Deathstroke slammed the crime prince of Gotham into the wall, holding onto the man's purple coat with both hands as the cement he crashed the Joker into cracked spiderwebs. The armored man was fueled by rage but was trying to keep his cool, it didn't help that the Joker was purposefully pushing his buttons, just shy of beating around the bush. Deathstroke was ready to beat the bush with the madman until he was just as purple as his obnoxious coat.

The Joker let out a deep chuckle, lifting his pale skinned head to face the metal covered face of the mercenary, though he could imagine a snarl underneath, such was the magnitude of hatred showing through the single gray eye.  A few misplaced green hairs fell into the clowns dark cold eyes, a trail of blood escaped his mouth, proof of previous attempts to get the clown to talk.

"We both know that wasn't Joker Venom." Deathstroke growled, "What was it?" He punctuated his question with another harsh slam into the wall, the Jokers cruel smile never wavered.

"I'm innocent! I never meant to harm the boy blunder! Though I admit it was entertaining..." The Joker drawled while trying to raise his hands in surrender, but he was firmly pinned by the outraged mercenary.

Deathstroke growled and twisted around, thrusting the Joker into the ground, a hand around his throat. The Joker still smiled, though his eyes widened just a bit, enough for the mercenary to see his new tactic was working.

"You didn't hurt him. Who was it?"

"For a couple of mercenaries... you do seem to fall for the same old tricks." The Joker said cryptically with a lazy roll of his eyes, keeping that creepy smile plastered all over his face. Deathstrokes grip lessened just enough for the man to answer, but pressure was quickly reapplied.

"I'm not the Bat, I won't hesitate to snap your neck." Deathstroke pushed all his weight into the hand over the Jokers throat. The man flailed as he attempted to get air, his eyes widening fully and his smile stretching into a frown. "Who did it?" the mercenary asked again, his steel grey eye glaring at the floundering mad man.

"Al-ight... a-righ..." Joker choked out, Deathstroke held him a second longer for good measure then released him.

Deathstroke stood back, arms folded, waiting for The Joker to get his breath back. The man in question scrambled to his feet, coughing and rubbing his throat.

"You're right about one thing..." The Joker grumbled with a side glare. "You are not Batsy, it's no fun when everything just gets blurted out. These things have, very, intricate, timing." Each time the clown paused he rose a his hand and seemed to pin something in the air, stressing the words he was 'pinning'.

"Joker..." Deathstrokes voice rose slightly in warning, reinforcing it with a threatening step forward.

The clown rose his hands in surrender, but was not impressed. "Alright! Alright! Party pooper... If your little mini death boy had looked up he might have seen his real attacker."

"And that is...?" Deathstroke asked, regaining from tapping his foot or lunging at the man, he was becoming increasingly impatient. He didn't have all night, it took him long enough to find the mad man, now it was late enough for the Bat to be prowling. The mercenary had other things to attend to, but this was at the top of his list. Dick had been immobile for a solid day now, it was just this afternoon on the second day that the boy had awoken. Dick tried to prove his ability to function through completing routine tasks, but Deathstroke ordered him to rest because the acrobat didn't get past picking up his socks.

Joker Venom didn't do that, and there were a few toxins Deathstroke knew that did but when he tested the blood it came back as an unknown. An unknown was unacceptable, Deathstroke needed Renegade back up and running as soon as possible, if not for the boys wellbeing. Deathstroke wouldn't admit it, but he had missed the boys quips and jibes throughout the day and felt a pang of sorrow when he saw the boys prone form lying unmoving on his bed. The Joker was his only lead, having been so close to Renegade when he'd been gassed.

The clown shrugged, stuffing his hands in his coat pockets and looking up much too innocently. "Who would want to attack Death's son? Well, there's plenty of people who want you dead, making enemies is part of the mercenary gig isn't it? But there's only one with the guts to actually go after your only weak spot."

Deathstroke's eye narrowed. Renegade was not a weak spot, anyone who knew Deathstroke knew that.

The Joker threw his head back and laughed. "Well, it guess there's a reason Bats has the 'Greatest Detective' title and not you. Only a mercenary can outmercenary another mercenary."

Deathstroke didn't have to say anything to let the Joker know he was getting angry, Dick would say he was seething, the anger rolling off of him in waves, but his quirky apprentice wasn't here to point that out as he usually would have.

"Still no?" The Joker asked, he sighed defeatedly but a smile was still plastered on his red lips. The Joker put his fisted hands on his hips and sighed with disappointment, something Deathstroke knew he wouldn't loose sleep over. "Well alright, rivalries aren't fun unless you know who the rival is, though I would have thought you'd get it by now. Sportsmaster."

"Sportsmaster gassed Renegade?" Deathstroke asked, more rhetorically than to the Joker. At least it made sense, Sportsmaster was a competitor for Deathstroke, both were mercenaries for hire, and both were hired by The Light. That creates complications. Deathstroke had been most recently hired, Sportsmaster alone wasn't 'enough' according to The Light, and they wanted them to 'get along' while they worked. Fat chance.

Sportsmaster should know to keep his hands on his own children, even if the two mercenaries disagreed on how to raise them. Last time Deathstroke checked, Artemis had completely left the villain world to take up the heroic one, a choice that made Deathstroke uneasy about his apprentice. Does Dick think like that too?

Deathstroke focused back on the main issue, Sportsmaster was targeting his so- apprentice, and Deathstroke didn't know why.

"Yup! And did a fine job of it too! I told you I was innocent, I'm just caught in the crossfire!" The clown clapped his hands together, then he pulled a 180. He looked down in thought, his smile still up but seemed to waver as his voice lowered to almost a whisper. "Poor little guy, he has no idea does he?"

"What?" Deathstroke was taken from his thoughts by the Jokers mumbled sentence.

The Joker continued unfazed. "He's just a sad little boy you picked up on the streets, he doesn't know any better."

"What are you talking about?" Deathstroke knew exactly what he was talking about.

"Of course he would follow you to the ends of the earth, he's got no real freedom, he may be free to move but it's his mind you've chained." The Joker lifted a pale hand to his head, pointing to his head with a smirk at the mercenary. "I wonder how you did that."

"Renegade makes his own choices." Deathstroke growled, shifting to make his leave.

"Why don't you let the boy get out and get some sun? He's nearly as white as I am! And this is paint! It's time for the bird to fly the coop." The clown said, raising his arms wide to gesture to the wherehouse around them, eyes roaming the rafters, possibly meaning the outside.

Deathstroke glared and went to leave, before he did something he wouldn't regret. "What I do with Renegade is my business." Deathstroke wasn't stupid enough to take advice from a madman, he didn't have to answer to him either. Dick was his apprentice, it didn't matter what anyone else thought.

"You've gotten lazy." the Joker deadpanned with a frown, sparing a glance left and right before returning to the mercenary.

"You've gotten crazier." Deathstroke mumbled as he turned his back on the clown.

A batarang thudded into the wall next to Deathstroke. The mercenary lowered himself into a crouch and cursed under his breath, drawing a small blade for defense, he had no intentions of indulging the big bad bat this night. He knew his new target, but first he wanted to check on someone, make sure he followed orders.

"I'll be going now." Deathstroke muttered. He didn't need Batman tangled up in this mess too, as far as Batman was concerned Deathstroke didn't have an apprentice and Deathstroke wanted to keep it that way. It had nothing to do with his nightmares, none, none at all.

Deathstroke jumped up into the rafters, a dark shadow following him, he jumped up onto the roof and ghosted into the shadows, pushing a button on his forearm as he put his back to his newfound cover.

Batman stood stoically as he watched the empty roof, Deathstroke gone from sight and the sound of a motorcycle roared before fading into the foggy Gotham night. The Dark Knight would have given chase but there was still a madman to apprehend, curiously enough The Joker made no attempt to hide or escape while the Bat was preoccupied.

Another thing that puzzled the Caped Crusader was that Deathstroke didn't chat around like most villains, why on earth would he be talking with the Joker of all people?

"Batsy! It's about time you got here, thought I would have to boot him out myself." The Joker rambled with a grin, not at all worried about the probable capture he was facing.

Batman jumped down again and grabbed the man roughly, the Dark Knights gears turning, there were no goons, no tricks, what was the point of the Joker telling him where he was?

"I don't get caught unintentionally." The mad man said lowly, his smile stretching.

"Why was Deathstroke here, why was he talking to you?" Batman demanded, pinning the man against the wall, which he noted was already cracked.

The Joker kept his smile but looked around rather absentmindedly. "Oh you know, a little this, a little that, a little blundering boy."

Batman's white eyes narrowed, he had only gotten the last little bit of their conversation, something about a renegade. "What does Deathstroke want with a boy?"

"Haven't you heard?" Joker tilted his head, a mocking smile on his white face. "Good old Deathy has a son now, he's kept him hidden for awhile now. Interestingly enough, Deathy seems to like him, when he's not ordering him around."

"Deathstroke has a son?"

"'Es a skinny one, about yea high." Jokers hand laid out flat at his side (as well as he could, he was still pinned), half way down his chest, wich told the Bat the boy was young, but no certain age could be told by height alone.

"How old?"

"How should I know? Deathy keeps him on a short leash, poor boy is as pale as me!" Joker exclaimed.

Batman narrowed his eyes, the way the Joker was talking made it seem like the boy was being mistreated, which wouldn't surprise him, he would have to investigate. But another thing nagged at him. "Why would Deathstroke talk to you about him?"

"The little boy wonder became a blunder, I unfortunately got caught in the cross fire. Oh how I love a good rivalry, two sides, attacking mercilessly and relentlessly. Such good fun." He ended his explanation in a fit of laughter.

Batman began to drag the mad man off, putting the man in handcuffs after notifying Gordon (and Alfred).

"What? You're going to lock me up for having a chat with death?"

"There are plenty of charges against you." Batman growled, exiting the warehouse and stalking to the dark plated Batmobile that rested in the shadows ready for use.

"Time to fly the coop." Joker muttered, his smile stretching to unnatural proportions. His hand pushed a hidden button in his sleeve and the air was filled with the beautiful sound of exploding buildings.

-0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0-

Deathstroke walked through the gray hallways with one goal in mind. Sportsmaster was targeting his apprentice, possibly to get to Deathstroke or a simple matter of rank with their employer, either way Deathstroke wasn't happy. He stormed through the hallway, Dick was probably still asleep, infected with whatever Sportsmaster had gassed him with, which was another thing that ticked him off.

He did a double take when he passed the kitchen, out of the corner of his eye he saw the skinny acrobat at the sink, the open dishwasher next to him, which clearly explained the boy's sudden appearance.

At the massive man's stop in the archway, the boy looked up, blue eyes crinkling at the edges with a welcoming (but noticeably tired) smile. "Hey Slade." His head returned to the sink, focused on the bowl he was rinsing.

Deathstroke took a moment to evaluate the boy, he really shouldn't be up and about if his last visit with the conscious world had anything to say about it. The acrobat really was pale, the boy rarely went outside during the day, he had no need to, Slade provided him with everything he needed here. His shaggy ebony hair hung over his eyes but didn't cover the crystal blue orbs, Deathstroke could see a thin film of sweat on the boy's brow, hidden by the hair. Dick was wearing casual clothes, some dark sweatpants and a navy blue loose shirt, he also wasn't wearing socks.

"You should be resting. It's 1 in the morning." Deathstroke said in a half growl, he had ordered him to do something, Dick should know better than to disobey.

"I'm fine," Dick protested, putting the bowl in the bottom rack of the dishwasher. When he stood up it was apparently too quickly as a wave of dizziness washed over him, the boy gripped onto the sink to keep from tipping over. Deathstroke gave him a pointed look like 'I told you so'. "...Ok maybe not totally fine, but I'm fine enough to help out." Dick said, keeping his eyes on the sink, embarrassed that he was so useless in this state.

"I ordered you to rest." Deathstroke reminded him gruffly, wondering what excuse the boy would come up with this time.

Dick froze. He had? He didn't remember that...

"Oh... I-I don't remember... ever being... uh... sorry." Dick winced and bit his lip. Disobedience to a direct order was not tolerated here, and talking back was only accepted if he had an actually good argument to counter. 'Sorry' didn't cut the bill with Deathstroke, it was a useless word in Dicks vocabulary, a bad excuse for disobedience. His mind spun for any way he could weasel out of this one, but his headache flared and he couldn't think past 'oh shoot'.

"Dick." Deathstroke took off the helmet and set it under his arm, casting a concerned glare to the child. "I'll let this slide just this once, but I expect better from you in the future. You don't get better by throwing yourself back in, that's how you get killed. There is a time to rest and a time to get to work, I'm telling you that right now is a time to rest."

Dick let out a breath he didn't know he was holding. Slade was being merciful, not a common decision for the mercenary, but he looked angry, Dick couldn't place where the sudden concern was coming from, ESPECIALLY if he was already angry. Slade didn't have many other emotions, at least none that Dick could see.

Dick nodded his head in recognition and gratitude, he smirked, the color returning to his drained face. "Well if doing the dishes is a life or death situation, then I'm more then happy to let you take care of it."

"Did you get something to eat?" Slade asked, ignoring the sarcasm his apprentice usually doused his sentences with.

Dick shrugged and went back to picking up utensils from the bottom of the sink. Collecting them in one hand as he rinsed them under the running water. "Wasn't too hungry but I got a snack."

"How long have you been up?"

"30 minuets give or take."

"Are you aware you've been out for nearly two days? Any side affects from the gas I should know about?"

"I get a little dizzy every now and then but other than excessive exhaustion, I'm fine." Dick knew better than to write his condition better than it actually was, there were no secrets between the two mercenaries (mostly, of course, Slade kept things to himself most times, but if he told Dick anything it was always the truth), and Slade would hold him to his word, lies or not. "Well there's also this headache but I've been managing it."

"We have a mission tomorrow, I expect you to be able to complete it." Slade said, the mercenary clearly had an air of anger around him yet everything that came out of his mouth was somehow soft, it was rather confusing for Dick. Besides the odd tone, this is how their conversations usually went, more like a check in then onto business, though with Slade 'check in' usually had something to do with business.

Dick nodded, reading between the lines of his mentors seemingly uncaring expectations. He expected him to do well during the mission, which meant he needed to get better, which meant he needed to follow orders and get some rest.

"Usual day then?" Dick asked as he dropped the rinsed utensils into the rack one at a time with a soft 'thunk, thunk, thunk'. Renegade and Deathstroke did stuff at night, sometimes the evenings, days were filled with school and training. This had been their routine for years, Dick rather liked the nights out, it spiced things up a bit.

Slade surprised him though. "Not this time, after lunch, in civilian clothes, you can decide weather to do your morning routine." He spoke as if he was about to continue, then looked down in hesitation, an action Dick wasn't used to. Slade was hesitating? "I'll tell you more tomorrow, for now just get some rest."

Dick paused at Slades hesitation and he gave the mercenary a quirked eyebrow, Slade never did anything without meaning, Slade wanted him to know that whatever it was was important. "Alright..." Dick wasn't sure what to expect, he'd never been out in civies before, much less during the day. And his mentor had hesitated, whatever made him hesitate he kept to himself, it tugged at Dicks curiosity but he waved it away, if Slade was going to tell him something he would have said it, so it shouldn't concern Dick.

Dick turned off the faucet with still a few dishes left in the sink, Slade had said get some rest, doing dishes was not resting, wouldn't be his fault if the dishes weren't done.

"After you finish the dishes."

Dick's smirk twisted into a frown. Dang it.

Dick groaned loudly and dramatically, bending backwards with a an arm over his forehead. "But I'm much too tired!"

The acrobat was surprised when he was rewarded with a smile and that single huff-like laugh from Slade. "Tired or not, finish the fight."

Dick knew if he complained more he'd cross the line so he straightened himself and folded his arms dejectedly, but he wasn't one to complain, well, he actually was, he just knew when it would be most affective. Slade always turned whatever they were doing into a lesson, there was always some advice somewhere, it was hard for any happy feelings to feel genuine.

"Fine..." Dick returned to the dishes, flipping on the faucet, Slade moved from the doorway and off into the hall with the audible thumps and clunks of his armor.

The acrobat was left alone in the kitchen, eyes down to the sink where he scrubbed at a pan they used to cook frozen chicken, his mind adrift in a sea of thoughts.

Dick wouldn't call Slade a bad Dad, but he wasn't exactly ideal ether. But Slade what all he knew, besides his circus life before...

Dick's scrubbing slowed as his thoughts darkened, the bristles of the brush grating against the stone pan in a drawn out hiss, the gushing water hitting the pan making a familiar roaring sound.

"Laaaaaaadieeeesss and Gentlemen!"

Dick closed his eyes to shut out the roar of the crowds.

...thump...thump...

"I present to you; The Fearless Flying Graysons! With their famous quadrupole flip and, as always, the use of the trapeze without the safety of the net!"

Dick shook his head to clear his thoughts, now was not the time to get lost in memories. Come on Grayson, stay whelmed!

The once-quiet crowd roared with renewed vigor as the spot light was beamed up at two people up on the trapeze post.

...thump...thump...

Dick stalled, the water running over his frozen brush and the stone pan that leaned against the side of the sink. His bright blue eyes stared unfocused, his grip on the scrubbing brush relaxed slightly as his chest tightened.

A kind smile was sent to him, the tall form of his mother looking down at the small acrobat, her sky blue eyes crinkled as she smiled. A big hand rested on his shoulder, calloused, but soft, his black haired father let out a deep chuckle, a genuine laugh.

Dick felt his breath catch in his throat as his eyes widened a millimeter.

Thump, thump...

"Time to fly my little Robin."

Thump, thump...

"I'm sorry for your loss."

Thump, thump...

"The orphanages are all full, there's no room for his kind here."

Thump, thump...

"What are ya gunna do gypsy freak? Cry to your mom? Oh wait, SHES DEAD!"

Thump Thump...

"You want revenge don't you, justice for their deaths. I can help."

Thump Thump...

"Don't be scared my little Robin, it'll be just like practice, there's just a lot more people watching."

Thump thump

"DICK!"

...thump, thump...thump, thum-

CRACK.

Dick jumped at the sound, jolting back into reality as the pan slipped from its leaned position to fall into the sink, causing the crashing sound echo around the silent room.

Dicks breathing shuttered, as if he just then remembered to breathe. He was sweating profusely though he shivered, his ebony hair was slick and stuck to his wet forehead. He felt sick. He could still hear his heart thumping loudly in his ears, throughout his body, every limb tingled with blood rushing through, like his entire being was throbbing.

He panicked for a moment, wide eyes searching, shaky hands reaching, looking for the bodies.

He pulled his arms back and took a deep breath, wrapping his arms around himself as shivers traveled up and down his spine. His unfocused eyes looked down, not aware of the many tears streaming down his cheeks.

He stood there for a moment, breathing, calming his body, soothing his mind.

When he felt ready the acrobat released himself, not realizing his hands were on much too tight and might cause bruises, he mentally cursed at himself but felt too mentally strained to do so effectively. He kept his breathing in check as he forced himself to focus on the dishes again, his head spinning and throbbing worse than the rest of him.

Scrub... scrub... scrub... back and forth like the swing of-NO. Scrub. Scrubbing only.

He screwed his eyes closed to keep the tears at bay even though many had already fallen, 5 years and he's still traumatized... pathetic.

Dick turned off the faucet and cleared his mind of everything, using one of Slades techniques in a mini-meditation. No, no panic attacks tonight, it had been close, too close, but it was avoided. At least... the heavy panic attack was avoided.

Feeling void of emotion, the acrobat left the sink and went to find a towel to dry the pan, he put the white towel he found on the counter and poured the soap into the designated container in the dishwasher. He closed it with a click and went for the towel again, reaching into the sink for the wet pan.

Big arms wrapped around his small frame.

Dick couldn't hold back the sob. He twisted around and hugged Slade, burying his wet face in the man's shirt. Slade returned the hug in kind, knowing the boy didn't need much but a good squeeze. The mercenary wouldn't admit it but he didn't mind the hugs, even if he outwardly expressed his dislike for them. He'd 'tolerate' them when Dick needed him to, a secret to this boy was most times any emotional issues could be solved with a hug, Slade suspected this was because of his circus upbringings.

The man rubbed the boy's back gently as Dick tightened his arms, relishing the contact. Slade knew what he needed, he always did, Dick was grateful for that, he would have been in a much darker place without Slade. But he didn't want to think about what could have happened if Slade hadn't 'adopted' him, he just wanted to exist in the warm embrace, relish the physical, live, person he was holding onto. His parents may be dead, his surrogate father was a bit rough, but it was what he had, and he didn't want to loose family again.

The acrobat didn't know how long they stayed like that, but eventually the tears dried up and he felt numb all over, his headache painfully ponding on his head. Dick felt even more exhausted after crying, and the warmth of the man was comforting, if he wasn't careful he might fall asleep on Slade.

Dick leaned back, breaking the hug, and rubbed at his puffy but now dried eyes. He didn't mean to break down, he should have stopped it some how, just like he should have gotten over his parents death by now.

Slade put his hands on the acrobats shoulders, the boys face contorting into hatred as he looked down, refusing to meet the mercenaries eye, hating himself for being so weak.

"Dick." Slade tried to get his attention, make the boy meet his gaze.

Slowly the bright blue eyes looked up, meeting his cool gray.

Dick was prepared for a reprimand, he had left a huge water mark on the man's shirt, where the fabric had absorbed his tears. He would probably say something along the lines of 'you owe me a shirt' or 'mercenaries don't cry you big baby'. Okay, maybe that last one wasn't very accurate but he wasn't expecting what actually came out of the man's mouth.

"Get some rest, you look tired."

Slade then moved off, stalking through the halls like usual, like nothing out of the ordinary had happened. His whitening hair a little messy and the black strap of the eye patch creating a long since made line across his head.

Dick stared after him, his brows furrowing the slightest bit as his mouth opened to gape in confusion. The ebony haired boy quickly composed his features, pushing his confusion away.

He was done crying, it was time for business, and he had some serious business to do with his bed.

Dick abandoned the dishes, taking solace with what had just happened that he wouldn't get in trouble for it. He didn't bother changing as he flopped on the bed, nearly instantly falling asleep.

Welp... wasn't that exciting?!?

Dude you guys have no idea how excited I am for this book, my plots have progressed, this one I think is the best, so hold on to your hats! Cuz if you know me absolutely nothing is simple.

4698 words!

Also updates are going to be iffy for awhile, summer is here but I'll be traveling a bit and idk when I can squeeze in a chapter (in any of my books tbh).