A/N: I apologise for the month long silence,wish I could say it was spent writing numerous chapters. I haven't forgotten this story. I really wish I could, but I am never not thinking about it, I jump ahead in the time stream and ideas fly in my head every day, unfortunately we have to exist in the real world with all its problems. I will try and update regularly when I can, but I cannot guarantee anything.

Steel rang against steel as Deathstroke brought his sword down on Batman, who rolled out of the way after deflecting the strike meant for his head. Deathstroke was quicker, slashing downwards and slicing open Batman's thigh. He felt the warm blood trickling down his leg as he rose to his feet. The strategy wthus far had been fairly simple:stay away from the blade. One clean hit and he would be down for the count. That had worked for about 10 minutes, but now it was time to change tact.
He wasn't going to survive this by retreating. He would have to determine the course of the fight.

He raised the batarangs in a classic knife fighting stance and advanced towards Deathstroke, who didn't move. He slashed at his chest and was stopped by the katana, he tried again at the belly and again at the chest but each time his blows were stopped. He pushed harder, feinted a few blows and managed to cut through the armor plating on Deathstroke's shoulder, and then again on his left forearm, drawing blood.

"Alright, that's about enough of that." Deathstroke said.

He parried Batman's next strike,twisting the hilt of his sword and deftly disarming Batman of one batarang. Batman blocked another strike with the scallops of his gauntlet,but Deathstroke leaned forward and kicked him in the chest. He rolled back as he threw the batarang.

At the very last moment Deathstroke flicked it aside with the blade as he charged him and plunged his blade straight forwards and through his gut.

Batman growled as the blade was twisted, then wrenched out. He was kicked to the ground, hard, but he hardly felt it over the pain of the wound. To him it felt like a white hot lance had pierced his abdomen, and as he lay on the ground reeling from the pain he could feel the blood slowly seeping down his stomach, collecting at the back of his suit.

"Get up. I've yet to start making you pay for our last shindig." Deathstroke said coldly as he wiped the blade clean on his forearm.

Batman rose slowly, grunting at the pain as Deathstroke landed a powerful haymaker, then another, and another, each coming faster and harder than the last. Batman staggered. He was losing blood rapidly, and the punches weren't helping.

"It took me a long time to recover from all that. I had lead poisoning and a shattered vertebrae, among numerous other maladies. I was also clinically dead." He kicked Batman in the chest, and he landed with a heavy thud. The black skies seemed to be spinning above him.

Then he was picked up by the throat and punched in the gut, so hard he coughed up blood. Deathstroke walked across the roof with Batman in a chokehold.

"It was unpleasant, to say the least. I was sick as a dog. My metabolism went into overdrive to compensate. But I guess it's true what they say, what doesn't kill you makes you stronger. I always wondered if I could come back from the dead. Guess I know the answer to that question now. Really I should thank you for that. Only downside is-" He took off his mask. "I look like a fucking elf with this silver hair." He had reached the edge of the roof, and now he dangled his body over it. His face showed no strain at all, it was like he was holding a cellphone in his outstretched arm, not a human body.

"You know it's funny you picked a bat of all avatars. You can't even fly. In a sense this makes your death pretty ironic, doesn't it?"

"Spare me...the cheap...mercenary philosophy." Batman managed through the metallic taste of blood in his mouth. He considered arming the tazer in his right gauntlet, a one time 50,000 volt special delivered with a solid punch to the face should put him right out of commission, but with all the moisture from the blood and rainwater he really wasn't sure if that was safe.

"Defiant to the end. It won't do you much good when you're a stain on the ground."

He dropped him.

Batman hurtled through the air, the wind whipping at his cloak. He may not have been able to fly, but falling from great heights was as familiar as walking down the stairs, and with a practiced hand he tapped a stud on his gauntlet, activating the glide polymers of his cape, which flapped the wings up and outwards, into the shape of a bat. He grasped the edges of the cape and began to steer his descent. The glide wasn't that good owing to the large hole the sword had sliced through it, but it was leagues above the alternative.
Until the bullets started whistling around him,ricocheting off the gutters and streetlights, the corners of the buildings. He did his best to ignore them and stay his course. One bullet, a tracer, buzzed right past his nose,shattering the large glass window beside him.

He decided to change course. As he turned he caught sight of Deathstroke mid stride, slapping a clip into one of his pistols as he sprinted across the roof.

Surely he can't be...

At the very last moment before his foot touched the edge of the roof Deathstroke leapt mightily.

My God, he is.

Impressively, he just kept coming and coming, sailing through the air.

It was like watching a slam dunk launched from the three point line, except the three point line was the adjacent building, and he was the rim. As he got closer he fired short bursts at Batman, the promethium tipped bullets ripping through the reinforced materials and shredding the cape. Batman slowly began to fall, for real this time.
Instantly he fired off his grapnel at a nearby gargoyle, curling through the air and waiting until the line grew taut before he released it and rolled smoothly onto the roof of the building below. He stumbled and fell when he tried to rise.

Maybe not so smooth.

His back was sticky with sweat and blood. He knew the more he exerted his heart the more blood it pumped out of his wounds.

I have to get mobile, and fast.

He tapped the stud on his belt that would summon the Batmobile, then he crouched behind a large air vent. In a few short minutes it would be here. Problem was a few short minutes were an eternity in fight time. So much could happen in-between that time, especially against such an adversary such as this. When he got past that, it would be autopilot to the Cave, where Alfred would patch him up.

Hopefully. If I can get through this. No, when I get through this.

Already he could hear Deathstroke approaching over the light patter of rainfall. He must have jumped the whole distance. His steps were slow and measured. He was confident, arrogant even.

Good.

As Deathstroke neared his position, Batman prepared himself once again.

What was it the Sensei said about pain?

He could practically see him now, somehow sitting cross legged atop a stone no larger than his fist, striking the butt of his cane on the ground in sync with Bruce's bloodied hands as they were thrust into buckets of hot sand again and again and again, sweat and tears mingling on his face in one big salty mess. He remembered how his hands had quivered violently, how the blood seeped from the blisters, how he wouldn't stop no matter how much it hurt.

Then Sensei had stroked his beard and said: ["Stop ignoring the pain you arrogant fool! Do you think your will is so great that you can shut it out?! Embrace it, go into it, go to its centre, and go through it!"].

Actually, he had called Bruce something much worse than a fool, but he couldn't remember the words.
Perhaps it was Sensei who had taught him to be such a masochist.
Perhaps he had always been that way and Sensei made him aware of it.

He couldn't help but smile at the memory. Sensei was the hardest taskmaster out of all his teachers, but his first year in the cowl taught him that there were things a lot worse than sore wrists and burst knuckles.

He closed his eyes, took a deep breath and focused on the pain-which made it about a hundred thousand times worse for the first few seconds-but then he began to fall through it, into the place where he wanted his mind to be. For injuries as serious as his the technique would only work for a few seconds, a minute if he really pushed himself. He had to make it count.

"Once again Batman, I am impressed. You are the first to survive this long. But we both know you're a dead man walking. Surrender now, and I'll make it quick and painless. You have my word."

Batman stepped out from behind the vent and spat a glob of blood onto the ground.

"The word of a hired gun? No thanks, I think I'll pass. You want to kill me, go ahead. But you won't be the first to try, or fail."

Slade's face convulsed with fury for a moment before he regained control. "Have it your way then."

He hacked downwards with a swift strike to decapitate him, but Batman responded with speed that utterly shocked him, catching the blade between the palm of his hands like a man saying a prayer.

"How?-" he began, but before he finished, the sword, the finest Japanese steel weapon he had ever had,possibly the oldest and most prized weapon in his possession, was snapped off at the tip, and an explosion of pain in his one good eye cut him short. He screamed, half in rage, half in agony.

Batman had broken the blade, held it in between his palms and driven the broken metal shard, pointy end first, straight into his eye. The response was immediate. Deathstroke went absolutely ballistic, screaming incoherently and punctuating it with the kind of swearing that would make a sailor blush. He swung the broken sword wildly like a baseball bat, having lost all semblance of the expert technique he had displayed just seconds before. It was like he was in a berserker state. When that failed to produce any results he started firing his sidearms, spraying bullets on the floor, the walls, into the sky. Everywhere but his target, who was long gone by then.

Batman had already crept stealthily down the fire escape, and there he stayed, concealed in the shadows, feeling the life seep out of him with each beat of his heart as he waited for the 'Mobile to arrive. He could hear it already, and his belt began to beep quietly, informing him it was close enough for him to fall from his position and land safely inside. His landing was far from graceful, it seemed like he hit everything he possibly could on the way down before he finally slid through the open roof panel and into the cabin.

"C...Computer, engage voice recognition."

"Recognized. Batman." The mechanical female voice said.

"Activate...autopilot. Destination...The Cave..." He was losing consciousness, but he struggled to hold on.

"Arm...defensive..systems. Set...evasive maneuvers...Use the shortest possible route...and...alert Alfred, its a Code Black."

"Acknowledged."

The last thing he saw before everything went black was the harness strapping him into the seat as the speedometer dial hit 100.

"Well now-"

"Shut up! Shut up! Shut up!"

"Calm yourself brother-"

"Are you deaf woman!?"

"I was only going to say-"

"WHAT!? YOU WERE ONLY GOING TO SAY WHAT, ATHENA?!"

"I told you so."

Ares disappeared in a puff of red smoke, leaving Athena behind to watch as the Batmobile snaked through the streets of Gotham.

Fascinating, she thought. A chariot with a mind of its own, one that drives itself. Truly, there is no limi t to this mortals resourcefulness.

She had been around for far too long to believe in coincidences.
This mortal existed at this point in time for a reason. She didn't want to think of that reason, though she had a pretty good idea what it was. Time would tell, and she had nothing if not time. She hoped she was wrong, but she was never wrong about these kinds of things, not in all the millennia of her existence.

And this time she couldn't help him like she helped Odysseus. Intuition told her he wouldn't want her assistance anyway. After watching his sleeping face for a few more minutes, she too vanished in cloud of grey smoke, her last thought before leaving this place was hope that he would survive.

A/N: Read and review.