn't done that."
It was too good a moment to waste. He reached up a hand and ripped off the 'S', throwing it across the roof. "I just wish I'd done it sooner." Dick could feel himself grinning. Right again.
Slade tensed, slightly, looked at it, then at him. When he spoke there was something new in his voice, he was angry.
Dick smiled. He'd made Slade angry.
Which meant that now was the right time to get in the first blow. Dick charged, ducked, kicked at his legs- if he could unbalance him then-
Slade moved faster, to the side, spinning, crouching, punching- Dick was hit, he crashed onto the roof, grated his shoulder, bounced back to his feet.
And Slade was already up again, looking at him. He'd regained his composure. "There's a problem with your argument. About the Titans and their... self sacrifice." He was laughing at them.
Don't let him talk. Dick jumped, kicked, hit his chest, sent him flying, but he landed on his feet. "Something you're ignoring." He was still speaking!
"Shut- UP!" he punched at him, hitting the mask, which hurt through the armour but must have jerked Slade's neck too, because he grunted, catching himself before he fell- but it was still a hit. So he punched again, but Slade was faster, grabbed his arm, pulled it, twisted-
"You're right about them. They would let themselves die."
He let go, throwing Dick away. But he'd expected that, spun when he landed, jumped right back in, ready to kick-
Slade moved aside and he landed, not neatly. "You know why?" Dick wasn't going to rise to that. He would be told anyway. "Because deep down inside-" he looked at Dick, and stepped towards him. Slowly. "they believe that they'd be doing the right thing. They think there is a right thing. You and me, we know better."
"I'm not like you!" He couldn't help it. That idea-
"And-" back to ignoring him now then, "as I said before, this isn't about them. Not at all."
Dick glared and launched himself at Slade, hitting his chest, knocking them both off balance, but Slade found it again, and grabbed him, threw him again.
This time hard.
This time towards the roof edge.
And over-
It was too fast. Falling always was, you know that. You've seen that. He felt the air, the panic, the too-late adrenaline telling him to scrabble, turning, reaching, ground wheeling into sky, not wanting to die not wanting to die- then-
A jerk. Painful, all his bones shaking but he'd been caught-
Slade was looking down at him. A hand round his collar. Dick saw clearly and-
He'd only fallen a foot over the edge. That was nothing. Just panic. He'd gone weak, felt weak looking down, but he'd only fallen a foot. He'd lost control after a foot. Pathetic.
"Dick." Slade was watching him, "Did you enjoy that?"
He glowered. "I'm fine-" he tried to grab his wrist, climb back up, but Slade shook him gently, just enough to tell him what would happen if he tried.
"This is what it's about. You. You're no hero. Look at you. You're shaking. Dick..." he lowered his voice, "this is how scared you are of dying."
"I'm not- "
Slade's grip loosened, he stopped talking.
Like a switch.
"I'm offering you a choice. Either you can be a 'hero', and ask for me to let go."
"I can't!-"
"Or. You can ask me to pull you back, knowing that you're trading yourself for that man. Knowing that when you do as I ask, it's not for the Titans. It's for you. Because you don't want them to die. Because you're selfish, so your people matter more than everyone else's. It's an easy choice." He chuckled, "I'll even let you pretend that it's because you living is the 'greater good'. Or whatever you call it."
He didn't even last a minute. It was the slack hanging in his legs, he thought. Too much nothing. He couldn't. If it was any other way, if it wasn't falling-
But it was.
And it probably didn't matter. You're a coward either way.
"I..." he shuddered, wind under his feet, nothing to catch him, he couldn't look at Slade, "I want you to...save me."
"Dick...I told you to ask."
"Please..."
"And?"
It's not the ground it's the journey-
"...sir."
Back again.
"Almost. Now. All together. And looking at me."
He was going to throw up. As soon as he was back on land- he tried to talk without thinking, pushed his head up, met Slade's eye, didn't have the energy to scowl. All in one, don't taste them, "Please sir. Save me." Done.
And Slade had pulled him back, put him down. Dick, shaking, fell onto his knees, head bowed, vomited. He'd almost, almost-
Slade crouched next to him, hand on his back. "Good boy. That was very difficult. You did well." And he was up again, picking up the gun, walking back to Dick, setting it up, peering down the sight. "We're right on time. There he is." He smiled at him, and Dick looked up, bleary. They were right on time. So Slade had expected- known- that he would do that. He'd timed it. He'd-
A soft sound, like a pop. Quiet but explosive.
Slade had fired.
Across the street broken glass was falling, and someone screamed.
Slade had hit.
More shaking, cold round his stomach, aches in his head and his hands, he couldn't see, you failed. Completely. You didn't even try.
Somewhere in it, someone helping him up and leading him away, back over the roof tops. Back to the base. The Tower far off.
It wasn't even close to morning.