"Your men failed to prove themselves" Talia informed Mickel as she led the way to her private plane, their entourage and remaining luggage being dealt with behind them.
Mickel dipped his head, "My apologies, but you did ask for the most recent graduates" he replied politely.
Talia made her way up the compact stairs and chose a seat halfway down the luxurious aisle. She crossed her legs and held out her hand expectantly. Within seconds a servant placed a glass stem between her slender fingers. She reclined against the white leather seat and swirled her white wine, "Nonetheless, my father will be displeased to hear of the skill level graduates are now being held to"
Mickel dipped his head again, his polite composure firm and cemented, "I welcome any recommendations to improve our students"
Talia smirked at his quick appeasement. Her father loved to keep men like Mickel around, but men of his disposition never rose within the ranks to hold high governing positions of trust. Without turning her head very far, Talia called out in a dispassionate voice, "A rag" Within seconds a warm damp cloth lay in her hand and she used it to clean the dried blood of her only son, still coating her palm and fingers. On the car ride to the small airport, she had scraped as much fresh blood off as she could, into the vile she brought as a substitute, in case her son was as far gone as her contacts had confirmed.
As Damian's mother, she was very pleased by her son's growth and personal conviction. Her only son had grown into himself and Talia was beginning to see reflections of the young rash, well-meaning Bruce Wayne she fell for in the desert. As her father's daughter, she was disappointed and irritated that she had ended up resorting to her backup plan to obtain what she needed. She was glad her son had stood by his family, no matter how pathetic and useless the sentiment, but it forced Talia to go about her objective in an inconvenient, roundabout way. Talia sniffed in annoyance. Such theatrics for a simple cover opened a secure compartment on the inside of her chair and pulled out a vial from her inner robes. It was a small glass, only about 2 ml's worth of blood, but it was more than enough for what the Demon Head had demanded. It was messily smeared around the edges with the thicker, darker liquid filling it only half way. She placed the vial in the compartment for the remainder of the trip and leaned back to wait for take off. She thought back to the wild inhuman atmosphere that seemed to originate from, and follow, Richard Grayson. It was unsettling and not unlike how most victims emerged from the Lazarus Pit. She would have to insist that her father use his position within the Light to confirm what the Court of Owls had accomplished when the time was right.
She looked out the window as a servant sealed the plane door shut and took a seat in the far back. She meant what she had said to her son. She loved him dearly so the pain he would undoubtedly come to experience would slash her heart, truly.
But nothing could truly cripple a demon.
"Find them!" Bruce barked for the 10th time. The fight against multitudes of assassins from the League of Shadows had finally come to an end, and Bruce didn't waste a minute accounting for all his children. Within seconds they realized that Damian and Dick were had ordered Tim and Jason to find them. Not 'check if they're in the cave and hurt'. Not 'start a location ping and search for Dick and Damian in case they were kidnapped'. Just 'find them'. He was desperate and his curt, short orders were only getting more had moved around a few bodies that had fallen together to confirm if one of his unlucky brothers had been smushed, to no avail. At some point, all 3 of them had begun noticing how completely shredded or crippled some of the bodies were, but no one was eager to mention any possible reasons why.
"Jason" Tim said, "Your face", Jason poked his tongue out and recoiled at the horrible sharp string that shot through his lower face. He could feel his lip moving more than normal every time he spoke and knew that Dick's punches had done a number on him in a short amount of looked up sharply at the tone of Tim's voice and his cold blue eyes narrowed on Jason. His jaw stiffened and he made his way to Jason, taking his shoulder to examine his face. Jason's face burned with embarrassment but his emotions were in such turmoil, he excused it and let his father examine his face. "It needs stitches" Bruce grumbled. He took Jason's arm and steered him over to the collapsed and fallen medical wing, "We'll be a minute" Bruce said to Tim as they passed. Tim nodded as he continued looking around the cave. If they didn't find Dick and Damian soon, they'd have to assume Talia had taken them guided Jason to lean against the far wall beside their small medical wing and picked up fallen sterile packages. Within seconds, Bruce had a needle, thread, and alcohol. He gave Jason a small travel-sized shot, "I know I shouldn't encourage this, but it's quicker and will hurt a lot less"
Jason internally sighed and took 2, hoping it would numb him and tingle the wound enough, "As long as I'm not downing rubbing alcohol"
It didn't.
Jason was glad that by the end of the 15 stitches, he'd held back the tears that wanted to fall. Bruce hadn't mentioned his wet eyes as he carefully stitched the wound as cleanly as possible. He'd have a nasty scar if it was deep enough to need must've had gravel on his knuckles for the force of his punch to split his skin this violently, he thought. Bruce gave him a wet rag to clean his face and departed to help Tim wiped his face, being extra careful of anything below his nose. When he took the rag away he was shocked to see so much blood, wondering if it was all his. The entire rag was pink and certain corners were almost a deep red.
Jason growled and threw the towel down before rejoining Bruce and Tim. Tim looked up as he approached and eyed Jason's face, "One of 'em really did a number on you"
Jason studied one of the men at his feet, realizing that some might actually be dead as well,"... Yeah; sure did"
Jason scanned the cave and turned around looking at the weapons wrack and parked vehicles that were almost inaccessible during the fight. He almost missed the flash of yellow but jerked his gaze back just in time to confirm there was something dirty and yellow behind Dick's jogged over and felt some of the tension in his chest decompress too quickly to be comfortable, "I found him!" he called as he knelt beside an unconscious Damian.
He was flat on his back in a position that suggested he'd been placed there and not collapsed. The corner of his Robin's mask was torn and he was breathing deeply with some minimal bruising around his temple and chin. Bruce and Tim were at his side in a moment, "Alfred" Tim gasped, "We need to call Alfred" Tim said suddenly and although, chances were the family butler was safe, Jason felt guilt naw at his insides over forgetting the 6th member of their family in the heat of battle. Bruce nodded, "Call him" but Tim was already heading back towards their half-destroyed Batcomputer.
Bruce reached for Damian's pulse before pulling his youngest son into his lap so his head was cushioned.
"He might have a conclusion", Bruce surmised out nodded and pushed to his feet, heading towards the destroyed med wing again. He made his way back to Bruce with another shot and smelling salts.
Bruce narrowed his eyes as Jason took an unnecessary shot and held out the smelling salts. Jason challenged him to say anything, narrowing his eyes and praying the blood and stitches said enough.
Bruce took the smelling salts and cracked them open holding them under both nostrils. Bruce pressed down gently on Damian chest so his next breath was forced to be much Damian shot up with a gasping choke. His arms failed and his eyes teared as he fought back the acidic rancidness in his tossed the salts away and patted Damian on the back as he got his bearings. Bruce reached up to peel the mask off his youngest's face to reveal wide, frantic eyes. Damian whipped his head around the cave looking behind Bruce and Jason. "Richard", he breathed frantically. "Richard!" he called out.
"Damian" Bruce cajoled, trying to exude a calm demeanor, "Are you injured? What happened?"
"Richard!" Damian called. He reached out for Bruce and leveraged his larger form to pull himself to his feet in a shaky manner.
"Damian" Bruce tried again. His calm, controlled facade seemed to waver and his tone betrayed the urgency and anxiousness they all felt. Jason placed himself in front of Damian and gripped his shoulders, drawing his foggy-stricken gaze up to him.
"Where's Dick Damian"
Damian shook his head, gasping as he looked around, "Richard" was all he could manage. His voice broke off in a dry sob, punctuated by shaky inhales.
Jadon gripped him tighter, "Where the fuck is Dick?"
"Did Talia take him? She was here for you! Where is he Damain!?"
Damian stared up at Jason with a miserable broken expression. His chin wobbled and Jason realized how near to breaking the kid was.
"Is Dick here?" He tried again, calmly.
Damian's eyes became more watery; glistening as he shook his head no.
"Did your mom take him?"
Damian parted his lips but no sound was produced. He shook his head.
Jason tried his best to smother the rising panic as he focused on keeping Damian calm and focused on him. He felt so stupid for not keeping an eye on Dick so soon after Deathstroke had led him to hidden evidence. Tim and Jason hadn't helped by trying to subdue Dick as the court did but the situation had spiraled far beyond what words could describe. No matter what Dick thought, Jason and Tim wouldn't treat him like the slave Cobb wanted, but he couldn't stop remembering the way Dick recoiled from them. The way he'd looked at them with such blatant betrayal. Deathstroke had been playing them from the shadows for a long time and Jason was just realizing how a few perfectly timed words and audio had sent Dick spiraling right into his hands. Well, at least away from his family.
Jason knew he wasn't a great guy but he'd never try to control Dick the way he thought they'd attempted, or been doing. They weren't even sure what his exact triggers were. He was just too focused on suppressing any urges Dick might have to run back to the court. That small fucked up part of his brain that called Talons his brothers when he was mad, or called Bruce Cobb when he was tired. He cursed, desperately hoping that Dick had merely cut and run from them in a panic and that all the signs they were seeing weren't proof of Dick's consent to be kidnapped by a man who'd obsessed over him since he was 10. That wasn't what happened though. Dick found infuriating hidden evidence and then disappeared mid-fight. He'd never truly abandon his family, Jason knew this from how Dick stopped himself from hurting Jason. The horror and surprise that his brother felt when he realized Jason was the one under him and not an assassin was transparent. It was too blatant how much of a natural mother hen Dick was from how, mid-panic attack, he still made sure Damian was out of harm's way and safely tucked away before he left.
Jason felt anger popping and bubbling to the surface beneath his skin, almost skin to boiling oil. Fueling him like a second wind.
"Damian," he said coldly. The boy's eyes had started to drift around the room in a lost listless manner, "Wilson took him, didn't he?"
Damian dragged his face up to Jason's again. He didn't nod or shake his head but the utter emptiness in the young teen told it all. He'd never been left behind by Dick before and the self-doubt and betrayal were a first for brat's in shock,Jason realized.
"Fuck!" Jason yelled out. He kicked a metal bike stand, sending it spinning across the room. A sharp zing of pain ricocheted up his leg, but he breathed in and relished the thumping pain, letting it meld into his anger and fill his overheated body. He turned to find Bruce behind them. Bruce's eyes were lit ablaze and his jaw was so tightly clenched Jason could see his veins trying to force themselves out through his skin. Jason had rarely seen Bruce tremble from rage. As Batman, he was always in a position to unleash that hidden anger and trauma and deal out punishments to criminals. But Batman had an obligation to restrain himself and wield his power and authority with control. His eyes were narrowed as he considered something, "We were severely outnumbered, but we managed to defeat the League" he said.
Jason huffed, hearing Tim rejoin them on the side, "Talia's hidden agenda might overlap with Wilson's. They're more than likely working together. Wilson has a knack for getting contracts out of people's needs"
"Wilson just wanted to fuck with Dick again! That perverted old fuck can't obsess over literally anyone else?!"
Bruce ignored him and turned to Damian, "Do you know why your mother wanted you to return with her?"
Damian did his best to firm up his jaw and posture, failing to hide his escaped tears. He shook his head. "Mo-" his voice cracked mother he tried again, "Said that I needed to come back and leave Richard, and when I refused she apologized and then left"
Bruce glared at the floor, "Alfred has just been stuck in traffic" Tim said, "He had no idea anything was happening until you called"
Bruce nodded, pleased to have almost everyone accounted for, "We need to start tracking them down. They couldn't have gotten far in the last hour. Might still be in Gotham as well"
Jason placed himself in front of Bruce and Bruce stopped in surprise.
"What did you do?" Jason demanded lowly, his eyes blazing with the green of the Lazarus.
Bruce disregarded Jason and stepped around him, "Now is not the time, Jason"
Jason countered Bruce and shoved him back with a push to his shoulders, "Now is exactly that time!" He snarled, "Replacement and I fucked up, but that wasn't what sent Dickhead off the edge. He found something that had no file name, that you didn't want him to" Jason jabbed a finger in the other man's chest.
Tim and Damian watched from behind, their stares gave them a glance before looking at Jason, "He found an audio file from Clark and I visited the Court's compound"
"Right" Jason was not letting up, "But that place collapsed from some old explosives and shit and Clark flew you out"
"No" Tim gasped quietly Jason looked at Tim, his panic and anxiety rising, "You didn't confirm anything Bruce," Tim said with uncertainty, "You- you just let us assume what caused the collapse" Tim's eyes widened in realization, "Dick said you killed them…."
Jason turned on Bruce, "You fucker! You went back there to kill them!? After all your goddamned preaching about how we aren't Gotham executioners?"
Bruce glared at Jason, "We went there to gather extra information and to possibly find Wilson. We" he swallowed uncomfortably, "We found a room where some of their assassins were cryogenically kept in statistics pods. Some of them were from as far back as the 1800s. It-you don't understand Jason. The amount of deaths reported for each person. This was just a pending army on standby for Cobb. Every single one of those killers is what they wanted to force Dick to be"
"He's already a killer!" Jason shouted at him, "He took care of the Joker when you wouldn't! You brought him back! And he killed half an apartment complex the next month!"
Bruce narrowed his eyes, "This was a mercy, Jason. Dick is the only one who doesn't need electrum to survive. Whatever Cobb did to him- this evolution experiment made him independently sustainable from that yellow toxin but all those others? They still need it, worse than an addiction. What would have me do? Release them and hope they transition to the 21st century well enough and then restrict them from their addiction?! They would wither and die no matter what and we cannot, and will not, continue supplying unknown meta super soldiers with a drug we barely know anything about"
Jason gripped his hair and pushed it off his forehead in disbelief, "You let all those sleeping people die and didn't think to tell us? Or work with us? Or literally anything else?! After Dick told us how guilty he was over leaving some of those fucked up kids in the court too?!"
Jason couldn't believe they were having this conversation while Dick was out of control and galavanting around with Wilson, somewhere out there, "Whether he was our Dick or he thought he was a Talon, he felt like shit for being the only one that wasn't in the ground with them. Were you planning to hide this from him forever?"
Bruce didn't reply.
"You were" Jason breathed, "You are so hypocritical! That's why you pulled every data and time log off the file and then locked it. You really thought you could hide it forever"
"It wouldn't have done Dick any good to know he couldn't do anything for them. Alive or not" Bruce said, "They were sentenced to death the moment they became dependent on electrum to keep them alive"
He shouldered past his second oldest, "We're wasting time. Deathstroke has your brother and he is not in a stable state to make decisions for himself"
"Because of you!" Jason refused to let Bruce disregard the issue at hand. Bruce's manhandling of everyone and their lives had forced Dick to run off with someone who would exploit him in a second. Who had been trying to for close to a decade.
"Jason" Bruce warned.
"No" Jason spat, "You just don't fucking get it, Bruce. You can't expect everyone to treat you like you're their savior when you think you're a god" His brow creased in distress, "You ran off Dick. We're not stupid. Deathstroke been playing us from behind the scenes and stole Dickhead, but only because you gave him the ammo!"
Tim bought Jason's attention by stepping up to his side, "As much as we can all agree Bruce is in the wrong here for multiple reasons, he's right" Jason's face contorted pre-argument but Damian cut him off, "He's right, Todd"
Tim nodded seriously, "Wilson does have Dick and we don't know where Dick's headspace is right now. He could be mad at us or confused. He might've been drugged and coerced. It could be all of the above and so much worse, but we all know that Dick is much worse off with him. We need to find Dick and then you can have a go at B"
Jason narrowed his eyes on Bruce's stern face beyond Tim's shoulder before shrugging off Tim, "Whatever. I'm heading out to have my men look for signs of Wilson still in Gotham"
Tim could see that Jason was still ready to pick a fight, but nodded with a small appeasing smile, "Good" he looked to Bruce with a colder, solemn expression. Bruce held Tim's gaze but his focus was on Jason's exiting figure. Bruce nodded eventually.
Dick couldn't seem to look away from his hands. He could feel a crick forming from the steep angle of his neck but he couldn't pull his gaze away from his hands in his lap. His thumb and knuckles were crusted with blood and his fingernails were caked to the point where his nailbeds felt tight and itchy.'Jason's blood is somewhere in there'Dick thought. He couldn't seem to center himself. The rumbling and rocking motions of Slade's driving seemed to lull him to calmness at some points, but as soon as he looked up or refocused on his filthy hands, a starling numbness seemed to overcome him. It was all-consuming, to the point of almost bringing greater clarity to his dull mental landscape, but still powerful enough to keep him sedated. Slade hadn't spoken a word and Dick couldn't recall much. Didn't want to recall much.
Slade's hand had been on his shoulder, and then his lower back, guiding him forward forward forward until suddenly Slade was gone and all he could see was a highway and his brown and red knew more than anything that he'd had no intention of hunting Jason. He thought he was dealing with another assassin from the League but that justification made his stomach flip and turn with unease. He knew he'd never hurt Jason but justifying that kind of all-out brutality against someone who used to be Damian's family wasn't much better.
'They were there to take him from you'
Dick shook himself with a scowl, he left Damian and his family. He couldn't comfort himself with hypocritical thoughts like that. He didn't want to hurt anyone per se, but all he could remember, with reliable clarity, was the adrenaline pumping through his body, fueling his limbs forward with more effort and motivation than he'd remembered feeling in a long time. Every time he blinked he could see Jason's wide eyes and bloody lower face. Just 1 or 2 punches had split open his baby brother's face. Dick felt a sick sense of awe from his own potential and newfound abilities, it produced goosebumps under his clothes. Within seconds, shame and mortification smothered the feelings and he swallowed an enormous lump in his throat. Maybe this was why Bruce had been so blatant in how he felt about Dick. Granted, apparently, only Uncle Clark and maybe the Justice League knew this, but maybe Bruce was actually justified in his distrust of Dick. Maybe every time he watched him and Jason spar, he wasn't looking out for Dick, he was looking out for Jason. Or when Bruce checked in on him and Damian in their painting sessions, was Bruce just calming his own insecurities in regard to Dick's behavior?
Did Dick truly unsettle Bruce that much? All those smiles and 'chums'? Were those fake? Superficial?
Dick couldn't think of a word more severe than shock or stunned, but he seriously couldn't fathom how Bruce would suspect Dick of ever hurting his family or of being unfaithful to their mission….until stilled where he'd been rubbing the dried bloody flakes from his knuckles. Bruce had probably seen him beat down his brother. He'd found Damian afterward and everything had been too perfect to support Bruce's narrative that Dick was unstable and unreliable... a danger. He'd hurt Jason and rendered Damian unconscious before fleeing during a fight! Dick felt hot tears prick the corners of his eyes and forced them back with a glare. He didn't deserve to feel like the victim. He felt like shit in every sense of the word but at the end of the day, he'd proven Bruce right.
He had to leave though, it wasn't just Slade forcing him to, he really had to. He'd lost control of his emotions after tiptoeing around Bruce and his brothers for so long. After being restrained by a handful of house rules, he'd felt like he was a permanent guest in his own home. No matter how in-denial they were it was obvious they weren't comfortable with him either. Damian even watched Dick with a newfound cautiousness at times and it hurt Dick's head and heart too much to admit as was so conflicted. He wanted to be mad at Bruce, to be furious that his father figure hadn't stood by him, but everything he'd done had ended up proving Bruce right.
Did he really deserve Bruce's loyalty? He'd broken their code and killed. He wasn't even human anymore and that alone implied a level of secrecy of capability that Bruce didn't know about him gaze was drawn to the passing trees sweeping past the window. Jason and Tim no doubt saw him as something to be contained and controlled. The old Dick never had these conditions attached to him. The old Dick contained Damian and controlled Jason, supported Tim and Bruce. Jason and Tim were too comfortable using those conditioned phrases against him for it to truly be just a few times. He clenched his fingers and dug his nails into his palms sharply, relishing in the clarity the pain brought. It hurt but the ache that followed gave him something to focus on as he tried not to admit that he might not know who his brothers were 5 years later. He might not actually be able to tell what they would do and how they would think.
He knew no one was honest with him, hiding his death and keeping his own trauma from him like he was a dangerous child; like he was worse than Damian. Dick couldn't fathom it, Bruce had declared him publicly dead. There was no coming back from that, what did they think would happen in the future? Dick had no hope of ever reintegrating into society. He knew that 5 years was much longer than 1 but even Jason had been able to pick up his old life and walk around Gotham in broad could flash Bruce's credit card and choose which life he wanted to focus on. Playboy's son, the rebellious youth, Redhood the antihero, or Hood the gang leader. Did Bruce just expect to hide Dick away for the rest of his life?
Beside him, Slade reached out with a gloved hand and rested it on his shoulder, thumbing his collarbone once, twice. Dick shrugged him off and shifted closer to the window, earning him a snort from Slade, "I know you're upset, but if anything I should be at the bottom of your list, kid"
"Upset seems to cover about 2% of it" Dick glowered at his reflection in the window.
"Well don't expect me to humor your tantrum. You're already a hothead, but I'm not about to rile you up after you almost knocked out Todd's front teeth" Slade spoke as if he was recounting a football game score so bad it was almost funny.
Dick couldn't contain his flinch, the image of Jason's bright green wide open eyes coming back to him, "I" he swallowed, "I didn't mean it. I thought it was a Shadow, but that doesn't make it okay" Dick mumbled sorrowfully.
"Personally, it was great to see you in action after so much of this moping. You've spent a good long while kissing Daddy's ass you know?"
Dick barred his teeth at the crass tone. He whipped towards the older man. Slade sat straight with one relaxed hand on the wheel, his wrist controlling the subtle movements of the wheel. He opened his mouth but Slade spoke first, "I mean I think I counted 5 kills in about 7 minutes and that was just what I saw. I was a little late to the party"
Dick blanched, "I didn't kill anyone" he stammered.
Slade rolled his head towards him with one peaked brow, "2 snapped necks, one busted temple, 2 started going into shock from blunt force trauma and I'm pretty sure the others were internally bleeding from the way they collapsed"
Dick barely heard him as he desperately tried to remember. There was no way he'd done that. He'd taken them down yeah, but they were trying to kidnap Dami, but had he actually hurt them that badly? Had his brothers seen? Had-
"Kid!"
Dick found a way to connect his gaze with Slade and realized he was boiling. His insides were about to erupt and he couldn't breathe.
Slade's eye darkened with something Dick didn't have the mental capacity to read into. Slade swerved the car down the first exit on their right and Dick felt his head hit the window. Within moments, the car was stopped and Slade was yanking his door open. Dick struggled but his body felt overheated and exhausted; his breathing wouldn't slow down and his lungs refused to cooperate at the speed his brain was trying to yanked him out by the front of his shirt and his face met dirt, shocking him out of his panic attack. He scrambled to his feet but stumbled and felt his shoulders hit a road sign, giving him something to cling advanced on him like a predator and Dick felt himself react before he could control it. He barred his teeth and tried to lash out first. Slade caught his wrist and pulled him towards him, forcing Dick to headbutt Deathstroke's armor with a yelp. He growled and brought a knee up but Slade was quicker and slammed a hand over his throat pinning him back to the crossing road sign.
Dick choked and scratched at the thick wrist with no success. He grabbed the sign above and behind him and brought his feet upward before slamming into Slade's face with as much force as he could muster in a horizontal stumbled back and Dick pounced on him, taking them both to the ground. He punched more times than he could remember and as soon as the first hit landed, the familiar hazy high seemed to fill his veins again. he could almost feel Grandmaster and Lincoln behind him, egging on his aggression; engulfing him with adrenalin and endorphins, and making him feel like he was winning his first fight all over again.
Slade caught his swing and twisted his arm, cracking his elbow at the joint. Dick howled in surprise before stumbling away and clutching his arm. Every step made it feel like the throbbing sharp ire coursed through him tenfold. Slade advanced on him and Dick tried faking a lunge to the left before punching with his only useful arm. They descended into a scuffle and Dick was quickly pinned under Slade's behemoth weight. He threw his head forward, hearing a sharp crack against Slade's forehead. The older mercenary cursed and jerked back. Dick smirked as he felt a hot wet trail descend down his forehead. He leaned back on his back and threw his legs around Slade's neck. He squeezed as tight as he could and managed to twist them over until Dick was on top of Slade, straddling him. He pulled back to land another blow to Slade's face when his expression stunned him to a stillness. Slade was barely panting compared to Dick and was staring up at Dick with a devilish smirk. A pleased, smug grin, distorted Slade's mouth like he'd been successful one in their fight.
Anger reignited in Dick, smothering his previous glee at his seeming success, "What?" he snapped.
Slade's grin deepened, "Are you feeling better now?"
Dick glared, lowering his arm, "What are you so pleased about? I kicked your ass"
Slade's smirk simpered slightly, "Don't overestimate yourself pretty bird. I think we were both long overdue for a skirmish"
"You call this a skirmish? This was a beatdow-"
Suddenly Slade reached out and grabbed Dick, flipping them both so suddenly that Slade was pinning Dick down, his wrists secured under the mercenary's heavy thighs and knees. Dick struggled and growled but Slade straightened his good arm and twisted it 90 degrees up, shooting painful sparks up his limbs and nerves. Dick gasped in pain as Slade stilled his arm. He looked down on him with a knowing look, taunting him to force Slade to twist it 125 degrees next.
All Dick could do was pant as Slade leaned down and tilted his head just enough to breathe into Dick's ear, "You've got a long way to go before your flips and jabs are of any concern to me, kid" Slade whispered.
Dick glared up at Slade, realizing why he was the only one panting, "What the fuck was this about?" You just said you didn't want to rile me up or whatever?!"
Slade's face relaxed into something unreadable again, "I said I didn't want to humor your pathetic emotions. You've been too mopy and coddled recently. Your family has been treating you like you're made of literally china and it's done nothing good for either party. Too many pent-up emotions are never good for us metas, your brother should know this from his year of rampaging around Gotham and Nanda Parbat"
Dick looked away uncomfortably at the title of meta. He never thought he'd be in a position like this. He always used to take a little pride in being able to fight the same villains as Jason despite his obvious disadvantage. Like Batman, he wasn't enhanced in any way but that never stopped Rpbin; nor Nighting.
Slade tsked and a lone finger guided his chin back to Slade's cold grey-blue eye, "It's nothing to be ashamed of, pretty bird. If anything, this makes me a little more right"
Dick blinked confusedly, "What?" he demanded.
"I've always said that Bat was wasting your potential. Now we come to find out that no matter what, death would have brought you back and instigated whatever genetic enhancements that Court and William ensured in your birth" Slade leaned back slightly, looking down at Dick with a smug almost possessive glint, "I knew no simple human could ever look as gracious as you do in a bloody fight"
Dick flushed and tried to ignore the direction his blood wanted to flow now, telling himself it was just the adrenaline cooling in his veins and the awkward angle Slade was seated on him.
"You're better off leaving me here" Dick looked away from Slade down the road they'd pulled off on. He knew it was kidnappee mistake number 1 to not pay attention to your surroundings, but he hadn't even realized they had left the city this completely. They must have gone south as it seemed much greener and filled with pine trees.
"Yea, good luck with that kid" Slade looked down the road with Dick as their breathing calmed and quieted somewhat, "I didn't steal you away just to set you loose in a forest. I don't do things just for the fun of it" he looked back at Dick and considered him for a moment, "Well, maybe I do"
Dick glared at Slade, "I'm serious. I'm not just gonna do whatever you want. I'm pretty sure that my leaving is safer but not smarter. I have no idea what's going on in that brick you can a brain, and that puts me at a disadvantage"
Slade smirked and released Dick's arm, "You can give it a rest. I'm not leaving you. At least not out here"
Slade leaned back more, giving Dick some breathing room, "You should. I-I'm no good to anyone right anymore. I'm all sorts of messed up-"
Dick's face snapped to the left and he looked back to Slade stunned. He grabbed his burning cheek as the killer stared him down. Slade's wrist snaked out and latched onto his throat, pushing his head back just enough to force a hitching in his throat, "Quit the pity part, kid. I've got no time for it and it's never done you any good"
Dick felt his irritation and shock implode. He snarled and lunged forward but Slade tightened his grip and forced his thumb into Dick's throat causing the younger man to choke and gurgle, "This would have happened no matter what kid. Stop fretting over when and how your life fell apart. It's still your life" Slade eased his grip slightly and Dick inhaled as much as he could. In the back of his head, he realized that as he clasped Slade's tree trunk of an arm, both his arms and wrists felt much better than moments before, "If anything you're pretty fortunate that this happened earlier rather than later. Can you imagine dying for the first time when you're what? 70? And then all that shit you pumped full of before you were born kicked in?"
Dick focused on Slade's words. He didn't agree he was fortunate, but it made him wonder that if his death was what kickstarted the electrum in his blood then was this ever really avoidable? Dick narrowed his eyes. Still, this could have gone so much better. He didn't have to lose 5 years of his life as a sort of pathetic-half-aware slave to Cobb. Slade helped ensure that he lost those years of his life too. Helped distance him from his brothers and Bruce on such a level that he wasn't even sure if he knew how to bridge the gap between people he was willing to die spat in Slade's face, smirking as a single glob caught, leaving a trailing of shiny spit on Slade's right jaw, "I know you're taking advantage of me. We both know I'm fucked in the head right now. I know you've got cameras or spies or whatever. Bruce was wrong to lie about everything but his theories weren't wrong about you. The only reason I'm here is because hurting you is better than hurting them" he watched Slade darkly.
The man didn't move for a second but a sly smile crept onto his lips and he seemed to approve of Dick for some reason. He reached up for his lower cheek and dragged his thumb across the glistening skin, wiping the spit. He reached down and forced Dick's spit back into his mouth but Dick's clenched jaw and wouldn't it so Slade settled for swiping messily across his lower lip. The mercenary's eyes glinted with something powerful as he retracted his thumb and brought it up to his own lips. Dick's cheeks flushed scarlet and he wasn't sure what to focus on, Slade's hand, lips, or eye.
"The same family that used you?" Slade inquired softly. "You need to stop letting Wayne draw lines in the sand for you. You were about to kill Zuco at 9 years old and Batman stopped you, you killed the Joker to avenge Jason and the Bat slapped your wrist. He has been fencing you in all your life. Have you ever actually thought about your own morals and personal boundaries? You ever made a decision on your own, kid?"
"They didn't use me," Dick said scathingly. He wasn't about to try and argue a futile point with Slade about his first statement. He was stressed and anxious and riled up but he knew he'd lose that looked at Dick condescendingly. "Your brothers seemed to have a pretty sure-fire plan b to use some pretty words Cobb instilled in that head of yours" Slade flicks Dick's temple. "How do you know they haven't used the Court's conditioning against you? How do you know you haven't acted as a slave for them as you have for your Grandfather, kid? I know you think you know them but you haven't seen them since they were all minors. I bet you never would have expected them to do this…but here they've gone and done it so aren't you curious as to what else they ready to do?"
He was simmering and seething at how obviously Slade had been spying on them. It was embarrassing and made Dick feel like he was 2 steps behind himself-in his own life. Dick despised how Slade seemed to be able to pluck his insecurities and degrading thoughts right out of his head and lay them out in an even more warped display for heat across his cheeks seemed to redirect his anger instead of something far harder to explain. "I-You can't just-"
The stammering that stumbled from his mouth made him squirm and want to claw out the glee and pleasure in Slade's eye even more. He knew and understood everything that Slade was throwing in his face. He felt it all and more, but it was exceedingly difficult to side with the mercenary on their somewhat shared viewpoints because that would mean Dick was choosing to cross a line that had been there since the day Bruce removed him from Juvie. Making the final decision was the hardest and most cutting part. It didn't matter that Slade already knew Dick felt insecure about his family's perspective and treatment of him. It didn't matter that Slade was more capable of handling his unstable need to control his new abilities and physical limits. It didn't matter that Slade was one of the only people who saw how transparently Dick was floating listlessly through life. The moment Dick admitted any of this outside of his head would be disastrous; he knew it for certain.
It would give the ego manic on top of him unlimited fuel against him, and everything would make its way back to Bruce eventually. It's one thing to run away after he'd punched his brother to the point of breaking his lower jaw. It was another thing for Bruce to realize how close Dick was to truly doubting his place in Gotham...for Gotham.
Bruce rarely trusted people twice.
'Apparently, he's never trusted you to begin with'he reminded himself to which he couldn't contain another hurtful pang. It was true though, wasn't it? Dick was worried and fretting over Bruce losing more care and trust in him but Dick had found hidden evidence of Bruce all but admitting to Clark that he'd already done so. He'd been setting rules for Dick, patting him on the back, restricting him from patrol, and much more, all while not trusting that Dick was obeying him and staying in for the sake of his love. He didn't trust that Dick was following through with everything to appease Bruce and prove himself. Bruce was just using his ineptitude and confusion to coral him around until he had a better plan. He might be in denial but he surely couldn't fathom what to do about any of obviously wanted to steer him away from Bruce and towards more illegal choices in life, but didn't Bruce deserve some loyalty or gratitude? Even if his own insecurities and doubts kept him from returning the emotions and love DIck was owed? brucehadsaved him from Juvie and trained him to save others. Wasn't Dick indebted to Bruce in some way?
"It's fine kid," Slade said, returning Dick to the present. He jerked and straightened, looking at Slade. The man had moved off his torso and was now sitting hunched on his heels, watching Dick with an intensity that seemed to unravel his insides. Like Slade Wilson was getting off on the amount of turmoil that Dick was going spoke again, calmly, "Your brothers are alive. The kid doesn't have a concussion and Todd is gonna need a handful of stitches for his lip. The only ones that died are the shadows" He saw how squinted and pained Dick's face became, "Which I'm sure is the better option than you killing Todd with a brain injury or Talia taking back her little brat"
Slade smoothly stood and looked down at Dick still sitting on the dusty side road. The constant rush of wind and cars on the freeway seemed to register for Dick.
"It's fine that you don't know what to do or where to go. I'll decide that for now and if you really end up hating it, well, you can take it out on me later pretty bird. For now, just consider it. Think about what you want to do and when you finally figure it out. Make sure it's your decision and not their's"
Slade turned and made his way back to the sleek black government-issued-looking car. Dick wondered if he was supposed to follow when the older killer returned not a moment later with a plain-looking folder. He handed it to Dick who took it uncertainly. He asked Slade with a look but the man only tipped his head to the folder again. Dick flipped it open and was greeted by his grandfather's had his birth records, authentic and forged. It had his accomplices and any legal names and companies he worked with. It had Lydia Ryland's face and her businesses with Luthor. Dick flipped through, realizing exactly what Slade had just handed him. He clenched the folder tighter before releasing the grip, fearing he would ruin any evidence.
More faces met him in the folder. A black man and a muscular dark-skinned woman. A thin Asian woman and so on.
"The Court" Dick breathed.
Slade nodded, "All the members, and their public identities, that lead the Court of Owls" Slade tapped the paper once, "Daddy had a pretty good file so I just combined what I've established over the last 6 years, "Bank accounts, summer homes, planned grandbaby names, and more, kid"
Dick felt frozen. He looked up at Slade, "Why?"
Slade's eye darkened, "If there's one person I'd love to see you 'thank' for your new abilities I could name a few" he looked pointedly at the file in Dick's hands, "I know you blame me for my role in all this but at the end of the day kid,theyfucked you up. I think giving them a little hello is past due. I can't deny I'd like to see the outcome as well"
Dick glared, "I'd assume you would be glad I'm considered meta now. I saw some of Bruce's notes, he doesn't know if I can even die…naturally anymore"
Slade smiled, "Don't get me wrong Kid. I'm loving this new look on you. But there is some work to be done. I bet you've still got traces from their Baskin Robins 31 flavors of drugs and those pesky little conditioned behavioral words they drilled into you" Slade's eyes roamed up and down Dick's body, "But I've always appreciated a good challenge"
Dick didn't know what to say. Thank you? Fuck you?
Slade smirked at Dick, "It's pathetic how strongly you've acted for morals that aren't genuinely yours, but I understand. You're young, you've got time, and if you still feel this way in 5, 10, 20 years well then, it'll be good to know you truly believe those stupid rules of his"
Slade dropped a heavy hand on his shoulder and dragged Dick's eyes to his. Dick didn't shrug off the gloved hand this time. "I'm here for you kid but only if you give it your all. Whatever you choose, don't do it half-assed"
Dick grinned weakly, "I never do"