Slade's arm wiped away the condensation that had built up on the surface of the mirror. He had taken his daughter's advice, and had cleaned himself up. To be honest, he actually felt pretty good. Perhaps Rose was right after all in regard to his disposition…

Looking into the mirror, the merc's moment of clarity came to a close as he took in the sight of his face. The scar tissue that ran down the right side of his face looked like worms that had burrowed deep beneath his skin, twisting and writhing throughout his face. Placed in the center of this mangled mess was the dark hole where his right eye had used to be. Slade couldn't quite remember when exactly that had been taken from him, but his body bore numerous scars whose history he couldn't grasp.

Feeling around the empty socket, he thought back to when his daughter, in a psychotic rage, and tried to emulate her father by gouging out her right eye. She had nearly died when infection had set in. Thankfully, she had regained control of her mind, and medical science had apparently allowed her to regain her sight through a genetically grown copy of her other eye. Now, she looked as if it had never happened. She had even mentioned to him as she took his outfit to be washed that he should try the same technique.

'No,' he thought. 'I've lived long enough without it. If I had it replaced, it would only hinder me in what I have to do.'

Suddenly, there was a knock at the door. "Dad, are you decent in there?" Rose asked as she cracked the door open. Quickly, Slade's right hand went up to his face. He didn't want his daughter to see the damage. She didn't deserve to see that ghoulish face.

The woman drew back with a start as she noticed her father starting back at her, his shoulder-length dark hair obscuring the rest of his face that wasn't already behind his hand. "Oh God, I'm sorry," she said, quickly.

"It's okay," Slade muttered quietly, a small smile on his face.

A moment of silence fell between father and daughter. "I, uh, managed to find a pair of sweats that one of the guys I was seeing left here," she said, uncomfortably as she handed the garment to Slade. "There's dinner waiting for you on the table as well."

"Thanks," the merc said, quietly. "I'll be out in a few."

"Okay," Rose said, her voice nearly a whisper as she closed the bathroom door.

With a simple motion, Slade grabbed his mask and set it in place back over his face. That had been too close for comfort. No one needed to see what his life of villainy had left him with, especially his daughter. He would have to keep on top of that.

Rose shifted in her chair as she saw her father emerge from the bathroom. She had heard the stories about him, about the cancer that had spread inside his body and left him a shell of the man he was. 'A living skeleton' – that's exactly how the media had put it. But as the merc stepped into the light of the dining room, he seemed as if he was coming from a portal set deep in the past. His scarred chest was puffed out, with a highly-defined six-pack of abs rounding out his chiseled frame. His arms were cut, muscles pressing against the surface of the skin with such force his veins popped out from deep within. For a man who should have been dead, he looked as if he had become a god. Though his mask now sat on his face, his hair, shoulder-length and dark despite his years, billowed out around his head, obscuring all the rest of it. For a 63-year-old man, he was in phenomenal shape.

"Gosh, Dad, and I always thought Chuck Norris had been in good shape," she said, grinning. "Even he didn't look like that at your age."

Slade chuckled as he took a seat across the table from his daughter. "Chuck Norris didn't kill people for a living, even though his fans enjoyed watching him do it in the movies," he said, quietly.

With a quick motion, the merc looked down at the plate that sat before him. A medium-sized T-bone steak, a baked potato, and broccoli. Not too shabby. Still, this meal brought a question to his mind.

"Rose, how can you afford to buy steak like this?" he asked, looking up at his daughter. "These things were expensive back when I was a kid."

The woman smirked. "I've had them for some time," she said. "I guess I was just waiting for a special occasion to cook them up."

Slade chuckled again. He didn't have to ask what that occasion was.

As the family prepared to eat their meal, the children couldn't take their eyes off of the strange masked man who now sat with them at the table. Granted, they had seen many men sit in that very spot, but none of them had ever spoken to their mother with a quiet tone. They had been loud, and said very mean things. Now as they took in the sight of him again, they could feel a…connection to him, as if he should have been there all along.

"Mommy, who is that man sitting at the end of our table?" Catlin was quick to ask her mother. This was a question that had been asked each time someone new had been in that place. However, this was the first time that her mother actually seemed happy to answer that question.

"Well, honey," she began, gesturing to Slade with her hand, "This nice man is Mommy's daddy, and your grandpa."

Grandpa. The word struck the merc in a way no blade ever could. Here he was, the murderous and hated assassin Deathstroke the Terminator, sitting at a table enjoying a meal with family whose lives he knew less about than he did the Teen Titans, and now he was being referred to as 'Grandpa'. This was quite honestly something that he never expected would occur in his life.

"But you said Grandpa was no longer around," the girl replied, her gaze now fixed upon him as well. "Why wasn't he here when all those other bad men were?"

Rose cleared her throat. This was not going to be an easy answer. "Well, he had his own life to live and, to be honest, I wasn't sure he would ever come back from where he was going," she said slowly, trying to find the words to explain the situation that didn't come out as 'Grandpa's a killer, and he was presumed dead'.

"Where did he go?" The seven-year-old's creed was in full effect: Respond to every answer with another question. This time, however, it was Slade who proposed an answer.

"I went away," he said, quietly as he set down his silverware. "I wasn't feeling good, and I thought that if I were to…disappear, then your mother would not have to pay for my mistakes."

"What mistakes?" Catlin asked, badgering for another answer.

"The mistakes of my life," the merc said, calmly. "You see, Catlin, I'm not a very nice man by description. I have done many bad things, both to those who deserved it and those who didn't. But if there was one thing I was afraid of, it was someone tracing my life in order to get back to your mom."

"Why were you afraid?" the girl continued with her questioning like a police officer in an interrogation room.

"Honey, please stop," Rose said quietly.

"But why was he afraid?" Catlin repeated the question, still yearning for an answer. "Why? Why? Why?"

As the girl repeated the word over and other, the woman glanced nervously at her father. She could already feel the rage from the drug burning in her own system at her daughter's incessant nagging, and it was fighting through four different drugs to reach the surface. Slade, on the other hand, was still dosed, and the smallest trigger could send him into a psychotic episode. She watched, waiting for the little twitch in his eye that signaled the drug was taking effect, that he was about to explode. But to her surprise, her father didn't react as she thought he would. In fact, he seemed to actually calm down ever further.

"Catlin," he said slowly, "Your mother and I have a history of doing things that are…bad. But, unlike me, Mommy never did anything more than she needed to do to keep herself and the ones she loved safe, just like she's doing now. I, on the other hand, let things get out of control."

Leaning back in the chair, he let out a long sigh. "I thought that I could bring this world down to my level," he continued, his eye closed as he thought back. "I thought I could become a god among men. But what I failed to realize is that a god shouldn't be feared for his or her power. No, they should be praised for their restraint, their willingness to have such power and to never use it. I wasn't that smart. Despite my methods, I always hoped that there would a place for me beyond this world…a place I know you, your brother, and Mommy will go, regardless."

"What's beyond this world?" Catlin asked.

"A better one," Slade said, leaning forward and putting his arms on the table. "A place where war, crime – all the bad things that people in this world do are gone. It's a world of peace, and happiness, where no one ever has to take turns or feel bad because someone else has more than they do. A perfect world. I even got a glimpse of it once, many years ago. It was beautiful."

"If it was so beautiful, why didn't you stay?" The girl's question was more drawn out. It seemed that her capacity for knowledge on this evening was coming to its' zenith.

"Because I had something left to do," the merc said, looking at all of them. "When I was here in Titan City many years ago, I dealt with a handful of young kids. They didn't take too kindly to me trying to make their city my playground, so they would oppose me, try to stop me at every turn. One of them took these scraps between the team and me very seriously. His name was Robin, but you probably know him today as Dick Grayson."

"Yeah, I do," the girl said, smiling. "Last year my teacher told the class all about how Mr. Grayson saved the city from the bad guys. She really thought he was a real superhero." The smile faded from the girl's face as her young mind realized the truth. "Grandpa, are you saying you were a bad guy?"

Slade sighed. "Yes Catlin, I was," he said, truthfully. "I did many bad things, and Mr. Grayson did all he could to try and stop me. But, somewhere along the years, something happened. Little by little, Robin became less of a hero, and more like me. I had always told him during our fights together that he would one day become just as bad as me. But, I was wrong."

"How?" the girl asked, more concerned now with the answer than her grandfather's past deeds.

"He didn't become as bad as me," the merc said, quietly. "He became worse. He turned his back on everything he stood for, and he began doing bad things. But the people of this city didn't get angry at him. That's because he began doing bad things to bad people, people who had hurt and frightened those who lived in the city. No one cared that bad people were going away. They only cared that their lives would be better at the expense of others. You see, Catlin, in fighting with Mr. Grayson, I managed to turn him into a…a boogeyman, someone who lived off the fear and hatred the people of this city felt towards people like your mom and me, people who didn't get the chance to work a regular job or had friends to support them when they were down. In essence, I created a monster – a monster that thrives right here in Titan City. I made Dick Grayson into that monster, and only I can unmake him."

An unsettling silence set over the table. Rose simply stared at her father with awe. What had she just seen? The inner mechanisms of a man who ended lived for a living? Was he really blaming himself for the actions Dick Grayson took during 'The Crusade'? The silence was broken as Catlin looked up from her plate.

"Well, if you can make monsters, can you make other things?" she said. Then, with a big smile, she added, "Like cookies?"

At first, it started low. Then, the sound rang up deep from within. Rose couldn't believe what she was hearing. It seemed, unreal…

Slade Wilson was laughing. A genuine laugh. Not one filled with bitterness or psychotic tendencies. It was something the woman had never seen before. It was almost like a dream.

"No, Catlin," he said, cheerfully. "You better ask your mother about that one."

With the tension lifting from the table, the four continued with their meal, more a family now than they had ever been.

As Rose tucked her children into bed on the second floor, she had a moment to reflect on what had occurred that night. For the first time in her life, she actually felt like she knew her father – not just by name, but emotionally as well. It was strange, almost like something out of the book of fairytales she would read to her daughter every night: The knight in shining armor returning when her family needed him the most. Turning out the light, she took one last look at her sleeping children, remembering the words her father had told her right before he left to pick up his armory. He would always be there, and he would protect them to the end.

Heading back downstairs, she could hear the sounds of her father inspecting and cleaning the weapons in his possession from the garage. With nothing better to do, she took a step out the door to see where he was. The image she saw was uncanny.

Slade stood before the workbench, once again clad in his legendary outfit. This time, however, he had left the hood off, and his long hair billowed down over his mask. He looked like a young Hollywood star ready to take on the world. If that was only the case.

"So," Rose asked, leaning against the frame of the door, "How do you plan on unmaking Mr. Grayson?"

"One piece at a time," Slade said, shining the outer casing of his pistol. "I plan on showing him what it must have been like for all the villains he cut down during his 'Crusade'."

"How's that gonna work?" the woman asked, wondering just what her father had planned. If he had bided his time long enough to scope out and devise a plan to murder Bruce Wayne, then he probably had something equally as devastating for Grayson.

"Phase One is complete," the merc said, placing the gun back on the table. "Wayne is out of the picture. Now, it's time. Grayson took from the villains who had Jump City on lockdown. Perhaps now it's time for me to take from Grayson." Looking at his daughter, he sighed. "Tomorrow," he said, the legendary tone of voice returning, "I begin the endgame."

A dark room. A familiar face. A shot in the dark. Blood. So much blood…

Raven awoke with a start. Her eyes darted around the room. She was still in Room 413 of Titan City Medical. At least, she would be for the next two days. Grayson had delivered his ultimatum, and chances were slim that he was going to back out of it. But the businessman's threats seemed superficial now. Something else had captured her mind.

Rising to a sitting position, the woman looked out her window. The quarter moon lung high in the night sky. The clock next to her bed read 3:04 A.M.. This was it. Something had come to her in a dream. But Raven knew that she didn't dream like a normal person. What she saw, what was vivid in her mind, was not the wanderings of the subconscious: It was a vision. She had learned to trust these nocturnal sights with high regard, mainly because each of them had a habit of coming true. She had foreseen the destruction of Earth by her father, Trigon, years before he had set in motion the events that would turn her into an avatar of death. True, the Titans had managed to put an end to the uprising, but she feared it was only because they had the relenting fury and expertise of Slade backing them. This time, no one would be in her corner. This was something she would have to face alone.

As the clock face changed to 3:05 A.M., the Girl from Azareth accepted her fate. The visions had come. She was going to die.

"Look Mom, I'm running late. Can't we continue this conversation once I get there?" Kate said impatiently as she tugged her heels over her stocking clad feet. "Yes, I'm aware that we have a family plan, and the minutes don't cost anything extra, but if you tell me everything that's going on, I won't have a reason to come see you. Okay, I'll be there in a few hours. Yes, I'll tell Garfield you send your love. Okay, bye Mom!"

"And you wonder why I never pick up the phone," Logan said with a smile as his wife hung up her cell and shook her head.

"Jeez, she can be such a handful sometimes," Kate said, dropping her cell into her purse. "What part of 'I'm coming out to spend the night with you and catch up on old times' does she not get?"

"Well, you know how your mother is," the man said, combing back what little hair he had left on his head. "If the toilet overflows, it's a national emergency."

"Don't get me started on that," his wife said, frowning. "One time, I scraped my knee while we were at the playground for a local charity. The second it starts to bleed, my mother is in tears, on her knees, praying to the Lord to protect me and watch over me."

"Well, she always seemed to be overprotective of her kids," Logan said, straightening out the collar of his shirt.

"Garfield, I was twenty-two," Kate said with a sigh.

The man looked at her, befuddled. "Wow," he said, shaking his head. "That was a bit much."

"Well, maybe it wasn't all bad," the woman said, placing her hands on Logan's shoulders. "Because of her, I still have my health, my knee and, more importantly, I have you."

The two shared a brief embrace, followed by an equally brief kiss.

"Okay, I'll be back sometime tomorrow afternoon," Kate said, smiling. "Try not to have too much fun without me."

"I'll keep that in mind," the man said, smiling back.

He watched as his wife headed out the door of their two-story dwelling and took off in her Escalade. But there was no time to be spontaneous. He had to get to work himself.

"Time to make the donuts," he said, grabbing his keys.

The day had been going pretty well for the proprietor of the first and currently only vegetarian deli in all of Titan City. Despite having a rough start, the eatery had managed to attract a steady stream of regulars. Some were in it for the food, while others were interested in hearing stories of days past from a former Teen Titan.

As much as Garfield hated to relive the time from Nightwing's betrayal, he delighted in recounting the many battles he had been privy to during the Titans' heyday. All in all, it had been a regular day, and as the store prepared to close shop for the night, the obligatory last-minute phone call came over the line.

"Logan's Deli, Home of the Mile-High Tofu and Cheese. This is Logan speaking. How may I help you?" The former Titan had his spiel down pat. But he was unprepared for what he heard on the other end.

"Garfield, it's Raven." Logan's heart nearly jumped out of his chest. This had only been the second time in recent years that she had called him personally, and the first time had not been good news. Chances were this was not going to be pleasant, either.

"Rae? What's up?" he asked, not sure that he wanted the answer.

"A lot," the woman's voice sounded almost emotionless. "I need you to stop by the hospital tonight."

"Rae, it's nearly eight o'clock," Logan said. "Even if I bust ass to get out of here, I won't get there until nearly eleven. I still have closing duties and paperwork to fill out. Besides, visiting hours are over."

A small chuckle came over the line. "Well, I don't think that will be able to stop you," Raven said. "Just…be here soon, okay?"

"Yeah, I promise," the man said.

CLICK. The line went dead.

As the night shift nurse made her way to the break room for some much-needed coffee, she was oblivious to the small green mouse that scurried on the floor near the reception desk. Once she was out of sight, the rodent continued its' path down the hall. The darkness, coupled with the mouse's apparent nearsightedness, made it difficult to see. However, the scents it was picking up allowed it to navigate to Room 413. Like most hospital rooms, the door sat a few inches off the ground, making it easier to ventilate the room.

With a small degree of difficulty, the plump mouse squeezed its' frame under the door. Looking around, it caught sight of something that was truly beautiful to behold.

Raven sat on the end of the bed, her legs crossed Indian-style. Her head was tilted back as she chanted in her mysterious language, her dark hair billowing in her face. Her body was wrapped tightly in a small robe. Her mediation was something that had been long forgotten since the events that began a year and a half prior. Still, here she was on this very night, returning to her roots.

The mouse practically smiled as it climbed its' way up the side of the hanging bed sheets. It had just figured out the perfect way to make its' presence known.

Raven was cut off in mid-chant as she felt a multitude of nails scraping along the surface of her skin, darting each and every which way underneath her robe. The sensation was eerie, to say the least.

"Knock it off, Garfield," she said, firmly. "I know it's you."

Still, the nails danced around her flesh. By this point, an unwilling smile had formed on her face. "Quit it, that tickles," she said, suppressing a giggle.

As if on cue, the nails began moving even quicker, doing its' best to cover every last inch of her skin. By this point, Raven was on her back, legs kicking wildly as giggles spurted out. "Stahahahahahapp!" she cried, trying not to draw the nurse's attention. "Okahahahahay! I give up-ahahahahahaha!"

With that, the scurrying came to an end. As the woman recomposed herself, she watched the rodent drop to the floor. But it was Garfield Logan who rose in its' place.

"I oughta kick your ass," Raven said, breathlessly as the man grinned at her in the moonlight.

"Come on, you know you love it," Logan said, chuckling. "So, what's the news?"

As the woman regained a sitting position, her face was rather somber. The former Titan did indeed have news for her friend and teammate, and it wasn't going to be pretty.

"Garfield, the reason I called you tonight is because I was sent a vision," she said, running a hair through her hair.

The news took Logan by surprise. "A vision?" he asked. "You haven't had anything significant appear since Trigon. What could be happening now?"

Raven let out a sigh. "Something's changing," she said, quietly. "There's a great deal of arcane energy that's slowly emanating from the city. Something big's gonna happen. What, I don't rightly know."

"So, you're saying there a strong disturbance in the Force?" Logan said, his brow furrowing.

"Something like that," she said getting up slowly and walking towards the window. Her body felt nearly perfect. No pain, no weakness. She hadn't even resorted to the weed to keep her body out of agony. She actually felt like her own self again. That would serve only to make what she was about to say even more horrendous. "A massive cataclysm is coming to Titan City, one that will change it forever. Trouble is, I can't see it clearly. Probably because…probably because I won't be around to see it come to fruition."

"What do you mean?" Logan asked, confusion setting in on his face.

Raven turned from the view outside to meet the man's eyes. "My vision," she said, matter-of-factly. "Garfield, I'm going to die…soon."

"You don't know that," the man said, walking towards her. "You've lived this long with cancer. It won't just take you overnight."

The woman gave a sad smile. "It's not the cancer that gets me," she said. "It's something altogether different."

"Just 'cause you saw it doesn't mean that it's a sure thing," Logan said, refusing to believe the words coming from his friend's mouth. "I mean, you saw your father destroy this world, and we're still here, aren't we?"

"That was a fluke," Raven said, shaking her head. "Things changed. I had the Titans to protect me."

"Well then, this could be just another fluke," Logan said, trying his best to rationalize any hope he had of his friend's vision of death.

"I doubt it," she said quietly as she placed a hand on his shoulder. "But I guess there's always that bit of hope."

"Hell, I prove you wrong," Logan said, confidently. "Tomorrow morning, I'm gonna be here at ten o'clock, and I'm gonna walk you right out those doors. Fuck what those white coats say - I'm gonna take you out and get you a Grand Slam breakfast at Denny's."

"I thought you were trying to make sure I didn't die?" Raven said, playfully.

"Very funny," Logan said. But it was true. It had been funny. Looking down at his watch, he sighed. "Well, it's almost eleven-thirty. I better get rolling. See you tomorrow, Rae."

As he turned towards the door, he felt a hand grab his arm. Turning back, he looked into Raven's tear-filled eyes.

"Gar, remember what you said to me yesterday?" she said, softly. "About how we could have had something? About how you were already ready, and you were just waiting on me?"

The man cocked his head to the side ever so slightly. "Yeah, I remember," he said, his voice just as soft.

The woman bit her lower lip. "What if I were to tell you that I was ready now?" she asked, her voice basically a whisper. "Would it be too late?"

The question hit Logan like a Mack truck. He had never in his wildest dreams believed that Raven would ever return his affection in kind. But, it was too late. He had said so himself. She had waited too long to see life for what it really was, and he had found the woman who could provide the companionship he had been craving for so long. Too little, too late. Nothing could ever change that.

His hands rose up to encircle Raven's face. He brushed back her long, silky hair to take a deeper look into the eyes of his former teammate. He knew that time had passed them both by, and that whatever they could have had was dead and buried. It had to be. But, as his eyes locked with her's, he knew the truth.

"Rae, it's never too late," he said.

As the dark night settled in, two bodies mingled on the edge, two minds intertwined with one another. So strange, yet so natural, as if it should have been all along.

As his hands roamed her naked form, she could feel the passion building up deep within her. Her life had been one of restraint, wearing a mask of strength to hide the fact that she always felt inferior to others, incapable of experiencing the same joys and sadness that her peers took for granted. Now, it was as if the shackles had broken free, as if her mind was finally open to the world around her, taking in all that could be offered.

As they reached the climax, both knew that fate worked in a funny way. Despite all that had hindered and embittered their lives, they had managed to recapture a bit of the glory days, to turn back time for just a single moment. They had learned not to just live their lives, but simply to live, for forsaking even one moment of precious time was something they would regret when the hourglass ran out.

On a set of sweat-stained sheets in a hospital ward bathed in moonlight, two souls regained what it truly meant to be Titans.

Raven opened her eyes. 3:05 A.M. Time had passed and the room remained silent around her. Getting to her feet, she walked to the window, her naked silhouette lying on the floor of the room. The moon sat in the middle of the sky, signaling that it was nearly time for it to disappear until the following evening. But Raven continued to stare at it, taking in its' unearthly glow. She felt this would be the last night she spent on this planet.

"You've certainly grown into a mesmerizing woman." Her eyes widened. Turning slowly, she looked near the door of the room. Sure, enough, the shadow of a man sat in a chair positioned next to the frame. "Needless to say, I am taken aback by your beauty."

Raven turned, feeling the hair on her arms and neck rise up. "I figured it was a matter of time until you tracked us down," she said, quietly.

Slowly, the shadow stood up from its' seat, and made its' way over to her.

"You know why I'm here, don't you?" the voice said as Slade's mask emerged from the darkness and into the moonlight.

"I had my visions," Raven said, staring at the merc. "I didn't expect it was you who would be coming."

Slade stared at the woman, his hand resting on his pistol. His hair was gone, back up inside his hood. This was business, and he planned on being professional.

"It was just a matter of waiting for the perfect moment," he said, coldly. "You know as well as I that Grayson plans to honor his threat. You will be left with no medical care, and that cancer is going to eat a hole right through your heart. Of course, you could ask for help from Logan. He couldn't turn you away, not after the history you two have had. He actually cares, unlike that rich bastard who's paying for you to die slowly while he squeezes a few more sympathetic tears from the masses."

Slade began pacing the floor, silent for a moment. "But, I wonder how willing Garfield Logan would be to help you if he knew that Grayson was paying your medical bills? Even more so, I wonder what he would think of you if he knew about that night you spent with him in order to secure those funds…"

"What did you expect me to do?" Raven said, defiantly. "Just lay here and die? I couldn't ask Garfield to help me. He's barely getting by on his own. He has a wife to support, and a business to run. He couldn't have afforded the medicine that's kept me alive this long. In the end, he would have run himself bankrupt only to watch me slowly wither away."

"But, you slept with Grayson," Slade said, making it clear he didn't plan to overlook that fact.

"Yes I did, and I hate myself every single day for it," the woman said. There were no tears in her eyes, no fear in her voice. If she was to die, she would go out standing on her feet, like a hero would. "I never told Garfield because I didn't need to give him another reason to hate Grayson. I don't care what he would have thought of me. I've had damn near forty years of my life spent trying to protect myself, and it's all amounted to nothing more than bullshit. If there's one thing I plan to do with what time I have left, it's to allow Garfield Logan to feel like Beast Boy again – like a goddamn hero, not like that fucking asshole in his pressed suit and Gucci shoes who thinks he can walk on water and guide the people to the gates of Heaven on a wing, a prayer, and a daily load of ass-fucking to keep them in line."

Slade stood in silence, looking at the woman before him. She was stronger than he had remembered. Despite the threat of impeding doom, she still held fast. She had made enough mistakes in her life. She had allowed a powerful man to violate her in order to keep herself alive, only to have him prove his true nature when he took it all away. In truth, he was proud of her. She was ready to walk into the light, with no regrets.

Slowly, the mercenary placed a hand on Raven's shoulder. To his surprise, she didn't even shiver at his touch. "You seem pretty calm for someone who's staring at their murderer," he stated.

Raven managed a weak smile. "The sad thing is, I honestly feel more comfortable with you than I do with Grayson," she said, sadly. "Both of you are the same – killing to achieve the means to an end."

Slowly, the woman raised her right hand, and placed it over Slade's chest, right over his heart. "But something's different," she continued, her eyes focused on the floor. "You're different. I know that won't change what you have to do, but I do know you have a different outlook on life now. You have something that keeps you going besides your own needs."

The two adversaries stood in silence for the moment, the moonlight bathing them in an eerie glow. It was time.

"Are you ready?" Slade asked, quietly.

Raven let out a heavy sigh. This was it. "Make it clean," she said, softly.

Without a sound, the merc pulled the pistol from its' holster. The woman let out a gasp as the cold metal touched the skin right underneath her breast.

"Oh man, that's cold," she said, shivering involuntarily.

"Sorry," Slade said. "On the count of three, okay?"

Raven breathed in deep, and nodded.

"Good. One, two…"

As the merc hit three, Raven shot up in pain. The dull sound of the silenced weapon was like a small puff of air being shot out of a paintball gun. Her eyes widened as her hands gripped Slade's shoulders. Slowly, her legs trembled, and she sank to the floor, gasping for air. The merc followed her down, gently laying her out on the tile as she looked at him. Her eyes were filled almost with…gratitude, he thought as she shuddered.

"It's…so strange," the woman said, quietly. "I feel…I feel…free."

Slade felt the grip of Raven's hands weaken, followed by her body giving one last massive shudder before falling still. As her mind settled into the darkness, the Girl from Azareth could see the crimson flowing from beneath her right breast. A perfect shot. The words crossed her mind one last time: A dark room. A familiar face. A shot in the dark. Blood. So much blood... Garfield would be disappointed, after all.

The visions had come true.

Raven was dead.