A/N: This took me forever, and for so many reasons. Partly it was finals and the holidays, but mostly it was me sitting down to write this and thinking 'why do I hate myself so much?' because this is awful. I will claim now that this is so incredibly OOC that I won't even pretend it's within the realm of possibility for YJ's Dick Grayson. It's barely within the realm of possibility for any part of Dick Grayson's continuity (all of DC's 52 universes included)...

Alright, just to make this make sense, here are the major things you need to know:

1. Dick is currently working with Deathstroke the Terminator (Slade Wilson) under the alias Renegade. He is helping teach Rose Wilson (Ravager) how to fight.

2. Slade is something of a second mentor to Dick (as is usual).

3. Jason is recently back in Gotham and therefore has not assumed the identity of Hush, nor does he have a criminal record in Gotham. He has not killed that the Batfam knows of.

4. All of YJ (save Wally and Dick) are either permanently incapacitated or dead.

5. Roy is working under the alias of Arsenal (for continuity reasons... also Red Arrow is totally a rip-off Green Arrow and I'm assuming that by now he'd have gotten that memo.)

6. The Titans were never formed as a group, although the individuals involved do exist, though the only one mentioned here is Starfire (Koriand'r).

7. Blockbuster (Roland Desmond) has bombed Dick Grayson's Bludhaven apartment complex as well as Haley's Circus, killing 42 people. He was then shot by Tarantula (Catalina Flores).

8. That pretty-much-rape-scene (that DC claims was just non-consensual and not rape... 'cause that's apparently acceptable -_-) between Dick and Catalina never happened because I think DC failed spectacularly at dealing with it, and for the purposes of this story, it made more sense if it didn't happen.

9. Alexander Luthor (posing as Lex) has organized a Secret Society of Supervillains, the actions of whom will lead to the Infinite Crisis storyline. Basically - they fuck with the time-stream while a massive Super-villain v. Superhero melee goes on.

10. Stephanie Brown's death has been faked at the hands of Black Mask. She acted as Robin for a short time.

11. Barbara Gordon is working as Oracle, after having been paralyzed due to an attack by the Joker (on her civilian identity).

12. Cass Cain is Batgirl. Tim Drake is back as Robin.

That should cover everything. If you have any questions, let me know.

And remember, this has no bearing on anything else I will write in this. It's a possible future that will never happen and never should.

Caveat: If, for some reason, you all want me to do some sort of follow-up to this, I will. But it will be clearly marked. Let's just call this GA Earth-2, while chapters 1-4 were from GA Earth-1.. Or something.

"It's been a long time since I killed a man

Some men don't need a reason why,

Some people find it hard to understand

Fact is, some poeple need to die.

...

'Cause I've been searching for heaven

While running from hell.

And now I see, what lies ahead of me

I know I'll be forgotten while all my sins catch up with me.

I'll go alone."

From Go Alone by Hell or Highwater

Chapter 5

He stood along the crenelations of one of the smaller towers in Gotham with Slade Wilson's voice in his ear. Some part of Dick Grayson rankled at the thought, being home after years in New York and Bludhaven but on the wrong side of the war. Was he? In Batmans mind, unequivocally yes. In truth, Ravager, Deathstroke and himself walked a thin grey line between the Capes and the criminals they chased.

Batman would always chase the Joker, eventually he'd catch him, and then place him in Arkham. The Joker always escaped. That was the main problem with the criminal justice system. The GCPD (and the government as a whole) could not truly contain the most dangerous of the criminal element. The only way to truly stop them, was to kill them. It didn't always work, the dead had a habit of coming back (Ra's al Ghul and his Lazarus Pits came to mind), but it was something, at least.

Dick had enough blood on his hands that he could understand the point of taking a few down with him. A few that really deserved to fall at Renegade's hands.

He rand a hand down the kevlar designed to look like plate armor, over the stylized red bird on his chest, and tried not to think of the old days.

A flicker of movement caught the corner of his visual field, a blur of red, black, and a brown leather jacket.

Jason.

Renegade flew after him. He couldn't let his little brother repeat all of his mistakes, now could he? If only Slade could understand that.

"You thinkin' about goin' home, kid."

"You know I don't have one, Deathstroke."

"Not an answer."

"Only one I've got."

"I really miss the word-play, Grayson. Not as much as those green shorts of yours, though."

"You really are just a dirty old man, aren't you Slade?"

The older man laughed, Dick wanted to hate that laugh, hate the man at the other end of his commlink, but he couldn't. He never could. It'd be like hating Bruce, and that was one thing he never could do. Despite the betrayals, the years of fighting, all the feelings of inadequacy, he wasn't ever able to make himself hate the man who became his second father.

"Just don't get caught by the Bat. I'd hate to have my best student thrown in jail."

"You just don't want to have to teach Rose yourself."

"Watch your back, Kid."

"I know. He won't allow two rogue Robins on the loose in Gotham at once."

He shut off his comm and landed on a roof just above Jason's position.

"What do you think you're doing, little wing?" He jumped down, his landing a silent punctuation.

"Damn it, Dickie-bird. Do you have to-?" Red Hood keeps his eyes trained on his mark.

"You don't want to kill that man, Jason."

"What- he rapes and murders little girls, Dick, of course I want to-"

"You might think you want to kill him, but you don't. You want him dead, Jay, that's different."

Jason turns around to look at him, rips off the helmet, and promptly looses his train of thought.

"What the fuck are you wearing, Goldie?"

"Doesn't matter. Now put the gun down, follow him, collect evidence, and phone it in."

"I'm not-"

"You will, or so help me, I will drag you back to the Cave myself."

"He won't take me back."

"You don't have blood on your hands yet, Jay. He'll take you back. He might take your guns, but he won't send you to prison. Red Hood doesn't have much of a criminal record. Just some assaults and a case or two of breaking and entering. No more than the Bat. Renegade, on the other hand..."

The assassin watches as the pieces fall into place in his brother's mind. He sees the growing understanding and horror on Jason's masked features as he takes in the new costume, the red, the armor, the twin swords and the sniper rifle. Mostly he just wishes the disbelief would vanish, that people would accept what he's become and stop trying to talk him out of it. There is no going back. Not for him.

"You a merc now, Dick?"

"Just go home, Jay. I've got work to do."

He pickpockets both of his brother's guns before flying off the edge of the building.

"Put the gun down, Dick." He never looked up from the scope, crosshairs waiting.

"I thought it was code-names only in costume, B." He should know better than to push the Bat's buttons when he's a criminal. He was barely afforded the ability to survive as the man's mouthy sidekick. Hell, even as Nightwing he wouldn't have pushed his luck this far.

"Put the gun down."

"And here I thought I'd have an arrest on sight order. How disappointing." He did know better, but he had to keep Bruce talking. Keep him distracted just long enough for his target to-

He pulled the trigger and the Black Mask fell. He expects the attack, the roundhouse kick that would have caught him in the middle of his back if he hadn't twisted up and to the side of the rifle, grabbing it and slinging it on his back as he danced away from the expected blows. He knows how the Bat fights.

Normally, this would be cause for concern because just as clearly as he knows Bruce's fighting style, his mentor knows how to take him down as Dick, as Robin, and as Nightwing.

He isn't any of those people.

He grabs a sword off his back, twirls it in one hand, and while he doesn't want to hurt Bruce, he has to fight him. It's the only way out. The only way he can finish his mission. Once he's finished, he doesn't care what happens to him. Maybe he'll turn himself in. Maybe he'll go find Waller, she could use the help. Maybe he'll ask Slade to kill him. Not that the man would, but it was an option.

He uses the sword as a distraction, keeps it in a defensive position, daring for Bruce to attack. He won't, but the suggestion is enough. The right hand doesn't know what the left is doing and he knows all about misdirection.

He uses a twisting maneuver someone other than himself couldn't pull off, and was out of the Bat's main striking range. He took off running along rooftops and before the other could catch up, he turned and threw down a small explosive disk and a smoke bomb. Not enough to cause major damage, but enough to obscure his path, then he dove off a building and headed into the sewer system.

He loads the tranqs into his handgun, keeps it low at his side. His quarry should be just around this corner, a dark shape moves under the water, quick behind him, and he turns. He unloads four tranquilizers into Killer Croc, holsters the gun at his thigh, and leaps with swords outstretched. He lands on Croc's torso, knocks him back with the impact, and hits him four times, quick, with the twin swords before dragging the right over his neck. He kicks back with his feet, flips, lands, and walks away. He doesn't need to wait to see Croc fall.

He taps on his comm. "Two down, one left."

"Good work, Kid. Need me to keep the Bat off your tail?"

"You offering to run interference for me? How sweet, Deathstroke. If I didn't know better, I'd swear you actually liked me."

"Cute, Kid, keep it up and I might just let him take you off my hands."

"And here I thought you didn't want him to catch me."

"Exactly. Don't do anything stupid. I'm going to need Renegade at the meeting with Luthor tomorrow. If I don't-"

"He'll piece together exactly whose been killing off his Supervillain Society members, and even though these last two have nothing to do with it-"

"He'll still know. He'll he probably does already, either way..."

"Best not tip him off."

"You going to do something about Wayne's boy?" Damian. Bruce and Talia's son. The son Bruce knew nothing about.

"I was planning on taking him in, tonight."

Left unsaid is the 'don't get your ass thrown in jail, Grayson.' He's heard it enough tonight, and if all goes as planned, he'll be able to bargain the necessary 24 hours. Provided he was able to spirit the kid away to the BatCave. He was rather mouthy and arrogant, for a seven year old, but still a kid enough to be lured by the promise of meeting his 'legendary' father.

The part of Dick that still cares (will always care) feels awful for using Damian's own insecurities to lure him into leaving his mother, but he knows Bruce won't believe him unless he sees the kid with his own eyes and is able to run the necessary tests. If the kid wasn't already being trained by the Shadows, he'd feel bad for dragging him into this war.

He heard a subtle, almost imperceptible chime from the computer at his wrist. He grinned, looked like someone was trying to hack him.

Hn, good luck.

His last contract was personal. They were all personal, but this more than the others. This wasn't avenging family or friends. This was avenging family, friends, himself, and everything he'd ever stood for. It was personal on a visceral level. This was why he'd agreed to Deathstroke's terms.

The boat he'd hijacked pulled up to high cliff wall that marked a suicidal jump from Arkham grounds to the river. There was a secondary BatCave up in the catacombs. A cave he'd break into both on his way in and on his way out. Of course, he couldn't have anyone knowing he'd broken in, but he'd been hacking Bruce's systems for years. That wouldn't be difficult.

No, the trouble would be in keeping this purely professional. Much as it was a personal hit, it was still a contract. It had to look like a contract. A contract that looked like a suicide...

God, he needed to pick less complicated hits.

Although, nothing said he couldn't have a little fun with it. Well, maybe not fun, exactly, although he'd been slipping toward the side of complete sociopathy since watching Blockbuster die. He comforted himself with the thought that he was still sane, still capable of hacking the batcomputer, as long as that was true, he'd be fine.

He really shouldn't have been surprised to see her leaning against the wall next to the access tunnel exit he used to get back to one of Deathstroke's satellite bases. The tunnel itself was primarily used by the League of Shadows, but his recent career change allowed him limited usage. Which, when he got over the whole kind-of-on-the-same-side-as-the-Shadows thing, was pretty damn awesome.

She didn't speak, just looked at him, gave a brief salute, and continued to lean against the building in a careful slouch.

"I've killed people, V. So many people."

"Fourty-three of 'em weren't your kills, kid."

"Still my fault they died."

"Maybe. Depends on your particular moral sentiments and tendency to take all sorts of inappropriate blame on yourself. The others though, that's all negligible. Fact is, some people need to die."

"Do you honestly believe that?"

"After the number of my own kind I've killed? Yeah. We put 'em down like rabid dogs, but they can still think, talk, walk on two legs, use their opposable thumbs, and reason. Might be twisted as fuck, but they have reason. Everything human. But they still need to die."

"Greater good?"

"Needs of the many."

"Sure, maybe I'll grant you that, for the greater good of everyone else on Earth, it is acceptable to kill when you know it'll save hundreds of lives. That's morally permissible for most, but to enjoy it... I laughed, when I killed him. I laughed like he does- did, and I enjoyed every second of watching him bleed out into his cell, knowing that only a handful of people would know what I did, know it was me, and that made me feel this thing, like pride, like it was something I should be praised for, that I killed him, that I made him suffer, and that no one would know."

"After what they all did to you- I know you remember, don't give me that shit-" She flipped him around, pressed him into the wall she'd been leaning against, and growled into his face. "They may have erased it from everyone's minds, even their own, even the Bat's, but I know. And you know." He really wished he didn't. But any kind of trauma forgotten wasn't dealt with and he'd be damned if he let that eat at him every day from the back of his unconscious mind. Thinking back, he probably should have let the JLA mind-wipe him. "I can't blame you for enjoying it kid. I've killed enough people to know just what that feels like. Vindication, power, and the knowledge that you are absolutely alive by virtue of killing someone else. It's validation in the most animalistic way possible. Speaks to you."

"But it shouldn't-"

"What? You think after years of being noble, of having Bat-morality practically forced into your head, believing that murder wouldn't solve anything - you think prevents the base parts of you from reveling in death? Sorry, kid, but you're just a highly advanced predator who can feel guilt. Blame evolution for that, but you still feel the thrill of bloodlust. Like any other bird of prey."

Okay, so he probably should have known that she wouldn't condemn him for this, but damn it if his self-flagellation streak wasn't as wide as a jet plane.

"Why are you here?"

"To check on you. Kick your ass if necessary. Tell you I know, that I really can't blame 'ya. Probably one of two people who couldn't, even if they tried."

"Slade knows, doesn't he?"

"That man knows just about everything to do with you, little bird. Kinda stalker-like, if you ask me."

Well, fuck.

"You should still get the kid to Wayne, before you decide to do something monumentally stupid like try to kill Deathstroke for creepin' on you all those years."

"When did he get his dirty talons in me?"

She didn't bother answering, they both knew, it was that first mission where they came up against with Deathstroke the Terminator (God that name was overcompensatory, but what do you expect from an amoral merc who possibly couldn't die?). He walked away wondering what side the man stood on, all he could come up with was 'his own.' And that rankled because so much of what Slade did was helpful, so many depraved lunatics killed by those guns, but he'd still take out a contract on the League or the team for the money.

He remembers questioning himself for days on how he felt about the man. He knew what Bruce would say. He knew what Robin would say. But Dick Grayson, who was human, who knew loss and the desire for revenge too well, didn't have an answer.

"When everything goes to hell, because it will, I'll have your back."

"Thanks."

It had been his last mission as Robin. He'd been caught by the Joker, slipped up, made a rookie mistake he should be well past, but the loss of another teammate had fucked with his head.

He couldn't remember too much of what had happened to him in the two hours he'd been drugged and held as the man's captive, but he could remember the blood, the pain, the absolute degradation, and the absurd thought that 'looks like this bird is finally carved...'

Ostensibly, he knows what happened. He knows he was raped several times with extreme prejudice and gratuitous use of a knife. It's a clinical fact in the back of his mind that he acknowledges with the same amount of feeling as he recognizes the fact that grey skies can be depressing to most people, especially in winter.

The experience of it, through the drug haze, is indefinite pain and humiliation and desperation and why-won't-this-stop-Bruce-where-are-you-please-come-find-me-please. Then darkness.

He came to on a rooftop, his torn costume doing little to cover him, but the cape of the batsuit had been wrapped around him. He sat up, pulled it tighter around his shoulders, just in time to watch as the Joker pulled out a gun. He didn't think, just propelled himself the scant few feet and threw his body in front of Batman's, taking a bullet to the shoulder and getting tossed off the roof by the force of the blow.

He remembers being glad that he wouldn't have to live with the memory of what had happened to him. Glad he'd been able to save the man who'd been the closest thing he'd had to a father since he watched his own die.

He remembers being disappointed when he woke up in the 'Cave. Remembers never being so depressed to be breathing.

Getting Damian into the BatCave is easy, if you have the right tools, come dressed in simple combat blacks with a leather jacket (no civvies in the 'Cave, if you can avoid it, and no Renegade, he can't do this as Wilson's new trainee), and are in good with the butler.

Yeah, they walk up to the front doors of Wayne Manor. Alfred looks like he doesn't know wether to hug him or scream at him, he does neither, his strict adherence to propriety overriding all nurturing instincts, for the moment.

The door closes and he might as well be facing the Inquisition.

"I have no weapons on me, Bruce really needs to meet this kid, and Renegade has taken his last contract. I, I'm so sorry, Alfie. But I had to. I can't really explain it better than that, but I had to. I couldn't let them- I couldn't let them-"

He can't bring himself to say it, but Alfred knows. He puts a hand on Dick's shoulder and leads him down to the cave. No more words necessary.

It went badly. But not as badly as it could have, all things considered.

They were waiting for him, knew he'd show, but Damian stuck to the shadows like he was told, like he was taught, and Dick had to grin at that.

It still was so much fun to surprise the old man.

"Batman."

"Renegade."

"Is finished, well, mostly. Took his last contract tonight. I'd say I'm here to turn myself in, but we both know how catastrophically bad that would be, not to mention the fact that I've still got a case to work, so if you don't mind, I'd like 24 hours before you decide what kind of penance I have to pay for my sins."

All he received from Bruce was a slight narrowing of his eyes into the infamous BatGlare™ - heh, Bruce should so trade mark that... Not like he needs the money, though.

"Dick, why did you-?" Tim.

This isn't going to be fun.

"I'm probably losing my mind, Timmy, and it's kind of a great feeling, but that's not why I'm here. If I may..." He gestures vaguely between the four of them (Cass standing like a wraith by the computer, distinctly not reacting to his presence).

The Oracle symbol blinks into focus on the large monitor, a computerized voice ringing across the cave, "You operate pretty well for an insane man, former Boy Wonder."

"Lose the robot voice, babe. It's doing nothing for you." Like he'd let her circuitry and cynicism break him that easily. Not now, not when he was so damn close to figuring out what they were after and stopping this mess.

He simply couldn't back down. He was entirely incapable of it.

"Not like there's anyone there to impress."

"Not like there's anyone who doesn't know who you are, either."

He heard a distinctly Barbara Gordon sigh over the line and couldn't hold back a grin. "Good to have you back with us."

"Don't. Just-"

"Gotcha."

Tim seemed to have recovered himself enough to ask, "What are you doing here?"

"I've got some information on quite a few cases I've been running. First order of business- Damian, if you will..." The boy stepped out of the shadows behind him, walking up next to him with the regal pride of a peacock, entitled and arrogant. "Before either of you react to the kid, Bruce, you might want to read this file and run a blood test." He tossed over the small USB drive containing the stolen information on Ra's and Talia's heir project. Dick watched the infinitesimal change creep over Bruce's features.

"Congratulations! You have a biological son you never knew about 'till now!"

He knew he was pushing it, but he couldn't just not say it.

"Dick." Said vigilante-turned-Anti-hero grinned at the sound of his name, looks like Bruce had dropped into something resembling family again, not that he meant to, of course. The man had lost any claim to real sanity when Jason died and never got it back, so these moods were something of a rarity combined with a psychotic break.

"I know. I thought, if anything, you should be told as soon as possible. Talia refused to say anything and I knew you'd want to see him. I might have, kind of, bribed him to get him to leave with me. He's got a case of hero worship-" The kid interrupted him with one of his disdainful '-TT-' noises. "- and really wanted to meet his father." The first Robin pronounced the word with the same pretentious intonation Ra's grandson had used, however the syllables dripped off his tongue as if they were steeped in sarcasm.

All he got in return was a grunt of acceptance.

"Oracle, can you get me an analysis on this-"

"On it, Batman."

"So, this kid's really Bruce and Talia's son?" Oh, Tim, you really need to learn to curb that youthful glee. Never gonna make mini-Bat status with that kind of emotional tell. Sometimes he hated it, but Tim really was closer to Bruce than he or Jay had been. They worked the same way, Tim just didn't have all the years of control and repression.

"So they claim, Robin, but you never really know with them. I don't have the equipment to run that kind of blood test, so I can't be sure, but the evidence looks pretty conclusive. Figured I'd let you two handle this one from here."

"And the other?"

Ah, yes, the Mission. Can't be digressing in the 'Cave.

"The reason why Renegade is operating, such as he is. Luthor's organized a Secret Society of Supervillains, numbering something over 500 members. As you know, Deathstroke is one of the main leaders of this movement, which allows me access to information I wouldn't have otherwise. Like the fact that Lex isn't acting very much like Lex and he isn't telling anyone what his real plans are. I don't know exactly what he's looking to do, but it's bad. I'll do my best to keep in touch, give you as much of a 'head's up' as I can, but you might want to assemble some friends, and fast. It's going to get nasty, and I don't know how much longer we can keep you their 'Immediate Target' list..." Because I've done everything I can. I've avenged everyone, I've done everything I can to keep you safe, got rid of those who would be gunning for you, or at least convinced them it'd be a bad idea to try. I'll be there, you know, to keep you all alive. Even if I have to kill everyone on that battlefield, I won't lose you. I'm not burying another brother, another father, another best friend, another family. I can't, I've already lost two.

He didn't wait for the realization to cross their faces, as he knew it would. Alfred had known it upon seeing him, now they would, but if he didn't see them, if he hadn't watched them know the truth, he was safe. His cover was safe.

"Oh, and Jason should be waiting outside, if you ever decide to admit that he's actually back."

There was an unsteady silence behind him as he turned away, heading toward one of the more unused paths out of the cave.

Uncharacteristically, it was Bruce who broke it. "What you did to Joker-"

"Was entirely warranted. If I could have enumerated every one of his crimes in his blood along that cell wall, I damn well would have, and you know it. You may not know why, but you know why you can't remember. Either way, it wasn't what the client wanted, and I'm just enough of a merc to stick to the contract. Guy's gotta earn money somehow. Bullets don't come cheap."

"You don't have to do this, Dick."

"You're wrong. I do. And, Bruce? If we both survive this, we'll talk."

He threw open the door and stepped out of the cave.

It was chaos, pure and utter chaos. Deathstroke and Ravager were working through the ranks, taking out those they thought needed to be killed (he agreed with most of the choices). Renegade shot a gun out of the hand of one of the Society members, just in time to stop the shot from catching the back of Arsenal's shoulder. Red Hood stood next to him, guns blazing but only incapacitating. He nodded to his brother and best friend. They'd take decent care of each other, especially if Starfire stuck with them, the Tamaranian princess wading through enemies just ahead of the two marksmen.

Batman, Robin, and Batgirl made a formidable team toward the center of the fray. They were separated but working as a unit, as they'd been meant to. He turned away, knowing they'd be fine for the moment.

He looked for Wally, all that remained of his old team, saw the speedster close by, engaged in hand-to-hand combat. Dick cringed inwardly and Renegade sprang into action, moving to take over the new Flash's battle. Wally always had sucked at close quarters fighting. They took the man down, a third-stringer Dick couldn't recall the precise name of (but he knew the man's stats and style, and that was enough), but he took a bad hit to the shoulder. His twin sword style would be compromised, but he'd easily take on Bane unarmed for Wally, no questions asked.

Assured that the scarlet speedster would be fine for the time being, Dick turned back to the main group of bats in the center, just in time to watch them attempt a move they'd apparently hastily adjusted. It was intended for the four of them and it relied on Nightwing's flexibility and accuracy. One of those 'all hell breaks loose' moves that they almost never used but still knew how to do. Rarely, if ever, did the four of them fight together. Fewer still that they weren't working isolated.

He moved before he'd even registered exactly what he was planning on doing. He jumped up, grabbed Tim by the arm and adjusted his trajectory, Robin landed feet-first into Clayface, and Renegade quickly implanted two explosive disks into Basil Karlo's clay-like skin and detonated them.

It left him completely vulnerable for an attack from Black Adam. The punch landed square in his chest and sent him hurtling into a wall, his head cracking against the stone and his vision blacked as numerous wounds caught up to him.

He knew he'd never be back.

A/N: I'd say I'll make it up to you all, but I think I need to make it up to myself, too.

If you have anything you'd like to see, let me know. I'd be glad to take the suggestions now that I've tortured myself with this plot idea.

- Kirrae