Michael Zeddemore shook his head in utter disgust. Two times in one day was a little bit too much for a captain who had been rounding up skateboarders for the past few years.
"Somebody's going through a lot of trouble to pull this shit off, and it's starting to bother me," he said.
The police captain was standing in the living room of a posh two-story home in the suburbs. The address was registered to a Garfield and Kate Logan – the same two whose bodies now laid out on the floor, blood pooling from their respective killshots.
Z shook his head as the CSI techs began their routine. He had warned Logan about Slade, but it seemed that the aging merc had been one step ahead all along.
"Captain…" Lieutenant Randolph's voice brought the officer back into focus. "Captain, the press is here. What do you want us to do?"
Zeddemore sighed. "What we have to," he said, quietly. "Time to tell the world that another Titan has fallen."
"Well, you've definitely been on the warpath, haven't you?" Rose's voice brought Slade back from his reminiscing. "At least, I would assume it's you."
The merc sat up from the recliner as his daughter smirked at him. "So, I'm willing to bet that the local news got wind of the fact that Garfield Logan and his wife were gunned down in their own house?" he asked.
"Yeah," Rose said, crossing her arms over her chest. "I know that the local police are going to chalk this up to another random act of violence, but the people of Titan City are already talking amongst themselves. Seems they're slowly coming around to the words Jim Gordon screamed at the cameras as they shoved him in the ambulance."
"Good for them," the merc said, standing up and rotating his shoulders. "Nice to know that the people of this city aren't the blind sheep I thought them to be."
"Oh, I wouldn't give them that much credit," the woman said as she busied herself with cleaning up her children's toys, which had been strewn across the living room. "They all still think Grayson can save them all."
"Let them think that," Slade said, heading towards the garage. "It'll make it that much sweeter when they realize that he's a fraud."
Rose simply shook her head and smiled. Her father had put two former Titans in the ground. Tonight, he would ax the last person to stand between him and Grayson. Based on Grayson's lack of response to both Raven and Beast Boy's deaths, it seemed that he was too engrossed with being in the spotlight to make much of a comment on their deaths. But this would be different. Slade would strike in a way that would hurt him more than any physical wound ever could…
Rose's train of thought was broken as she heard a loud rapping on the front door.
"Hmm, I'm not expecting anyone," she muttered to herself. Making sure that the door to the garage was closed, she made her way towards the door. Maybe it was the drugs in her system, or perhaps it was the false sense of security she felt with her father around, but Rose Wilson didn't even bother to check the peephole before she opened the door. Her reward for such trust was a solid punch to the face.
The savage blow stunned the woman, and she stumbled back onto the hardwood floor, blood flowing from her nose as her eyes teared up in pain. Glancing up, she managed to recognize her attacker.
"Oh, shit…" she hissed. "Mr. Dukakis…"
Abraham Dukakis, the owner of the Titan City Financial Advisory Corporation, stood in the doorway of Rose's home. At five-six and two-hundred fifty pounds, the balding handle-bar mustached man would have made Garfield Logan look like a fitness instructor. Despite his small stature and hefty figure, Dukakis was well-known for his short temper and, to a lesser extent in thanks to his legal team, violence against women. He had hired Rose a few months back to write up the financial reports for the company each week. Because of her situation, he had grudgingly agreed to allow her to work from home on these documents. However, the report for last week's finances was supposed to be on his desk the night before. It had never materialized, so it was time the scrappy little man laid down the law.
"Well, Ms. Wilson?" he said in a gruff Jersey accent. "Aren't you gonna invite me in?"
Rose sat on the floor, stupefied by what had just occurred. She had heard of her boss's anger problems, but she never thought he was the type to act out on them. She was also in shock of her own reaction. She had simply taken a punch to the face, but her heart tightened up in fear. She was trained in the art of killing, and suddenly she was finding herself afraid of some hyped-up Oompa Loompa in a bad suit. Had she really slipped that far away from her original form, the unstoppable Ravager? Was she really this weak on the inside?
Without waiting for a response, the portly man entered the domicile. "Rose, you're a smart girl – at least, that's what people have been telling me," he began, his voice a patronizing tone like a parent would use on a child, "So I can guess that you know why I am here, and why you are now dripping blood all over your nice hardwood floor. However, if you're not really quite sure because you honestly are not as fuckin' smart as you think you are, allow me to elaborate."
Dukakis stood before Rose, his hands held in front of his body like he was Steven Segal. Granted, he probably thought that he was as bad as that man himself, for all his cockiness and attitude. "You see, Ms. Wilson," he said, the patronizing tone still in effect, "I hired you to write up all my financial reports in order to keep everything for my company in perfect alignment. Now, if I don't get my reports, which you are in charge of giving to me…well, you put me in quite a pickle. That's why I'm here…to depickle everything."
"Abraham, listen," Rose began.
"Who asked you to talk?!" the little fat man said, his face contorted in rage. "I sure as hell don't think it was me, and nobody else in this room has the authority to give that order, so you should just shut your trap and stifle, cunt!"
As that final word resonated in Rose's mind, she could feel the rage beginning to boil. She was not about to let some Keebler elf get away with being an asshole. Slowly, she got back to her feet, her eyes hardening up.
"Look, I'm not gonna ask you again," Dukakis said, pointing a finger at the woman. "You have until five o'clock tonight to write up that report. That's about an hour and a half from now. If you can't do that, then I will not be responsible for what happens when I send my boys down here to 'get you situated'." He paused, letting out a laugh as he did so. "Oh, I wonder just how much fun Mikey and Fat Richie are gonna have playing with those kids of yours…"
There was no warning. Nothing to give away how far the portly little man had gone. With a feral scream, Rose leaped forward, her hands latching tightly around Dukakis's throat. Every last smug feeling and superior smile was wiped from his face as the woman lifted him into the air with inhuman strength.
"YOU FUCK!" Rose screamed, her voice a deep and grating sound. "Don't you dare threaten my children! You think you're so goddamn special? You ain't shit!"
The big bad boss suddenly found himself at a loss for words, regardless of the pressure around his neck. No woman had ever stood against him. Slipping one hand into his pocket, he palmed something that would make sure Rose would not win this battle.
The enraged woman was so enthralled with her current situation that she didn't feel the two metal diodes connect to her body just above her right breast. She did, however, feel when the device activated.
Rose let out a scream as 500,000 volts surged through her body from Dukakis's handheld Taser. Her hands released the little man, and she once again collapsed to the floor as her boss steadied himself. As she moaned in pain, Dukakis breathed hard, his open hand running over the red marks Rose's fingers had left around his neck.
"I gotta admit," he gasped as he charged the device again, "you gotta lotta fight in ya. But I'm always gonna be better than you. Perhaps it's time you learn your place."
The little man felt immensely superior as he stood over Rose's prone form, the electricity snapping from between the two diodes. "Scream all you want, bitch," he laughed. "Ain't nobody coming to save you…"
Abraham Dukakis was a man who always thought he had the upper hand in any situation. Dealing with an uppity woman was a piece of cake. So it came as a complete surprise to him when a massive gloved hand gripped his arm and bent it back almost to the breaking point.
"AHHHH-the fuck?!" he shouted as Slade flung him hard against the doorframe. "Who the fuck are you?"
"Your worst nightmare," the merc said, coldly as he pinned the little man to the frame with his forearm.
"Yeah, well I think my worst nightmare might be dressed a little more professionally-AHHHH!" Dukakis let out another scream as Slade twisted his arm even tighter.
"One more word, and I'll break it off," The merc's words were a promise, one that even a 'tough' man like Dukakis wasn't about to cross. With a flick of the wrist, Slade tossed the man out the door onto the unforgiving concrete.
"I see you here again, and you'll never leave," the merc said, slowly.
Getting up from the concrete, Dukakis ran to his car as fast as his pudgy legs would take him. He wasn't about to stick around and see if that masked-wearing maniac was going to keep his word.
As the car sped off, Rose painfully climbed back to her feet. "Some fucking hero I turned out to be," she muttered as she rubbed her chest.
"We all get caught off-guard," Slade said as he closed the door. "There's no shame in it." With no hesitation, he walked over and put a hand on his daughter's shoulder. "Are you okay, Rose?" he asked.
The woman nodded, glumly. "Been a long time since I tasted the sting of a Taser," she said, sighing. "It sucks just as bad now as it did back then."
"Well, a Taser's always designed to suck," the merc said, chuckling. "That's why frightened sheep buy them. They think it'll save their ass. Truth is, most people just end up zapping themselves with it, either by accident or because they're bored."
Rose giggled. "I think you'd have to be pretty damn bored to stick yourself with a Taser," she said.
The two shared a moment of silence, a bonding moment between father and daughter.
"Did you see the look in his eyes when you threw him up against the wall?" Rose said, taking a seat at the kitchen table. "He thought you were about to kill him. To be quite honest, I thought you were about to as well."
Slade let out a low growl. "He's a piece of shit, but he's not worth it," he said, pulling his pistol from its holster and checking it over. Force of habit from so many years as a merc. "Besides, letting out gunshots in this neighborhood would sort of defeat the purpose of remaining hidden."
"You have a point," the woman said, leaning back. "I applaud your restraint."
"Well, I'm not a god, am I?" Though Rose could not see her father's face, she knew that he was hiding a smile behind that mask.
"So, are you heading out tonight?" she asked, fully aware that only one Titan remained in the way of Slade's revenge against Grayson.
"One more job, then Grayson's mine," Slade said, firmly. "Once he's gone, the city will be free of his bureaucratic bullshit, and we'll be able to go anywhere in the world – anywhere we damn well please."
"I hear Greece is beautiful this time of year," Rose said, smirking. "And we could learn about some real gods."
Once again, that laugh emanated from her father. "Why don't you check some ticket prices on Hot Wire while I'm gone?" he suggested jokingly.
"I just might," his daughter said back, teasingly.
With that, Slade slipped out the front door, leaving Rose to wonder exactly where in the world they could live in peace. Perhaps it wasn't such a small world after all.
As work went on as usual at the Titan City Financial Advisory Corporation, the CEO's office was darkened. It wasn't, however, because the owner himself wasn't in.
Abraham Dukakis sat in his office, his head hung in shame. All he had done was to try and give one of his employees a little bit of 'motivation', and it had damn near cost him his life. Whoever that man was, he was trouble. But he dare not go back and face him again, especially after what he had said.
The man was in the middle of contemplating sending his boys down to deal with the problem when there was a knock at his door.
"Mr. Dukakis?" a voice came through from the other side.
"Yeah?" he said, his voice bearing a defeated tone.
"Sir, there's a gentleman here to see you," the voice said. "He says he wants to speak with you about the incident you had with Ms. Wilson earlier today."
The man's head shot up. No one else had known about the situation but himself and his aide, excluding the other party involved. How could news have travelled so quickly?"
"S-Send him in," he stuttered as he turned on the lights, unsure of who was about to come through the door.
As the door opened, a figure stepped into view of Abraham Dukakis. This figure, however, needed no introduction…
"M-Mr. Grayson!" the man stammered as Dick stood before his desk. "It-it's an honor to meet you face-to-face!" The little man stood up quickly, and offered his hand. Grayson took it, and they shook. "Please, take a seat. You want a drink or something?"
The CEO smiled. "Sorry, but I don't plan on being here too long," he said, quietly.
Dukakis nodded, his forehead visibly covered in sweat. "Very well," he said. "What can I do for you?"
Grayson sniffed, and straightened his jacket. This office looked very similar to his executive washroom, albeit in a much worse condition. The main exception was that the turd in front of him hadn't quite made it to the toilet. "I received a call from your aide earlier today that you were attacked by an unknown figure while visiting the home of one of your employees," he said, firmly. "That employee, if I am not mistaken, is one Rose Wilson, correct?"
"Yes, she is," Dukakis said, wondering why his own trusted aide would be sending messages to Dick Grayson and making a mental note to 'discuss' it with him later. "I hired her a few months back to write up financial reports. I was simply stopping by to remind her that I had not received last week's report as of yet."
"I see," Grayson said, quietly. "So, do you regularly assault your employees physically, or did you make a special trip just for Ms. Wilson?"
Dukakis's jaw fell open. Seemed like what everyone had said was true: Dick Grayson did know everything that went on in Titan City. "I-I-I…" he stammered, unable to find the words to explain his actions.
Grayson silenced the man with a wave of his hand. "I don't need to hear it," he said sternly. "I honestly don't care how you deal with your employees. That's no concern of mine. What I do have a concern about, however, is the description of the man who attacked you."
The little man put his hands on his hips, and sighed. "Look, I don't know how much I can help you," he said, sadly. "I didn't even get to see the guy's face. It was hidden behind some kind of mask."
At the mention of the word 'mask', Grayson's eyes widened. "A mask?" he asked, quietly. "What did the mask look like?"
Dukakis grimaced. "Well, it was half black and half orange," he said. "The strange thing was I couldn't see an eyehole in the black part of the mask."
"That's because he doesn't have one," Grayson muttered to himself.
"What?" the man asked, confused.
"Never mind." The businessman smiled again. There was only one more piece of the puzzle to unlock. Then, he would be ready to answer Slade's charge. "Mr. Dukakis, would you mind giving me Ms. Wilson's address?"
The water rained down onto the floor of the shower, the impact making a constant pitter-patter sound that resonated throughout the bathroom. The water had long gone cold from the consistent running, but the icy temperature had yet to awake the shower's lone occupant from her drug-induced slumber. At least, not for a few more moments…
Starfire's eyes shot open, a gasp emitting from her mouth as she regained consciousness in the frigid water. Goosebumps ran down her arms and legs as her body finally felt the cold penetrate into her mind. How long had she been out? Maybe in her younger days she could have ball parked a time. Now, it could have been either Thursday a week from now or the middle of last week. Time no longer had a meaning in the Tamaranean's life. Then, again, her life didn't have too much meaning in itself…
Slowly, and with great difficulty, the woman pulled herself to her feet. Her hands clumsily gripped the handles, finally shutting off the flow of the freezing water. Sliding open the glass partition, she gingerly stepped out onto the carpet in front of the shower. For anyone else, exiting a shower would be a simple task, but Starfire was on Cloud 9, her body swaying back and forth as she stumbled out into the hallway. She grabbed a towel from off the floor. Chances are it was dirty, but probably cleaner than the other ones. Cleanliness was not high on the woman's list of priorities, as the once-glamorous apartment looked like the city dump. Fitting, since its' resident had deteriorated to nothing more than trash herself.
After drying her body and hair hap-hazardly, Star dropped the towel back onto the floor. No use putting it up somewhere. She'd probably forget where it was the next time she needed it. With that, she clothed herself in an old tank top and a pair of panties that was intact – for the most part. The bedroom looked as if a tornado had stopped by to catch up on things, with clothes and belongings scattered every which way. In truth, it didn't look much different from when Beast Boy had stopped in last…whenever that was. Star's mind was so clouded by this point in her life that names, places, time – all of it, it all meant nothing to her. Somewhere in that mind she was aware of the fact that BB had a name, a name he was going by now, but for the life of her she could not recall what it was. Cyborg's funeral, Grayson's betrayal, Raven's health – it all seemed a distant memory now, with only snippets remaining. It was like looking at a photo album but being unable to recall the events that led up to each picture. This was the life Starfire, the former Teen Titan, knew now. The only thing that she could hold onto was the memory of Robin, the boy she left in love with, the boy who had comforted her and accepted her with open arms, the boy who had stroked her flesh with such intensity as to bring a smile to her face. Where was he now? Where was that boy she had loved all those years ago?
Reaching the foot of the bed, she slowly sunk down to the floor, her back up against the box spring. She could feel the pain again, the pain of her life seeping through the cracks. It was beginning to eat away at her conscience, reminding her of something bad, something that had nearly destroyed her. Slowly, she reached up over her head to the top of the mattress. Time to make the pain go away.
Her hands groped wildly, feeling every inch of the surface for the cure. As muddied as her mind was, she was almost certain that she had left it here, sitting right on the edge of the bed, just waiting for her. Where could it have gone?
A shudder uttered from her lips as she got to her knees, her eyes trying to focus in the dim light of the room as she continued to move things out of her way, trying to find the one thing that would make everything feel all right.
"No, no, no, no…" she mumbled to herself, feeling her mind begin to clear ever so slightly. Whatever had been in there had been horrible enough to turn her, a powerful Tamaranean princess, into a hallowed-out junkie. Whatever it was, she could not face it alone. She would not face it. She had to keep it away, hide it deep within her being. Time was running out as her breathing became erratic. "Please…not now. I can't bear it…"
"Looking for this?" a voice projected from the darkness. Deep inside her damaged, battered brain, Starfire recognized that voice. It was the only one that seemed to break through the clouds, stronger than even Robin's could have been…
Turning slowly, the woman felt back into a sitting position as she noticed a dark figure standing in the doorway. The dim light could not hide the orange paint that had been applied to the mask. Even from the black hole that had become Starfire's memory, that visage had never disappeared.
"Slade…" she breathed, her voice nearly as monotonous as the merc's. She sat in silence, taking in the sight before her. Suddenly, her eyes widened. Sitting on his outstretched palm was a small object, its' end shining in the dim light.
A syringe.
"Please," she moaned, pitifully, "give that back. I need it."
Slade's eye hardened beneath his mask. "No, you don't," he said, calmly. "I purposely took this while you were passed out in the shower. I want to make sure you have a clear head on your shoulders for our little…conversation."
Star shook her head violently, tears rolling from her eyes. "You don't understand," she cried, her voice cracking. "That's the only thing that makes me feel alive. If you take that away, I'll die!"
"You're dying anyway, so what should it matter?" the merc said, coldly. "As for 'feeling alive'…well, if you consider not being able to see the forest for the trees, then I guess you could call it being alive."
Starfire watched as Slade approached her, kneeling down only a few feet from her face. It seemed that he wanted a word with her, and as long as he had the cure, he had her attention.
"Tell me something, Starfire," the merc began, his voice methodical and hypnotizing, "when was the last time you remembered anything from your life outside of this decrepit pigsty?
The Tamaranean shuddered as her need kicked in. Her mind was opening back up, giving her bits and pieces of the life she had led before, a life that she desperately wanted to escape from. "I…I don't know," she said, quietly. "All I can remember is Robin, my friends…and you."
"Well, then I guess you have everything wrapped up in a nice little package," Slade said, balancing the syringe on his palm. He knew well enough that Starfire's reflexes were shot, and she couldn't have taken it from him if he had placed it right in front of her nose. "No regrets, correct? Ready to go on into the afterlife?"
Starfire didn't speak. Her eyes were trained on the drug cradled inside the merc's palm.
"Hey!" Slade said, snapping the fingers on his other hand in order to get her attention. "Are you listening to me?"
As Starfire looked deep into his eye, the merc realized something, something he was not expecting. The light in the former Titan's eyes, the spark of life, had long since been extinguished. Nothing mattered to her anymore, nothing but the memories of the man who loved her – the same man who would have his life ended by his hand. Seeing that this approach was becoming futile, he opted to try a different direction.
"You…disappoint me, Star," he said, slowly. "No fight left in you, no defiance, nothing. At least your friends died standing on their feet."
It was subtle, but Slade noticed it. Starfire's eyes had widened. Her friends…dead? That's the question those eyes had asked. The merc needed to buy some time. Her mind was clearing, and she would soon obtain total recall.
"I assume you didn't know?" he asked, his tone shifting to a patronizing one. "Understandable. You probably don't have the dexterity in your fingers to operate a remote control in your current state, let alone understand what the screen is telling you, so let me be the one to break the news to you: Raven and Beast Boy are dead."
Memories began flowing from the cracks in Starfire's mental shielding. The memory block was slowly falling down, brick by brick. "Raven…she…she had cancer…" she muttered, shaking her head.
"Yes, she did," Slade agreed. "But that's not what took her life."
The Tamaranean locked eyes with the merc. It was dim, but the light was starting to burn again. Just a little more time. "You?" she asked, blinking her eyes as her life began coming back.
The merc nodded. "Yes," he said. "Beast Boy, too. And his wife…"
"Kate…" Starfire finished. She was aware of Beast boy having married. In fact, she had been a bridesmaid at the reception. Strange – it was all so familiar, but the memories still seemed so alien to her. Her eyes blinked again as she saw a flash of a graveyard, a lone casket sitting in the field. A funeral for a friend, she surmised, but who? The answer seemed to escape her, though it sat right in the tip of her tongue…
"You're the next on my list," Slade's voice echoed into her brain. "The last before I take him…"
Cyborg. It had been Cyborg's funeral. Beast Boy had found him dead of an apparent stroke, and they had gathered to give their farewells. But there had been violence, so much violence and hostility, all seeming to stem from the arrival of one man, someone who the other heroes had harbored so much anger and disrespect for. She could she him now, a tall man with long black hair…so familiar, yet so mysterious…but those eyes, the eyes held something, a dark secret that only he could handle…
Slade leaned in closer. The fire was burning again, threatening to rage out of control. Her mind was in full gear, trying to piece together her life, all of which was leading back to the incident that she had sought to forget all those years ago. "Can you see it yet, Starfire?" he said, firmly. "Can you see what led you to this life?"
The Tamaranean's eyes were tearing up, her mind on the brink. Just one more piece, and the puzzle would be complete…that man, the tall dark-haired man, the man who brought so much hatred, so much that even Beast Boy – no, Garfield Logan, had hatred in his eyes…
Grayson. Dick Grayson...Nightwing.
"No, no, no, no," Star cried, tears running down her face. "Please, no…He killed them…He killed them all…" The truth had finally reemerged from the former Titan's shattered mind: The boy she loved had become the man the world hated, the man who had wiped the blood of the dead across her body in an act of defiance, the one who had broken her heart, and left her an empty shell of who she used to be.
Slade sat in silence, watching as the woman broke down in sobs, her body shaking in grief. Everything had come rushing back, all the memories that she had tried to hide away for all those years in a pitiful attempt to move on with her life. For him, he felt no sympathy towards her. Those who could not break free of the past and make themselves stronger because of it meant nothing to him.
"Now you see," he said, mockingly. "You see what Nightwing really is. The boy you loved died that day in that bank alongside all those people, but you refused to see the truth. Instead, you chose to bury it deep within yourself, as if it would somehow disappear, as if the world would forget what he did and you could have your life back. But that didn't happen, did it? Grayson chose to bury you, to forget about you, to focus on becoming the most powerful man in the city."
The merc cocked his head to the side as the Tamaranean's sobs rescinded. "Tell me, with all the money he puts into that little account of yours, the fact that pays the rent for this apartment and keeps you in the best mind-fucking drugs money can buy, has he ever come to see you? Did he ever call? Has he ever once said that he loves you?"
Starfire looked up at Slade, her tear-streaked face somber. He didn't even need an answer to know the truth.
"That's…unfortunate…" he said, slowly. "Did you ever once consider that he's giving you all of this because he's trying to get rid of you? To keep buried the secret that the one woman the world thought he could ever love was now a dried-out junkie with deluded visions of the pasts that he hoped would wither away and die so he could gain even more sympathy from the mindless drones of this city?" Slade leaned in until his face was mere inches away from her's. "Did you ever once think that you were just a tool to him?"
Starfire's bottom lip quivered. She didn't want to believe it, but her now-clear mind understood Slade's words. There was no other explanation…
Toppling forward to the floor, the woman began sobbing again. Slade stood up, looking down at her wracked form. Slowly, he pulled his pistol from its holster. It was time.
"Starfire, look at me," he said, firmly. The woman did not respond. "LOOK AT ME!" he said, louder. This time, Star raised her head. She was down on her hands and knees like a dog, her tear-filled eyes seemingly empty despite the fire that had burned just mere minutes before. If this wasn't a mercy killing, Slade wasn't sure what was.
"You were a hero once," he said, quietly. "So were your friends. None of you would allow anything in your life to tear you apart. But Grayson did just that. He left you all with tattered memories and unanswered questions. But Raven and Beast Boy were different than you. They accepted their deaths gracefully. They seemed to know what was about to happen, what I had planned for Grayson for all the lives he took. But you…you're down on your knees, pitifully hoping that something is going to come along and make things all better, and if you can't find something like that, then life isn't worth living. You're not ready to die – you just want to die. Well, I can accommodate you."
There was a moment of silence as the merc and the former Titan stared deep into each other's eyes. Slowly, deliberately, Slade slid the pistol back into his holster, and straightened up.
"I could accommodate you," he said, quietly, "but I won't. You don't deserve this bullet. Heroes are supposed to go out fighting, not begging."
The mercenary opened his palm, letting the syringe roll off onto the floor right in front of Starfire. "I'm not going to kill you after all," he said, turning towards the door. "You're already dead…on the inside."
A moment later, he was gone.
The Tamaranean looked down at the needle on the floor before her. Slowly, she picked it up. It seemed Slade had left her with a choice, the choice to live with the truth or return to her Wonderland of the past. Only she could make this decision.
Closing her hand around the syringe, she closed her eyes. The choice had been made, and she would have to live with it.
Rose had just put the last plate in the strainer when her father walked through the front door. His demeanor was the same, but he seemed a little on edge…well, more so than usual.
"Hey, Dad," she said, smiling slightly. "Is it done?"
Slade looked at his daughter. It was hard to tell, but he seemed rather upset for a cold-blooded mercenary. "Yeah, it's done," he said quietly.
What that, the merc walked into the garage, unloading his weapon as he did so. His mind was rather bothered by the scene he had witnessed at Starfire's apartment. Granted, none of the former Titans had walked away unscathed by Grayson's betrayal, but Star had been decimated by the loss. Perhaps she cared far more for him than even Grayson knew. If he had opened his eyes and saw the girl for whom she was instead of being a selfish bastard, maybe 'The Crusade' hadn't happened. Then again, if he had never battled Robin, perhaps he would have opened his eyes to see how much she loved him.
As he pulled off his shirt, Slade contemplated the tangled web that he had woven with the Titans. His influence in their lives had been just as significant as Grayson's. All of them bore scars, mentally if not physically, from the relationship they had shared. Fitting that all of them would go down like this, at the hands of the one man who quite possibly might be the only hope the city had to escape the former Titan's death grip. He just hoped it wasn't too late…
Rose had just changed into a pair of flannel pajama bottoms and a tank top for bed when she heard a rustling sound from outside her window. Stepping back out into the living room, the hairs on the back of her neck stood on end. Something was seriously wrong.
"Dad?" she called out, a tinge of anxiety in her voice.
The merc emerged from the darkness of the garage, closing the door as he did so. "What is it, Rose?" he asked. No sooner than he stepping into the living room, he could feel it. The noises outside weren't just random occurrences. It was the sound of trained feet hitting the ground, of high-tech weaponry being cocked. If he were in a delusional state like the drug was capable of placing him, Slade could have sworn he was having a flashback. But this was no memory…this was real.
"Dad, what the hell is going on?" Rose asked, breathlessly.
Slade opened his mouth to answer, but his attention was drawn to a sudden bright light shining through the house's windows. Only one thing left…
"GET DOWN!" Slade roared, pushing his daughter behind the recliner as machine gun fire ripped through the windows of the building, coating the floor with a layer of shattered glass. Quickly, the merc took refuge behind the end of the couch and looked across the room at his daughter, who was in a defensive position.
"Dad, what the fuck was that?!" she hollered over the gunfire.
Slade knew. The only question he had was how they had found him.
"Mercenaries," he said. "An army of them."
The two sat helplessly as the front wall of the house was blown in. The building had been breached, and it wouldn't be long until the mercs were on top of them. Rose acted quickly. As her father watched, she pushed the recliner up a little bit further, revealing a hidden floor safe that had been placed just below. Opening it, she pulled two H&K MP-5's from the depths of the safe and tossed one to Slade.
"Hmm," the merc said, somewhat surprised, "I thought you were retired."
"Yeah, I am," Rose said, smiling as she cocked the weapon. "Doesn't mean I don't remember how."
"Touché," Slade said, cocking his own.
With their nerves on full overload, the two former gunslingers sat in silence as the first wave of mercenaries entered the house. Their movement was deliberate and slow, canvassing the building for any signs of resistance. Little did they know that they had just stepped into a hornet's nest.
"Keep your eyes peeled," one of the black-hooded figures said in a hushed whisper. "They say this guy is a one man army."
'You have no idea, little boy,' Slade thought to himself as the half dozen trained killers searched the living room. Glancing over at Rose, he nodded in the direction of the mercs. Silently, the woman nodded back. It was time.
One black hood hit the floor as Slade and Rose opened up on the merc team, struck in the head and chest by the first wave of bullets. His death shielded the other hoods, which quickly ducked down and returned fire. Despite the size of the room, the bullets had little success hitting any decent targets.
Rose dropped back behind the recliner, bullets ripping through the top of the chair. Her heart was racing, and her eyes were clear. All the drugs she had been on had paled in comparison to the one she had tried to cover up. The only reason it had worked was because she was trying to keep it from overtaking her system. Now, however, the fury of the Ravager ran through her blood once again, and it felt good. She could feel the anxiety flowing out of each one of the mercs, smell their sweat as they sat behind their cover, and hear the blood literally pumping within their veins as adrenaline worked through their systems. It was an amazing feeling, to know so much from the simple mechanics of the human body. This is what her father felt all the time. This was why he was so feared in the world and equally as respected.
Slade had let loose with another burst of gunfire when he heard the sound of grappling hooks swinging through the air, its whooshing sound ending in a metallic CLANK on the second floor of the building. He knew what was comin next…
"ROSE!" he yelled, willing to sacrifice himself to gunfire for this outburst. "They're going up on the second floor! They're after the kids!"
"Shit!" Rose cried. She leaned out towards the stairway – only to be driven back by a wave of bullets. "I can't move, Dad! I'm pinned down!"
"I'll give you some cover fire!" the merc said, firmly. "Get ready! As soon as I open up, break for the stairs!"
"Gotcha!" the woman said.
With little hesitation, Slade popped up from behind the couch, laying down a sweeping arc of bullets across the room. Rose took her chance and sprung from her position, ascending the stairs two at a time. With his daughter out of the line of fire, the merc took cover again under a hail of gunfire. Until Rose came back down, all he had to focus on was surviving. As a bullet ripped out near his head, he surmised that doing just that might be easier said than done.
Rose approached the second doorway to the left with caution. Her children had been put to bed a few hours ago, but she could hear the sounds of whimpering and crying from behind the door. Malcolm might have been able to sleep through a hurricane, but not a fierce gun battle.
Slowly, the woman dropped to her knees and peered under the door. The room was still dark, with only the nightlight near the door providing any illumination. They hadn't breached the room…yet.
Recovering herself, Rose quietly opened the door. Glancing inside, she could barely make out the outline of Catlin's bed.
It was empty. Fear gripped her throat, but only for a moment. She had been a little frightened girl once, and there was one good place to hide when you're than young…
"Catlin?!" she whispered loudly. Catlin?! Are you under the bed?"
Silence for a moment. Then, there was a rustling of the sheets as the seven-year-old emerged from under the furniture.
"Mommy, is that you?" Catlin said panicky, her eyes filled with tears. "I heard loud noises downstairs, and I got scared. Are you okay?"
"I'm fine, honey," Rose said, quickly. "Come on, grab your brother and let's go. We can't stay here."
"But why?" the girl asked.
Rose growled under her breath. This was not the time for that line of questioning. "Because I said so," she said, sternly. "Now, grab Malcolm and get over here. We don't have much ti-!"
The woman was cut off as the windows of the room were shattered by the hardened stocks of the mercenaries' weapons. They had breached the room, and she had precious little time. Without thinking, the woman charged across the room and scooped up her daughter in her arms. She had barely enough time to dive back out into the hallway before bullets peppered the wall directly in front of the door.
"Mommy, who are these bad men?!" Catlin said, crying.
"Just shut up!" Rose barked. The drug had made her on edge, and she was quite possibly on the verge of another psychotic episode. Smiling grimly, she was glad she actually had someone to take it out on who deserved it.
"Ms. Wilson." The woman heard her name being called from inside the room. Seemed that the mercs knew exactly who they were dealing with. But who could have given up their location? Her father had been as discrete as an undercover spy. In fact, the only incident that could have blown his cover was…
Rose let out a groan. "Fucking Dukakis," she growled. "He must have squealed to someone."
"Ms. Wilson, we know you're there," the voice said, almost tauntingly. "I also believe that we have something you want."
Those final words drove a cold spike deep into the woman's heart. She knew exactly what they were talking about.
"Malcolm," she shuddered.
Peering out into the room, Rose could see the three-year-old standing in the middle of the room. Directly behind him was a four-man group of mercs, their faces hidden by black masks. One of them, the apparent leader of the squad, was positioned directly behind the child. The boy was so innocent, so oblivious to the danger than threatened his very being.
"Ms. Wilson, why don't you come out and say hello to your son?" The voice spoke quietly, almost as if to egg her on.
"Let him go," Rose demanded, her finger on the trigger. "You want me, you can have me. Just…let the children go."
Fighting back every impulse in her body, the woman stood up and stepped into the doorway, exposing herself to possible gunfire. Her hands were up in the air, the gun slung over her shoulder by its strap. If her death would guarantee the safety of her children, she would take it without complaint.
"I'm right here," she said, her voice beginning to crack as the drug in her system slowly subsided. "Just…just take me and let him go."
The merc let out a small chuckle. "We plan on taking you down," he said, no doubt smirking behind his mask. "But we have our orders, and our client had some very specific instructions that he wanted us to follow."
The merc bent down, and looked at Malcolm. "Hey, buddy," he said, calmly, "why don't you say hello to Mommy here?"
The little boy looked at Rose, and waved his right hand wildly, smiling as he did so.
"You see," the lead merc said, straightening back up. "The one thing our client wants is for none of you leave this house…alive."
It all happened so quickly. The merc made a move, the glint of metal shining in the dim light of the bedroom. A loud POP went off, like the sound of a firecracker dropped down a chimney.
Rose watched in a stunned silence as the little boy pitched forward and onto the floor of the room, the bullet of a .45 buried deep within his brain. Poor kid never had a chance to play on the jungle gym or face the anxiety of the first day of school. Malcolm Wilson was three years old, and now…he was dead.
A scream tore from the lips of the woman as she grabbed the gun, pulling the trigger with every muscle in her hand. The mercs quickly split up, taking refuge wherever they could.
As they returned fire, Rose leaped out into the hallway – where her daughter sat, terrified. She had never seen her mommy like this before, and it scared her.
"Mommy, stop!" she cried. "You're scaring me!"
"Catlin!" the woman screamed, gripping the child's hand with inhuman force. "Move!"
The girl protested as her mother dragged her down the hall. Whatever had happened to her mom was frightening her, and she was afraid that she would hurt her next. "Mommy, quit!" she cried, tugging on her hand. "I don't wanna go!"
"Catlin, shut the fuck up!" Rose was in full survival mode. She didn't care if her daughter was angry or frightened of her in this state. All she cared about right now was getting her out of the house. Everything else came second…
The woman stumbled as a bullet tore through the upper bicep of her left arm, causing her and Catlin to fall to the floor. Spinning around, Rose leapt to her feet as the four mercs darted down the hall towards her. Glancing around, she realized that she had fallen near the stairway. But where was her daughter?
Looking back, Rose saw her daughter on the floor mere feet from the mercs. Quickly, she raised the gun and pulled the trigger. CLICK. The mechanism had jammed. Frantically, the woman slammed on the side of the gun, trying to dislodge the offending shell casing. With a massive THUD, she managed to knock the casing out. With little time, she took aim again – only to see the four killers standing over her daughter. With no hesitation, the mercs let loose a five–round burst from each gun, the lead ripping straight through the child's frame and embedding itself deep within the floorboards. No mercy, no forgiveness, just plain brutality – the way a mercenary was supposed to be. The only thing they ever felt was recoil. Whether they killed a trained warrior or a seven-year-old girl, it was all the same. Getting paid was the only thing they cared about. Tonight had proven that belief.
Rose stood in shock, her eyes tearing up as she watched the blood slowly pool out from under her daughter's body. Her heart felt as if it had dropped deep into a black hole. Everything she had cared about in her life was gone, taken away from her in the blink of an eye. No reason to live anymore. Might as well let them kill her, too…
'No,' a voice resonated deep within Rose's mind. She recognized it as her own, only much younger…The Ravager. It was speaking to her, almost beckoning to her. 'This is not how you die, not like a clay pigeon waiting for the end. If you do die today, it will be in a blaze of gunfire - something fitting for the daughter of the greatest mercenary alive. Now, DO IT!'
As the mercs turned their attention back on Rose, they were met with a wave of gunfire. Try as they might, there was nowhere to run, and two dropped to the floor dead. The others tried to return fire, but the woman had flung herself back, dropping down the stairway with grace. Within a moment, she was gone.
Slade ducked as another round of lead came his way. Feeling the weight of the weapon in his hand, he knew that he was running out of ammo. Chance were he had one more good burst left in it, and he had to use it wisely.
'I need to get to the garage,' he thought, glancing over at the door. It was only ten feet away, but with six killers watching your every move it might as well have been a mile.
Cocking his head, he listened for one thing, one sound that would give him the right moment to strike: the sound of a gun being reloaded. It was coming. At least one of the mercs would take advantage of the momentary cease-fire and reload. Just have to wait.
CHIK-CHIK. There it was.
Slade stood, and let loose one more burst, driving the mercs to the floor. Quickly, he sprinted across the floor and took refuge behind the wall – only to see his daughter come flying down the stairs guns blazing! As she hit the floor, she slid back into place behind the recliner.
"Rose, where are the kids?" the merc asked.
"They're gone!" Rose said, fiercely as tears rolled down her face. "They're here to kill us all! They didn't even spare them!"
Slade closed his eye. He was afraid of this. These mercenaries had been instructed to eliminate all the occupants of the house. Even more so, he was at fault for this. If he hadn't brought them into this, maybe they would have been left alone. Then again, if they wanted him, they would have gone after Rose and her children anyway just to draw him out.
Slade realized at that moment the grim truth: Someone had played him. Someone had taken advantage of the incident that had occurred between him and that little fat man to find out Rose's location and had the funds to order such a hit. But who? The answer escaped him for the moment. Right now, the only thing he could focus on was keeping Rose and himself alive.
"Rose, come on!" he shouted, gripping the doorknob of the garage door. "We have to go!"
The woman quickly got to her feet, and rolled across the gap between the chair and the couch. Quickly, she ran towards her father. She was so close, she swore she could almost touch his hand…
Rose stumbled as she felt something impact with her back. A wave of pain tore through her being. No sooner than she had steadied herself she felt another round rip through the back of her chest, cutting a path across one of her lungs and her liver. Slowly, she came to a stop, her body simply refusing to move forward anymore. She coughed violently, and felt the warm blood spill from her lips. Being shot was something she though she could handle. As she collapsed to the floor, she realized that she might have gotten more than she had bargained for.
"ROSE!" Slade yelled as he watched his daughter fall to the hardwood floor mere feet from his position.
The outburst allowed the merc nearest the door a moment to plan an attack.
Slade looked down at the floor as a small object bounced into place just in front of him. His eye widened. A pulse grenade.
The explosion sent a shockwave through the house, flinging the mercenary through the door of the garage and slamming him into the side of Rose's car. Gasping, he could feel the shrapnel that had embedded itself deep within his bare chest. Part of his mask has been blown away as well, and his dark hair fell out from under its hood. It had been a perfect shot, made possible by his own mistake.
Blood slowly oozed from his wounds as Slade slid down, his body laying prone on the floor of the garage. It was over. The game had been played against him, the mysterious opponent playing his endgame before he had decided to strike. For all of his skill, his toughness, and his tenacity, Slade Wilson, Deathstroke the Terminator, had failed to even protect his own daughter and her children. Some fucking parent he had turned out to be.
"Rose…" he stammered as blood dripped from beneath his mask, "forgive me…"
Then, came the darkness.