Chapter 12: Just Like Old Times.

When it came to anger, Raven was a connoisseur. She had felt anger in all its forms, thanks to her empathetic nature; the blazing, frustrated rage that crackled from Robin whenever he tangled with Slade, the righteous fury that pulsed from Starfire in the heat of battle, even, on rare occasions, a fierce, primal wrath that rolled from Beast Boy's room in the dead of night. The wrath of demons was not unknown to her.

However, she had never met anyone that got angry like Slade. If the anger of her father was a volcano, a deadly, explosive force that affected everyone nearby without prejudice, then Slade's anger was a river of flame. Smooth. Controlled. Focussed. Deadly. As Raven watched the duel, it occurred to her that the Jackal was already dead. He just hadn't stopped moving yet.

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Robin watched the battle in something approaching awe. He had heard stories of Deathstroke the Terminator, but they were few and far between. One thing that he had heard for certain was that the man had once fought Batman to a standstill, and judging by this performance, it was easy to see how.

The Jackal was twisting and turning, performing acrobatic feats that belied his huge bulk. Slade, however, was barely moving. The Jackal would swing his sword at Slade's neck, only to be met by empty air, Slade having taken an imperceptibly small step backwards. The Jackal would whirl his blade in a dozen feints, all of which were ignored, only to have the assassin block his one true strike. Robin suddenly noticed what was strange about this battle: Slade had yet to attack his opponent. Robin frowned; this was not a good sign.

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"C'mon, Deathstroke, do your worst!" The Jackal was becoming aggravated.

Silence.

"What, no witty banter? No condescending sneering?"

Slade was silent as the grave.

"Is the legendary Terminator losing his edge?" The Jackal hoped to goad Slade into a response, so his attention would be divided. No dice. Angered, the Jackal did something very, very stupid.

"How's Joseph, anyway?" The Jackal sneered; he'd seen the way Slade's neck muscles had tightened at that comment, and decided to push it further.

"You know, I always regretted what happened that night. I shoulda been there. To make sure he'd died properly." The Jackal couldn't suppress a grin, and continued to sign his own death warrant. "In fact, once we're done here, I might just finish the job. Too bad he can't scream no more-"

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Afterwards, none of the assembled Titans could attest to seeing Slade move. One second, Cyborg had seen Slade standing 6.2351. feet away from the Jackal, then, as soon as the mercenary had threatened someone called Joseph- who he was only God knew- and 0.327 seconds later Slade was standing above the Jackal, who was on his hands and knees, clutching at his throat. Watching his life drain away onto the floor. Within a few seconds, the man had crumpled to the ground, and Slade had dropped the sword like it was something distasteful. The clatter of metal on metal had been a signal to snap the assorted heroes out of their horrified paralysis, and they closed in on the one eyed villain. As soon as they neared, the man had dropped a smoke bomb and vanished in the resultant confusion.