"Look, Robin, I know that you could use me here, but I feel like I need to find Black Mask and finish this."
"I understand entirely. Where will you go?"
"I need to find Slade. He's been searching for Sionis since I died."
"Be careful with him."
"We've never had a problem before. Doubt we will now. Nightweaver out." He blinked the communicator feed away from his HUD and looked around. He'd already left Jump; he knew Robin would agree. He was standing outside of one of Deathstroke's hideouts, a warehouse in central Chicago. Nightweaver picked the lock and entered quietly. He hadn't gotten ten steps in before a broadsword was at his throat.
"Weaver."
"Slade. Good to see you too."
"Heard you were back in the game. Figured you'd come here. Hunting Sionis?"
"To the grave. Gotta verify this time." He pulled his sword away and slid it into the sheath on his back. Weaver turned and extended a hand, and the mentor and apprentice reunited as they shook hands.
"We've lost track of Sionis for the moment. Hope you don't mind." Slade opened a crate of MRE's and tore one open and began stuffing food into his mouth.
"Not at all. I never expected this to be easy. One step at a time."
"Deadshot's searching Asia. Falcone's cast a blanket over Europe. Catwoman has her eyes all over Gotham."
"And you?"
"I've got eyes on everything." A screen previously unseen flickered to life, presenting a map of the world. There were large portions of it covered in red, other, smaller areas in bright orange.
"Orange marks places he's likely in. Red are areas we know he's had activity or contact in. I've determined he's in Asia right now."
"Good. I'll get going." He went to leave, but Deathstroke stopped him with his forearm.
"You aren't ready yet, Weaver. Do some research from the outside first."
"Slade, I don't need this shit right now. I just want Roman Sionis dead."
"And how did your method last time work out? You managed to kill off two people, and neither of them were Black Mask." Weaver backhanded Deathstroke and watched as the rage grew on his face.
"Don't be a little shit. I'm trying to help you."
"Fuck you." Slade grabbed his arm and twisted it, forcing him to the ground in one quick movement.
"Squirm and I break it. We're gonna stay here until you calm down." Nightweaver shot the tasers out of his gauntlets, striking Slade in the jaw. His body went limp momentarily, giving him the edge he needed to escape. He put Deathstroke in the same position, standing over him.
"I'm going to kill him, with or without your help." Slade rolled over, forcing Weaver back onto his back and driving his knee into his throat.
"Calm. Down." Weaver breathed in and out, then spoke.
"Fine. What do you suggest we do?" Slade got off of him and extended a hand, lifting him back to his feet.
"We hit his contacts in America. Drug dealers, gun runners, casino owners, other mob bosses. We take out his influence bit by bit. He'll either run out of power and we have an even easier job killing him, or he gets pissed off enough to come after us himself, in which case we're on defense, and de-"
"Defense always gets the advantage. Got it."
"You do learn," he said smugly. "We should start in Gotham." He touched the screen and it zoomed in on Gotham's streets. "Start high. Make the job short. He wants us to think that he only controls the lower levels, that he draws money from them, but that's all a lie. Black Mask is rooted in deep. He controls everything, and makes it look like it's an independent organization."
"So the target is...?"
"Raul Manzanita, head of the Gothamite Drug Cartel, or GDC. Controls the flow of high quality narcotics to the richest and most corrupt."
"How do you know that?"
"A lot of my friends qualify as rich and corrupt."
"Makes sense."
"So, we take him out, take a few of his lieutenants down, and remove plenty of their product. That'll piss him off enough for now."
"Then what? We need to plan out our entire operation, or at least get an outline."
"Taking his businesses down a peg here'll destabilize the ones he has in Europe most. Asia isn't quite as affected because it operates on a different level."
"Got it. I'll head out to Gotham now. I'll meet you there." He left before Slade could say anything, leaving Deathstroke alone in the darkness of the warehouse. As he stepped outside, he felt a hard impact on the top of his head, then succumbed to the sweet callings of sleep.
Nightweaver woke up armorless and chained upside down. The room was dark, and he could only faintly make out the caped figure in front of him.
"Who the hell are you?" he sputtered out, halfway choking on the words. The figure's head bobbed up and down in what seemed to be a silent laugh. "Answer me, you scumbag!" The figure laughed aloud now, not even trying to hold it back.
"You always were the kind to act like he was in control in this kind of situation." He turned, and Red X faced Nightweaver for the first time in two years.
"Moscow."
"Just call me X now. Or Red X, I don't really care."
"Fuck you."
"My my, somebody's angry."
"I wonder why," he spat through gritted teeth.
"I won't hold you up any longer than I have to, no pun intended. I've got a proposition."
"Not interested."
"It'll help you against that pesky Black Mask character," he said, leading him on.
"Interested."
"He's got me by the balls, I'm not gonna sugarcoat it. He's made me his bitch for the last few months. I can start stealing shipments of supplies from him bit by bit to help you. Just one condition."
"Name it."
"I want Kitrina back."
"Take her. She hates me now."
"What?"
"She hates me. Been like that for a while."
"Curious. She told me the other day that you two were fine."
"You've had contact with her?"
"Kitty can't keep away for too long."
"She won't even talk to me. I don't know what game she's playing. Let me down." Red X untied the chain from around his legs, and Weaver dropped to the ground. "Armor?"
"Next to you." He looked and saw that it was, in fact, directly beside him, and he quickly put it on. He slipped the helmet on and felt comfortable in his own skin once again.
"Thanks. Now, for your proposal..." He punched Red X in the side of the head, knocking him out in one strike. He removed X's belt and placed it on the ground, then tied him up with the same chain that had been used on him. X woke quickly, to his credit, and tried to free himself, but couldn't.
"Really, Simon?"
"Simon's dead. It's just Nightweaver."
"Stop with all of your melodramatic, 'boo-hoo-poor-me' act already. What do you want?"
"I get you with Kitrina and I get rid of Sionis, you stop stealing."
"What else do I do, then?"
"Be a good guy. Talk to some people. I don't know, I don't care, but its time for you to grow up."
"Not an option." Weaver tore off X's mask, revealing his old partner's face, albeit more aged.
"You still don't have a name for me, Weaver."
"No, but the Internet does." He made sure his eyepiece caught a clear glimpse of X's face, then turned away. "Search, find identity."
"You son of a bitch!"
"Jordan Terrel."
"You're dead, kid."
"I'm older than you." He threw X's mask back to him and untied him. Jordan got his gear back on and stood face-to-face with his former partner.
"You just made a big mistake." Weaver turned to the side and began pacing.
"You seem to be making the mistake here. We're two side of the same coin, you see; two thieves, one way we look at it or another. The difference is, I moved on from that. You're stuck in the same, unstable lifestyle you've always been. You're trying to grasp at that stability in Kitrina, but what happens when she gets taken away from you again? Where have you been for the last two years? Sulking? Depressed? Hiding your sorrow in whatever your vice is now?" Red X's head dipped.
"Fuck. You."
"That's all you've got to say?" X grabbed him by the chestpiece, lifting him up.
"You sacrificed your roots. You forfeited all those years of hard work, all those contacts, turned your back on all of them. Who's the real villain here, Simon? The guy who sticks to his guns, defends his people, tries to help them prosper, or the one who walks away from it all and joins the other side?"
"Don't act like you're supporting anybody but yourself. You only steal because you can't be bothered to help society."
"Just leave. Forget I ever said anything." Weaver went to leave, but stopped just before going through the door.
"I'll tell her where you are. You've got your chance with her. Otherwise, I don't want anything to do with this." He strolled down the hallway and exited the building, emerging on the dark streets of Chicago. It was nearly midnight, and he needed to get going to Gotham. He worked his way towards the airport, already planning on stealing a plane.
An hour and a half later, Nightweaver was flying through the sky above Chicago, well on his way to the massive city that served as Batman's hunting ground.