Slade shoved the magazine into the gun before sharply cocking it and slinging it over his shoulder. The mercenary slid two deadly katanas into their sheaths with a slither of metal on leather. He grabbed a few extra knives and placed them in their hidden slots, then reached for a long orange band and tied it around the top of his forehead. He grabbed his two-colored helmet with a clunk of his metal armored glove on the helmet.

He twisted around and left the room. He stalked down the empty concrete hall, his heavy boots thudding against the floor, white lights highlighting his graying hair.

Slade rose the helmet to his head and clicked it on, the tails of the bandana clamped in place by the leather strap that made the mask isolated and filtered.

Deathstroke kept his steel gray eye straight ahead as he plodded along. He paused when he saw an open door to his right. He gazed into the room for a moment, observing scattered belongings and crumbs over a rumpled bed.

He shut the door and moved on.

Deathstroke emotionlessly ignored the vacant second motorcycle and headed for his own vehicle. He pressed a button on the hidden panel on his glove, the ground slightly rumbled and the air reverberated with the grumbled sign that the hidden door to the garage was opening. Deathstroke swept a leg over his seat, settling comfortably on it before kicking up the kickstand and revving his engine.

Deathstroke tore out of the garage, speedily gaining ground as he felt the wind rip at the bandana trailing behind him.

He allowed the song of tires on asphalt and guttural roar of the engine to engulf his ears, silently driving until he was free from the shadows of the underground base. The high noon sun beat down upon his dark suit, soaking up the heat but easily cooled by the high speed wind his acceleration created.

He drove lazily but not uncautiously, weaving between cars, people in allies, and the garbage strewn about Gotham's streets. Cars honked at him, a few people screamed, most stayed out of the way of his speeding. Probably because when a one-eyed armored man on a motorcycle is screaming towards you, you keep out of the way.

He let routine guide his motions, his eye single to one goal.

He slowed as he drew closer to his destination, hitting another secret button to open the gate. Deathstroke creeped into the small garage, cutting the engine to roll in silently.

He lifted the kickstand with his foot as he slid off his mechanical mount, eye gazing around out of habit to secure his surroundings. Everything was the same, just a bit more dirty.

A few rusted blades hung on the wall, a strip of small bombs in their rightful place. A layer of dust coated the counters and weapons, and the ground had a considerable amount of dirt and grime. Nothing surprising, simply logical after not being used in a few odd years.

Deathstroke didn't pay attention to the details as he climbed the creaky stairs worn with age. The paint was peeling off the walls, some places even had ragged holes where the walls were hit by something. Some were suspiciously shaped like bullet holes, others slash marks of a blade. Scuff marks littered the walls and floor, but Deathstroke had seen it all before and paid it no mind. The mercenary turned to a hallway, the carpet matted and unrecognizable. His footsteps thumped against the once mahogany carpet as he came up to a familiar door.

He stood in front of it for a moment, staring at the not-so-white plastic planks of painted wood.

He violently kicked the door open before stepping calmly inside, eye scanning for any sudden movement.

Deathstroke entered a familiar room, but paid it no heed as he walked forward to a cracked and hazed window. On the wall opposite to the window a slit in the wall held no interest to the mercenary, neither did the giant blood stain around the slit. He didn't even glance in that direction as he looked down and ran his gloved fingers along the ledge of the window. Then he pried his fingers under the pane and lifted. The window gave way and it opened until it skidded to a stop, the window refusing to shift more than halfway. The mercenary climbed out of the stuck window, boots clunking against the metal fire escape.

He gazed around once more before sending a look upwards. Deathstroke climbed with ease, rising to the roof of the building he remembered so well.

His boots grated on the graveled ground as he stalked forward, a slight wind blowing at his back. Deathstroke stopped at the edge, gazing out onto Gotham with a stern glare.

He placed a foot on the lip of the roof and leaned forward to rest his elbow on his propped knee. The sun slowly dipped, but it was still early, much too early for Deathstroke or Batman to be out and about. But Deathstroke was here, glaring at the world, ready to do what he did best. Vengeance.

Tuning out the rest of the world, Deathstroke stood in deep thought. A gentle breeze tickled the bandana near his legs, then a particularly strong gust pulled the orange fabric away and it rippled in the wind.

"For a mercenary who prides himself in secrecy, you were rather easy to find. Slade." A woman's voice purred.

Quick as lighting, Deathstroke grabbed a katana and slid the blade under the woman's throat.

She only smiled, red lips tilting upwards as she let out a contempt huff of laughter. "You're fast tiger," the black clad woman slid under his blade and danced delicately out of harms reach. "But I'm faster."

Deathstroke changed his stance, eyeing the woman as he lowered his blade but made no move to sheath it. The woman in black had a mask over her face, covering everything but her lips and cheeks, although a wide stretch left her emerald green eyes uncovered.

"What do you want Selina." Deathstroke growled, not in the mood for the crazy cat lady's antics.

"Where's the cub? Usually you have him bending to your every thought and whim." Catwoman taunted, rising an eyebrow at the stoic mercenary.

"Renegade isn't here right now." Deathstroke replied curtly. "If that's all you wanted to know, now get off my roof."

Selina leaped to the side and perched herself on an air conditioning unit, tilting her head to the side as her bottom lip turned up in a pout. "Is the birdie sick?"

"He is on his own assignment right now." Deathstroke replied gruffly and took a heavy step towards the woman. "If you're finished here then get. Off. My. Roof."

Selina slid under Deathstroke's deadly glare, positioning herself at the edge of the roof. "Cranky are we? But I've got a little something for your mini, I tried to give it to him on the day but you left too quickly to notice." Catwoman slipped a hand behind her back, clearly getting something from her belt, and pulled out a small brightly wrapped box.

Deathstroke didn't waver, staring the woman down as his hand clenched on his blade.

Catwoman rolled her eyes and extended the present to the mercenary. "Fine, If you're so adamant that he stays locked up then you can give it to him." She tossed the small box into the air and Deathstroke barley moved to catch it, a single hand grabbing the box from the air not unlike the cats Selina was so fond of.

Deathstroke only looked down to the present for a second before snapping his attention back on the woman, his glare intensifying. "Renegade was never locked up." He tossed the present back, Selina caught it and looked down curiously before returning her gaze to the mercenary.

With eyes half lidded as she nodded, Selina totally believed him. "Mmhm, sure Deathy, sure." Then she blinked as something was made apparent to her, "was?"

Deathstroke didn't react to the question, seemingly frozen. "Yes. Was. Past tense."

Selina stood and folded her arms, putting the box back in her belt and giving the mercenary her own glare. "Is he locked up right now? He's just a boy! You have no reason to drag a child with you on your 'missions', you're going to get him killed one day!" Catwoman lowered into a crouch, ready to leap at the mercenary. "Where is he. And don't play games with me Deathstroke, I will find him eventually." She hissed, voice rising as her anger grew.

To her surprise, Deathstroke pointed the tip of his blade on the ground, laying a lazy hand on the hilt and letting out a deep sigh. "He's gone."

Catwoman blinked, confused. "Gone?" Her face twisted into a nightmarish rage, her crouch becoming more deadly as something like a hiss came from the back of her throat. "If you mean dead I'm going to rip every-"

"He's not dead, like I said before, he's on his own assignment. I can't get to him, if you want to deliver your present then you'll have to find him some other way." Deathstroke grunted and twisted away, returning to his brooding at the lip of the building, glaring blankly at the horizon.

Selina cocked her head to the side, curious with the mercenaries behavior. Her stance relaxed and her face lost it's sneer, instead her lips twisted up but didn't reach her eyes, a sad smile replacing her anger. "You miss him."

Deathstroke didn't meet her gaze, "If that were the case I wouldn't be here right now."

Selina stopped a snort from escaping, she may not know this man well, but she knew this place's significance. That's how she found him in the first place. Of course Deathstroke would come here if he missed his mini, this place was the beginning.

Selina slid up next to him, humming her agreement. "Mmhm, you'd be doing what Deathstroke does best, but you're not." She tilted her head towards the towering mercenary, "So what has the little cub gotten himself into for the big old tiger to stay away?"

"If you want to find him, Batman is your best bet." Deathstroke disregarded her question, opting to change the subject.

"Batman? Little cub get caught?" Catwoman asked, twisting her head to the landscape as she thought.

"In a way." Deathstroke grunted, shifting his footing.

Selina picked up on the lie, noticing the mercenary had shifted position uncomfortably. "It's your fault isn't it."

"Renegade made his choice."

"That kid would give you the world if you asked him to. I see through you Slade, I know what's really going on and I don't approve." Selina folded her arms, glare returning to bite at the mercenary.

"Do you?" Deathstroke asked, turning until his eye looked at the woman dead on. "Well that's none of your concern, the boy is mine, I'll do with him whatever I please."

Selina grew hot with anger, pointing a furious finger at the mercenary. "And THAT is why I'm glad he is with the heroes now! At least he's away from you and your sick master-apprentice subjugation!"

Deathstroke only looked at her, his steel gray eye unyielding to her green glare.

"I'll find Batman, I'll find Dick, and you can't do anything to hurt him ever again." Selina snapped, turned heel, and stormed off the roof.

Deathstroke stood and watched the woman leave, observing her receding shadow across the rooftops.

"What makes you think I hurt him?" Deathstroke quietly asked the empty roof.

Deathstroke sighed and leveled his gaze to the horizon again, sheathing his blade and folding his arms in frustration. They had no idea, none at all. Selina saw what she wanted to see, Deathstroke just never gave her reason to doubt herself.

The mercenary's mind was made up. It would take lots of planning and diligence, he had a week, he was sure it was possible. He only had one chance, he was going to make sure it counted. Step one was in Gotham, and he knew exactly where to look.

Deathstroke dropped down the two story building, landing with a slap of his boots on the grimy alley floor. He stalked up to the garage, claiming his motorcycle once more as anger and hate tore through him. Usually Renegade could diffuse him, but he wasn't here, and that only fueled his rage.

Rage was only good for one thing: focus. Too much rage was bad, but just the right amount can make the most impossible feats possible. 

Kicking up the kickstand, Deathstroke flew out of the garage, making sure to hit the button to close it once he was out. He blasted through the streets, again cars honking and people shouting in surprise graced his ears. The rumble of the engine mimicked his internal rage, growling and lashing out, driving him to greater speed and greater focus.

He slowed down as he neared his destination, or more accurately, the spot he would stake out in to watch his target. This abandoned street was less than abandoned, many people still lived here, the houses just weren't cared for anymore. Homeless people gathered here, sitting in allies with their meager belongings, struggling to survive every day. But one house was untouched by homeless hands, sure the house was as unkept and grimy as the others, but it was vacant of all life except those permitted.

Deathstroke slid behind the building across from this apartment building, his target would eventually take residence there.

Then his plan to free Dick Grayson could begin.

-0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o-

Batman escorted Renegade out of the library, Renegade would have been offended by such action but after that emotional ordeal he decided to keep close to the vigilante in the giant rooms he had to cross.

Again the walk was silent, but the young mercenary was comfortable in this silence, more of a time to collect his thoughts and stray emotions before having to be sociable. Miss Martian would probably be confused, he honestly didn't know when she left, he didn't remember much actually. One second he was running for his life, the next he was hugging presumed-to-be-Slade-but-was-actually-Batman. That, and the unrelenting terror that came with those emotional scars.

When the duo entered the kitchen/living room Renegade noticed Black Canary and Nightwing were missing, but the team -including Miss Martian- were collected near the couch, probably discussing him.

He inhaled deeply and steeled his stance, he may not be as ...stable... as he was with Slade, but that didn't mean he couldn't accept help from other places. Even if they were the enemy.

On their way to the group Batman leaned over slightly and asked, "Think you can handle this?" But before the mercenary could answer he straightened and called out to the group of young heroes. "Team." Batman drew the groups attention their way and pausing the conversation before Renegade could pick out individual words spoken. The group was weary, sending Renegade odd looks of mixed pity and suspicion. Kid Flash and Miss Martian looked the most sad, while it was the others who were more suspicious. Renegade's eyes flicked up to meet Kid Flash's, but were quickly averted because instead of Kid Flash being the one who sold him out it was Renegade who spilled the beans. It was very much possible Kid Flash would get in trouble because of him, and the guilt was nibbling at him.

Renegade still had to answer the vigilante, he had just questioned his ability, and Renegade wanted to be quick to dispel any doubt. The young mercenary twisted his head to answer, half folding his arms and pointing a thumb at himself. "I am perfectly capable of..." his eyes glanced around and his voice died in his throat while he felt heat crawl up to his cheeks.

Everyone was looking at him.

He felt his throat tighten with fear and he shuffled his feet uncomfortably. They probably heard what he had said, they would be curious, and- wait a second... Batman was planning on telling the team wasn't he? He thought it would just stay between them. The young mercenary felt his stomach churn in unease as he realized this fact.

Batman laid a heavy hand on his shoulder, pulling the young acrobat from his quickly panicking thoughts. "Go get your item while I explain to the team."

Renegade nodded dutifully (and without shaking thankfully) and sidestepped around the team, heading for the hallway that housed his current abode.

Batman watched him leave, eyeing the boy for a second before turning to the inquiring team.

"What item does Renegade require?" Aqualad asked, sending a distrustful glance at the retreating mercenary's back.

"A knife. Something Kid Flash was aware of but didn't warn anyone about." Batman settled a glare to the speedster, the other team members eyes widened at their teammate. Wally, out of all of them, the blabber mouth, was not one they thought ABLE to keep secrets. Wally gulped as his eyes widened too, his mind recalling perfectly the item of which Batman was referring to. "Which was incredibly dangerous, irresponsible, and irrational."

Wally felt his face heat up as the confusion in his teammates grew. He just did what he thought was right, Renegade didn't need a bat breathing down his neck while being so... panicky.

"Otherwise, good job."

Wally's head snapped up, clearly surprised.

Batman elaborated. "It was a risky move, but rightly decided. Renegade trusts you, and cares about your trust, however thin the foundations are."

Wally rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly, still worried because he disobeyed the Bat but he was getting praised for it. "And that's a good thing?"

"Yes, the mission is still on, just slightly altered. We suspect Stockholm Syndrome. he has yet to give us a valid reason why he is so loyal to Deathstroke and his dependency on the mercenary is apparent now that he is away from him."

Artemis seemed most affected by the news, looking down with a frown and her forehead creased in anger. She had a way out from her fathers clutches, she couldn't imagine actually WANTING to be in the clutches. That was messed up, even for a murderer. Wally just took the information in stride, thinking back on the information he knew it made sense. This information was nothing new to M'gann, but was only confusing to Connor and Aqualad.

"And what of the knife?" Aqualad questioned.

"He's has at least three panic attacks since coming here, the only comfort we can give him that isn't Deathstroke is a blade." Batman said, glancing over to see if the resident mercenary was coming or not. "He feels if he has a weapon he can defend himself, if not, he goes into a panic."

"Isn't that dangerous? He could kill us in our sleep." Connor pointed out, folding his arms angrily.

"That is where trust comes in." Batman responded gruffly. "Kid Flash already knew about the knife Renegade swiped from the kitchen, and since he didn't say anything about it to me, Renegade has a reason to trust Kid Flash. But trust is a two way street. Renegade and I made a deal. We are to trust him with the knife, only a knife, and he is to trust us that we aren't out to get him as he believes." Batman explained.

"So..." Wally drawled, extending a rolling hand to help explain his confusion, "what's that mean for the mission?"

"It is the same, information, but specifically about Slade Wilson, Deathstroke. We ne-" Batman cut himself off when he saw M'gann raise her hand slowly and sheepishly.

Taking his sudden silence as a green light the Martian began to talk. "He said his name was Robin Wilson, but then said it was-"

"An alias." Batman finished, nodding slightly. "That is why you will be trying to get information about Slade, if you figure out when Slade acquired an apprentice we can narrow the search on his true identity. Part of the deal was for him to open up, he may be reluctant at first, but he needs to talk about his life before Slade."

"Right." Artemis said, nodding in determination as she internally wanted to roll her eyes. Getting Renegade to talk about his personal life was going to be difficult. "Get the murderous teenager to talk about his probably traumatic and twisted life to a bunch of heroes. Piece of cake." She shrugged.

Batman was not amused by her sarcasm. "You are more capable of this mission than you think, a teenager is more likely to approach a teenager than a teenager is to approach an adult with any problem."

"But this teenager never had another teenager." Wally pointed out, remembering what Renegade had said about not getting out much.

"Then he will learn." Batman said.

"I'm more of a hands on learner." Renegade spouted, suddenly walking up, a small smile on his face but his stance was a bit guarded. When he stopped next to Batman he furrowed his eyebrows. "What are we talking about?"

Batman ignored this question, instead asking his own. "Got it?"

Renegade nodded, slipping a hand up and half brandishing the knife in his fingers. "Yep." He glanced at the other teens, seeing them tense. "And they um..." He trailed off, not really knowing what exactly he was trying to say.

The poor kid was screaming social awkwardness.

"They know, they're to keep an eye on you among other things." Batman supplied, watching the boy gently shift farther away as if to escape their combined stares.

Kid Flash recognized the tension and casually tilted his head in question. "So what do you want us to call you? Robin or Renegade?"

The young mercenary slightly stiffened but he easily relaxed again, rocking back on his heels and lowering his eyes. "Either is fine."

Then it was silent and awkward again.

Half the teens looked to Batman, wondering if the big bad bat was going to intervene and at least lead them in the right direction. Batman was a stone wall, this was their mission, clearly they were to know what to do. The other half had their eyes set on Renegade, but everyone was aware of the sudden undertone of awkwardness that befell them.

Renegade was ready to panic and just leave. He fiddled with the knife in his hand, twisting it between his fingers and gripping it between hard and soft to alleviate some of the nerves. If he hadn't gotten the knife he would have left the conversation by now, he didn't know exactly what he was feeling right now but he didn't like it.

Miss Martian finally broke the silence, although a little haphazardly. "Um, Renegade, what do you eat for lunch?"

The boy jumped back to reality, seemingly from deep thoughts and wasn't expecting to be called upon. "Uh, sandwiches?"

She hovered slightly and smiled warmly, "Then I'll go make that." She flew off to the kitchen a few feet away and started getting out materials.

Wally chose this moment to butt in, because no conversation starter was better than food. "What type?" He eagerly asked the boy, a giant grin on his face.

Renegade rose an eyebrow, a bit concerned as to why the speedster thought this was so important. "...Peanut butter and honey...?" When he was met with odd stares he bit his lip and looked down. "Or regular peanut butter and jelly is fine too."

Wally saw his face fall and was quick to correct the boy's assumption. "No no, peanut butter and honey is fantastic! I was just surprised." Wally said quickly, honestly it did surprise him, but he was digressing. "My favorite is ham and cheese." With a grin he then walked to the kitchen and waved Renegade over, the boy hesitated and glanced at Batman for a moment before plodding quietly forward.

The rest of the team followed, spouting their favorite sandwiches. With a joking comment from Renegade, Aqualad professed his sea food tastes, turns out fish are a food source in the sea. But only enough for eating, and in designated fishing sections. Soon everyone knew a bit more about Atlantan fishing and food procedures than they liked. Some fish were friends, others were food.

Batman watched as most of the team gave the mercenary a wide berth, but Wally seemed to dive right into being next to the kid. Wally would make some dumb comment with a grin and Renegade would respond likewise, but his stiff stance and roaming eyes never ceased.

Renegade would find his place, Wally was doing a good job making sure he wasn't put on the spot too much nor faded out of the conversation. The boy would fumble with his words, a heavy breath releasing every time attention turned away from him.

The knife the boy held so dear was fit snugly inside one of his arm sheaths, a quick draw. It would be too easy to slit the throats within the room. Batman was wondering if he was being too lenient with the mercenary.

'I-I don't follow orders because I have to, I follow orders because I trust the man giving them.' Bruce remembered.

This entire mission was a trust exercise, a shaky one at that. The boy would try to trust them, but they HAD to trust him with the knife. Batman couldn't decide if that was fishy enough, it definitely put the heroes at a disadvantage, but that might be the key for Renegade to trust them. Either way, someone had to show their belly first, and even though Renegade broke down in the library, he felt as if it was himself who backed down first.

Batman watched a moment more, the sandwiches were made and the team were currently chewing. Renegade was eyeing Kid Flash as he ate at light speed, an almost concerned (or maybe disturbed?) look on his face.

Then Renegade made his own comment, saying something along the lines of 'is that what I look like when I eat?'  Then followed up with a mumbled 'no wonder Slade gives me weird looks'.

Batman wanted to stay, he wanted to ask every question, comfort every ailment, correct every wrong within the child. But that was not for him to do, that was the team's mission.

The Dark Knight spun on his heel and ghosted off, his absence only being noticed by the paranoid mercenary.

The vigilante let his mind wander as he made his way to the Zeta Tubes. His hand clicked in Gotham coordinates by memory, his mind adrift in thought. The boy has lots to do, and probably little desire to do it. But he still would because of one man. Deathstroke was a manipulative opponent, planning, scheming, every action had purpose however unconnected they may seem.

But this puzzle piece he couldn't fit. There was a whole PERSON hidden from him for who knows how long. A person who was a victim but didn't know it, which always makes it harder.

Who would know? Who had known about Deathstrokes apprentice? No one even gave a vague hint until The Joker spouted it, but he treated it like old news, the network of villains must have known. But who would talk? Who would give him information?

"Are you just going to stand there all day?" A tired voice asked.

Batman blinked back into reality, realizing he had returned to the Batcave.

Timothy Drake sat at the giant screened Batcomputer, cradling a coffee mug and slouching in the comfy chair. Scruffy black hair hung over his eyes and his school uniform was replaced with more comfortable clothes. The man grinned as The Dark Knight was shaken from his brooding, knowing full well how deep Bruce could get into the zone. One time he and Damian had a little brotherly competition to see what ridiculous thing they could do while Bruce was under the 'brooding spell' and not get caught. It grew a little too dangerous when Tim told the spaced out Bruce 'I'm on fire' but Damian came up behind him and actually set him on fire. Tim didn't speak to Damian for a week after that, Damian had no regrets.

"Home from school already?" Batman asked, walking forward and pulling down his cowl tiredly.

Tim groaned and threw his head back. "Uuughhhh, college is a bore." He said, closing his eyes as if ready to nap right then and there. "I was hoping something bad would happen and we'd get to do something."

"Tim, we don't want anything bad to happen." Bruce stressed with a small smile as he drew closer. He stalled behind Tim, resting a hand on the chairs back and scanned the screen, finding it blank. "Find anything interesting?"

Tim grew a wicked grin and seemed to burst to life as he threw his hands onto the keyboard (after carefully placing the holy life blood of teenagers and college students (and bats) onto the desk of course). Bruce silently hoped it want anything too dangerous.

The screen flicked to certain pages, the billionaire recognizing the page layout as their security camera hacking system. It was rather easy in some cases, the Batcomputer had access to almost every single security camera in Gotham. But this camera wasn't in Gotham.

Tim chuckled evilly as live feed came up in an all too familiar room. 

The young team of heroes were scattered in the virtual living room, but the most interesting person was standing alone in the kitchen. Renegade stood, leaning back on the kitchen counter, his face looking out but his eyes were occupied, his mind clearly somewhere else. A frown stuck on his face, the mercenary seemed oblivious until a certain red head popped up and the ebony haired kid grew a more relaxed stance.

"This is very entertaining." Tim said darkly, watching the screen as he put his hands together and drummed his fingers against each other.

Bruce gave a worried glance to his adopted son, then dismissed it as he brought up the issue the young mercenary was. "What do you think? Something bigger is clearly going on but I don't know where to look."

"I think Renegade is a smol bean and must be protected." Tim deadpanned.

Bruce blinked, he was not expecting that. "What?"

"Look at him," Tim said, gesturing to the screen as if that explained everything. "Take away all the layers of mercenary training and he's just a kid, a bright kid at that. He's lost, Bruce. You know just as well as I do that Wally has a great sense of character. If he's warmed up to the mercenary, and he doesn't want to kill him, then I have hope."

Bruce narrowed his eyes, squinting at the dark figure on the screen. "Hope? But not anything more solid?"

Tim shook his head. "I'm not convinced about the Stockholm, granted there are arguments that can go either way, but he's got more Stockholm for that knife than he does Deathstroke."

"And what does that have to do with his 'smol noodle arms' Drake?" Damian said, appearing behind them, coming from the training room. His mask was off but his suit was still on, his forehead covered in a thin sheen of sweat.

Tim growled a grunt and turned to face his adoptive brother. "I'll have you know his smol noodle arms are wonderful." The younger vigilante hastily turned to the computer, going to a certain time and freezing the frame. He zoomed in on the mercenary while one of his arms was extended. He gesture to the screen violently, throwing both arms out to the slender shape that was Renegades arm. "Look at that noodle! You can't look at that noodle and NOT think it's ADORABLE! Looklooklooklooklook." He sped to the keyboard again, this time zooming in on the mercenaries face. "Look at his messy floof and his squishy lil cheeks!"

Damian and Bruce stood silently, both unsure how to take this information.

"Drake." Damian declared. "You have issues."

Bruce could only agree.

"This child is adorable you can't deny that, I'm not stopping until you agree." Tim said, throwing a pointer finger at the older vigilante, not even denying his elders previous statement.

Tim set to work again and Bruce rose an eyebrow. Tim went to the time the team, including Batman and the mercenary, were talking together.

"Right here," Tim paused and zoomed in on Renegade whom was mid-shift and his eyes downcast, Bruce then noticing the child was biting his lip. "He's so small. It's adorable." Tim put his chin in his hands and stared up at the screen.

Bruce decided that was enough oddly specific observing from Tim. "Alright he's young and that makes him cute, there is a line here that shouldn't be crossed." Bruce warned.

Tim scoffed. "Pshhh, this isn't creepy, he's just a cute kid. And he really shouldn't stand next to tall people, that makes him even more adorably small."

"Back to the pressing issue." Bruce said, leaning over and zooming the screen to its original size(much to Tim's distaste). "My concern is how long Renegade was hidden, it was only when the Joker told me about it did I actually have anything solid to go off of. The villains knew, but I don't know who would know and who would clam up."

"Why would the Joker know something so under wraps, he doesn't keep secrets unless it benefits him." Damian pointed out. Tim sat back, mind now churning with ideas.

"Deathstroke doesn't really have a set base does he? But it's the villains in Gotham that know, Renegades only been seen in Gotham. So he must have one in this city, I wouldn't be surprised if he had multiple." Tim said, looking up to Bruce who was scowling in thought.

"We can't go after Deathstroke. Besides, even if we know he's in Gotham, that doesn't tell us much." Bruce responded.

"Talkative villains would be most of the girls, Poison Ivy, Catwoman, Harley even. We could start with them." Damian said, adopting the same scowling face Bruce owned.

"But how would we know they have the information?" Tim asked.

Bruce straightened, running a hand over through his cowl-hair, "We don't." He turned to the changing room and slipped his phone from one of his many pockets in his belt. He left his sons to continue bickering as Tim decided to fawn over how small Renegade was again and Damian was ready to snap his neck. The vigilante dialed a number and lifted the cold phone to his ear.

"Selina, I know this is your emergency number so I know you'll get this. Bruce Wayne has a few questions for you, he's going out to a late lunch at his usual place." He hung up and glanced over at his sons, catching the last bit of their argument.

"That's disgusting Damian, he's like a cute dog or cat." The younger professed with a scowl.

"That's killed people." Damian pointed out bluntly.

"Bruce loves you." Tim retorted with a scrunched nose and folded arms, a toothy grin spreading across his face

"Why you little-" Damian was about to lunge at the adopted member when Bruce came back and put a hand between the boys.

"How about we get to the bottom of this?" Bruce said, knowing both boys were curious about this boy, both wanted to figure it out and save the child. Bruce looked to Tim, a thought crossing his mind. "Tim, set the cameras to last night, around midnight, the kitchen cameras."

Tim rose an eyebrow but obeyed, the sceen buzzed as the scene changed and an empty dark kitchen was presented to them.

"Fast forward a bit." Bruce prompted after a few seconds of watching the eerily quiet scene.

Still the kitchen was empty.

All three detectives narrowed their eyes. Something wasn't right here.

Damian spoke their unanimous deductions aloud. "The feed has been tampered with."

"Had to have been an inside source." Tim said with a frown, putting a hand to his chin. "You think Deathstroke could have poped in?"

"No, this would be Renegade's doing." Bruce said with a frown.

"How did he hack it? He has no tools, you took them all right?" Tim asked, looking to his guardian.

"I did." Bruce grunted. "I'll ask him about it later. For now go to the library, around 30 minutes ago. I want to see what happened before I came."

Again the screen changed and the three vigilantes watched as Damian, M'gann, and Black Canary 'interrogated' the young mercenary.

They watched silently, but not without feeling anger and concern every time the poor boy flinched or stuttered. The atmosphere in the room darkened every time Renegade raised his voice, epically when he started to plead with the heroes. Pleading for relief of a pain they caused but were not the source.

Once the boy started sobbing each Bat-family member's jaw clenched with unease. Bruce turned away, heading for the stairs as the boys continued to watch the continually upsetting feed.

"He's so small." Tim whispered as he witnessed the boy curl up on himself and scream in unbridled fear.

Small, vulnerable, and alone.

-0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0-

Bruce Wayne rose a steaming cup of hot chocolate to his lips, icy blue eyes flicking up to see if Selina had dropped by yet.

The restaurant was quiet and only had a few occupants, a pretty slow business considering this was how packed it was during lunch time. A single brown-jacketed  man wearing a corn gold baseball cap sat on the bar, close to the cracked and bulky TV hanging in the corner. A person in which Bruce paid no mind. Of course this place got most of its action at night, but that had nothing to do with Bruce Wayne.

The little restaurant was a bit out of the way, near the docks of Gotham. It was small and a bit rustic, but it had it where it counted. The food was glorious, and it was the one place Bruce wouldn't be swarmed by the paparazzi. On a totally unrelated note, Red Robin (and perhaps a Bat) could be seen hanging around here with a coffee cup some times.

Bruce paid the Mexican owner handsomely to keep the paparazzi at bay, the man was generally a good man, although in Gotham everyone had a dark side. He said he used the money to send his son to school, and generally Bruce believed him, and the restaurant itself had become a bit better after a few new odds and ends.

Bruce even decided to low key protect the place as Batman as well, even if it was Red Robin who mainly used the place at night. Batman occasionally came by, sometimes Nightwing in tow, but oftentimes they all came separately.

Normally he would be worried about speaking so openly in such a common area, but he knew this place too well. For one thing, the owner wasn't very observant and wasn't even at the register most of the time, but he came out when the bell at the door rings. Secondly, the TV was always blearing and made it hard to hear conversations out of close range. This place was safe to speak of secrets.

The billionaire re-adjusted his seat, shifting his feet under the table and settling the cup down to warm the other side of his hands. The detective was just a tad skeptical about Selina, he wouldn't be Batman if he wasn't. Selina was a wild card really, as being more of a thief than a murderer she was more prone to messing with him and his boys than helping.  She was a bit more unpredictable when it came to out-of-suit situations, but generally she could be counted on. In-suit was a lot easier since she was usually out on the prowl for some odd pricey relic, out of the suit her motives were a lot harder to place.

So it came by little surprise to see the sleek figure of Selina Kyle walking up to his booth.

Bruce set his warm mug down, sitting up straight as Selina slid into the booth opposite to him. She wore tight clothing, not surprising, in a shade of gray and a long strapped purse hung on her shoulder. A nice jacket adorned her shoulders, soft gray fur covered the cuffs of the sleeves and around her neck, going down across her chest to where the jacket ended. It was winter in Gotham, even during noonday it was rather chilly. Hopefully there would continue to be no snow for a few more weeks, but that would be a foolish wish.

"You really do like this place don't you?" Selina asked, green eyes glancing about from the stained floor to the cobwebbed corners of the restaurant. The red and white theme inside was rather dirty, the white was barely recognizable and was mostly assumed as a gray. The red rugs dark in some areas and other lighter in worn spots. The booths were comfy enough, although the red cushions were cracking and nearly every booth had stuffing leaking out of them.

Bruce smiled, nodding his affirmation. "Best hot chocolate this side of the docks."

Selina snorted delicately, "And the other side?"

"They don't have a good enough hot chocolate place," Bruce said with a small smile, looking down and stirring his cup by slightly moving it around in tiny circles.

"You said you had questions. But I'd like to first ask one of my own." Selina said, her eyes flicking up to Bruce's icy orbs.

Bruce half shrugged and lifted his cup to his mouth. Selina often asked questions, usually pertaining to something she wanted to steal. He would shoot her down and they'd talk about something else.

"Where is he?"

Bruce blinked in surprise by her dark tone, her passion clearly stated by the paradoxical fire in her cold hard glare.

Selina? Miss-beat-around-the-bush going straight to the point? That was unusual. Call it gut instinct or his detective abilities, he knew she was talking about Renegade. Her question brought up plenty of his own,  but now that he could bypass formalities and make a beeline to his answers.

...Hopefully

"Safe, if that's what you're worried about," Bruce answered, setting his cup down. Bruce let a bit of the bat slip into his face as he matched Selina's cold glare, grunting out his own question. "How did you know I had him?"

To his surprise, Selina perked up, shimmying in her seat happily. She reached down and dug into her purse, talking as she did so. "I was originally trying to find him to give this to him." From her purse she pulled a small box, she set it on the table triumphantly while Bruce rose a suspicious eyebrow. "But I found a tiger instead, he had the audacity to sulk. Sulk! As if he can feel sad for losing a cub that wasn't even his." Selina scoffed, folding her arms angrily and pouting.

Bruce narrowed his eyes, mind swimming with the new development. Deathstroke was in mourning for the loss of Renegade? That seemed a little far fetched, Deathstroke wasn't one to show emotion like that. Then again this kid has been with him for who knows how long, which both intrigued and worried the Bat. Bruce knew not to underestimate the power of companionship, as much as he didn't want to admit it Deathstroke probably would feel loss from this sudden arrangement, especially if the amount of time spent together was long.

But then begged the question. How did Selina fit into the picture?

"What are your ties to the boy?" Bruce asked, again lifting his warm cup to his face. To the side he realized the yellow-baseball capped man had shifted positions, laying his head on his hand lazily, Bruce pushed this observation to the side as he refocused on the woman in distress.

Selina grew soft, her gaze falling to her hands in her lap. "Slade has had him for a while, I didn't meet him till three years ago, but I recognized quickly what Slade was doing to the poor child." Selina's hands clenched into fists, her fire returning but with a mournful aura. "Renegade plays it off as all in good fun, but he was trained to obey, and obey he does. He has no idea how much Slade has ruined him. The child goes out with him, killing and drug deals, he's barely a boy!"

Bruce eyed the man across the room, checking just to see if he was bothered by (or more importantly hearing) Selina's ranting. "Is he close to you?" Bruce asked softly, soaking in the information. Selina was convinced then, she had no doubt it was Stockholm. The detective decided he needed more information from the boy himself for him to decide anything though. There was an astounding amount of evidence backing each side, with every new look at the issue he only gained more and more uncertainty.

Bruce snapped back to attention as Selina continued. "He's barely allowed out, pale as a ghost you've probably seen. He trusts me at least. He tells me he chooses to be with Slade, to follow his orders, but I can see the fear in his eyes, it's covered and deep. But it's there."

"I've seen it." Bruce nodded, "but it doesn't seem to be directly from Slade."

Selina's lips drew a fine line on her face. Clearly, she didn't believe him. To her, everything was the mercenary's fault.

"How is he?" She asked gently, changing the subject as her eyes flitted upward.

"Three panic attacks minimum in the last 10 hours since I acquired him."

"That son of a-" Selina silenced herself as she squeezed her fists, glancing over to the only other occupant in the restaurant as her voice was much higher than the TV. She drew a deep breath and relaxed as she let it out. The woman's hard gaze shifted to Bruce, but she held no malice for him, but for the sad situation that was harming her little bird. A situation she could do nothing about but watch. "I'm glad he's with you at least. If I could I'd take him myself, but we both know how much taking care of children is difficult."

Bruce nodded, thinking of the times Selina had 'adopted' (*cough cough*stolen and tried to convert to her evil ways *cough cough*) (multiple times) (*cough cough*) his sons and how she didn't like them after a few hours of harassing. "Think he can get better?"

"If treated right. He's delicate, he needs someone who isn't Slade, but Slade might have ruined that part of him. He believes only Slade can help him, it isn't healthy, it isn't right. He's just a boy caught in the devils snare, but thinking everything is as right as rain." She had ranted for a moment before her tone got truly desperate. "Please Bruce, help him. He is a kind boy, he just doesn't know how to show it."

Selina grew quiet before she pushed the small box closer to the billionaire. "Give this to him, would you? It's his present from his birthday a few days ago, I promise it's nothing lethal or dangerous. You can trust me this time because I don't want Renegade to get hurt any more than you do. There's only a paper inside, he will know what it means."

Bruce nodded and grabbed at the box, silently agreeing to put it through a metal detector at the very least.

Bruce decided to test a theory, he might not get another chance like this, and perhaps the woman might know. "If Slade is so upset with the loss of Renegade, why did he do it?"

Selina sighed, the first indication to Bruce that she knew. "I don't know, he is a mercenary after all, it could be for a number of reasons." The second indication was her terrible dodge of the question. She knew something, but why wasn't she telling him? Didn't she realize this was important? For Renegades improvement? His internal frustration with the complicated woman was cut short by her next words. "I have to leave now, but you take care of that boy."

As swift as the cats she worshiped, Selina slipped from the booth and left the dingy restaurant with barely a glance back.

Bruce watched her go, mind reeling with the new information. His gaze lowered and settled on the small colorful box in front of him.

The yellow capped man's eyes lifted from his cup as Bruce Wayne left the restaurant, taking the small wrapped box on the table with him. The man's head rested in his hand as he leaned lazily on the table, his fingers close to his ear.

He grunted, taking another sip of his dark drink, his worn hand warmed by the cream colored mug. His glassy eyes followed the billionaire out and onto the street. He slowly lifted into a more comfortable position, hand leaving his head to rest with the one cradling the mug. The edge of his mouth twitched upwards as his stormy ocean eyes lit with a sudden and incomprehensible emotion.

He turned in his seat, his brown jacket opening to reveal a dark muscle shirt and a strap going across his side and shoulders. The hilt of a gun brushed against the seat cushions as he continued to turn to stare after the billionaire.

Jason Todd chuckled to himself.

"Bats has Deathstroke's apprentice eh? Time to see what all the fuss is about."

YO IM ALIVE!

I've been working on this chapter for WEEKS! I've been so busy it's not even funny! It's not looking hopeful for incoming chapters but I think I'm about to change that cuz I've been much to busy doing things I don't want to do. In other news, I started taking a jujitsu class! It's so cool!! I may appear to be a weak defenses nerd, but I can Yeet you.

...actually no... I haven't learned how to do that yet.

But I can definitely defend myself and take down a person and stuff to keep me safe!

Lol anywho, this chapter is quite a bit longer than the others so here's all your 8511 words! (Holy crap that's almost 9000)

What might Deathstroke be plotting? What is Selina's small non-lethal gift? How much is Dick really going to open up? How does Jason fit in all of this?

See ya around my peeps! The next chapter might be smaller, but it'll be posted sooner, I figured you'd want that over another month long wait.