Bloodlines
I have fudged with canon just a little, making William Cobb Mary's grandfather instead of John's like he is in canon. A Nightwing fan pointed out that Mary said her grandfather ran away to the circus. I also love the idea because it's been revealed that she stole from lying rich people and considering William Cobb's family history it'd make sense that she'd hate rich people. Phillip Vanaver is my own fanon, but the story I am using comes from Nightwing #8-#9. For people wondering what Mary looks like in fanfic, I actually use the version of her from The Batman (2004) Season 4 episode 1 "A Matter of Family" as my basis.
Marie Elizabeth Lloyd runs as fast as her ten-year-old feet can carry her. Her grandfather William Cobb has come home again after one of his trips. She didn't have a daddy, her mother Elizabeth said that Daddy didn't care about her or Mommy, so all she had was Grandpa William Cobb.
He picked her up, twirling her around in a warm hug. He smiled, "Marie, I brought you a present."
He handed her a necklace that a ten-year-old girl would love.
"I love it, Grandpa, thank you!" she gave him a big hug. "Are you going to perform tonight?"
"Yes," William smiled. She loved to watch him perform. His knife throwing act while blindfolded was spectacular. He had become a Child of Gotham, with fame and celebrity that few could attain. Whenever he performed, Haly Circus had a straw-house, a sold-out venue where they had to spread out straw for the audience to sit on. Everyone loved him.
Everyone loved him except the rich and powerful in Gotham City.
It started when William Cobb met Amelia Crowne at one of his performances, the daughter of the elite Bourton Crowne. They got along easily and fell in love.
Bourton Crowne disapproved of their relationship and it was only exacerbated by Amelia Crowne getting pregnant, with William Cobb's son.
William named his son Phillip and even though he was raised in the circus, he returned to become a wealthy philanthropist, changing his surname to Vanaver to hide his connections to William Cobb and became a womanizer. His father had disapproved of lifestyle because it reminded him of everything he hated about rich people.
But when he discovered his granddaughter was a cirky like he was, he began to spoil her as best as he could, even though he didn't have much.
They traveled into Gotham City so he could buy her another present. After they were done shopping, he stopped in front of the Crowne mansion and stood with her in front of the gate, gazing up at a window.
Marie tugged his hand.
"Grandpa, why can't we go see Grandma?" Marie asked him as they stood outside the entrance of the Crowne mansion.
"Because little Marie, in the eyes of the people who matter, we're nothing. That's what Bourton Crowne told me. He said, "You may have pulled yourself out of the slums, William, but you're still living in filth." We don't matter to them; they won't let me see your grandmother."
Mary held her Grandpa's hand, "What'd you do that was so bad they hated you?"
"I fell in love with your Grandma," William replied.
"Why is that bad?" Marie asked.
"Because I wasn't one of them, they only wanted her to be with one of them."
"Grandma was really pretty, wasn't she; she used to have red hair."
"Yes, Marie, your Grandma is really pretty, and she was the nicest person, unlike her Daddy."
"I hate them, it's not fair. I don't care about money. I'm not even allowed to visit my own Grandma," Marie scowled. "They won't even let her come see you perform at the circus!"
"I know. We should go before they start yelling at us that we're not supposed to be here," William smiled sadly. "Come on; let's go get some ice cream!"
"You're the best, Grandpa!" Marie hugged him.
"I know I am. One day, we'll show them all, we'll change this city, in our own way. Together."
They left the Crowne manor, and William scowled at them. He would change this city, no matter what he had to do. But now he had more important things to do, eating ice cream with his only granddaughter.
Mary Elizabeth Lloyd Grayson sighed. She hasn't been Marie Lloyd since before she changed her name when she married John Grayson. She hasn't thought about her Grandfather in some time. Not since…she didn't want to think about The Court of Owls and the labyrinth.
The last thing she wanted to think about was the physical and psychological torture she'd gone through for days before she'd been able to escape.
"Grayson, something on your mind?" Slade asked. "I got your info on Raymond McCreary."
"There is one more thing I would like you to do for me and then we'll call it even."
"All right, I'll indulge you, what do you want me to do?" Slade asked. He figured that the info wasn't the only thing she wanted.
"I want to go to Gotham City," Mary told him.
They traveled to Gotham City. Mary told Slade she was going to visit John's grave and that he could go entertain himself for a few hours.
Mary found John's grave and knelt by it. "John, I'm sorry. I know that we can't be together anymore, but I'll do whatever it takes to protect our son. I promise."
Mary heard footsteps approach her from behind. She turned, expecting to see Slade. Instead, she saw a woman and noted that she couldn't determine her age.
"Who are you?" Mary asked.
"It's really disappointing; they botched your resurrection with such a poor imitation of my formula."
"You…you know about that?" Mary asked the woman.
"Yes, the Court tried to give you Electrum that was so weak you'd come back, but without any of the regenerative abilities that make the Talons so dangerous. Seems they botched that, you can regenerate. If they're going to rip off my work at least they could make a decent formula without me."
"Who are you?" Mary wondered how she seemed to know so much.
"Where are my manners, Mary Grayson, you may call me Doctor Leviticus," the woman smiled, shaking her hand.
"Do you want to get some coffee?" the doctor offered.
"Uh…sure, if that's what you want," Mary replied, unsure of why someone who worked with the Court of Owls would want to talk to her.
They walked to a nearby coffee shop, sat down and ordered some drinks.
"Why did you want to talk to me?" Mary glanced at her.
"You see, many years ago, I devised a way to jolt the temporarily departed back from oblivion using a simple alloy: Electrum. Electrum was used to make the first money, for the Owls, the idea of buying immortality with lucre was too hard to resist."
"Ancient Greece, Right? The rich would have coins placed under their tongue to pay for passage into Hades."
Doctor Leviticus continued her explanation, "Inside your body is a significant amount of Electrum. Not just in your blood, but in your cells. The alloy seeped down from a deposit embedded in your tooth. In the shape of a tiny owl."
"Why are you telling me this?" Mary asked, sipping her coffee.
"Because it's what they did to you, when you said you'd take your son's place as a Talon. I'm surprised your husband didn't know. Still, they had only given you the Electrum in your tooth. They hadn't trained you to fight or kill yet. That was going to be after your birthday, but you of all people know what happened that day."
I want you to protect me," Doctor Leviticus told her. "Now those ungrateful bourgeois bird boys want poor Doctor Leviticus dead. Or deader."
"I'll tell you anything you want to know about them. In return, I trust you'll help me find somewhere safe to avoid the reach of the Owls. And the law. Preferably warm with a nice view."
"I'll ask my partner, see if he can come up with something," Mary smiled. This was taking an interesting turn.
To her surprise, Slade agreed to "help" in exchange for Mary accompanying him on one of his "adventures".
Mary told him where she needed to go.
"You care to explain to me why we're breaking into Arkham Asylum?" Slade asked.
"You'll see once I find him," Mary replied. "Or would you rather be locked up in here with all the crazies?"
"If anyone's crazy, Grayson, it's you," Slade smirked. They snuck in while avoiding all the cameras.
They made their way down to the lowest level of Arkham Asylum. Slade noticed there were a lot of frozen coffins for some reason. It was odd that they were frozen in the first place.
Mary opened one of the coffins.
"You wanted to find a corpse?" Slade rolled his eye, "Such a waste of my time!"
"Don't make assumptions, Slade, he is what I was looking for," Mary gazed down at the figure in the coffin. He was dressed like an owl and wore circus throwing knives.
Slade saw her take out a syringe and inject the corpse with something he didn't recognize.
Mary sighed, "He's gonna be mad at me for doing this!"
She grabbed him by his shirt and shouted loudly, "Grandpa, Grandpa, WAKE THE HELL UP!"
Grandpa?! Slade was stunned; this undead thing was her grandfather?!
The man suddenly opened his eyes and swung a knife at her throat. She jumped back.
"Hands off!" he shouted. His voice was deep and unearthly. "Oh, Marie, sweetheart, is that you?"
"Yes, Grandpa, I came to get you out of here!" Mary told him.
"The Court has given me my punishment, they are justified in doing so, I disobeyed them when I helped you escape."
"Grandpa, the Court of Owls tossed you down here like garbage after all you've done for them. You said you were loyal to them for decades. What did it get you? Nothing! They're treating you just like Burton Crowne did! You don't need them; they're only using you until it's not convenient!"
"Then just what am I supposed to do?" William asked.
"Make them pay for everything they've ever done to us. We'll take what they cherish most: Their money. Without their money, they have no power."
"I'd be satisfied with killing them all," William Cobb smirked.
"You do whatever you want, Grandpa, but Doctor Leviticus said she wanted protection from the Court in exchange for giving information about them."
"I'll find the Doctor somewhere safe, you have to keep up your end of the deal with Slade here."
"Grandpa, how do you know who he is?" Mary asked.
"The Court has whispered his name; we know all who do business in Gotham City."
"I'm flattered," Slade smirked. "Come on, Grayson. Let's go!"
William Cobb grabbed Slade's shoulder and whispered in his ear, "I know what you're thinking. She's not your personal toy!"
"Between her son and you, it wouldn't be worth it," Slade smirked.
"I've seen how you look at her, you're all the same. She is beautiful and talented. Men wish to use that talent for themselves."
"Heh," Slade sighed.
"My granddaughter is the best, and men only want her because she is the best."
"What about her dead hubby?"
"He was the only man who did not want her because of those many reasons. He actually loved her. I permitted the marriage because he's also the best."
William gestured to Slade, "Her son was chosen by the Court to save Gotham. He was bred for it."
"Save Gotham, that's rich!" Slade laughed. "I'm always annoyed by people who dress up their intentions like they're so noble. Just say you want to own the city and be done with it!"
"Ha, you'll never have him, you know, she'll never let it happen, and neither will I. But now that I've been let out of my cage, I think it's time I pay back all the rich bastards who've treated us like dirt for decades."
Slade turned to Mary, "Betrayal. Destruction. Revenge. We really do think alike."
"Shut up, Slade! I thought you said we should get going," Mary scowled.
Slade laughed.
They met up with Angelica and flew off to a mega city in Russia Mary had never visited before. They were meeting in one of Angelica's hideouts.
"I've entertained you, Grayson, now you have to earn your keep," Slade told her.
"You want me to kill someone? That would be humorous to you, wouldn't it?" Mary sighed. "I'm not a gumball machine, Slade. You don't get to just twist the handle whenever you want a treat."
Slade clenched his fist in anger.
"So you don't like killing, huh? You'd let them live just because you didn't like killing! Do you even realize which cruel and depraved city you're in?" Slade lost his temper, shaking with rage; he kicked a chair and sent it flying into the ceiling, "Damn it, that's so normal!"
"If you remember, Deathstroke, they asked you to do this job, not me," Mary grinned at him.
"You and your loopholes," Slade scowled at her.
"Fine, just need you to confirm these locations. I'm being paid to kill them and I can't be spotted before then."
He handed Mary photographs and locations. She found them and reported back just like she was told.
Angelica sneered at Mary, "Well Princess Azula, you just sit back and leave this to the professionals."
"He said he didn't need my help for this part. That's what you're here for," Mary smirked. "I wish you'd stop calling me that, it wasn't funny when my son was 10 either."
Angelica rolled her eyes and Mary watched the two of them head off to kill a bunch of poor, unfortunate saps.
She decided to tail them, curious to see what exactly Slade called an "adventure". She didn't want to stay cooped up in a hideout. She rarely got out as it was, for fear of being recognized.
Mary watched as Slade dispatched his targets, either by decapitation, shooting them or drowning them, all his targets fell within seconds of seeing him. He was efficient and terrifying.
She's troubled that he sees what he's doing as only a job and no big deal at all.
Slade slaughtered five men easily with his swords. One last man is on his knees begging for his life.
"Lucky bastard. You're not on my list. Go. Find some new friends. Hope you never see me again."
"Yes…yes! I swear to you!" the man said gratefully. Slade left and headed across town.
He made his way to a hotel across town.
"You've been following me, Grayson," Slade noted as he saw her standing nearby.
"What else am I supposed to do?" Mary queried.
"I don't want to babysit you, but if you insist on coming along, stay out of the way! And no unexpected requests!"
"Begging doesn't work on you, you spared my life on a whim like I'm going to push my luck with you," Mary smirked.
Mary entered the room with Slade and watched Angelica as she bent down and picked up a screwdriver. A screwdriver covered in blood.
Mary hadn't really given the woman's physical appearance much thought. She had dark hair and gray eyes. She would be considered beautiful, but the scars on her face that looked like jagged x-shaped scratches detracted from that somewhat. The scars looked like claw marks that stretched from the top of her eyebrows to the bottom of her chin. The X pattern was near the lower half of her cheek and the scars covered some of her lower lips.
She was dressed in a somewhat revealing green and black skintight suit.
Mary decided that it would be best if she stayed on the other side of the room and not get involved.
"Sorry for the mess," Angelica apologized in a tone that had no sincerity whatsoever, "But you know, I like to play messy."
"What mess?" Slade smirked.
"Heh," Angelica laughed.
"So this is how you got the locations of the dispatched?" Slade asked, taking off his mask.
"My techniques never failed me. Or you," Angelica smirked.
"No complaints there," Slade agreed.
"These two boys squealed their hearts out, literally, heh," Angelica continued. "So much information. Names, places…And who set this all up. Things you would never know if it weren't for me."
"Set up? What are you talking about?" Slade asked.
They knew you were coming, Sweetie. They offered to pay me whatever I wanted to let you walk into their trap. I obliged, naturally," Angelica crossed her arms.
"Naturally," Slade crossed his arms.
Mary was amused, of all the things this woman could call Slade, Mary found it funny he didn't object to being called "Sweetie".
The man was anything but sweet.
"What's so funny, Princess Azula?" Angelica smirked.
"Nothing, just seeing you gush over Fluffy the Terrible over there is interesting," Mary rolled her eyes.
"So, of course, curiosity got the better of me," Angelica explained.
"As curiosity tends to do," Slade agreed.
"So I decided to stick around."
Angelica held up a mobile phone, "I found this mobile on the night table. Apparently, it's transmitting a frequency only you can hear. Like a dog, I suppose? Or so says the big gray guy."
Mary noticed a gray-skinned man, bloodied, tied up in a chair.
Slade looked at the man, "Possum."
Mary remembered the name; it was the name of his target.
"Heh. You haven't forgotten me, then," Possum greeted him.
"Time's not been kind to you," Slade remarked.
Possum looked up at him, "And time is of no use if you can't remember it."
He continued speaking, "Wait...Do you hear it, Slade Wilson? The key unlocking?"
"You never did make much sense, Possum," Slade commented.
"Shhh, listen. The sound of your precious mind being broken into," Possum said in a voice that sound like a parent shushing a child.
Losing all motor function. How?! Slade's eye widened as he felt panic hit him. He fell over.
Mary listened to her gut and stayed on the other side of the room, ready to make a break for it.
"They thought they could hide what they paid you to do for them," Possum sneered. "They were wrong."
"Sla—" Angelica cried out in surprise.
She was cut off by Possum's fist smashing her face into bloody pieces, literally.
Mary was stunned; she had only seen something like that in old gory anime from the '80s that Raymond McCreary had watched with Dick at their trailer. What was this? Fist of the North Star?
She managed to avoid having a knife thrown at her. She dodged out of the way and Possum turned his attention back to Slade.
"I'll deal with your pretty blonde friend soon enough, but let's finish our business. Can't have my fun with her if you're around to spoil it. But first things first…"
"Talk. As you say, time has not been kind," Possum smirked. "Waiting…"
Slade groaned, pushing himself to his feet, "R71B, PLB1, DXW45, KWS1221."
"That wasn't so bad was it? Is that you using 90% of your brain capacity? HA! HA! HA!"
Slade was huffing through the pain, "I'll kill—I'll kill you!"
Possum continued his gloating speech as he removed Slade's swords from their sheaths. "You're no good to any of us now. You were a good soldier. I wanted you to know before I kill you."
Possum used one of Slade's own swords to cut deep into his shoulder. The other one sliced his neck. The idiot should have just stabbed him in the heart and got that over with, then you could cut off his head and he's dead already.
Stupid villains and their sadism. They'd always win if they'd be pragmatic and gloat later, like Tony Zucco. The serial killers who get caught are caught because of their own hubris because they just have to gloat to the police.
"Ha. Yes, let's test that healing factor of yours! See if it's as good as mine!"
Possum continues cutting Slade's neck slowly, rather than sensibly lopping it off like in a horror movie.
Possum gloated, "Odysseus wants your head. They say the human head continues seven seconds after it's been severed from the body. Let's see what happens to yours!"
Mary unsheathed her sword and was sprinting across the room. This wasn't about Slade, this was about her, if Slade died, she'd be next and she already knew these people were above her pay grade. Her son was one thing, this was something completely different.
Besides, she had a huge advantage. All these so-called supervilain types checked off so many villain tropes of being evil sadists who have to make people suffer slowly instead of just killing them like Tony Zucco and gloating afterward.
"SHUT UP!" Slade screamed.
Slade angrily grabbed his own blade and shoved the sword into Possum's head, hilt first, blood spewed out the back along with brain matter.
"Play… Possum now, a-hole!" Slade snarled.
Slade stayed on his feet, clutching his neck.
Mary moved quickly to him, "That's the problem with you supervillains in suits. You people always have to gloat before you kill off the "hero". Tony Zucco did his gloating after I was dead."
"How do you know that?" Slade asked.
"I heard him as I was floating up into Heaven."
"Heaven, heh, sounds nice, but I'm not going there." Slade focused on trying to bandage his wounds.
"I'm not…regenerating…fast enough…" he groaned. "You must be…enjoying this. Watching me die… I'll be…out of your son's hair…this way."
Much to his shock, Mary begins bandaging the wound on his neck.
"Why are you…saving me?" he asked.
"Because that's what you do when someone is dying in front of you," Mary replied, she finished bandaging his shoulder.
"Operative down. Did we get that?" a voice asked over the comm.
"Affirmative. Intel received and transmitted," someone replied.
"Moving in on target."
Slade and Mary were running as bullets rained down on them, they barely missed Mary, but they definitely hit Slade.
Slade jumped out of the hotel and crashed down onto a car from above.
Slade pointed up, "VTOL assault craft. Very similar to Blackhawk UH-52. Four cannons of armor-piercing ordinance. Personnel capacity of 12."
"Any advice, Slade?" Mary asked.
"Go for the masks, they're covered in body armor, also neck pieces are weak too!"
So they fought their way out, Slade rushed through the explosions and plunged his sword into a soldier's face. He threw his other sword into the next soldier's chest as he somersaulted above them, avoiding air support as they moved in. The other soldiers were ripped to shreds. Mary user her incredible acrobatics to avoid it.
Slade nearly collapsed from his wounds. Mary helped him lean on her shoulder as they began to stagger away.
"Well, that sucked," Slade told her.
"That's really what you're going to say after all that, "that sucked". That was a rush I don't think I want to have again anytime soon."
The two of them didn't see Possum staring at them from another building. Seems his regenerative abilities had kicked in too.
Slade gasped, "Lungs…lungs full of blood."
"Angelica…gotta go back…" Slade mumbled. Mary's quite stunned, for a man who claimed that he didn't feel anything for her, he was worried about her. She was probably dead. Angelica had gotten her face punched off, literally. There wasn't any surviving that.
"It's too late, we need to get you medical attention," Mary told him.
"No hospitals, you'll have to patch me up."
Mary found a shady hotel and bribed the front desk to let them in off book in exchange for cash.
Mary placed him on the hotel bed. She continues bandaging his wounds. Slade noticed how soft and gentle her touch is. She is especially careful not to hurt him.
She looks down at her hand, "Is this your brain? I've heard of picking people's brains before, but I think this is pushing it."
Slade laughed, it was a piece of his brain indeed, since when did she make jokes? He groaned in pain.
"Keep talking to me, give me something to focus on," Slade instructed. He needs to focus and stay awake while his body continued to regenerate.
"I guess I'll tell you about my grandfather, William Cobb. He lived in Gotham City; his father was an ironworker building the Gate Brother's bridges until it collapsed on him. William's mother worked at a textile plant. She disproved of his "begging" and didn't want him on street corners. But he went out anyway; they barely had money for food."
"At the turn of the century, Gotham City was a splendid place to live if you were a Child of Gotham, one of the elite families. The Wayne's, the Eliot's, the Cobbblepots, or the Crownes. My grandfather was just someone who lived there. A nobody."
"He'd juggle baseballs and sometimes, Mr. Crowne would throw him a coin. There's my poor, broke grandfather, juggling baseballs for pennies while surrounded by the extravagance of Gotham City," Mary said the words with a bitter tone that surprised Slade. It wasn't envy, most people talk about the rich with envy; she spoke about them with anger, and the anger didn't stem from being envious, it was something else and he found that fascinating since Dick was the ward of Bruce Wayne.
"My grandfather continues performing for months and on into the next year. One day, he stops a man from lifting the wallet of someone watching him. A well-aimed throw of a baseball and that man is knocked unconscious with one hit. The owner of the wallet was Nathaniel, an employee of Haly's Circus. He said, "Impressive aim, son. Quite impressive…"
"He looked at him and asked, "How might you feel about a change of venue?" He offered my grandfather a job at Haly's Circus as a performer. While his mother didn't approve of how he'd been spending his days, she agreed to let him go join the circus."
"Nathaniel told him, "The shows we'll be performing, baseballs will not cut it. You'll need to up your game."
"How?" my grandfather asked him. He replied, "By playing a bit harder." He handed him three throwing knives and showed him what to do."
"Have you taken your children to the circus when they were younger, Slade?" Mary asked him.
"Yes. That was a long time ago."
"Then you've probably seen a typical knife-throwing act. My grandfather had one, but his act was unique because he did his completely blindfolded. He had a natural talent and feel for knife throwing. I saw his act growing up, he was spectacular."
"City after city, night after night, a straw-house every stop, he was one of the few people that townies thought of when people talk about the circus, other than Big Bertha."
"Big Bertha? Straw-house and townies?" Of all the things Slade had thought of when it came to Robin, his circus background wasn't one of them. He hadn't heard these terms before.
"Big Bertha, Ringling Brothers, Barnum and Bailey Circus. Straw-house, when the circus has to put down straw for the audience to sit on. Townies are what we call you people."
"I see," Slade nodded. He hadn't really thought much of Robin's family history, but Mary did make it seem entertaining at least.
"Over the years, William gained such a reputation that people would line up to see him when he arrived in Gotham by train. It was during one of his annual stays that he met my Grandmother, Amelia Crowne, daughter of Bourton Crowne, one of Gotham's First Families."
"My grandparents get along easily. They're happy together. Two children in love, they don't realize how it's going to end for either of them."
"One night, Bourton Crowne pulls my grandfather aside. "William, a moment? I wonder if we might talk…about exactly what you're doing with my daughter."
"Sir?" William asked him. My grandfather was confused.
"I'm afraid I don't understand, Mr. Crowne," William told him.
"Are you a fan of chess, William? Such a pure game. Two sides and two sides only—light and dark…black and white. Much like this city…"The white pieces, which always move first, are the most powerful. They're the ones who matter. Do you know how to play chess, William?"
"I…don't, Sir," My grandfather told him. "Of Course you don't. That's exactly my point," was Bourton Crowne's reply.
"You may have pulled yourself out of the slums, William, but you're still living in filth. A City of light and dark has not middle. It never has…and you're not going to change that."
Slade began to laugh, "This Bourton Crowne is an idiot. You can easily win with the black pieces. Light and Dark, it's meaningless on a Chess board. The winner's the winner, such a pompous ass!"
"Bourton's disapproval weighed heavily on the relationship, but it was exacerbated when Amelia became pregnant with my father. So Bourton covered it up, married Amelia off to a second cousin. He kept them from seeing each other. He severed their connections completely. To the rest of Gotham, the boy Phillip was a Crowne."
Mary was sewing one of his wounds shut.
"My Grandfather was depressed and saddened. He felt he could not change Gotham no matter what he did until Nathaniel offered him the chance to change Gotham by becoming a Talon, the assassin for the Court of Owls."
"My father, Phillip Cobb grew up in the circus too, but he left to make a name for himself and started a company, but he couldn't bear my grandfather's "scandalous" history so he changed his surname to Vanaver."
"Vanaver? As in Samantha Vanaver?" Slade asked. "Did a guard duty job for her once, it paid well."
"And I'm sure that's all you did," Mary smirked. "She is drop-dead gorgeous."
"Sleeping with a client is always a bad idea. Do you know her?" Slade asked.
"She's my half-sister. She's also the Grandmaster of the Court of Owls."
"I can see the resemblance," Slade noted.
Mary continued telling her story.
"Beware the Court of Owls, that watches all the time, ruling Gotham from a shadowed perch, behind granite and lime. They watch you at your hearth, they watch you in your bed, speak not a whispered word of them, or they'll send the Talon for your head."
"My Grandfather was the greatest Talon the Court has ever produced. He was loyal to them; he killed a lot of people. But when I knew him I didn't know any of that. All I remember about him is that he doted on me and spoiled me, despite the fact that we didn't have much."
"There's a reason I don't want my son to become a Talon. It's because they want to make him do it, because they want to force his hand, just like you. I offered to join them when my half-sister told me they'd chosen him that night a long time ago when he was ten."
"I couldn't bear the thought of them having him, so I made them an offer: I'd become the Talon for that era in his place, I could buy the whole, "we're going to save Gotham, no matter what we have to do to fix it." I can swallow that pill because I believe many things that are similar to the Court. But I would choose that for myself. My grandfather joined them of his own free will, so why should my son be forced into it?"
"My half-sister was amused, considering how much I hate people like her and the Court. But family's the most important thing, and for that, I sold my soul."
You have truly piqued my interest, Grayson, just how complicated are you?
"But most of all, I won't have my half-sister steal my son away from me; he's mine, not theirs! If he wants to join them, fine, let him do whatever he wants, but we all have choices and I won't let them deprive him of his free will. And I won't let you have him either!"
Mary decided to change the subject.
"I've traveled all over the world, I have seen my share of things, although nothing you would particularly call exciting," Mary continued wiping the blood away.
"Heh, probably not," Slade smirked.
"Although I did see something…disturbing. Tell me, Slade, have you ever been to the country of Kravia?"
"I haven't been there, but I heard there was a civil war several years ago."
"How interesting that you mention that," Mary smiled, "Haly's was touring there during that time, it was during that tour that my husband and I witnessed the "end" of that civil war.
"What do you mean?" Slade asked, curious.
"The last night, after we were done performing, John and I were checking the rigging when saw a man dressed as one of the clowns enter the ring. We were too high to ask him anything so we just continued doing our job.
Then we hear the curtain open, in walks a boy we recognized as Prince Kravik and then the clown pulls out a knife and starts stabbing him. It's quick and ugly and nothing like a horror movie."
"The child might have been a cruel, insane tyrant, but he was still a child, there was more blood than I thought there'd be for a kid but…well, this kind of stuff probably doesn't even phase you."
"I don't approve of genocide but I go where the money is," Slade replied. This information was indeed useful.
"The next day, my husband John found a note, it said, "If you say anything about what you saw, we will kill you and your whole family. Be Warned. Pickles the Clown."
Mary laughed, "Who would I go to and tell anyway? Kravia has very little to do with the U.S. anyway, and when do politicians over here care about what happens to a psychotic child ruler?"
"You never know who might find that information important," Slade told her.
"Answer this question. Why did you save me? You don't have to. We may be "partners" but we're not friends. You aren't obligated to help me."
"I paid you with my wedding ring to train me and further my own agenda. And since I've proven to you that the Court of Owls is real, I'd think you wouldn't want them around either."
"A common enemy makes our relationship interesting. I don't play the hero, I'm in it for anything that benefits me, but still, you are a fascinating person. Perhaps I like keeping you around."
Mary laughed as she bandaged his head. "Why are you trying so hard to make it sound so noble? I thought your goal was more focused below your waist!"
Slade laughed before he let out a groan. "You do have a fascinating sense of humor."
"I'm grateful," he told her quietly. "So let me show you my gratitude for saving my life."
Slade smiled a little, seeing the stunned expression on her face. He took advantage of her confusion and pressed his lips to hers, stealing a kiss from her.
Slade can't help but be drawn to her even more, she's a strange one, she's not willing to kill, but she's saving the life of the man that has wanted to kill her son.
He let his fingers slip through her hair. His mouth only left hers to take another breath before his lips found hers again.
"You're going to wish you hadn't done that," Mary murmured, she gently pushed him away.
"I only wish I'd done it sooner," Slade replied. He lay back on the bed.
Slade found her intoxicating and he wanted much more from her. She was like a fine wine that he'd only taken a small sip from. And he wanted more than just a little taste, he wanted everything he could get from her, and he would have her. He had made up his mind, and sooner or later, she would see things his way.