AN: Thank you for your lovely comments from last chapter. Judging by the amount of screamed reviews I received, I take it that you all need a little more angst? Well, your wish is my command...

Enjoy~

xXx (Unknown Location) xXx

The first thing Dick was aware of was the pounding headache that shook his skull. He imagined this was what being hung over after a night of drinking felt like; his eyelids were too heavy to open, his limbs felt like lead, and his stomach threatened to bring up his last meal. Well, he could've just been sick for all he knew. He would have to ask Alfred to take his temperature for him to know for sure. But that also meant telling Bruce, who was an absolute nightmare whenever he was-

"I see you finally decided to reunite with the rest of the living," someone commented dryly from not too far away from where he laid, and the hair on the back of his neck immediately stuck up when he recognized the voice. Deathstroke.

Cold panic gripped Dick's insides as he shot up into a sitting position. Well, that's what he would have done if it weren't for the metal cuffs holding his wrists and ankles down onto his makeshift bed. Terrified blue eyes swept the area, landing on the familiar orange and black mask he had always associated with danger.

Deathstroke kidnapped him, and now he was completely in his mercy again. Shit.

"What's the matter?" While Dick couldn't see under his mask, he was sure Deathstroke was smirking. "Does the little bird not like being caged?"

...Being caged? Dick was suddenly struck by a bad case of deja-vu. He had said that before, didn't he?

"Sorry, Master. This bird doesn't like being caged."

Dick hissed in pain as his headache intensified, and screwed his eyes shut, the memory rattling his head. He could see the faint images of himself and his friends, along with a few of their most persistent villains. His stomach lurched when he saw himself turn on Aqualad; the Atlantian wasn't expecting an attack from a fellow teammate, and so it was embarrassingly easy for Robin to knock him out with his escrima sticks. But after that... His teammates talked him out of it, didn't they? But if that was the case then how did he end up back with Deathstroke?

And why was everything after that memory a total blank?

"Poor Robin, all alone with no where to go now that you've betrayed your friends." Deathstroke came closer to the held down acrobat, and Dick shrank back as best as he could. But the metal cuffs that kept him from fleeing also prevented him from putting space in between him and Deathstroke. The mercenary watched the fear flicker across his face, and that seemed to amuse him more than anything. "Now, I believe I still owe you a punishment, don't I?" He circled around the medical table and stopped where he could tower over the wide eyed boy. "What shall it be this time?"

Dick desperately tried to pull his wrists free from their restraints as his captor casually spoke of punishments, but stopped dead in his tracks when Deathstroke put a calming hand on his arm. "Now, don't get riled up just yet. I think we can work something out so that you don't get hurt." His voice was kinder, and for some reason that scared Dick even more. "I was disappointed in you when you chose to betray me, Renegade, but then I realized... You don't know any better, do you? Your programming makes you focus on the role of the hero, so that you can complete your mission. It clouds your judgement." He took a step back and produced a familiar remote, and Dick warily looked at the red button that controlled the shock feature in his chip. But surprisingly, Deathstroke didn't press it. Instead, he started fiddling with a few other colorful buttons. "Well, your mission is over."

One final button was pressed, and Dick felt something change inside of him. The thoughts in the back of his head that were always centered around the League disappeared all at once, thoughts that he wasn't even aware that he had. He immediately felt lost, eyebrows scrunched up in confusion when his pre-programmed sense of purpose was suddenly taken away from him.

And then he remembered.

The missing puzzle pieces fell into place, his memories no longer being altered by his programming. Everything came back all at once, and the intensity of it felt like a jackhammer to the stomach. But that feeling was nothing compared to what he felt when he suddenly knew what his mission had been. "No..." He whispered, his insides going cold as he was struck by realization. "Project R wasn't meant to destroy the Justice League, it was meant to cripple them. The main goal was to target their most resourceful member, and annihilate them so that the Light could easily finish off the rest of the League."

"Correct," Deathstroke eyed him, sounding pleased. "And you would have succeeded if I didn't pull you out."

"...I nearly killed him." Dick closed his eyes, his throat tight with anguish. "I nearly murdered the man who took me in."

There was a quiet chuckle. "Ironic, isn't it? You were so willing to do anything to protect the Justice League and their little sidekicks, yet you were the biggest threat to their safety. It's even more ironic how guilty your little friends felt when they betrayed you, not knowing that you've done something much worse in return."

Dick was at a loss for words. He remembered feeling sudden bursts of anger towards Bruce, but never did he think that they were strong enough to make him kill him. But then again... everything else made perfect sense. His obsession with Batman when he first joined the Team, his jealously whenever Bruce gave anyone else the slightest bit of attention, and his refusal to do anything besides be the Boy Wonder, none of those feelings originated from his own mind Every single decision he made, it was because of the programming he harbored, nothing more.

Without his mission, he was a blank slate.

"My memories..." he choked out, desperate for answers. "Why don't my memories make sense? I-I remember everything, but I have two different timelines of memories from my time in Cadmus, and everything before that is still blurry."

"You are remembering your real memories, along with fake memories that Cadmus gave you to make the League more trusting," Deathstroke explained patiently. "We knew that they would sympathize with a child who was used for drugs his entire life more than they would if they knew you were trained as an assassin your entire life." He paused, and Dick could picture the smirk he wore. "As for your memories before Cadmus... You don't have any. Nothing real, anyway. Just some fake memories to keep the League off of your back."

Dick was taken aback by the second explanation. "That's impossible, I have to have memories of my life before you kidnapped me."

Another laugh. "You would be right, if we did kidnap you. See, you've been inside Cadmus since the day of your birth." At Dick's confusion, Deathstroke continued in a condescending tone, "Now, come on... What do all human Cadmus experiments have in common?"

Dick wracked his new memories fruitlessly, not understanding what he was implying. "I don't know. I don't remember."

"A more accurate statement is that you don't want to remember," the villain corrected him. "All of your memories have returned to you, yet this bit hasn't? How convenient for you." There was a meaningful pause before he spoke again, "I wonder if the original was as ignorant as you."

"Original...?" The word was finally processed by his struggling brain, and when it did, his entire world turned on its side. He couldn't mean- No. That was impossible... wasn't it? "I'm not a clone," he said forcefully, glaring at the smug figure above him. "I remember being kidnapped at the Detention Center. I remember my parents, and the circus."

"Which are all fake memories the Light gave you to ensure that the League would trust you," Deathstroke repeated, sighing. "We would have given you the original's memories to make you seem more realistic, but that required magic. By the time we were able to persuade Klarion and Wotan to join our cause, Project R was already fully developed. We had to make due with what we had, which was a blank slate. And having 'amnesia' certainly gave you more sympathy from your target, so who am I to complain?"

"..." To say Dick was shocked would be the biggest understatement of a lifetime. This... This was too much for him. Not only did he learn that he was programmed to kill the man who treated him like a sun, but now he was being told that he was a clone?

His heart clenched painfully, and he felt a burning sensation in the back of his eyes. He had absolutely nothing to his name- he didn't even have a name, not one that was solely his. His entire life, everything he knew, all of experiences, it was all one big lie. The only reason he was alive and breathing was because of the scientists he despised. But what did that mean for him now? His sole purpose was to do what the Light wanted, and now that his mission was over, he had nothing. No family, no friends, not even a back story.

The cuffs on his wrists and ankles suddenly opened, and Deathstroke circled around the table once again, staring at him all the while. "Now that you understand how idiotic you were being when you defied me, I am willing to give you another chance. See, the only reason why you exist is because I chose to create you. If you think about it, I'm almost like your father." He stopped in front of him, and Dick hesitantly looked up to meet his gaze. "And as your creator, I expect absolute obedience from you from this point on. In return, I'll finish teaching you everything I know, and I'll give you more power than you could imagine. Will you cooperate?" He offered him a hand, and waited for his answer patiently.

Dick stared at the outstretched hand, his insides going completely numb. Deathstroke was right, as his creator, it only made sense for him to follow in his footsteps. That was what he was made for, and it would be illogical for him to do anything else. In every sense, Deathstroke basically owned him, so what was the point in rebelling? What was the point of going against someone who, like Deathstroke said, was basically his father.

But even still...

He was alive, his heart was beating, and blood coursed through his veins. Even if he was a knock off version of Richard Grayson, he was still alive. He had a life of his own, and even though he spent most of his existence with puppet strings guiding his every move, that didn't mean he had to continue following the path that was forced upon him. While he was outside of Cadmus walls, he was a spy and a traitor. But even then, he still forged a bond with everyone he met. He may have betrayed his best friends and his mentor, but that didn't mean he couldn't fix it. Now that he knew everything, he could make things right.

Determined, Dick rejected the offered hand. "Programming or not... Once a hero, always a hero." The eye of the assassin narrowed, but Dick refused to back down. "And now that I know everything, I'm going to help the League take you down. You shouldn't have given me all of my memories back, Slade." The usage of his first name only made Deathstroke angrier, but Dick was on a roll. "And I'm done being your puppet. Just because you created me doesn't make you my father, that title belongs to someone else." He raised his chin defiantly, all traces of his skittishness now completely gone. He was done being pushed around, of being constantly under someone else's control. He was overdue for a bit of his own freedom.

But maybe he shouldn't have blatantly disobeyed Deathstroke until after he found an escape route.

The hand that was stretched out between them was suddenly thrusted forward, and Dick yelped as he was suddenly picked up and thrown across the room. Stars erupted in front of his eyes as his head smacked the wall, and he could only weakly put his hands out to cushion his fall back to the ground. Deathstroke gave him no time to recover, for the mercenary was inches away from him within seconds. "You'll regret saying that, Robin." The way his hero name was spat out made it sound like a curse word, especially with the amount of malice in it. "You think the Justice League will be able to take you back when they're all under the Light's control? Do you think they would want to after what you did?"

Dick cried out when the side of a boot connected with his cheekbone, and the force of impact was strong enough to send him back to the floor in a heap. "I... don't... understand..." he gasped, curling into a ball to protect his stomach from the next blow.

"Of course you don't, you lack the brain cells necessary for thinking for more than a few seconds!" Deathstroke knelt down and grabbed a fistful of Dick' hair, pulling his head up so that their masked eyes met. "Think back to before you came here with me. Remember the technology you just so happened to confiscate from the Light? Didn't it occur to you that it had been far too easy to obtain it?" He released his hair, allowing Dick's head to fall back to the floor. "Your pathetic team was meant to get that technology, and bring it to the League's headquarters so that Red Arrow would be able to infect every single one of them with it. And he succeeded. Everyone, even Batman, has been infected. The tech gives us complete and utter control over them, and soon the sidekicks will join them." He breathed out a quiet chuckle. "But even if they somehow manage to free themselves from our control, no one would ever accept you after you killed Kid Flash."

Dick pushed himself up with shaky arms, his breathing coming in short and irregular gasps. "I would never hurt KF," he growled out, only to cry out when he was picked up by the back of his uniform. The fabric tightened around his neck, and he clawed at it instinctively, trying to get rid of the thing blocking his airway.

"Is that so?" Deathstroke said tauntingly, unaffected by the boy's thrashing. "I must have been imagining it when you stabbed him with a birdarang." He tossed him back onto the medical table, and Dick's back skidded across the surface before he fell over from the other side. "All it takes is two words for me to make you do whatever I want. And so when I told you to kill Wallace, you did so without hesitation." He grabbed something from his belt and threw it at the wall behind Dick, and the blade wedged in it. Dick could barely pick his head up to look at it, but his eyes widened when he saw one of his weapons covered in blood.

"No," he breathed, dragging himself over to where it was. That couldn't be right. This had to be some sort of trick to make him join Deathstroke, that was the only logical explanation.

"Still think you have a place in the League, boy? Do you believe that they will accept you after everything you've done? Not only have you betrayed them by giving me all of their secrets, but you also took the life of one of their precious children." Dick bowed his head, not wanting the mercenary to see the tears streaming down his face. He killed Wally, one of the only people who got to know him outside of costume. Wally was the one he went to when he was on the verge of a panic attack, the one who kept him sane. Wally was dead... and it was because of him.

The energetic speedster had trusted him, befriended him even, and what did Dick do? He killed him. One of the only people who bothered to even talk to him was slayed by his hand. He was a murderer... And even if the League could see past that, Dick definitely couldn't. His hands were stained with someone else's blood, someone who he thought of as a brother. There was no place for him in a world of heroes.

But that didn't mean that his place was with the villains.

Dick Grayson was dead, and he used his name while committing crimes. But he refused to dishonor the name any further by staying on the path of evil. Project R would fix his mistakes, help the League, and when everything was all over...

Richard Grayson would die a second time.

"Even if I don't have a place in the League, I'd rather die than follow you blindly." He gave him the strongest glare he could muster, which wasn't saying much considering how he was too weak to stand. "I refuse to do anything bad ever again. And nothing you do or say will make me join you."

There was a period of tense silence as Deathstroke stood across the room, glares being exchanged from both sides. Eventually, the clang of footsteps filled the room as the assassin strode over to the fallen child, and Dick couldn't help but tremble as he approached. He was so dead, but that didn't matter. If he could survive whatever punishment Deathstroke threw at him and found a way to escape, then he could fix everything. And that's all that mattered. "...Then my only option is plan B." He roughly picked Dick up by the collar of his uniform and transferred him back over to the medical slab, pinning him down and wrapping the cuffs around his wrists and ankles once again. "Have you ever been brainwashed, Renegade?" Deathstroke asked nonchalantly, lifting up his head to tie a blindfold around his eyes. Dick squirmed where he laid, but wasn't able to do much besides irritate his wrists. "I don't think you have. You probably don't even know how it's done."

"You can't brainwash me," Dick snarled, wishing he could see what his captor was doing. He didn't know what he disliked more, not being able to see, or not knowing what was going to come next. But he would be damned if he gave up now. "I don't care what you do to me, I'll never obey you."

He heard nothing for a while, but then a sudden charge of electricity shot through his limbs. And this was a lot stronger than what Parasite had used. Arching his back, but unable to move like his body instinctively wanted to, Dick screamed. But instead of turning the shock feature off after a few seconds like he thought he would, Deathstroke let it be. After what felt like hours of excruciating pain, Dick began to thrash around in his bonds, digging the skin of his wrists into the cuffs hard enough to nearly break them.

And then it stopped.

Dick panted, his rubbed raw from all of his shouting, and his mouth was painfully dry. His body still shook uncontrollably even after the shocks had stopped, but he was too weak to try to stop it. What the hell was Deathstroke doing?! Was he trying to kill him?! "Your name is Renegade," the mercenary said suddenly. "The Justice League abandoned you, and you now work for Deathstroke."

Dick's eyes widened fractionally when he realized what Deathstroke was doing. "No!" He shouted, pulling against his bonds fruitlessly. "You can't make me work for y- AH!" The last word turned into a shriek halfway through, for the electricity made a painful reappearance.

And just like the last time, it slowly came to a halt. "Your name is Renegade," the assassin repeated. "The Justice League abandoned-"

"NO!" Dick exclaimed through his heaving breaths. "They would never abandon me! Batman would never leave me to you!" Another wave of electricity made him cry out, but he attempted to silence it by biting his lower lip. But instead of making progress, he only bit hard enough to draw blood, and he still ended up screaming.

"Your name is Renegade. The Justice League has abandoned you, and you now work for Deathstroke."

Dick spat out the blood collecting in his mouth. "Fuck you, Slade."

It went on and on...

"Your name is Renegade. The Justice League abandoned you, and you now work for Deathstroke... Your name is Renegade. The Justice League abandoned you, and you now work for Deathstroke... Your name is Renegade..."

Dick lost track of how many times he heard the same repeated statement, or how many times he was shocked. But he always mumbled a half-hearted argument in response, unwilling to allow himself to fall victim to this kind of brainwashing. If he let Deathstroke win, he would become a mindless puppet once again.

But even he had limits. After the twentieth shock or so, Deathstroke repeated his same phrase, but this time Dick found himself too tired to come up with an intelligent response. His eyelids were half closed, so close to unconsciousness yet unable to fall asleep because of the pain. Deathstroke paused for a moment, and after not receiving a snappy retort, he asked, "What's your name?"

"...Robin," Dick forced out between clenched teeth.

Only to scream once again.

xXx

It should've been impossible, a couple of sidekicks taking down the entire Justice League. But... They learned how to accomplish the impossible a long time ago. Everything was possible in their eyes. Because why stress about what should and shouldn't be possible when they can try?

"Kid, you really shouldn't be standing right now." Flash said worriedly, pushing him so that he fell against the couch. Wally smiled at him weakly, pushing the cowl off of his face in one move.

The best thing about defying all logic was being able to rebel against death itself, Wally decided. Yeah, the stitches in his side were a little sloppy, he barely managed to create the cure to the bio tech that infected the League without passing out, and he couldn't walk five feet without collapsing, but that was all irrelevant. Because the Team, a group of 'amateurs,' managed to save all of their mentors from destruction. And almost everyone was safe now.

He couldn't remember half of what happened, but he was told that Artemis was able to resuscitate him after their battle with Deathstroke. What his pain addled mind had thought was a kiss was actually her forcing air into his lungs, apparently, though he honestly would've preferred either one. And even though it shouldn't have been able to work, it did. He was brought back to life, and then his fast healing kicked in, keeping him away from immediate danger. During the time he was unconscious, the Team apparently discovered that the Justice League was under some sort of mind control, and they were forced to retreat and find Red Arrow, who told them everything. Wally wasn't too sure about the details (they didn't have enough time to explain everything to him), but he did remember coming to when they were speaking with Roy.

He died, came back to life, and was consciously speaking in a matter of hours. That was a whole new record for how fast he could heal. Only his Uncle Barry could heal from a fatal injury that quickly!

Well, Wally wasn't fully healed yet, but that was besides the point.

"If my healing streak continues, I should be up and running in two hours," Wally murmured, sinking against the cushions. His green eyes swept over the Watchtower, a part of him super excited that he was inside, but another part of him was more focused on the exhausted faces of his teammates. Connor looked especially tired; his fight against Superman must have really pushed his limits. But since the Man of Steel was finally giving him some attention, Wally figured it was worth it.

"I still don't understand how that's possible. It took you weeks to heal a broken arm, and that's nothing compared to a stab wound..." Barry tapped his chin thoughtfully, and then grabbed one of the couch pillows in a blur, holding it in front of Wally's face. "Quick, vibrate your arm molecules through this pillow, then bring it back out again."

Wally was startled. "Er, Uncle Barry, you know I can't-"

"Just do it!" Flash shouted, and Wally nearly jumped out of his socks.

"Okay, I'll try it!" He rose his arm tiredly, and focused on moving it as fast as possible. He felt a familiar warmth of blood flow out of his nose, but he focused past it, feeling something different in his arm. It was like he could feel every part of it, every living cell that contributed to it-

It felt like floodgates opened inside of him, and suddenly he could move his arm straight through the pillow. "Um!" Was his intelligent shout, and his eyes became as big as saucers as he stared at his blurry arm. Okay, that was so weird. Having an entire limb going through a solid object was not a feeling he would want to experience every day.

"Wally, you're doing it!" Miss Martian gasped, putting a hand over her mouth. The other teens let out similar exclamations, all shocked by his sudden ability.

But then all of a sudden, Wally's exhaustion was multiplied by ten, and he was barely able to withdraw his arm before he became to slow to keep vibrating. "Ugh..." his shoulder slumped, and his head fell backwards, unable to move a single inch more.

"...Your emotional response to what happened yesterday must have made your barriers break!" Barry sounded as excited as a five year old on Halloween. "Having your ass kicked actually saved us all!"

"That's not something to be happy about." Wally straightened his back at the sound of the voice, his green eyes landing on the dark form of Batman. "Kid Flash managed to achieve vibrating his molecules, but at what cost?" He growled. "This is not a time to celebrate. With Robin still-" he paused, swallowing. "-missing, we still have plenty of work to do." He turned to Flash. "The Team said Robin was under Deathstroke's control when they last saw him. I want you to alter one of the devices that Kid Flash created, and make it so that we can reverse the affects of Deathstroke's control."

Flash nodded grimly, all traces of his excitement disappearing. "On it," he announced, and was gone in a red blur.

Batman turned to Superman next. "When you have your strength back, I need you to fly around as much as possible and keep an ear out for anything suspicious. If you see or hear anything relating to Robin, alert the League before attempting any kind of rescue mission. For all we know, Deathstroke has Kryptonite."

Superman nodded. "I'll be able to do a sweep over Metropolis and Gotham City right now, but everywhere else will have to wait until tomorrow. I'm pushing my limits as it is." He smiled down at Superboy one last time before jogging over to the Zeta Tubes, which announced his departure.

"I will meditate and keep my mind open for any signs of Robin," Martian Manhunter suggested. "I have entered his mind multiple times, and I would be able to recognize his brain waves from afar. Though it is unlikely that I will find him soon, I will do my best."

Batman nodded in consent. "Like Superman, you will need to alert the rest of the League if you find anything." He turned to look at Black Canary. "...He'll need you when he gets back," he said quietly, but the meaning of his words rang loud and clear. Wally averted his eyes; who knew what kind of mental state Dick would be in when they finally found him?

"And I'll be here for him," the blonde responded softly, and moved towards him to put a hand on his arm. "But you will have to be there for him too."

"...Arrow," Batman pulled away from her and fixed his gaze on Oliver. "I need you to ask around in Star City, see if anyone knows about the current whereabouts of Deathstroke. Your city is where he used to have most of his influence, and I don't doubt that some of his past allies still work with him now. Find out what you can."

"Sure thing..." Green Arrow had a stern frown on his face, an expression foreign to him. Sometimes Wally forgot about the history he and Deathstroke had. If anyone could relate to Dick when it came to the mercenary, it would definitely be him.

"The rest of you will be looking for any traces of the Light. Not only do they need to face justice for what they've done, but they might know where Robin is. They won't get away with kidnapping him, not this time." His teeth clenched together. "You're all dismissed."

The Leaguers began to file out of the Watchtower, bodies battered but their wills and determination unaffected. Wally watched them disappear through the Zeta Tubes one by one, until the Team and Batman were the only ones remaining. "What do you want us to do?" It was Kaldur who spoke, though he sounded hesitant. Like Wally, he was probably afraid of being told to stay out of it, treated like kids once again.

But Batman never failed to surprise them. "For starters, treat any and all wounds you have. After that, Miss Martian, Artemis, and Aqualad can fly in the bioship to investigate a couple of locations that I think Deathstroke could be hiding in. It's all in the Watchtower databases, which each of you now have access to." Wally's mouth fell open; they had clearance to view all of the League's files now?! "Superboy, Zatanna, and Rocket will take the Super Cycle to another list of locations. The same rules apply; contact us if you find anything. We're giving you more freedom, don't mess it up." His eyes narrowed. "This isn't about proving yourselves, it's about finding a missing teammate. Mess this up, and this becomes a matter of life or death. Understand?"

Kaldur shared glances with the rest of his teammates, and then looked back at Batman, his eyes filled with the same determination that the Leaguers wore. "We understand. Do not worry, Batman. We will do everything in our power to find Robin."

"And we will find him," Superboy added. "Maybe not one of us, but someone will find Robin. If we all work together, we can find him."

"...I don't doubt that." Batman turned away. "You are dismissed." The Team nodded and began to move towards med-bay, intending to follow every order they were given. Wally frowned after them, before turning his full attention to the Dark Knight.

"And what about me? After I'm healed up, I mean?" He shifted his weight. "He's my best friend, I have to do something."

"You're going to sit here until you are healed, and then you and I will be doing our own search." Batman moved towards a distant door, ignoring the baffled and awed look Kid wore. "In the meantime, I'll be trying to locate his signal."

"His signal?" Wally repeated, confused.

"I noticed that his computer chip lets out specific radio waves, which is what I assume allows him to hack into electronics and tear them apart from the inside out. As long as Deathstroke didn't alter the signal in any way, I might be able to locate them using it." Wally caught sight of a deadly glare before Batman exited the room. "And when we find them, Deathstroke will pay."

Wally could only gape after him; Bruce was actually letting him work with him?! The only person Batman ever invited to work with him was Robin, and before that he was a total lone wolf. The rest of the Team was going to be so jealous when they found out what he got to do!

But still, Batman was right. This wasn't a time to celebrate, or feel excitement. Dick was still being held against his will in an unknown location, probably scared half to death and in unknown condition. Deathstroke had mentioned something about punishing him during their last battle, and Wally shivered at the thought of what kind of cruel punishment the evil man had in mind. What was he doing to him right now, while Wally was sitting on his ass and complaining about a little cut? Would Deathstroke torture him? Would he keep him in his mindless-slave state? Would he lock him up in a cage forever, making him go back to being a test subject all over again?

Bile rose in his throat as he considered every scenario Dick could possibly be going through. Whatever happened, it would be a miracle if his best friend came back in one piece, totally sane and unchanged. But that was highly unlikely, and Wally didn't dare allow himself to hope for that.

The only possible outcome of this would be a broken Dick Grayson, and he knew it.

"Dude... Wherever you are, we're coming. We won't let you suffer for another five years, not this time."

xXx

AN: *sigh* Unfortunately, I didn't actually kill Wally. He's alive, breathing, and will be up and running very soon. This is only unfortunate because I really wanted to spite everyone who was demanding for me to bring him back. Because honestly, I have seen a couple of really annoying reviews about this, and all I wanted to do was keep him dead just to get on their nerves. But that would have ruined the plot, so I refrained from throwing a tantrum.

One last thing: I apologize for skipping the fight scene between the League and the Team, but it seriously wasn't going to change much. The only difference was how Superman, Batman, and Flash were taken down, and there wasn't anything too special about those changes that would make me want to add the entire fight in to see. Maybe I'll add it in when I publish the rewrite.

Well, that's it for now! Thank you all (well, most of you) for your comments! I hope to see you next chapter!