Long Live the King – Deathstroke's Forced Descent into Villainy
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Since I'm working on a Raven arc already, I had to do a time – jump into Bb's arc and after Slade was told to leave the city for…well, as long as no contracts hold him up to returning, right? Back into it!
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Chapter 22: I Gave it My All, Yet Knights Don't Worry About Burying Dead Horses
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~ Journal entry at 0600…. hours. I'm up and the day's not even begun. I meant to show whoever digs this gem up my experiences from start to finish, yet burying the dead won't matter. Raven of the Titans recovered that part of her self that defied Trigon and won. She saved herself, the world and…I was kicked off the premises by a rather dissociative male crime fighter. It feels, harsh on me actually. If I have a damned client that calls me up at seven or even midnight to say "you wanna get paid this week," what am I supposed to tell Grayson the next time we bump staves? I'm on my late shift? Well, with Terra's recovery and treatment going underway, I'm not getting anywhere with my work until I let go of the past. Yet if follows me around, obsessively. Like a kicked puppy, and speaking of which… ~
The phone just rang and I'm signing off. These video entries really do work on occasion so I don't have to break anymore furniture…or dishes. That being said, the day has only just begun and I'm oddly…glad to be a part of it, until next time. ~
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Slade turned towards the annoying vibrations of his metal menace of a cell and flipped it on. "Yes?"
~ You said you'd come back for me. ~
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The phone call was a boy…a teen, he was young and…. wait…Slade started to wonder if he should get rid of this cell and go back to his other burner line. Who was that just now? With a new day and a new mystery to solve here in Star city, he'd do all that before he headed off to locate a new place to crash. A safer safe house than this one. Deathstroke was unofficially mobile.
~ The disaster that shook the world; a threat from another dimension and no one seems to remember anything but a white light –
~ Then, extra – terrestrials. ~
Slade sat at the table with his hand beside a news program that had less to inform him of these days.
He leaned into his seat as soon as the next researcher was up to bat. This one was in Toronto, while three other reporters were situated on the streets in Tokyo, Dubai and even London.
~ The red cloud has lifted, the demon called Trigon was the one who held up the planet. We are very fortunate that we had heroes to call forth –
Slade saw that they were looking as alive as ever, the Titans. Every one of them had grown less than a head taller, speaking more like the press wouldn't be disappointed than before.
~ We're happy to just know the citizens of Earth and the rest of the universe weren't hurt by the demon lord Trigon. ~
Robin…didn't he know a –
~ We even had help, from the most unlikely of our possibly newest allies and hope one day that they'll consider –
Slade's eye grew wide. Without the mask, this was the first time that "forgiveness" had touched the boy's lips. It made Slade's bacon now sour to the taste as he swapped it for his oatmeal instead. "Damn, poster boy strikes again." Slade grumbled and added cinnamon into his mushy grain bowl to get rid of the aftertaste of failure. He'd been branded, UNOFFCIALLY a….
Slade coughed on the cinnamon as he tried to pound his chest. Great…. that boy was going to give Slade more indigestion.
He swapped to switching the channel, seeing that the weather today would be sunny. Best of any time to fly out of this city and onto his next trip.
To see what was cooking with an old associate in Brussels at the moment.
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Throwing a newspaper under his arm and a cup of tea in hand, yawning, William Wintergreen found a perfect place in the den to catch up on his reading. It wasn't until he'd left his cup to a side table and paper to the arm of said chair that there was a loud knock at his front door. The intrusion had the man recall the timing – perfectly!
His brow furrowed.
"Just a minute!" He sighed, and as long as his face already was, he went to see who could have been bothering him with a surprise visit this late in the afternoon daylight.
"Yes…might I help –
The man stood, ready to slam the door in this fogies' face.
A tall man in a cap and casual wear, six foot over his limit stood. Smiling with grannie's basket of goodies on his burly arm. "Um, I brought pastries. Have room for another?"
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"Tea time; you peg me as a patient man, Mr. Wilson." The man raised his eyebrow, knowing that any business meant to simply…to deal this hound was to ask for trouble at your doorstep, all accordingly.
"Don't look so affronted by this visit from me, Will. I'm not intending to stay here long." The man's black eye patch and white hair had made it easy for him to be left alone. The hotel had him pinned as some sort of "assassin," which was true until he'd pulled out a forged bit of paperwork. The rest was history.
"If I allow you to join me for tea, will you at least promise to have me out of your next "brilliant scheme?"
Slade grinned sheepishly at the man and shrugged. "As long as you'd rather, just give me the word."
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A liar. But that wasn't why he was here. He wanted to speak to her, of all people. Slade always had an agenda, always something to keep him busy. Will? He wanted to have some peace and bloody quiet. Now, that illusion would be shattered as his best china would be (should Slade lose his temper) on the floor, and Will would end up a war – man shouting "Krakatowa!" all over again…
Anyway, what was he here to ask from all the way in Star city, California?
"I think I've found my son."
Will nearly dropped his cup at the timing of that sentence. Slade was an awkward one, never knew when to read the room.
"Joseph?"
"No." Slade slouched forwards with his hands on his knees, going over the voice on the cell, how he'd traced it to some unknown location. "You…. how did you contact them? Indirectly?" Will raised his cup back up to his lips and took a sip, somewhat now more interested in the story. Oh, he was such a gossip – hog in his old age. A regular hen in the hen house, clucking nonsense from neither here nor there.
"They called me, on a burner line. A cell call, yesterday morning at six a.m." Slade said, licking his lips. "Addie would know more, how he'd best be reached. So, I can't mess up and ignite her wrath again." He joked, not really as Slade rubbed the back of his neck to show Will how much.
"Addie" was the woman who'd trained him, trained him in the wars he'd fought bare handed and chested even in her bed. Slade cleared those immature thoughts from hiss mind and throat, especially of that one memory.
"Ms. Kane would not approve of my intervening, Slade. You know as well as I do that, she despises the very person you've become."
"I've wrestled with my demons long enough. Grant's safety is important to both of his parents."
"And I do understand she told you to…" Will bit his lip. "Fine. Text her, but do not –
"Thanks, Will. I owe you one." Slade flashed him that dazzling pretty boy smile as he took Will's cell and started to dial. Addie wasn't a big fan of texting. He could adapt, but that vibration on your hip could be a real distraction on a contract.
Will didn't try to reprimand him. Had he realied that Addie was on her day off, it might have all made perfect sense to be…subtle. He was an awkward man with the will of a puppy dog when it came to the opposite sex. Not all woman were that hard to please as his first wife.
~ Hello? William? You call…. ~ She had a hunch, that woman, as her green eyes soon went dark. ~ Hello, Slade. ~
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"I'm sending you the coordinates; maybe a clue and the cell if you'd like to analyze –
~ Whatever. If he contacted your line just yesterday, then why are you all the way in Germany bothering your poor, war pal? This isn't just about Grant, is it? ~
"I…made some mistakes –
~ MISTAKES ?? ~ Addie scoffed and exclaimed through the line. ~ HOW IS VOLUNTEERING TO ENSLAVE THE HUMAN RACE IN STONE A MISTAKE – SLADE WILSON?? HAH? TELL ME? ~
"I left Jump City; I ripped off the demon's horn to prove it! What more did you want me to do? My life –
~ You put those kids at risk; our world was a dumping ground for a demon's take over… and even your son Joey has to say the same…. he's contacted the Titans before. ~
"He what??"
" Here it comes. I'll bring out the vacuum and rubbish bins for you, sir…" Will dragged himself to the kitchen to gather his supplies. Two rabid dogs in a crate going at it was… never a good sign when it came to Slade's love spats with poor Addie. She was the one trying to fix his messes, while Slade just continued with his appetite for self loathing and self destruction. As Will's living area would soon become a rather large, rubbish bin in a few moments, he awaited the scene of Slade knocking over - there it was! Going up to the window…Ranting, a very predictable person. Dear god….
" Why is Joey thinking of joining the Titans when you know he can't control his powers yet?? Where is he right now?? In that school up in the Alps, you sent him to?? I'll get him out of there and –
~ That's enough! I'll continue looking for our son and YOU can get a damn shrink! Stay away from our boys and those kids or so help me, Slade Joseph Wilson…you'll be back under Amanda Waller's care for five – hundred goddamn more years! Don't try ANYTHING! ~
The line went dead and Slade wallowed for a bit until Will gave him a cup of tea and a letter. "It came just this morning if you were wondering. Something about a secret society. Bloody well, if I care to tell "what" of it…" Will muttered his home country's many colorful profanities under his breath as Slade turned over the letter in his hand to read the back.
"B.O.E." Slade rubbed his chin, finding that Will had then left Slade to pick up after himself. He was a guest, so Wilson got to work tidying the living room as he kept an eye on the time. "Sorry for the trouble, old friend –
" Humph." Will turned up his nose and bit into a crumbly pastry from Slade's assortment by the entranceway. "Had enough? I have. And…Next time, do call first. As much as I'd love to entertain any guests, I'm strictly on holiday until the end of next year." William bit into the desert with as much gusto as Slade used when slicing a person's neck wide open. He was serious about that. Whoops.
"My bad, but my flight leaves in the next hour."
"Hopping onto your private jet on yet, another secret mission, sir?" The gent humored his ally with that old title, making Slade cringe slightly. "Not a mission, another visit." Slade corrected. "That letter you handed me was addressed to my old estate, from an organization located only an hour away, whose youngest member is an old-time associate of mine. So is their senior member as well. And, I'd rather stay out of the public eye, you know. Trains aren't the worst possible way to travel in Europe." Slade admitted that he also missed the quietude as much as Will had just missed his daily tea time…that, was sort of Slade's fault.
"Who might that be, Mr. Wilson that you are going to greet on your next big city adventure?"
The Brit bit back into his treat as the runny apple filling came into view, and then a cloth handkerchief as Slade remembered. Never to a hair out of place, if Will had any left to tame, he chuckled.
"She's illusive and hard to track, but her companion is a bit more familiar with my exploits from back in Markovia."
Slade narrowed his gaze at the letter, thinking back to Terra's demise.
"General Immortus and his lovely yet deadly compatriot, Madame Rouge. In a nutshell an invitation to speak to the Brotherhood of Evil." Slade headed for the door. "And don't you worry, Wintergreen. As long as I won't have to lift a finger, we won't have any trouble with keeping to an…alliance."
As long as their leader wasn't one to get wise on old Wilson, that was. He was a real…. Braniac as Slade had heard through that gnarled grape vine.
And as long as the vine bore him some plump fruits to reward the man of his labor, then sure. He'd take a stab at seeing what the league even wanted with the infamous Deathstroke the Terminator. Deathstroke I.N.C was just about to gain another investor. He couldn't miss this opportunity if it meant getting back a good chunk of his fortune. Well, that was the plan all along, right? Somehow, Slade had almost forgotten the reason entirely for chasing such a troublesome dream.
Yet in his bio, he never turned down a contract. Not even when he made up his mind to have that fact written on top of his grave, in an immortal's blood of the living kind.
And he was still alive long enough to pop the question on himself.
How much of a villain was he, really? How bad could he be without getting the Titans' attention?
Another reason, and another as he called for his ride and set off to pack his things for the last flight to Paris, France.