Slade Wilson knew that he should not have accepted the contract in Gotham City.
Yet he did so because the amount of money he would receive was very tempting and only a fool of the Joker's caliber would have refused it.
Deathstroke hated Gotham both because it was completely screwed up in every way even for a cold-blooded ruthless assassin like him and also because it was protected by a fucking paranoid man who dressed like a bat and illegally beat up criminals.
Which proved that Gotham is full of crazy people and even his protector was crazy. But hey, who was he to judge a man's unhealthy coping mechanisms when he himself had had plenty of problems to deal with?
Fortunately the contract was quick and easy which led to lots of easy money, cheering up the world's most dangerous mercenary. Slade had not even come across the Bat and he regarded this as a double victory.
As soon as Slade had completed the contract and received payment from his client, he had returned to one of his safe houses and planned to take a quick shower and then crash on the couch so that he could get out of that lousy city the next day.
Too bad, however, that someone had tried to open his shelter.
With an irritated sigh the super soldier went to open the door with the intention of quickly killing anyone who dared to disrupt his plans so that he could take that hot shower.
However, once Slade opened the door he found himself staring directly into the void. Confused, he slowly lowered his gaze and found a child who could not have been more than eight years old, with clothes that looked dirty with a black substance unknown to him but also with dried blood and strange goggles hiding his eyes.
The mercenary's brain threatened to short-circuit.
How the hell had this kid managed to find one of his shelters when not even the damn Bat had found it?
More importantly, why did this little boy have blood stains on his clothes when it was clear that he had no visible wounds?
This last question he would soon have an answer to.
Slade opened his mouth, to say what he did not know himself, only to be attacked.
Yes.
He, Deathstroke The Terminator, the world's deadliest and most dangerous mercenary, was literally attacked by a child.
God, Wintergreen would never stop teasing him.
And apparently this child was not even human because with one blow he managed to knock Slade back. Sure, only by a few inches but you had to keep in mind that most adults were not even able to move Deathstroke one inch, let alone a child.
Slade was still shocked that a fucking child had just attacked him that he did not see the direct kick to his jaw.
And apparently this fucking child could fight, too.
Fantastic.
He felt a little pain in his jaw despite the mask and briefly thanked the fact that he was still wearing it that protected his face because he was sure the pain would have been much worse.
Of course, he had suffered far worse injuries than a kick from a child by superhuman force to the face but still.
The blow he received awakened his instincts and Slade immediately easily blocked the child's arms. "I don't know who the hell you are and what you're doing here but-"
Much to Slade's horror, in a way that was fucking humanly impossible the child twisted as if he had no bones and managed to escape from the mercenary's grasp who smartly gaped like a fish.
"What the fuck-"
Slade realized almost too late that he was dealing with a murderous meta-human child and managed just in time to block a knife that somehow managed to get through the layer of armor of his mask and it almost stuck in his left eye.
The mercenary had literally blocked the knife that was inches from his only remaining functioning eye. With his heart beating too fast due to adrenaline he hastily pulled out the knife and threw it as far away from him as possible.
Anyone who would have said that at that moment Deathstroke was terrified of a fucking murderous meta-human child who nearly blinded him even in his other eye was just a liar.
Not wanting to risk permanently losing his sight, Slade decided to get slightly more serious against the child who had suddenly become his greatest archenemy and who had almost blinded him.
With a snarl Slade once again locked his arms but this time applied much more pressure than before. "Not even your trick from before will help you escape, kiddo!" he growled.
The child continued to wriggle like there was no tomorrow and finally Slade decided he had had enough. He forcefully threw the child who crashed violently against the wall of the shelter.
"Fuck you, kiddo. If you have superhuman strength you'll surely also have superhuman resistance."
His theory proved correct when he saw the kiddo rise to his feet as if nothing had happened.
This was one of those few times when Slade hated being right but hey, at least it helped assuage his guilt of having just thrown a kiddo against the wall.
Slade briefly opened his eyes wide when he saw blood dripping from the kiddo's temple. Or at least what Slade thought was blood since it was a dark black color.
At least it explained that strange substance on the kiddo's clothes.
"You are kidding me!" exclaimed Slade in frustration when he saw the kiddo's wound on his head literally close in seconds.
The kiddo has a better healing factor than I do.
The miniature assassin again attacked Slade who dodged him, grabbed his right arm and twisted it painfully behind his back. To his surprise, the kiddo did not scream in pain and instead had the audacity to throw his entire body back on Slade who surprised fell to the ground with a surprised grunt.
Quickly Deathstroke took the kiddo out of the way with a blow to the chest sending him flying away. Wanting to test his theory (and also to save his own skin) Slade pulled out one of his guns and shot the right leg of the kiddo who had just risen to his feet.
In response the child fell to the ground on his knees without ever making a sound or showing signs of pain. From the right leg black blood began to flow from the wound. Immediately the kiddo got back on his feet as if Slade had never shot him and, shocking the mercenary once again, the gunshot wound on his leg closed up in minutes.
"Fuck my life."
Slade, sensing that the battle would not end unless he found a way to bind the kiddo (or until the kiddo managed to kill him, and given the situation Slade did not doubt that that was a possible scenario), crashed with his full weight on the kiddo who was pinned beneath him.
"If you don't want me to put a bullet in your brain-"
Slade interjected abruptly when the fucking child kicked him in the balls.
Literally.
Now it is true that Deathstroke's armor protects him from all kinds of blows and is almost impenetrable, but the blow in his balls (which hurt his ego more than actually his balls) caught him off guard and, taking advantage of that, the child managed to slip out of his grasp.
Frustrated to the max and having just lost his patience, Slade spun around with a violent roundhouse kick that struck directly at the jaw of the child who flew off and crashed against the wall of the shelter, which shook slightly.
Momentarily forgetting that his opponent had a better heal factor than his own, he froze. "Shit, did I just kill the kiddo?"
He was looking forward to finding out his real name because he was really getting tired of calling him kiddo in his head.
The ex-military breathed a sigh of relief when he saw him get back up and this time he was not too shocked when the kiddo grabbed his dislocated jaw and with a resounding snap of his bones put it back in its proper position.
Fuck it. I'm facing the son of Satan himself.
His theory that he was indeed facing the son of Satan was further strengthened when Slade noticed that the kiddo's goggles had split, revealing his cold, emotionless golden eyes.
Goddamnit.
Deathstroke moved into a fighting stance with clenched fists. "Come on kiddo. Show me what you're capable of."
Eventually after another five fucking minutes of pure hell Slade managed to lock the kiddo in a hold once more and before the child could wriggle out of his grip as if he were an eel, the mercenary pulled a syringe from his armor and injected it into the kiddo's neck.
It took about ten seconds (which to Wilson seemed like hours) before the kiddo's attempts to untangle slowly subsided and another twenty seconds before the kiddo completely stopped moving.
Slade breathed the longest and deepest sigh of relief of his entire life. Then he froze on the spot when it occurred to him that the duration of the sedation might have been less since the kiddo was most likely a metahuman and he ran for rope and chair.
In not even a minute he tied the kiddo to a chair with very tight ropes that would surely injure the miniature assassin and proudly observed his work.
Then the mercenary took off his mask and observed with a frown the hole on the position of his left eye on it. Involuntarily a shiver ran through his body, remembering how close he had actually been to losing even his second eye.
He put down his mask and approached the kiddo, studying him carefully.
It was obvious that someone had trained the kiddo in the art of killing and injected him with something similar to the super serum they had given him in the army.
Either that or the kiddo was born as a meta-human. And it was obvious that he was a meta-human from both golden eyes and black blood and a better healing factor than even his own.
Of this last thing Slade was a little jealous.
Be that as it may, the fact remained that someone had trained the kiddo since Slade recognized his fighting style as a mix of several martial arts and he would not be surprised if the kiddo knew some others as well.
In addition, the kiddo was also expert in the use of the knife that almost blinded him.
Suddenly Slade realized the fact that he would have to deal with a meta-human assassin kiddo.
He, Deathstroke The Terminator known to the world for many things but skill with children and parenting were not included in that list.
And yes, he could be the most dangerous mercenary in the world but he would never kill a child.
Even if said child was a murderous meta-human who had attacked him, kicked him in the balls and almost blinded him.
Even he had a moral code that he respected and would never break.
Slade realized that his best course of action was to call his most loyal ally and friend, William Wintergreen, who as usual would have an excellent solution to Slade Wilson's problems.
The mercenary froze in place when his enhanced hearing picked up something. Or rather, when it did not pick up something.
He pinched the bridge of his nose and after another very long sigh he walked over to the kiddo and placed a hand on his chest.
There was no heartbeat.
Now resigned and no longer surprised, Slade cast a tired glance at the kiddo, noting his pale, cold skin with dark veins covering his face.
Slade realized it was time to go get his phone to make the call to his friend. He then heard it ring several times before the other man answered in a sleepy, irritated voice.
"I hope for you that the reason for the phone call at this time of night is valid otherwise I won't help you anymore when you are bleeding to death."
"I'm sure Adeline sent a fucking meta-human zombie murderous kiddo to finish her work!" blurted Slade.
There was silence on the other end of the line for a period of time that began to worry Slade slightly before a weary sigh rang out loudly.
"I'm coming." and with that Wintergreen hung up the call.
Slade turned and it was thanks to his super soldier mercenary instincts that he did not jump up in fright when his gaze caught two golden eyes that were staring at him impassively, blinking slowly.
Deathstroke cursed audibly. "And to think I even gave you the dose that would have knocked out hundred elephants!"
William Randolph Wintergreen rubbed his eyes for what must have been the hundredth time. He cast a tired glance first at the bound child who remained frighteningly silent and quiet and then at his friend.
"Let me get this straight: the "kiddo", as you call him, would find one of your secret Gotham hideouts, then physically attack you, nearly stab you in your one good eye, is a murderous meta-human of many abilities including a better healing factor than yours, is more slippery than an eel, is literally undead and even powerful sedatives have little effect on him." William let out another sigh and stared at him impassively. "Did I forget something?"
"He also kicked me in the balls!"
The older man did not know whether to laugh or cry from nervous exhaustion. In doubt he sighed once more and interrupted Slade before he could speak.
"And no: Adeline did not send him to finish her work." he stated wearily. "It is obvious that the "kiddo" was brutally trained by someone who reduced him like that and this is not your ex-wife's style and you know it."
Slade opened his mouth but was once again interrupted.
"And he's not even the son of Satan, for Christ's sake!"
Slade snapped it shut.
Wintergreen rubbed his temple. "Let's do this: let's go to sleep and find out more about the kiddo tomorrow. We both need good hours of sleep to get through tomorrow." Slade gave a grunt that William recognized as affirmative. "Well, good night then."
"Good night."
Slade stared at his friend's retreating figure before returning to the kiddo who had never taken his golden eyes off the two of them. He let out a frustrated sigh and threw a headbutt at the nearby wall, shaking the entire building.
"I will never accept a contract in Gotham again. Never again."