Slade was surprised when he found a letter in his old, rusty mailbox. Actually, It technically wasn't his mailbox; it was in one of his many hideouts, so it didn't count. The letter was addressed to 'Mr. Slade' and it was all in cursive and tiny letters that made him want to puke.

Rubbing one gloved hand to his throbbing right temple, Slade read the letter. The first sentence made his stomach drop. It was from those sick bastards. Though they paid him handsomely every time he did an errand for them, they were still sick. Deathstroke wasn't squeamish about killing; he just didn't want to waste lives, even if he was a mercenary.

The letter read:

To our Dearest Mercenary Deathstroke,

The Court Of Owls has come in need of your presence again. Though it does not involve killing, please take your guns and swords if you want to join in with the… fun. Tonight, come to Gotham, into the restaurant The Golden Palace and show the receptionists your letter. We will dine and have many cuisines, so be prepared for many foods.

Please bring your mask. Please come, for we will be celebrating the new addition to the Court Of Owls. We are happy to announce that we found a new Talon.

Sincerely, The Court Of Owls

Slade didn't want to go, he knew the sick bastard who called himself the leader of The Court Of Owls, Owlman, would be there; but he was a little bit curious of the new Talon. The last Talon had an awfully sad back-story, and he had been there when Cobb had used up all of his nine lives.

Slade suddenly snorted, a thought coming to him. "Boy, the Owlman sure has a brother kink." He remembered when he himself was obsessed over finding an apprentice. He had immediately targeted Robin for some odd reason.

He chugged water, and yelled, "William! I'm going to go to Gotham tonight!" Usually Slade wasn't such a slob, but today was his resting day. Between his daughter and his divorced wife, he needed one.

Wintergreen stuck his head through the doorway and nodded, chuckling as he saw his former friend actually relaxing for once.

"You better come back and clean up your mess, Wilson." Wintergreen joked as he saw all the beer cans and paper on the ground.

Slade mumbled, and pulled his mask over his face. He took his weapons and added his shurikens to the stack, just in case. Getting out of the comfy couch that he was laying on, he walked over to the window, which was rusting. He tried to get the window to open, but cursed when the stupid thing wouldn't budge. Wintergreen chuckled, silently watching Slade struggle with the window.

"Do you mind using the front door before you break that window?" He said, opening the door to the hallway a bit more. Slade growled before he gave up.

"Not a word William, not a word."

Wintergreen laughed all the way to the kitchen as he began preparing dinner for himself.

Outside, Slade didn't have to look to see if anyone was below him as he jumped out of the open door onto the balcony; since the sunlight was already dwindling as it was.

He grappled to the roof of one particularly large building that had advertisements for Wayne Enterprises.

"Tch. Bruce Wayne doesn't deserve a single penny he has." Slade thought, fighting the sudden urge to punch the billboard. "He barely earned any of that money."

Slade didn't know why, but the first time he had ever heard of "Bruce Wayne", he had a certain hatred for him, even when he didn't actually know who he was.

Rubbing his left eye, he groaned. That stupid spawn of Ra's had put a sword to his eye while he had tried to steal the Lazarus waters to make his own samples. Now, whenever he felt the wind on his face, his left eye would itch, kind of like it was doing now.

He finally made it to downtown Gotham, where the minor thugs and drug addicts would hang out. He looked down and saw someone backing a teenager to the wall. They were probably trying to either rape the teen, or get the teen on drugs. Slade rolled his eye(s). Didn't their mom ever teach them to not go out on the streets when it turned dark?

He let himself fall, right onto the thugs. Why was he doing this? He knocked their jaws back and let all three men fall to the ground with a thud. He then turned to the cowering teenager who was staring right at him.

"Boo." The teen ran, and Slade couldn't help but chuckle evilly. See, Batman was useless; he only took on the large villains. Someone needed to be there for the minor cases. Sighing, Slade grappled to the roof of the nearest building and began jumping and running again.

The Golden Palace was a nice little restaurant that was place right on the divide of Downtown Gotham and Eastern Gotham. He wondered why The Court Of Owls chose that place, since the last time he had a meeting was in higher Gotham, and because The Court Of Owls always had a reason for everything they did. They thought of every move they did in surprising detail. They even fooled the Batman himself, whom proclaimed himself as the best detective.

In fact Slade had only heard of them when he was first hired to kill a Talon's family. It was cruel, but he had done it anyways. They paid him lots of dough, making him wonder just how rich they were.

Slade let his mind drift off as he ran on the rooftops. He hadn't been doing that a lot lately, ever since Robin had become Nightwing and moved onto Bludhaven. He reached The Golden Palace and slipped into the lobby. It was deadly silent; there was no one else there except for a Caucasian male reception.

"Here you go." Slade said, tossing his letter onto the receptionist's desk. The man didn't even look at the writing inside of it before pointing to the back of the restaurant, where there was a brown door that looked like it was way to old to be still standing.

Slade made his way to the door, opening it and hearing the loud squeal of un-greased door hinges. Grunting, Slade walked inside the room. He absolutely hated squeaking doors, since they always gave him away if he wanted to be sneaky.

He finally surveyed the room and the first thing he saw was Ra's. He was drinking what looked like very expensive wine, and was fitted snugly in a business suit.

They locked their eyes, and you could practically hear the violence crackling in the air.

"What are you doing here?" Slade said through gritted teeth, he couldn't stand Ra's. Someone in that room was going to end up dead.

"The real question would be: What are you doing here?" Ra's said defiantly, sticking out his shoulders as if to express that he thought of himself as better than him.

Ra's put his wine cup down and Slade's one remaining eyebrow twitched. That bastard had the audacity to-

His thoughts were cut off when the squeaky doors once again sounded, alerting both of them that someone else had entered the room.

Slade had not expected to see the Owlman himself walk through the door, leading someone dressed in the clothes of a Talon.

That someone was familiar though, he had black hair that was combed back a certain way, and those eyes that seemed to fit that mask way to well…

It was Nightwing!

Nightwing was the new Talon!

Ra's seemed to had made the same conclusion, as he stared to. The all too familiar grace was still in Nightwing's/Talon's body, and Slade's assumption was immediately proven.

But Nightwing was without his snarky mouth, or his defiant actions. Even though he was an enemy to him, Slade felt a certain sorrow that he could not discern.

The Court Of Owls had broken the former Robin.