AN: I'm back and sending you this from my quarantine-zone. Yep. Corona finally got me. I'm lucky though because my symptoms are basically like a very annoying cold. Stay safe out there, people.
This chapter is juicy because it's all about a certain duo that's emerging.
I'm going to have to give some warnings though because the Conductor shows up and he's very creepy with his gross mind control powers.
Ruby Warrior Girl 730: You're going to have to wait and see. Donna and Nightwing certainly both aim to save the Talons. When will they converge? We'll see. Nightwing could use an Amazon by his side though once Wonder Woman gets a hold of him. Poor Diana is looking for her little sister.
Artemis truly is the MVP who doesn't believe the lies and sticks with Nightwing. :D
WillowBlueBird: Danke! Und hier ist das nächste Kapitel. So lange war das Warten ja nicht… ;)
12. Hook
Nightwing worked for the next week in the casino-bar. The job didn't get any better, but Nightwing was nothing but adaptable in providing comfort for the people he was supposed to serve.
The other waiters seemed jaded. Taking most of the abuse in stride. But sometimes even they broke and begged the other waiters to take over a particularly difficult table.
Nightwing simply shrugged and said "I do it" every time it happened. After a few days, his colleagues asked him with every difficult table and Nightwing just took it over. He knew that they were taking advantage of him at this point, but Nightwing didn't mind.
Nightwing approached the bartender. His shirt was damp and clung to his chest where a man had dumped his drink on it because he thought it was funny.
The bartender looked at Nightwing, shaking his head: "You should have let Michael do it this time."
Nightwing ignored the comment and repeated the orders he had gotten from a table with a Bachelorette-party. The bartender went to mixing them. Nightwing stood there unsure what to say. He had noticed in the last few days how bad he was at small talk.
"At least go change your shirt", the bartender said, "I'll need another minute anyway to finish all those."
Nightwing changed his shirt quickly. He took the drinks from the bar and balanced them on the tray. Nightwing was good at balancing. He smiled at the Bachelorette-party and put down the drinks.
"You are back", the bride-to-be – a wealthy heiress - shrieked, more than a little bit drunk, "Girls, the cute Eastern European waiter is back!"
At some point, people had decided that Nightwing was from Eastern Europe. Nightwing had never been there, and he didn't remember exactly where Dick had been born. He had only found out that he understood slivers of Spanish, French and Russian. Nightwing didn't know where Dick had picked it up though and if he had known anything else.
This new discovery made Nightwing sad. Dick had been a talented child. One of the most skilled acrobats in the world and multilingual. This child had been killed to create someone who could barely string together a sentence and whose body had been turned into a walking corpse.
Nightwing put the drinks down carefully.
The bride-to-be smiled at him: "You're coming back later, right?"
"If you order more", Nightwing winked at her and flashed her what he assumed was a dazzling smile.
He had quickly learned that people liked to see Dick Grayson smile.
"Girls", the future bride screamed, "We need to turn this party up."
The other women cheered.
Nightwing was about to leave when the heiress shoved a napkin at him. He frowned at the number that was written on it. Dick Grayson had received more phone numbers in a week than Nightwing had ever dialled in his life. And Nightwing had no idea how to process any of this. Should he feel flattered? Disgusted because he was catfishing people with a dead face? More insecure about his appearance than he already was?
Nightwing froze. The heiress was still holding out the napkin. And Nightwing didn't know what to do. And he was panicking slightly. No one had trained him for this. Not Batman and definitely not Cobb.
"You should call me", the heiress said.
Nightwing bit his lip, opting for a safe response: "Not you get married tomorrow?"
The heiress laughed: "Sure. But it's not like I like the guy. His bank account is his only redeeming feature."
Nightwing frowned. Truly confused at this turn of events.
"Why you marry him if you not love him?", he blurted out the question.
The heiress froze for a second. Seemingly taken aback. Nightwing wondered if he should have stayed silent. Staying silent was the best option most of the time. But she and her friends laughed.
"Aww", she cooed, "You are so adorable, you know that?"
The last person who had called him adorable had been Harley. Nightwing felt a pinch in his chest. He hoped she was okay.
He expected the heiress to wrap him up in a conversation again but the whole club grew silent suddenly. Everyone looked towards the entrance. Only the music continued playing in the background.
Nightwing tilted his head, looking at the door. A man had entered. His body was gigantic, bulging with muscles. Everyone looked at him with a mixture of fear and reverence.
This man seemed important. Nightwing didn't know why though.
The man approached the VIP-section on a glass podium at the edge of the club. The giant was shadowed by another man in a black and white suit. He was dressed like a stage magician with gloves and a black cylinder.
The chattering returned hesitantly. The heiress seemed more alert suddenly. She visibly forced herself to not look at the table with the two men.
"Who is?", Nightwing asked.
The heiress kept a tense smile on her face, acting like everything was normal: "You really are new. The big guy is Blockbuster. He owns this city.
Nightwing continued watching Blockbuster. The man carried himself with the confidence of someone who knew he could get anything he wanted. There was a barely restrained aggression quaking in his giant frame. It made the people around him flinch at every move.
The heiress raised her voice, trying to sound amused but failing: "You don't want to piss him off. You are too cute to just vanish."
"He make people vanish?", Nightwing needed to know more.
"Drop it, Sweetheart. If you care about your safety, drop it", she seemed completely sober for just a moment – and actually concerned about him.
Nightwing was flattered by that. This woman was confusing, but she had a good head on her shoulders.
Nightwing reluctantly forced himself to look away from Blockbuster. The heiress was right. Nightwing wasn't a vigilante here. He was undercover, biding his time until his real mission showed up. Nightwing couldn't catch Blockbuster's attention.
His gaze wandered over to the man in the magician-get up besides Blockbuster. Practically pulled towards it. Nightwing's fingertips itched towards his palms. There was something strange going out from this man. A magnetism that Nightwing couldn't ignore.
"Other man?"
The heiress shrugged, having lost her moment of soberness: "Looks like a discount-Zatanna. I don't know him."
Nightwing hummed in response. He opted to keep his head down and stay far away from Blockbuster and his business partner. Nightwing stuck to the Bachelorette-party and the other tables on the lower floor, hoping someone else would serve the big fish.
Michael fulfilled Nightwing's wish. He hurried up the stairs towards the VIP-section as if a swarm of bees was pursuing him. Nightwing had quickly learned that Michael was quite opportunistic. Apparently, he wanted to suck up to the boss. Nightwing welcomed it with his full being.
He stayed attentive though, trying to get some intel from their conversation. Nightwing could catch snippets through his enhanced hearing. The conversation was quite generic. Talking about merch and prices for that merch. It could be anything. Drugs, weapons, stolen goods – anything.
Michael served the duo drinks the whole time. Fulfilling every whim of his customers. Nightwing relaxed after a while. Blockbuster being here didn't mean anything. Just the usual mob-stuff that Nightwing couldn't deal with it right now if he wanted to stay low.
He also ignored the magnetic pull that seemed to come from Blockbuster's business partner. The little voice in Nightwing's head that told him how magnetic this man was with his blonde hair and piercing blue eyes. And how much Nightwing wanted to get close.
Nightwing frowned. This man wasn't Nightwing's type at all. He wasn't Wally. Wally had been the first person Nightwing had noticed in a romantic way and he couldn't imagine loving anyone else but Wally.
The guy had to have meta-powers. Maybe he could make people around him like him – which was a very icky power. Nightwing looked at the Bachelorette-party trying to gauge if the women were attracted to the man as well. But they didn't seem to be. They didn't even glance at that mysterious business partner in their drunken haze. The heiress had also talked quite lowly of him. Discount-Zatanna. She didn't seem attracted at all.
Nightwing looked around. The other tables also went on as usual. No one paying the business partner any special attention. Was it only Nightwing? That couldn't be. Nightwing had stayed low on the radar. There was no reason Blockbuster's business partner would single out an insignificant, little waiter to manipulate with his meta-powers. Not in a room full of beautiful, rich people eager to waste money.
But the mysterious business partner seemed to have noticed him. His gaze followed Nightwing while he desperately tried to continue serving the tables. Nightwing felt more uncomfortable by the second as if a noose was closing in around his neck. There was something horribly wrong here. He should just leave-
The business partner smiled at Nightwing and Nightwing almost dropped his tray in transfixion. What a beautiful man. Nightwing wanted to get closer to him. Bask in his light and gain even a sliver of his affection. Please him and serve him in any way Nightwing could. What a wonderful master he would be.
A quieter voice in the back of Nightwing's head told him that this was a terrible idea and that he should run. The voice reminded him of Wally. Funny, kind and handsome Wally who loved Nightwing and whom Nightwing loved so much. The voice told him that he needed to resist. That he was being manipulated.
Nightwing frowned. The voice was making some good points… Nightwing was completely lost though once the man smiled at him again. There was an invisible thread pulling Nightwing towards the VIP-section. Nightwing needed to please. He was conditioned to please. Of course, he would serve such a beautiful man in any way he could.
Nightwing approached the VIP-section, trying to smile as blindingly as possible. People liked Dick Grayson's smile. Hopefully, the beautiful man would appreciate Dick Grayson's smile as well.
Michael glared at Nightwing, as the mysterious business partner shushed him away: "You can go. I found something else."
Michael scoffed and hit Nightwing's shoulder on the way down. Nightwing glowed in pride at being chosen.
"How can I serve you?", Nightwing said, his head feeling cloudy.
Nightwing wondered if being drunk was like this. It felt really, really good. No worries anymore. Just action.
The businesspartner looked Nightwing up and down, his smirk turning shark-like: "Aren't you a discovery?"
Nightwing tilted his head. Utterly focused on what this beautiful man wanted from him.
"Sit down", the man said.
His voice was business-like. It left no room for doubt. Nightwing couldn't resist such assertiveness.
Nightwing sat down in the booth next to him. The business partner put an arm around Nightwing's shoulder pulling him close.
Blockbuster seemed annoyed: "If you could focus on business instead of your new arm candy for a second-"
The man broke him up with a gesture: "Eight pieces of merch for ten million each. We made an agreement."
Blockbuster scoffed: "You better deliver, Conductor. Or I'll tell the Light to send me someone else for my merch."
Blockbuster took an annoyed sip from his wine glass.
"I always deliver", the Conductor said, "They'll be as pliant as kittens. And you shouldn't take things at face-value. This lovely thing next to me may be an important piece of the puzzle."
The man turned to Nightwing again, smiling sweetly: "You aren't what you pretend to be, are you?"
Nightwing leaned closer to the Conductor. Wanting to soak in his presence. The voice in his head was gone now. He just wanted to please. To serve like a good Talon should.
"I noticed your aura in this crowded club. It's dark, pained", the Conductor touched Nightwing's temple, "There is something deeply wrong in your pretty, little head."
Nightwing's smile fell and his world crumbled as the Conductor uncovered this fundamental flaw within him. Something Nightwing couldn't get rid of. Something that Nightwing had to live with and fight against every day.
"I sorry for be wrong", Nightwing felt his voice crumble.
"Nah. Don't worry about it. I love that there is something wrong in your head. It leaves your mind open to my influence. It's like there is already a hook in your head that I can use to pull you towards me."
Relief filled Nightwing's chest. He hadn't screwed up. He hadn't displeased. On the contrary.
Nightwing giggled. The floaty feeling returning into his mind. Happy that the Conductor liked Nightwing's head.
Nightwing put his head on the Conductor's shoulder. This man was so magnetic. Nightwing just wanted to be close. Get even a sliver of his approval. The Conductor's hand dug deeper into Nightwing's shoulder.
"Now, why is there a hook in your head? Can you tell me?", the Conductor asked.
Nightwing bit his lip. Unsure what the Conductor wanted to hear. His head felt so empty. Nightwing blinked. Was this right? Nightwing's head hadn't been empty for a long time.
"Look at me", the Conductor said with his assertive voice.
And Nightwing looked into his blue eyes. Sinking into them.
"That's it. Someone conditioned your lovely head for me. Come on. Be good and tell me."
Be good. Nightwing could be good. He was trained to be good.
Nightwing looked up at the Conductor: "The Court condition me. I a Talon."
"Yes, you are", the Conductor grinned as he ran his finger over Nightwing's lips, showing Blockbuster the black drop on his skin.
The glamour charm didn't cover up Nightwing's black blood once it had left his body.
Blockbuster set his wine glass down at that revelation.
"You caught one of them right under our nose", Blockbuster smirked.
"Of course, I did", the Conductor said, "They can't run from me. And you have more to tell me, right?"
Nightwing smiled, unsure what the Conductor wanted from him: "I not know."
"Don't be shy. What's your name?"
"Nightwing."
The Conductor grew excited. His arm dug even deeper into Nightwing's shoulder. It hurt a bit. But Nightwing was too pleased at the Conductor being pleased to care.
"You have to be shitting me", Blockbuster said.
"No", the Conductor said, "Little bird can't lie to me."
Blockbuster's eyes shone with interest: "You truly are a Talon-whisperer. They all turn into idiots around you. Even the Bat's little pet isn't immune."
The Conductor pointed at Nightwing's temple: "Obedience is grafted into its brain and I can access it. It will always be that way no matter what it does. Talons aren't meant to think."
"How long do you need to break it in for me?", Blockbuster asked.
"Not so quickly", the Conductor said, "There are many buyers interested in it. Take a number, Blockbuster."
"This is my club. I call dibs on it and if you don't hand it over to me-"
The Conductor looked at Blockbuster: "Do you want to threaten me, Roland? When I have this thing under my complete control? It's sweet now. But I can make it kill you with one command."
Blockbuster frowned in annoyance. The Conductor grinned. He could take as much time as he wanted.
He took another sip from his drink and turned back to Nightwing, ignoring Blockbuster: "You don't look like a Talon. What did you do?"
"I wear disguise", Nightwing's head was so empty.
The Conductor's orders had replaced his own thoughts. It was beautiful. The way Nightwing was supposed to be.
"You trying to hide from me?"
"I so sorry", Nightwing froze at the distaste in his master's voice – feeling tears well up in his eyes.
He felt so emotional now. Nightwing didn't know what was happening to him.
"Take off your disguise", the Conductor's voice grew firm.
It scared Nightwing. What would he do if this beautiful man was unhappy with him?
Nightwing needed to appease the Conductor and make him happy again. Nightwing's hands moved towards his necklace to take it off. Make the Conductor happy. Make the Conductor happy. Happy. Happy. Happy.
But before Nightwing could take the glamour charm off, a firm hand grabbed his wriest. Nightwing froze. He hadn't noticed anyone else approaching. His head was too clouded.
"Deathstroke", the Conductor looked up to a man in armour.
Deathstroke looked deeply unhappy – his mouth in a severe line. Nightwing frowned. Something about Deathstroke cleared parts of the haze in his mind. Deathstroke had been important for some reason.
"Conductor", Deathstroke growled, "You are playing with my toy."
"Your toy, Deathstroke?", the Conductor's voice had a sharp edge.
"He's my associate."
"And it was about to be the biggest deal I ever made."
"He's my apprentice. I own him."
"Not so quickly", Blockbuster interjected, sensing his chance, "We can come to a deal Deathstroke. Would you sell it to me for a 100 million? I have a lot of uses for it."
"Enticing", Deathstroke said, "But he is too useful for me. I have plans for him."
The Conductor scoffed: "Plans. You are a joke, Deathstroke. The Light only tolerates you nowadays. It's keeping you around until the better option comes along."
Deathstroke glowered down at the Conductor: "Your weak party trick would be completely useless if it weren't for all these Talons and their fragile, little minds. Who is expendable now? Psimon can do what you do to Talons to everyone."
The Conductor looked like he had bitten into a lemon: "Psimon is in a coma after the fight with the Martian. Has been for years."
"It doesn't matter. He's still a more powerful telepath than you – even as a vegetable."
The Conductor's face soured. Nightwing needed to appease him. He didn't know how. Nightwing's head hurt so bad. The cloudiness had been replaced by pain.
The Conductor smiled at Nightwing: "Be a dear and fight Deathstro-"
"Forget it", Deathstroke cut him off.
The mercenary tightened his grip around Nightwing's biceps pulling him out of the booth: "You're coming with me, kid."
Nightwing squirmed, trying to get close to the Conductor again: "But I with him."
"Jesus", Deathstroke muttered, "You are so screwed-up."
Deathstroke ripped Nightwing's head to the side and broke his neck.
Slade secured Nightwing's neck with a rope, threw him over his shoulder and carried him out of the club. He was faced with the Conductor's and Blockbuster's wrathful glances. Slade couldn't care less. Blockbuster wasn't stupid enough to challenge Deathstroke and destroy the profitable business relationship they had cultivated over the years. And the Conductor was completely useless without a Talon to puppeteer.
So, Slade walked off with his prize and put him into the trunk of his car. Nightwing wouldn't be happy, but the kid couldn't complain. Of all the options in that club – Slade was the best one. Blockbuster was merciless and he liked to torture those under his command. Acting like a kid who burned ants with a magnifying glass. And the Conductor… Nightwing could be glad he hadn't ended up with that creep.
Slade was by no means an angel and he didn't draw a line at anything. He had captured some of those Talons for the Light himself. He had captured that snooping Amazon. Though Slade would never admit that to Nightwing because the kid wouldn't trust him after that.
Still, the Conductor downright revelled in exploiting the Talons he trafficked. It made even Slade feel icky. The pleasure this man felt at having so much power over those Talons was downright psychopathic. Slade assumed that it was because the man was so pathetic in everything else. The fall of the Court had been the best thing to ever happen to that failed psychic. Finally, a way for him to ascend through the Light's ranks and gain maximum profit from his weak powers.
Slade started the car, driving westwards towards one of his safehouses. He felt a deep satisfaction at his plan coming together so nicely. He had returned from an assignment in India when he had heard the news that Nightwing slipped out from under the Bats' wing.
The seeds Slade had sown during that fight in Qurac had bloomed. The League had done most of the work for him, but Slade knew how to shuffle the cards he was provided with right.
Slade reached a safehouse in the middle of nowhere after multiple hours of driving. He took his gear in one hand and threw Nightwing over his shoulder again. Slade entered the house and deposited Nightwing on the couch, his head lolling to the side.
Then, Slade took a shower and made himself dinner. Then, he savoured his dinner, rewarding himself for a job well done. And finally, after dinner and clean-up, he stood up and cut the rope around Nightwing's neck.
Nightwing's neck reset itself with two cracks. Slade watched with morbid curiosity. The healing factor the Court had given its Talons was nothing short of amazing. Still, Slade preferred his own enhancements. He was far stronger than any Talon, especially Nightwing who was still young, and Slade didn't have this annoying weakness to the cold.
Nightwing flipped over the backrest of the couch the moment, he was awake again, going into a fighting stance.
"You're with me, kid", Slade said.
Nightwing's gaze darted through the stylish but soulless safehouse. He must be shaken from the encounter with the Conductor as he resorted to signing.
'Where is he?'
"We're hundreds of miles away from him. He can't get you here."
Nightwing's stance softened a bit. He slung his arms around himself. His blue eyes were empty and Slade wondered if he was holding back tears.
"If you have to cry, do it in the shower where I don't have to deal with it. I assume you want to take one and get rid of those stupid clothes."
Nightwing nodded, jerkily.
"At the end of the hallway. I've got some of Joey's clothes on the toilet seat."
'Your son?', Nightwing signed.
"Stop fishing for information, Kid."
Nightwing left without another word. Slade sat down on the couch and turned on the TV. Some baseball-game. Dull but better than nothing.
The shower ran. Slade sighed. The kid had seemed devastated. It must mess with your head to have someone puppeteer your body completely without you being able to do anything about it. And it must be extra humiliating to have a mind that was susceptible to it. Not that Slade cared about the kid's precious, little feelings. It was a sucky deal but ultimately not Slade's problem.
The shower stopped after a few minutes – long for a Talon, still short for anyone else. Nightwing returned, wearing Joey's old clothes. They fit surprisingly well. He had taken off the disguise that allowed him to pass as normal.
Nightwing sat down on the armchair, pulling his legs to his chest. He looked so young that Slade wondered what he was doing running around playing hero – or villain. Slade certainly understood the Bat's obsession of locking Nightwing in for his own safety. There were enough people willing to snatch the kid up for themselves. Slade hadn't expected to have to win a pissing contest against Blockbuster and the Conductor of all people.
They watched the game for a while and Slade had to admit that it was surprisingly domestic. Slade hadn't seen Joey in a long time – Addie keeping the boy to herself where he was far away from Slade – but if Slade squinted, he could imagine that the kid next to him had blonde hair instead of black.
Nightwing put his feet on the floor, straightening himself. The devastated, little look vanished from his face, making way for a blank one. Mission-mode. Slade knew it well enough.
Nightwing forced his mouth open, speaking with visible difficulty: "Y- You find me."
He had pulled himself enough together to speak.
"I expected you to go to that club. Even if it was a bad idea. Blockbuster's been offering a shit ton of money for you for months."
"I lay low. I not know that someone like him there", Nightwing shuddered at the memory of the Conductor.
Slade silently admitted that this had been incredibly bad luck on Nightwing's part. No one would suspect a little waiter to be a Talon. Waiters had the tendency to blend into the background while the people with power were negotiating. Slade always kept his eye on the service personnel when he met his clients to spot any spies. He had shot enough fake-waiters in the head to know that serving drinks and spying went hand-in-hand.
Still, Slade was a petty bastard, so he instead opted to push Nightwing's buttons: "You just let him commandeer you around. You should have seen yourself. The way you hung off him. Truly pathetic."
"I not pathetic."
Slade smirked: "Sure, you aren't."
"You not know what it do to me."
Slade snickered: "Maybe he's right. Maybe little Talons like you are better off following than thinking."
Nightwing was out of his seat before Slade could react. The kid pushed Slade into the armchair with a hand against his shoulder and a knife to his throat.
"You not understand what it do to me. So, shut your mouth."
Nightwing's golden eyes were flashing dangerously. Slade decided to push the kid further.
"He's right, you know? You'll always have that obedience-hook in your weak, little head. It's in your nature."
The knife cut deeper into Slade's throat. Perfectly controlled despite Nightwing's anger.
The kid tilted his head: "You know what else is in my nature, Slade? Slid your throat and feel nothing at see blood spill out of you. But I not do it because I can think with my stupid, little head. I have free will and a conscience. And I sick of people tell me that I not."
Slade smirked in satisfaction. It was always entertaining to wind the kid up. And Nightwing's newest outburst had the nice side effect of flushing all remnants of meekness out of his system. Slade had been tired of dealing with it. He didn't want prey. He needed a predator at his side.
"You need my help", Nightwing lowered his hand and put the knife away, "You not can defeat Light without me."
"And you need my help, Bird. Or someone is going to use that hook in your head to snatch you up."
Nightwing's darkened at the mention: "You find this really funny."
Slade allowed himself to be genuine for a moment and smooth things over a bit: "I don't actually. I find it horrific that someone screwed a child's head up so much that he can't withstand the weakest of mind control. And I'm talking very weak mind control here. I don't even feel the Conductor's control. It's that weak."
Nightwing lost some of the tension in his body: "I… I hate my mind be empty. I never want feel it again."
"Good because I prefer you with actual thoughts in your head."
Nightwing's head whipped up. He frowned in confusion. Slade didn't elaborate. Let the kid stew over it and come to the conclusion that served Slade best.
"So, one hand washes the other?", Slade asked.
"Yes", Nightwing crossed his arms, "But I'm not your dog, Slade. Or your servant. We partners. We take Light down together. I not leave League for another thumb for crawl under. And you need me, too. Work together or we both fail."
Slade noted with satisfaction that Nightwing was mirroring Slade's words. He had successfully gotten into the kid's head.
Still, Nightwing was right. They depended on each other. Nightwing needed Slade's resources, intel and his protection from Talon-hunters like the Conductor.
But Slade needed Nightwing as well. The Light had been suspicious of Slade ever since he had retaken his position as the Light's enforcer after Cobb's death. Slade knew that his time was running out as the Light was looking for a new guard dog. They had been circling Lady Shiva for a while or David Cain – though both liked to play hard-to-get.
Deathstroke could take Cain, but he was professional enough to admit that Shiva outmatched him. If she challenged him, Deathstroke would lose.
Taking on an organization like the Light on his own would be suicide. Slade needed a partner. But his potential allies had been slim pickings. Deathstroke needed someone competent with a certain degree of integrity to ensure that he wouldn't be stabbed in the back.
This partner had used to be Adeline – but ever since the assassins had cut Joey's vocal cords, she hated him. Slade would never admit it, but Nightwing was his only option. Capable after a childhood of harsh training. Cobb had prepared him well and Batman had refined him. Also loyal to a fault. If Nightwing was on your side, he would stick with you. Exactly what Slade needed.
Nightwing was also useful in another way. Slade needed someone who could go under the radar. Whom Luthor and the other Light-members would be less guarded around. Waiters stayed in the background as they served – barely noticed. Just like Talons. If Slade and Nightwing succeeded in making the Light believe that Nightwing was nothing but a mindless puppet, Nightwing would be able to gather intel under the radar. He would be the quiet, unassuming presence Slade needed.
Yes. Nightwing was the perfect partner. Slade had just needed to get him out from under the Bat's wing. And his plans had been successful.
"Partners", Slade said.
Nightwing frowned, questioning Slade's motives. Kid had more in his head than people gave him credit for. Even Batman barely trusted Nightwing to make his own decision.
"Partners", Nightwing said.
Nightwing had lost his skittishness. Slade enjoyed seeing him like this. Goal-oriented and determined to finish a mission.
Slade felt neutral towards Talons. They were poor bastards, but Slade wouldn't go out and become a Talon-saviour – like Red Hood. He would use a Talon if his mission demanded it and exploit their weaknesses if it got him ahead. It was cruel, but Slade didn't care.
Nightwing was different though. Slade disliked seeing him the way he had seen him in that club. An empty tool with all the free will sucked out of him. At the service of a man who couldn't hold a candle to the kid but happened to get lucky with this very specific power that Nightwing was weak to. Such a shame. Nightwing would be wasted as that creep's toy.
The kid was passionate. Slade had known, the moment Nightwing had jumped him in their first fight. Kid had been raging that night, attacking Slade sloppily with his claws. Slade had played with him. Egged him on to test him. Nightwing's skills had been impressive, but they had been thoughtless. A capable, thinking fighter could outmatch him. Slade had done it easily, leaving the kid dead with a katana in his chest. Still, there had been great skill - and a spirit that a Talon shouldn't be able to possess.
Batman had honed the skill, but he had snuffed out the spirit with his controlling paranoia. It had been a pity. Nightwing's spirit was too entertaining to snuff out.
Maybe Slade had a slight affection for the kid. Slade didn't know where it came from, and he didn't bother to examine it. Maybe Nightwing reminded him of Joey. Maybe Slade respected the boy's ability to rebuild himself even after the world had ripped him apart. Whatever was the cause for this strange little affliction, it had caused Slade to seek Nightwing out for the most dangerous mission of his life.
Nightwing retreated to his armchair. He looked at Slade with a tilted head. Calculating.
"We partners now so share intel", Nightwing said, "Where Donna Troy?"
"You are weirdly fixated on that Amazon."
"She a good person. She deserve be free."
Slade frowned at Nightwing's idealism but didn't comment on it. He had to give the kid some leeway if he wanted to create the impression that this was truly the partnership Nightwing wanted it to be. Slade knew better but the kid wasn't supposed to.
"Lex Luthor collected her for Project Titan", Slade said, "He is amassing a variety of specimen-"
"People. He capture people."
"You're being far too sentimental."
"No", Nightwing insisted, "I sick of people be treated like objects."
"Fine, whatever floats your boat. He is abducting people with certain abilities and is attempting to harness their powers."
"And?"
"Nothing else. That's what I know."
"Where is?"
Slade gritted his teeth: "My standing in the Light used to be better. I don't know where the lab is."
Nightwing chewed on his lip. Obsessively. Inky, black blood coated his mouth.
"We need find out", Nightwing said.
His lip mended itself again.
"Luthor should have the information somewhere. He is the main leader keeping the Light together. Everything revolves around him. Vandal Savage and Ra's al Ghul are immortals with their own larger missions. They are too smart to invest too much in the Light. Klarion is the wildcard and a force of nature. Queen Bee has her own country to run. And the Brain is the weak link. Luthor is hoping to run for President at some point, using the Light's schemes. He's the one we need to take down."
"Luthor too smart for trust you after Light embarrass you."
Slade was about to make a snarky retort but he swallowed it down. He couldn't fault the kid for being right.
"That why you need me", Nightwing said, "Luthor need believe I loyal to him and Light. Luthor need believe he can control me."
"Luthor is a genius, but he is also arrogant. He's like the Court. A rich prick who gets off on power and doesn't believe those he sees below him can trick him."
Nightwing nodded: "Luthor need believe that I too conditioned for think for myself. I need act like I mindless."
"Can you do that, Kid?"
Nightwing's golden eyes turned onto Slade: "I play this role for most my life, Slade."
Slade noted Nightwing's sombre tone. It made him shake his head. The degrees to which this kid had been screwed up still managed to surprise him.
Slade stood up: "Come on. We need to work on your cover."
He led Nightwing to the room with his gear.
Nightwing looked around: "You have walk-in closet?"
"It's not a walk-in closet. It's necessary for my professional equipment."
"Walk-in closet", Nightwing insisted.
"You are mouthy considering you are my personal, mindless servant."
"You only get personal, mindless service in public. In private, I have right for annoy you because I your partner", Nightwing smiled.
"You annoy Batman, too?"
"Yes. He say I give him grey hair, but you already old enough for have grey hair. So, no worry."
Slade snickered. Maybe Nightwing was more like Rose than Joey. He certainly had her sass.
"You just laugh?", Nightwing teased.
"I had something stuck in my throat."
Nightwing smiled to himself. He looked around the room, checking the different weapons and pieces of armour.
"I took the liberty of having something made for you", Slade opened a closet, revealing a uniform that was almost identical to the Court's Talon uniforms – except for one detail.
"Orange?", Nightwing asked.
He was referring to the orange highlights that had replaced the golden ones of the Court.
"I like marking my things", Slade said.
Nightwing showed no visible reaction towards that comment, keeping his face blank: "Will work."
"I already thought of a new name for you."
"You strange into this, Slade."
"What can I say? I like winning", Slade grinned, "What do you say about Renegade?"
"Re-ne-ga-de", Nightwing struggled through the pronunciation.
He frowned. Thinking again.
"You don't like it?", Slade couldn't help but feel insulted.
He had put a lot of effort into that name, even doing some brainstorming with a less than enthusiastic Wintergreen. Wintergreen had also accused Slade of being enthusiastic about this. Sue Slade for being happy about his plan working out so beautifully.
"No. Name need be Talon", Nightwing insisted.
Slade was still unhappy about his name choice being shot down. He wondered if the kid had shown this much initiative with Batman or if he had just gone along with everything.
"I need be expandable, Slade. Talons expendable", Nightwing's face was blank – mission-mode.
Yep. The kid had some deep self-worth issues. Slade would take advantage of that. He could see Nightwing's point though, and it wouldn't harm for Slade to make a concession.
"Fine", Slade said.
He needed to be careful with the kid. Influence him in a subtle manner and steer him into the direction Slade wanted. Nightwing seemed to be under the impression that this would be a temporary partnership and solely a cover. But Slade hadn't lied when he had said that he liked to mark his things. And the idea of Nightwing becoming his apprentice permanently was too enticing to pass up. The Bat's face alone at that realization would be delicious.
Meanwhile, Nightwing reached inside of the wardrobe, pulling out a pair of gloves. He watched them with fascination.
Slade smirked, knowing that Nightwing would have discovered them eventually: "I had them made for you."
Nightwing lost his rigour and hurried to put on the gloves. He fastened the straps around his wriest that would make sure that they didn't rip off even at strong tension. They fit perfectly. Wintergreen didn't make mistakes.
Nightwing flexed his hand and looked at the gloves with awe. There were claws attached to the fingertips. Nightwing tested them out by making a cut into his own arm. The skin gave way easily, before stitching itself back together. Nightwing smiled. He looked like a kid who had just gotten a birthday gift.
"They are just as sharp as your old ones. I had my contractor use the same material and process that the Court used", Slade said, "He took some inspiration from Catwoman. Far more pleasant than grafting them into your bones, right?"
Nightwing couldn't take his eyes of the gloves: "Thank you, Slade."
Slade grinned. The Court had been fools by just using pain. You had to use pain and honey to get someone hooked. Nightwing had gone through enough pain in his life. He was trained to endure it, which made the painful approach less effective. No. Honey worked perfectly.
The Bat had made Nightwing stronger and a more intelligent fighter. But he had forced away his edges in the process. Slade needed to get them back out – reactivate some of Nightwing's Talon instincts. The result would be Deathstroke's perfect apprentice.
"You're welcome, kid. You want to try them out?"
Nightwing tilted his head, his eyes flashing in a challenge: "You lose, old man."
Slade scoffed: "I'm going to punch that disrespect out of you."
AN: The Conductor is so hateable – I swear. I'm on a Jessica Jones-binge at the moment and I just realized that Killgrave might have been an (unintentional) influence in creating this OC villain. He's basically that but in far more pathetic and just for Talons.
Writing Slade is always so entertaining. He walks this line of being weirdly fond of Nightwing but still creepy. I love how ambiguous their relationship is. Do they respect each other? Do they like each other? Do they want to carve in each other's guts? (Slade has killed Nightwing three times already in this series.) Is Slade feeling lonely because all his children left him? You decide. ;)