The Emperor's Talon

Chapter 11: Deathstroke and Boba Fett

Boba landed the Jericho on the edge of Alvorine's dense forest region not far from where Dick had bolted from the storm troopers nearly four months ago. He engaged the ship's low-power mode cloaking device and the ship all but faded from view. The two bounty hunters unbuckled their crash webbing and prepared to exit the cockpit. Grabbing their gear, the two disembarked from the ship and ambled down the gangplank.

Hiking his luggage higher onto his shoulder, Boba turned to a characteristically silent Slade Wilson. "How far till we reach Gotham?"

"Nine klicks North-East," answered Deathstroke scanning his data-pad's readout.

"Then I guess we'd better get moving."

"Agreed."

The two trudged through the forest at a respectable pace in silence. Alvorine's setting sun left a brilliant red horizon around them, and a little to their left, blinding rays of light splintered through the trees wherever the sun could penetrate. The ice and snow had begun to melt in earnest and dripped from the black branches above. The bounty hunters' feet trudged through the slush and dirt; a slurping noise accompanied the reclaiming of their boots from the wet ground.

After around three hours of walking, they reached Gotham City's durasteel wall. It had been built during the Clone Wars and still stood as sturdy as ever. By now the sky was nearly black and speckled with stars. The nightlife of Gotham was in full swing and the two men could make out loud music, shouting, and the steady hum of expensive speeder engines.

"Do we go in with the rabble or scale the wall?" asked Boba. Though he might generally prefer to work alone, he'd decided to let Slade take point for the moment. Watch and learn as the old adage said; not that the proud bounty hunter would ever admit such a thing.

"Do your scans detect any alarm systems on the wall?" Slade asked by way of an answer.

"No. Looks like they've already been deactivated by someone," Boba observed, "could be a trap."

Stroking his chin, Slade put a hand to the wall. Nothing happened. "I think we should have no trouble getting over the wall- especially with your Mandelorian jet-pack."

"Not a problem at all." He was secretly pleased that Slade had such confidence in his equipment. Respect from Deathstroke was neither easy to earn nor frequently expressed. They decided that Boba would fly Slade over the wall and then return with their gear. It crossed Boba's mind that he could easily take off with their gear and leave Slade at the wall. It crossed Slade's mind as well; but that unspoken agreement to work with each other was still in effect.

Once safely inside Gotham City and under the radar, Slade and Boba raced down several dark alleys and side streets until they reached a less densely populated sector. The city's border and North-east district was less strictly regulated or directly controlled by either the city police or troopers. The streets in this part of the city were lit by street lights placed almost haphazardly on the side walks and worked only intermittently. Ferocreat buildings with a few bombed out windows and rusty fire-escapes rose a maximum of seven stories on both sides.

Slade paused halfway down one such street. It was narrower than he would have liked, but the cheap apartment complex to his right offered a perfect strategical operations HQ and as good a vantage point as they were going to get in this part of Gotham. He put out a hand to halt his companion. Boba stopped and looked at him quizzically. Surely, they could do better than this dilapidated apartment building.

Pointing to the window of a top-floor corner apartment, Slade addressed his associate; "up there. It's high enough and out of the way. We can operate from there without detection. There are multiple ways to get in and out should things fail to go our way."

Boba looked dubious at best. "We're in Crime Alley. There's no 'under the radar' in either the best places or the worst places in any city."

"Bounty Hunters will blend in nicely here," Slade argued, "but more importantly, Crime Alley will draw the Bat and the Talon to us without them even realizing it. The Batman, and by extension the Talon, are crime fighters; and what better place for them to start than Crime Alley? We can observe them without giving away anything."

Boba was still unimpressed by Deathstroke's logic, however sound it was. He preferred maintaining residence farther way from the action in a defensible stronghold. "We can do better."

"Then you are welcome to look but I will remain here."

Boba regarded Slade who was- for all intent and purpose- unreadable behind the orange and black mask. He had never worked with anyone like Slade before and found the older man oddly beguiling when he was silent. Once again, he figured it was best not to cross Deathstroke the Terminator just yet. Boba Fett might be quickly gaining a reputation as the deadliest bounty hunter in the galaxy, but he suspected that Slade Wilson would give him a run for his credits and open the subject for debate. "Fine," he huffed after a long pause, "but you sleep on the couch."

"Wise choice," Slade commended but his tone was undecipherable.

The two picked the lock on the building and marched up the cement staircases of the apartment complex. The halls, devoid of life except for a couple rats, were cool and drafty; the walls were coated in gray dust and littered with dents, drops of blood, and chard pockets where blaster bolts had gone wild. Behind his mask, Slade wrinkled his nose. This place was unruly and uncivilized. While he was no stranger to such places, like any bounty hunter, Slade enjoyed the finer things in life.

Boba hacked the door's entrance control panel and the two bounty hunters asserted themselves into the room. Deathstroke unsheathed his katana and held it aloft and ready while Boba pointed twin blasters into the interior. But no one moved; the room was perfectly still and silent.

Slade scanned his surroundings. The apartment was dark except for the pale blue moonbeams coming in through the cracked window. The face of one drunken man, slouched against the far wall, was cast into fuzzy relief by that little bit of illumination. The rest of the empty room was shrouded in black shadows aside from the light glinting off broken glass bottles littered on the floor.

He crossed the room towards the man and poked him with the tip of his blade. "If you want to live, you're going to do exactly as I say."

The man shifted slightly and pushed Slade's katana away from him. "Get outt'a here."

"You had better get out," Boba warned, "we need this apartment. And I'd advise you to do as you're told and not mention this to anyone."

The man laughed and, as intoxicated as he was, pushed himself to his feet. He pointed his thumb at his chest. "Willis Todd don't do nothin' for no-one. I aint goin' nowhere."

"This is your last chance to walk out of this apartment," Slade warned.

Willis cracked an empty bottle of beer over Deathstroke's helmet. "No, you get lost. I didn't break in here to get away from the old-woman and the kid just to tangle with bounty hunters."

"Alright, I've had enough." Boba fired one shot and Willis crumpled to the ground. He dragged the smoking body out into the hall and left it there.

"Was that really necessary?" asked Slade. He sounded slightly bemused and more than a little aggravated as he began setting up their gear and security systems.

"The man was a drunken buffoon and petty criminal. I don't tolerate those very well."

"Our objective is to maintain a low profile."

Boba shrugged. "He's a drunken man who was killed in Crime Alley with a blaster shot to the chest. Anyone could have done it. It's not an un-common occurrence in places like this and it will go unnoticed."

Without further conversation, the two finished reconfiguring the apartment's entrance control panel and hooking it into a portable alarm system. Boba stashed and cleaned his weapons while Slade set up the monitors. Without the younger bounty hunter looking over his shoulder, Slade rewatched the video footage of the Talon for the hundredth time; his obsession might have been considered stalker-like had such activities not been already widely accepted as a part of his trade. Deathstroke was the best at what he did because he never moved until he knew his prey better than they knew themselves.

The night wore on and the sun reared her head over the lip of the horizon. Deathstroke watched. He was patient. And even the hope that comes with dawn is not enough to detour death. Dawn can be as cold as midnight. Everything was already being calculated. All the bounty hunters had to do was wait.

Wayne Manor, Gotham City:

"Why?" demanded Dick, "the empire- and now the whole city- knows that the Batman and the Talon are working together."

Bruce rubbed his temples in exhausted frustration. Richard hadn't let up on his argument for and urge to join him on patrol. "It's just too dangerous."

"For me? Or the city?" Dick cocked his head as he still often did when he sensed that someone had ulterior motives. He was rarely- if ever- wrong.

After a moment of deliberate hesitation, Bruce put a hand on Dick's shoulder. "You should just enjoy being free."

"You didn't answer the question," Dick pointed out.

Bruce heaved a sigh. "I trust you not to go ballistic on me, Dick; if that's what you were thinking. Maybe before I didn't trust you not to let your Talon instincts take over; maybe I thought you could never be more than a killing machine." He shook his head as if trying to clear it. "But now I see a kid. I see a boy who should just live his life to the fullest; one who should just feel free."

"I am. And it's swell living here with you and Alfred, but I want to be free to fight for what I want to fight for." He looked up and Bruce. "You can understand that, right?"

"I understand. I do. But…"

"I want to do this Bruce. I need to."

Bruce took a moment to compose himself and regain full control of the situation. Over the short time he had known Dick, he had found the boy very good at shifting conversations or battles to fit his own agenda. Bruce didn't doubt that the boy could adapt to his situations, but he was an expert at adapting his situations to fit him. Bruce didn't like to admit it, but Dick was very difficult to argue with. He folded his arms over his chest and looked down at the boy; the boy who had- against all odds- somehow found himself knocking at the door to Batman's heart of stone.

"Fine." He glared at Dick intently. "Against my better judgement, I will allow you to accompany me on patrols."

Dick's eyes lit up like a million burning stars. Bruce held up a hand. "But, you will do so on my terms. Gotham is my city to protect. You are my ward to protect. Your Light Side Force application training, detective skills, atmospheric awareness, and non-lethal combat training will double in difficulty. Is that clear."

"Perfectly." Dick didn't seem phased in the least by the sternness in Bruce's voice, though he did bristle a little at the idea of needing protection.

"Good." Bruce nodded once satisfied. "You'll need a new alias. Any ideas?"

"Robin."

"Like the bird?" Bruce quirked an eyebrow in obvious confusion.

Dick laughed. "I was watching them outside. And every time I saw one, I felt like hope was saying 'hello from heaven. You'll never be alone.' That's exactly the opposite of the message the Talon was supposed to send, and it's what I want."

"Striking fear into the hearts of you opponents isn't always a bad thing, Dick," Bruce told him. "Batman was designed for such a purpose. The difference between Batman and the Talon is that Batman fights for justice and leaves the criminals alive to face such justice."

"Batman is just a different kind of fear and darkness than the Talon," Dick elaborated, "but I want nothing to do with darkness."

Now it was Bruce's turn to smile. "Well you're young yet. Hope suits you, Robin."

Dick looked amused. "I didn't think you knew how to smile."

"Don't get used to it." Bruce resumed his habitual stern expression. "Now head upstairs and get some rest. It's sun-rise and you never went to bed last night."

"That's because you wouldn't see reason sooner and drew out the argument," Dick retorted.

"Don't get cocky." While his tone was warning, Dick could detect amusement shimmering on the edge of Bruce's aura in the Force. Still, Dick thought it was best not to cross the man at the moment and headed up-stairs.

Bruce watched him go. He wanted to slap himself in the face for agreeing to let Dick out on the streets so soon. It wasn't that he didn't think he could trust the kid, he was just afraid. He wasn't sure what he was afraid of exactly, but he had a feeling that things would end badly. Deciding to brood on the subject later, Bruce removed his cowl and headed for the showers. So much for his resolve not to let the kid worm his way into his affections. Who knew a little assassin could be so bewitching?

When he got out of the shower, Bruce found that Alfred had laid out his suit and tie for yet another day at Wayne Enterprises. Once dressed, he walked up the long flight of stone steps to the house. Alfred was waiting with his breakfast in the kitchen as usual.

"Good morning, sir," the butler greeted.

"Did Dick go to bed?" asked Bruce.

"Yes sir, he did."

"Good."

Alfred placed Alderanian ghost-berry muffins in front of Bruce. "I understand you have a new partner in crime-fighting."

"Yes. Against my better judgment."

"We both know the boy has skills; and his aptitude for the Force is uncanny, especially for one trained as he was."

"I know. But I sense a darkness descending on Gotham. And I think it had something to do with Richard." Bruce looked down into his coffee. "He's a good kid, Alfred. I don't want to see him get hurt."

"Spoken like a Jedi Master with attachment problems," teased Alfred.

Bruce looked up sharply. "We aren't Jedi any more. They're dead."

"Only if we let them die," the old man argued. "I will meditate on Gotham. Perhaps the answers will come through the Force. In the meantime, here is the invitation to Mrs. Grandfield's annual Gothamite Social Ball."

Bruce waved his hand dismissively. "Please make my apologies to Mrs. Grandfield, Alfred."

"I'm sorry sir, but you have already dodged her last three parties, and it would be uncommonly rude to decline this one as well."

Bruce growled.

"And I suggest you bring Master Richard along. Commissioner Gordon will be there with Miss Barbra and I believe it would do the young Master some good to meet children around his own age who have not been raised by assassins, mysterious courts, or Sith Lords."

Another growl. "Fine. Make the arrangements then."

"Very good, sir."

"And Alfred, keep an eye on Dick, will you? I can't shake this bad feeling."

"He'll be safe with me."

Bruce nodded and headed off to work.