Some big changes to the previously written dynamic between Dick and Slade and, more importantly, Dick and his own memories (both of which were hinted at in Slade's POV but really cemented here). Also, during his time with Slade Dick has likely taken on a different name or been mostly called Renegade/apprentice by the members of the house (or both), but that doesn't really matter right now. Anyways-

Chapter 7~Tonight

Renegade's POV

Today's the day! It was like a familiar mantra playing in my head, alongside an annoying but manageable headache. Wintergreen had finished adding the final touches on my new suit, the old one too damaged to be salvaged from my run in with the Justice League brats.

I stifled a sigh, running a head through my hair and over a thin, still healing scar along the side of my head. It wasn't only my suit that had become irreparable but my mind too, like a heavy storm hung over most of my memories, promising nothing but pain any time I tried to retrieve them. It was one of the only things I kept from my mentor, not wanting to worry him further after all he did for me by hiring Psimon. Besides, memories were unimportant to the job at hand, and did nothing to help me carry out tasks set forth by Deathstroke.

No, by far the more pressing issue was my inability to land a kill shot. I'd been retraining with a gun for over a week now and every time I lined up a kill shot by hand shifted at the last moment, bullet straying to land nonlethally. So far Deathstroke had been patient, suggesting that the martian may have left some kind of mind block that I'd have to break to reach my full potential but I'd failed so far and I could sense his mounting frustration in me.

"Are you ready, Renegade?" His voice snapped me from my stupor and I looked up from the bench where I sat, giving him a confident smile.

"Born that way." I stood and stretched, relishing at the feeling of my newly rebuilt muscles. The training to recovery had been brutal, my mentor not holding his punches as he drilled his lessons back into my scrambled brain and sluggish body. He traded bruises for knowledge, for obedience, and I gladly paid the price to get where I was now. He gave me a satisfied grin, setting a hand to my shoulder.

"Good. I'm sure you won't disappoint." With that he turned, leading me through the twists and turns of his extravagant penthouse, the windows outside showing similar skyscrapers. We'd moved recently, in preparation for tonight's mission. As a precaution I hadn't been told our location, in case there were any other traps folded in my mind that betray us before we could strike, but it mattered not. Today was the day, and I would not disappoint.

He pressed a hidden switch on the wall and the panel slid aside, first revealing his Deathstroke followed by the suit Wintergreen has spent so much time working on. The suit was made a black, flexible kevlar and minimal armor to allow for my more acrobatically based fighting style. On the chest was my emblem, the center design looking vaguely bird-like with its wings stretching up and over the shoulders and tracing scarlet lines down the sleeves and back, to the middle fingers of the matching gloves. My gear hung beside it, a simple black utility belt with a pistol halter and crossed escrima sticks.

I glanced between the suit and my master in awe, taking his gesture as permission to investigate. I start with escrima sticks, finding two near hidden buttons at its base.

"Good eye, apprentice. Check them out." I nodded in response, pressing the first and watching as electricity jumped out the tips of the sticks, the gloves I wore for training protecting my hands. I found myself smirking as I pressed the button to turn off the voltage, trying the second set next. Blades slide smoothly from the tip of the sticks, near doubling the length and reach but remaining perfectly balanced. I moved through a few of the basic stances to test the weight, finding the weapons felt like a natural extension of my body.

I set the sticks back to their holsters for a moment, shifting my focus to the belt. My fingers skimmed over the pockets, taking inventory of the various mini bombs, shurikens, various pellets, a rebreather, bolos, lockpicks, various vials of poison and their cures, two grappling hooks, emergency bandages, and several curved projectiles, stylized in the shape of an S. His trademark.

"What do you think?" Slade asked once I'd taken in my fill, stepping into the space at my side. I smiled up at him, unable to curb my enthusiasm.

"It's perfect. Thank you." He gave a gruff smile in return, nodding to the suit.

"Then suit up, it's almost time for your debriefing." I will myself to calm, carefully extracting the suit and reclaiming the escrimas. With a quick bow of cutesy to my mentor I hurried to a room to change, trading workout clothes for the sleek fit of my Renegade persona. I slid the belt and escrima sticks into place before looking in a mirror as I carefully set the domino mask into place, completing the shift. Gone was the hurt apprentice who couldn't remember his own name, replaced by Renegade, mercenary in training. As if in response the pain in my head flared, blinding me for a moment with incomprehensible flashes of things I couldn't place, a suit of red and yellow, high gray walls, and the screeches of animals- but it's gone a moment later, reclaimed by the torrent of my mind. I shake the related concerns back with them, tonight I needed no distractions.

I head back to the main room where Slade and Wintergreen wait, nodding my thanks to the latter. Slade gave me a once over before turning his attention back to the papers in hand, lifting them up for me to take. I flipped through the files quickly, drawing a mental map of the targeted area and a loose plan to achieve the objective. When I finished I looked back to my mentor.

"Think you can handle it?" I nodded, handing the papers back to him. A wolfish grin seemed to spread over his face.

"Not quite yet." He reached behind him, pulling out a pistol and holding it out to me, handle first. "Tonight you will not hesitate." I force the uncharacteristic tremble from my hand and take the gun, holstering it to my side.

"It will be done, Master."

;)

This is fun.

~Fate