*Clears throat*

alright, now that we've established that yes, I am indeed publishing several days late, may I just say that on Saturday (aka my usual updating day where I live) I had an event that literally lasted 9 and 1/2 hours and didn't have time to post a chapter, then yesterday I didn't get any computer time, and then today I picked up a shift at work so I didn't start typing until afternoon, so here I am.

Sorry . . . .

Ah well, you will (hopefully, if I get the next chapter finished in time) get two updates closer together than usual.

Guest review:

Kim: *Grins evilly* are you quite sure you want more? I have some more, but I'm not too sure you want it. *dangles it just out of reach.*

Haha! your reaction to Deathstroke made my day. Everyone guessed right (it's not like I made it hard) so that was wonderful. Dick has his ways. :) Read onward!

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Thank you to all other readers, reviewers, favoriters (not a word but who cares), and followers!

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WARNING! THIS CHAPTER IS WAY WAY SHORTER THAN NORMAL! all good? alright, proceed.

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Disclaimer: Robin: She doesn't own it guys. Which is really good, because I'd been in pretty big trouble if she did.

Me: *pouts* hey!

Robin: *pulls out a batarang and aims*

Me: Alright! I don't own it! fine!

Robin: *puts Batarang away* ok. Everyone can read about me now.

Chapter 11

Blüdhaven

May 14, 17:00 EDT

Dick was not happy with his new mentor. He knew that already. Deathstroke was a name that had only come to light in recent months. He'd heard the name in the streets of Gotham, muttered in fear by lesser criminals, and had once caught Batman researching it. He'd looked into it himself, finding only rumors of a man in black and gold, with swords that flashed like fire, and a cruel laugh. That very same man now stood in front of him. His armor gleamed slightly in the dim light, and his mask . . . One side was smooth and black, leaving no sign of where a slit for his eyes was, while the other side revealed a blue eye through it's golden surface.

Dick stood silent, allowing the man to examine him, and grateful for once that he was wearing the armor and mask already. In fact, he rarely took the mask off now that he had it. It was a protection that he felt he needed, even with the contacts.

"Well, Deathstroke?" Talia asked silkily. "What do you think?"

"You aren't feeding him enough, but he's strong, a fighter. Given the right training equipment I think you'll have a much better chance of training him to be an assassin than you think," the assassin said, his voice low and hard.

Talia smiled, pleased. "Just tell me what you need, and it shall be provided," she said. "Anything." Then the daughter of Ra's al Ghul turned and walked away, leaving Dick staring at Deathstroke, while Deathstroke stared back.

"So, you are the child that Batman trained," Deathstroke said quietly, walking around around him in a threatening circle. Dick made sure to follow him with his eyes. He didn't trust Deathstroke not to launch a surprise attack to test him.

"Yes," he replied shortly.

"Fascinating. It appears that you have been in shape for far longer than you've been a hero," Deathstroke commented. "An acrobat perhaps. I wonder how it came about that you started hero work. Is Batman your father?"

"Yes," Dick answered, relieved that he was actually telling the truth, but not the full truth. "He is my father."

"Interesting. That's been theorized for years of course, but it's nice to have it proved. Your builds are quite different, so your mother must have been small," Deathstroke noted.

Dick felt a flash of annoyance at that, but didn't say anything. His mother and father had not been tall, but neither of them were short either.

"Interesting. You do not seem to fight much with weapons," Deathstroke whispered. "Why would that be? You don't have the power of weight on your side, and even though your agility might give you an advantage, it cannot help you win a fight."

"Batman taught me to win a fight with the first blow," Dick said softly. "That's all it should take, and then I should be off to the next goal."

"A good philosophy, but what if your enemy has a sword?" Deathstroke asked slyly. What do you do then?"

"Fight from a distance. I have smoke bombs, batarangs. If needed I have a knife and a taser, but I prefer not to use those. Flash grenades could blind my enemy, and I could take them out just fine," Dick explained forcefully. "Besides that, my suit has built in body armor that will at least temporarily divert a sword."

"Temporarily is not long enough," Deathstroke said coldly. "Within a few minutes of being forced into a fight with an experienced swordsman you would be killed, and your enemy would be victorious."

Dick snorted. "Why are you telling me this Deathstroke? I'd rather they killed me than I killed them, even if it were in self defense."

Deathstroke growled. "That sort of attitude will not be tolerated apprentice. It will get you killed, and rightfully so. If you are in a situation in which it's kill or be killed, you go for the former. I do not believe that you would just lie down and die peacefully."

"You're right, I wouldn't," Dick said shortly, "but if it came down to it, I would never make the killing stroke. You know nothing of me Deathstroke, and just because you would kill to defend yourself, or to serve some other purpose, it does not mean that I would."

"Do not worry apprentice, that opinion will change," Deathstroke murmured, and all of a sudden his sword was out of it's sheath and leaping towards Dick. Immediately he dodged, cartwheeling out of the way. He kept moving even as his feet hit the ground, knowing that Deathstroke's "lesson" wasn't over. He was right. The sword cut through the space that he had occupied a heartbeat before. Dick's breath caught in his throat. Did this guy even care if he killed his so called "apprentice"? It certainly didn't seem like it.

"Good, your instincts are well honed," Deathstroke said approvingly. "Batman has not completely ruined you in his training. I doubt that any other member of the league has trained their apprentice so well."

Dick frowned, but didn't say anything. He'd been in training the longest out of the young heroes, and although he couldn't say he was the strongest (that went to Superboy), or the fastest (KF), he could readily admit that he was the most experienced. It was also true that out of all of the members of the Team, his skills would translate the easiest into the realm of assassin, except for perhaps Artemis's, but then, she'd been raised by Sportsmaster and Huntress.

"Come apprentice, I wish to see you at work around the city," Deathstroke said slowly. "We will work up to killing, but for now we will simply see what work can be done. There are too many simple street scum in this city that should be cleared away."

"You mean that you want us to do hero work in preparation for doing the work of assassins?" Dick asked skeptically. "Doesn't that seem a little bit contradictory?"

Deathstroke shrugged. "I believe that starting with a clean slate is best. Usually I would just kill the street filth, but you appear to be squeamish as of now. Later though, later you will see the light."

Killing people was light? Somehow Dick just couldn't reconcile that with the sight of his parents falling to the ground. He shuddered. "Fine then, we'll go out. I'll work with you only as long as we aren't killing anyone, or hurting civilians." Deathstroke said nothing, but turned, and lead the way out of the warehouse.

Dick still wasn't entirely sure how Talia had remodeled the warehouse to seem so much like a creepy, yet elegant house on the inside, but she'd done it, and she'd succeeded. However, on the outside it looked just like all of the other beaten and worn warehouses near the docks of Blüdhaven. Dick sighed, and followed Deathstroke as he slipped upwards along a fire escape attached to the nearest abandoned apartment. He felt extremely uneasy about all of this. He somehow doubted that Deathstroke was sincerely serving Talia in anyway, and at least with Talia, Dick had some sense that she cared for Bruce, and might be less likely to kill him. Possibly.

As he followed Deathstroke across the roofs of the apartments and other buildings, he couldn't help but relax slightly. For now he could almost pretend that he was following Batman around on a normal patrol. They were going to stop the Joker, or Twoface, or another of their usual villains. Maybe they'd even stop by to see Barbara if the night was slow.

He knew he was imagining things, but all the same, he couldn't help but wish desperately that things were back to normal. He missed his friends, but more than that, he missed his family.

They patrolled the streets of Blüdhaven, taking down several minor thugs. Dick couldn't help but feel a flash of satisfaction as he left them tied up and waiting for the law enforcement. It felt good to be doing what he and Batman would have been doing on any usual night.

Then it all went wrong. Deathstroke had told him that they'd make one more round and then head back. Of course, some crazy group of thieves decided they would break into a bank right in the path of the two, and Deathstroke stopped. "Looks like we have one more stop," he said softly. Dick felt a thrill of foreboding. Something seemed off in Deathstroke's voice. He was planning something, and Dick was positive he was not going to like it.

He didn't say anything to stop it though. He certainly didn't want to let the bank robbers roam free. "Give the word," he said instead, wincing at the unfamiliar voice that rang through the night air. It was deeper, rougher, meaner than his own.

"Go," Deathstroke said, and for the first time during their patrol, he drew his swords.

Ah . . . . quite a short chapter. Yes.

:)

I literally finished this on Saturday and then didn't have time to post it and was really annoyed, but oh well. The next chapter should be all SORTS of fun.

Would love to hear your thoughts, so please REVIEW!