"Good morning, Titan City. This is WJMP News, Fox Channel 6, with the news you need at the time you need it. Trisha Williams reporting. It's seven o'clock on this morning, and the top story here today is the fall of Titan City's greatest hero, Dick Grayson. With that, I had it over to my colleague, Dave Anderson. Dave?"

"Thank you, Trisha. Hundreds came out in attendance early this morning to witness the aftermath of what many hope to be the final violent chapter in Titan City's history. Dick Grayson, the former Teen Titan known both as Robin and later as Nightwing who rose to prominence as the hero of 'The Crusade' and later the CEO of Wayne Enterprises' Titan City Branch, was attacked in his office building late last night by two former Titan members. It is believed that the two overpowered the former Titan and sent him to the streets below, where his body was later recovered. The former Titans have been identified as Terra and Jericho Wilson, both of whom were found dead as result of the scuffle. Also lost during the struggle was reclusive former Titan Starfire, whose body was found on the roof of the office building.

Police authorities are not commenting on whether or not any evidence links Terra or Jericho Wilson to the deaths of former Teen Titans Rachel Roth and Garfield Logan, both remembered by this city as Raven and Beast Boy respectively. They are also not commenting on reports that a masked man bearing resemblance to Deathstroke, the mercenary name of Slade Wilson, was seen leaving the scene of the murders. It has been confirmed, however, that the security tapes from the office building are indeed missing, leaving a rather large gap for authorities to fill in.

WJMP News arrived at Wayne Enterprises early this morning. Like usual, a crowd gathered around the building. However, these people were well aware that Grayson would not be coming…"

(Screen changes to outside Wayne Enterprises, Titan City Branch. People are in mourning. A young man is being interviewed by the news team.) "-Grayson was the best damn thing that ever happened to this city. He stood for justice, and he wouldn't back down from any challenge. If those reports are right, that Slade Wilson really is alive, then I'm willing to bet he's sitting pretty somewhere in Cancun drinking margaritas and laughing about this. Wherever he is, he's probably the happiest man in the world right now."

(Screen changes back to the newsroom.) "Dick Grayson will be buried in Titan City Cemetery and interred with the members of the Teen Titans, the heroes who had stood beside both Robin and Nightwing in this city's long storied history and quite possibly his greatest friends. Grayson was 45. Now, we'll take a look at the forecast for the rest of the week, and it looks like some relief is finally on the way…"

The storm clouds had already worked their way in over the state. Rain had already began to fall in sheets over a small, quiet cemetery miles from Titan City's more prestigious burial ground. But Evergreen Cemetery was a small place a little off the beat path, a place where those who came to visit their loved ones could do so in solitude and silence without the hustle and bustle of city life ringing in their ears. The rain had caused many of the visitors to seek shelter under one of the many gondolas that peppered the grounds, but one was not affected by the weather.

Slade stood in silence, his eye trained on the headstone that sat before him. Through the rain, the pain, and his own tears, the words were becoming a bit jumbled. It didn't matter. He knew what they said. He had them down by heart. After all, he was the one who commissioned it. Closing his eye, he ran them through his mind again:

Here lies Rose Wilson

A daughter of a madman

A mother of two

A fighter, a survivor

A person who deserved more than she ever knew

With her are her children

Malcolm at three, Catlin at seven

Taken before they could know what the world was capable of

All on their way to a world where life is eternal

A Lioness and her cubs, forever in a perfect world.

The mercenary sighed. He had never been one for poetry, but he tried his best to give them an epitaph that sounded meaningful. He could almost hear Rose's laughter, her voice saying, "Dad, that was horrible."

The grief hit him hard. Slowly, he dropped to his knees, leaning his head onto the cold marble stone. He had managed to sneak the bodies out of the city's morgue in order to bury them. With the cases of the 'Titan Killer' and Grayson's death now being priority, it would be weeks before they even noticed the three were gone. They deserved this, a quiet plot in the ground, not sitting in an industrial freezer like a pack of forgotten steaks until they caught freezer burn.

The wave of grief passed over him. There was nothing more he could do to help them. He had come to terms with that answer that had antagonized him before. Grayson was dead, the Titans were no more, and Titan City had the chance to make its' own destiny again – a chance they had been robbed of more than twenty years before.

Slade got back to his feet. With one hand, he slid his mask off from his face, the very mask he had been spending his whole life hiding behind. It was all anyone ever knew of him, including his own family. Crouching down, he placed the mask on top of the moist ground. Today, Deathstroke was no more. There was only Slade Wilson – a man who had made many mistakes, cost many people their lives, harmed far too many to ever truly be saved. He knew that if he had not taken Rose and her children himself, the city would most likely have burned their bodies with half a dozen others in an incinerator. No respect, no remorse – all because they shared his name. He may have been damned, but he wasn't about to take good people down with him…

'Good people,' he surmised. 'Rachel was a good person. So were Garfield and Starfire. Deep beneath the scars, the darkness that Grayson imprinted on their souls were people who deserved better. They died like heroes – fighting to the very end. It may not have been against villains, but they lived each day their own way, ready for anything. Grayson, on the other hand, was dead – he had died long ago, the day he decided to stop being a hero and chose to become a bastard, hiding behind his wealth and his connections in order to maintain order. He deserved to die, but I killed all of them just the same. True, they had gone without much of a fight, but they were good people. Maybe I'm still as much of a monster now as I was back then. The only difference now…is that I know what I have to do.'

Standing back up, Slade stole one last glance at the tombstone. This would be the last time he saw his family. He was almost certain of this. As he walked away from the best thing he had in his life, his mind was set. One more life. Then, peace would come at last.

Michael Willis was cleaning up his surgical tools when the door swung open. The coroner was used to unexpected entries to the morgue – especially in the calamity that had followed the death of Bruce Wayne – but the face he saw as the figure entered the bright lights of the autopsy table was a surprise for him indeed…

"Michael, I didn't expect to see you here today," the coroner said as Captain Zeddemore's face came into view.

"Yeah, well the little song and dance I did for the media earlier seems to have placated them for now," Z said, looking down at the table in front of him. He had been here a handful of times, most when he was a rookie and the body had been a decoy of what to expect. Recently, he had been here too many times, looking down at faces of people he knew. Today was no exception.

"I'll tell you something, I never thought I'd live to see him on my table," Willis said.

The cold body of Dick Grayson sat before the two. Despite the fall, much of his body was still somewhat intact.

"Surprised he stayed together so well," Zeddemore said, scratching his head uncomfortably. "Most road pizza I've ever seen usually pop like an overfilled balloon."

"Yeah, his body was incredibly resilient," the coroner said, pulling the sheet up to cover the Y-incision he had carved into Grayson's chest in order to perform the autopsy. "Not resilient enough to survive a forty-story drop, it seems."

"No one's is," Z said, sighing. "So much for being a god."

"That's the arrogance of men," Willis said as he began wheeling the body out of the room. "I recognized it way back when he killed those H.I.V.E members in that bank heist your dad was covering. I was just a snot-nosed little assistant then, but I knew Grayson was going do a dark path. It was hard see, but the truth remains unbroken: In the end, absolute power corrupts absolutely."

The coroner wheeled Grayson's body into a chilled room. Slowly he placed it in line with the others who had been autopsied and were nearing time for release. Taking a deep breath in the cold air, Willis could see it. One of the little fascinating things of being alive, he surmised. None of the other bodies in the room could do that.

"So," he said, turning his attention back to the police captain as he exited the room, "how do you plan on breaking the news to your father?"

Zeddemore chuckled grimly. "Hopefully in a way that won't cause him a heart attack," he joked. "I don't know, Mike. He's gonna take this pretty hard."

"How are you doing, by the way?" the coroner asked.

Z smiled sadly. "I'm okay," he said, thinking back on the last words he had with Grayson. "In fact, I'm better than I would have expected."

"What do you mean?" Willis asked, a look of confusion on his face.

The captain placed a hand on the coroner's shoulder, smiling as he did so. "Let's just say that I know a little something about that dark path."

Willis didn't push the issue, but he understood what the man was getting at.

"You…wanna get something to eat?" he asked, smiling.

"Hell yeah," Zeddemore said, grinning. "Hot coffee and half a donut does not a breakfast make."

As the two men continued down the hallway, Grayson's body sat motionless in the frigid room. Next to him was Starfire, the bullet hole still visible from where it had exited out the front of her head. Next to her was Garfield, his cold face showing a lot more wrinkles than he probably would have cared to be shown. Finally at the end of the row, past the cold body of Kate Logan, sat Raven, the one woman Logan ever truly loved. Her somber expression finally seemed to be at peace. Her spirit was gone, back to Azareth, her vessel left behind as a memento to her life as a hero.

In a series of unfortunate events it seemed that, in death, the Titans had finally been reunited. In a cold storage room in Titan City Medical, the saga of the Teen Titans had finally come to an end.

Slade's boots made an ominous echo with each step. The rusty walls of Titan City's old clock tower had stood the test of time, much like the man who had once occupied it. But now it was falling apart, fit only to be demolished – once again, much like the man who had once occupied it.

The mercenary had come back to this place in order to make the final move, the last thing he had to do to ensure the freedom of Titan City from the darkness.

It was time.

Punching in a few keys into the old worn-out computer, he set the device on a course for an overload, destroying all the data he had complied over the years on all his targets. No need in the media taking his little black Book of the Dead and parading it around for some extra ratings. Then, he brought up a screen that had been familiar to him so many years ago. It was this screen he had active when he had forced Robin to become his apprentice. The Titans had been in shock of his betrayal, but they had only been half-informed. During their last confrontation, Slade had infected the Titans with a destructive army of nanobots that would destroy them from the inside out. Robin had let his services to the mercenary in order to keep them alive. How much he had cared for them in his young age, Slade surmised. Anyway, Robin infected himself when Slade activated the mechanized menace, forcing him to either free the Titans or allow Robin to die along with the others. Such a smart boy, playing Slade's game to perfection. It was a shame that he had forgotten that talent while he was murdering villains with military grade weaponry.

Looking up at the screen, the merc knew his days were numbered. The last batch of nanobots were nearing the end of the power cycle. They would go offline in a matter of hours. It had been these nanobots that had kept Slade alive for so long. By reprogramming them, he had stayed off the infection of the cancerous tumors that plagued his body and rebuilt much of his original self in the process. It had been these microscopic bots that had allowed him to survive the grenade blast in Rose's home. That level of genetic replication, however, had cost a great deal of energy. The merc grimaced. This was his last batch of nanobots. He had neither the time nor the funds to create more. It didn't matter now, anyway. His work was done.

Punching in a few more keys on the console, Slade watched as a small trigger mechanism rose up out of the keyboard. The emergency fail-safe device was soon in his hand. In his final act, the last life the legendary mercenary Deathstroke the Terminator would take would be his own.

Slowly, he laid down on the old, rusted examination table in the middle of the room. He knew that with the police investigation slowly going cold, they would soon storm this stronghold in an attempt to find evidence. What they would find would be all they needed to piece the puzzle together. Try as they might, the media would likely have no choice but to admit to the world that Slade Wilson had indeed been responsible for the deaths that had plagued the city for nearly a week. Finally, the people of Titan City would be privy to the truth – not all of it, but just enough to set the wheels in motion.

The cold metal leeched through his suit, sending chills down his spine. Never once in Slade's life did he think that his death would be at his own hands. Then again, he never thought he could be anything more than an emotionless killer. Now…he was still a killer. His actions had shown that much to be true. But he had access to his emotions again, and in some way it made him feel a little more…human.

Taking a deep breath, the merc hovered his finger over the button. One last death.

As he pressed down, Slade felt a wave of pain and nausea overwhelm him. His body tightened in agony as the nanobots finally allowed the tumors to claim their prize. As his conscience slipped away, Slade found himself wondering what would await him on the other side. Would there be flames, or flowers? Perhaps he was being too spiritual. Maybe there was nothing on the other side of this life. Perhaps many years ago Slade would have believed that to be the truth. Now, however, he almost hoped that there was at least something. Even if he was hell bound, at least there would be something. The last great mystery of life would soon reveal its' answer to him…

The fail-safe fell from Slade's limp hand. His body finally relaxed as death took him on its' wings. His one eye remained open, starting aimlessly into the sky. Lightning shot across the clouds as the rain finally began to fall on Titan City, a rain that seemed to be coming to wash the sin away from its' hallowed walls.

As the rain pelted the lifeless body of the world's greatest mercenary, the world's greatest unsung hero, his right hand opened. Rose's rosary beads dangled on the end of his gloved fingers, the small ebony cross swaying in the breeze that tore through the tower.

The endgame had come. Titan City was free, and the monster was dead. Slade gave himself up knowing that the world would hate him, but those who knew the truth would understand what had to be done, the sacrifice that had been made to ensure that Titan City could finally be free from the darkness.

The clock face had frozen up many years ago, but the furious winds managed to push the hands up one more notch. Twelve o' clock. The tower rang out its' lonesome tone, twelve chimes for the fallen.

Slade Wilson had completed the final move in the chess game of life. He was dead. The clock tower stood ominously in the shadows of the city, chiming out the final notes of its' life, of Slade's life. As the sound faded into the storm-brewed sky, the clock face remained in its' position, forever locked at midnight, the time of rebirth and retribution.

The final stroke had come.