Chapter Text
The Contract
Slade stood uncomfortably in the cramped, private elevator. Through the clear glass walls around him, he could see the bustling city of Metropolis below him as he rose up the floors. He scratched at the suit and tie he was wearing and adjusted his eyepatch. Usually he’d have on a different suit for a meeting like this, but in Metropolis he couldn’t afford the attention a bright orange and black military suit would bring to him.
He couldn’t help but feel a weight on his shoulders as he was brought to the top floor. Soon, he would be face to face with one of the most powerful and influential men in all of Metropolis, maybe even the world. As he finished adjusting his short, white ponytail, the door chimed and alerted that he had reached the top floor. The metal doors slid open, and he stepped out into a luxurious office. Everything Slade could see screamed wealth, including the large desk and comfortable chair facing the elevator.
“Deathstroke. Welcome.”
Lex Luthor rose out of his seat to greet his guest. The bald man had a confident smile as he approached the mercenary. He adjusted his black suit and extended a firm hand to him.
“You’re one of our “organizations” top men!” Lex complimented.
“If I wanted flattery, I’d hire worthless goons to do it for me, like you.” Slade snapped. These rich, better-than-you type always got on his nerves.
“Straight to the point. I like it. I need your special services. There’s a young man I want captured but kept alive and out of the way for a few Days whit no connection to me.” Lex picked up a file from his desk and placed it in Slade’s hands. He grunted as he opened it and began to read.
“Richard John Grayson? The adopted kid of Bruce Wayne?” He asked Lex.
“Precisely. I want him alive and in your possession for the foreseeable future.”
“Why?” Slade didn’t care to add any pleasantries to his question.
“I’m entering soon into an important business deal to attain the patents for some very useful technological piece of equipment. If we get them, I’ll finally be able to finish my goal of ecologically sustainable farms across the oceanfront.” He explained.
“And did I read your message correctly? Triple my standard rates?” Deathstroke asked. That was what first piqued his interest. Surely it must’ve been a mistake.
“You are correct. Triple the pay.”
“For a kid? What’s the deal?” Luthor sat down on his chair and rubbed his temple, his smile fading.
“I wouldn’t do this if I didn’t have any other choice. I sent my own men to fetch him, and he slipped right by them, twice. I sent another mercenary, a much cheaper and expendable one, and Batman showed up. I even sent Firefly to capture him, and guess where he is now? Sitting in a cell next to Killer Moth in Prison. For whatever reason, this boy has the luck of the gods on his side. That, or Wayne has the Bat paid off to keep a close eye on his boy, and I wouldn’t put it past him. Whatever the reason, I need the best of the best for this job.”
“Lucky for you, I am.”
“Excellent. So, you’ll take the job?”
“Why is this so important to you?” Slade asked. He’d made the mistake before about getting into a job without knowing all the details of it.
“Like I said. I’m trying to gain the patents for mechanical parts that will allow me to build mechanized energy production facilities on the beaches and waterfronts of our country. With that, Lexcorp will rise to the number one energy producers in America. But there is a problem with that. My rivals are also gunning for the patents as well.
Kord Industries I can outsmart, Queen Industries I can simply out-buy and Drake Industries is sending Janet Drake, who really is of no threat at all to me. I play the charm offensive whit her, flirt a bit and she will do what I want. However, Wayne Industries remains a thorn in my side and no matter how hard I try, I can never seem to outbid or outsmart Bruce Wayne and Lucius Fox. So, to ensure things go over smoothly, I need some insurance that Wayne won’t interfere to much and is otherwise distracted.”
“Like having his kid abducted?” Slade finished his thought. Lex smiled and Slade felt a chill down his spine. For someone without superpowers, Lex Luthor was frightening.
“Precisely. Now, can you do it?”
“I don’t like dealing with kids.” Slade said, closing the file.
“Double the pay?”
“I don’t like dealing with kids.” Slade repeated. He turned to leave, but Lex called him back.
“You don’t have to hurt him, I just need Wayne to think he’s in danger. If I know Wayne, he won’t let anything happen to his boy and would be distracted enough. Just keep him with you for a while and we’ll let him go afterward. I’ll pay you four times as much.”
Slade froze in place and turned back to face Luthor. This was a lot of Money…really a lot.
The billionaire smiled confidently as he stuck out his hand.
“Do we have a deal?”
Things you don't account for...
Dick Grayson whistled happily to himself as he walked down the street. It had been a busy week for him, stopping crimes left and right as his alter ego, Robin. It was nice to be back at night in Gotham to fight crime for a while after his Injuries, even if it did mean almost daily encounters with crazy villains and common criminals. Why couldn’t Riddler just go to Las Vegas or something instead of bothering everyone in Gotham every time? He’d fit right in with all the games and costumes down there. They would surely pay him a good money for his riddles to amuse and satisfy the Partygoers and fun-seekers.
But Dick didn’t worry too much about it. After all, as long as the villains were in Gotham, Batman and sometimes his team would be there to stop them. He approached his favorite coffee place to get his once-weekly over sugared treat and as he was about to enter, he froze. His instincts were on high alert, and Dick glanced around nervously. He could feel a pair of eyes watching him.
Shrugging it off for now, Dick kept a close eye on the civilians around him as he ordered his usual drink. Something was off, but he couldn’t put his finger on it. Maybe Paparazzi’s had spotted him. Wednesdays where usually Alfred’s Day off, so Dick used this most Weeks to get a bit sweetness in his life before driving back to Bristol via Bus after school. Since a few hours ago he was a bit apprehensive. A little uneasy feeling in his gut. Something was off…
“Thank you. Have a nice day!” The barista called from behind the counter as she slipped him his small double chocolate Frappuccino. He paid and slowly left the store. When he got back to the safety of the Manor, he’d calm down. He still had some homework to do, but afterward he planned on finally returning to Mount Justice and seeing his friends again. It had been four weeks since he last showed up there after his return from Santa Prisca and he couldn’t do much then whit his healing wounds, so Dick thought it would be a nice surprise. He was now healed enough to fight crime in Gotham, so It wouldn’t be a Problem to go on Missions whit his Team eventually. He missed them so much.
He sipped the Rest from his sweet drink and yawned. Maybe he’d take a short nap before heading out too. Killer Moth was on a rampage at the Beginning of the week, he’d stopped two armed robberies with Batman and just the other day, Firefly had attacked him in Civil out of nowhere.
Between his studies, the Training, his superhero activities, and the injuries he would occasionally receive during missions, Dick wasn’t surprised his body was exhausted. He was only getting two hours of sleep last nights and in school they went on a strenuous museum trip with the class where they were attacked by Henchmen on they’re way back to Gotham Academy. Luckily nothing bad happened and the criminals were quickly driven away without anyone being seriously hurt, but it was still draining. Especially since he always had to be careful not to show his skills so as not to compromise his secret identity. He yawned a second time and rubbed his eyes.
His vision blurred a bit as he kept walking in the direction of his bus station. His movements grew slower and his cognitive function started to seize up. Dick knew something was unnaturally wrong as he got dizzy, and he started to panic when he found he couldn’t completly control his own movements anymore. Suddenly, strong hands pulled him into an alley and away from prying eyes. Dick’s mind begged him to do… something, but his body wasn’t responding. A hand clasped over his mouth as the other held his arms at his side so he couldn’t scream or run.
“Go to sleep boy.” The gruff, familiar voice ordered.
Dick went limp in his arms, but as the man tried to readjust himself to carry the boy, Dick lashed out and broke free of him. With his blurry vision, he was able to confirm the man’s identity. With his orange and black mask and body armor, Deathstroke stepped back in surprise.
“You’re pretty resilient for a rich brat. Daddy sign you up for karate?” He said mockingly. But the seconds passed and Dick remained standing, wobbly and dizzy but still on his feet. Seconds turned to a minute, and still Dick stood swaying upright in a defending position, trying to realize what’s happening, but failing as his mind grow more and more hazy.
“Well, well, that sure is something.” Slade began to take a new approach now. He didn’t care much for hurting kids if he could help it. By the groggy look on Dick’s face and the ever faster dropping eyes, the drug was kicking in. He was in Slade’s Opinion barely conscious anyway. Slade took carefully Dick’s hand and began to guide him down the alley.
“Come on buddy. You’re looking really tired, how about we get you home and you can lie down a bit and take a nap?”
“Who… Slade, I don’t want to go whit you.” Dick murmured and narrows his eyes to stop the world spinning and help his Brain to get the three swimming Versions of the men standing in front of him to blend back into one solid picture.
Deathstroke sighed. “This is why I work alone. All I ask is that the baristas slip one tiny drug into your coffee order, and they still screw it up. And it cost me a pretty penny, too.” He complained. He was sure, the Barista hadn’t put the full Dose into the Drink, so she can use or sell the Rest of the vial. Otherwise, the boy would have been unconscious Minutes ago.
“I’ll never… go with you… and I don’t go whit Villains.” Dick slurred and stumbled. Deathstroke rolled his eyes and steadied him so he doesn't face plant on the alley floor.
“Sure kid. Whatever you say. Come on I bring you home.” Slowly, they made their way to the car Deathstroke had waiting. But something wasn’t right in his head. Did the kid just call him Slade? Publicly, he was known as Deathstroke, and that alone was not common knowledge among civilians, so how could this rich brat possibly know his first name? Although it still bugged him, Deathstroke chalked it up to being a coincidence. These days, it seemed like a lot of costumed villains had their own fans who researched and admired them almost as much as they did the heroes. Richard Grayson didn’t strike him as the type, but who was Slade to judge his hobbies? He shoved the Boy in the backseat and buckled him in.
“Hang tight. A nice drive’ll put you right out.” He said, getting behind the wheel of the car and taking off his mask.
Dick’s world was all fuzzy, a light film of swirling colors filling his field of vision. His Head feels like stuffed up with cotton and his tongue started to grow to big for his mouth. Why was he in a car now? The driver didn’t sound or looked like Alfred, or even Bruce. Was he on an excursion? Was he drugged? It sure feels like it… had someone kidnapped him or was he on his way back from an appointment at Dr. Thompkins or his Dentist and they had to give him some stronger Painkillers? Was he injured? He wanted to ask, but all that came out of his mouth was a slurred bunch of letters and sounds. His tongue didn’t want to cooperate.
“Yeah sure. Whatever you say.”
“I’m… You’re not … taking … me!” Dick managed to say after a few Minutes whit all his concentration and training slowly kicking in. He had settled on the thought of “drugged and kidnapped”. As a civilian. Shit.
Slade groaned and glanced at his Utility belt. He had a few extra doses of the Tranquilizer he gave the barista. Maybe a second dose was needed should she not have given him the full vial? He resisted for all of twenty Minutes, hoping the monotonous drive would help the kid finally to fall asleep, but Dick was starting to ask more questions again. Groggy and thoughts slow, the boy sat most motionless in the back except for the occasional slurred questions. Slade’s suspicions only grew with every passing moment. Something was off, Richard should’ve been out by now. But still he remained sitting upright, blinking steadily but shaking his head and using breathing patterns to clear his mind.
“I’m not… this isn’t Bruce’s car.” The clearer spoken words made Slade freeze. After everything and all this time, was Richard actually recovering?
“Who are… who are you? Where … are we going?” More Strength was returning to the boy’s voice.
“This isn’t Bruce’s car! I don’t know you!” Now Dick was panicking.
Cursing, Slade grabbed the Epi-Pen looking Injector of the Tranquilizer and stopped the car on the next small parking bay. Dick struggled to get free of his seatbelt. Abject terror was starting to coursing through him. He tried to fight it, using the techniques Bruce had instilled in him and so often used against his own enemies, but it was failing. Something was dulling his senses, yes, but there was something else causing this fast-growing fear. Something… unnatural. He couldn’t hold on anymore and let out a desperate scream. Deathstroke winced, the piercing cry echoing in the small car.
“Stop it Richard. Time for Lights out!” Deathstroke jabbed the short needle into Dick’s neck, injecting him with a second dose direct into his carotid artery. This time it had the desired effect. Dick almost instantly fell back into his seat, gasping for breath, his eyes rolling back into his lolling head, finally eyes dropping and staying closed and body slumping forward into the seat belt.
“There we go. Much Better” Deathstroke had returned behind the wheel and started driving when he after a few minutes noticed Dick beginning to twitch in the seat.
“You’re still awake? Impossible.”
But when he looked into the rearview mirror, it was Deathstroke’s turn to be filled with fear.
Dick twitched more and more violently, his body convulsing as he sat strapped into the seatbelt.
“Hey! Hey! Calm down! Calm- forget it.” Deathstroke quickly recognized the signs of a seizure. He slammed his foot onto the gas.
The kid was having a seizure. In his car, while in his care and it was his fault. He must have given him too much of the drug and he was overdosing. He needed to do something.
“Hang on now, hang on!” He muttered, swerving whit deadly speed through the traffic. He ignored a red light, narrowly avoiding getting hit by an oncoming truck. Finally, he could see his target. An abandoned parking lot that was just up ahead. He pulled up to it quickly and threw off his seatbelt. While Dick cramped and groaned, Deathstroke fumbled with a small device in his hand. He had been given such a rare technology by Luthor specifically for this job. A Fatherbox, able to create wormholes for instant transportation. He tried to recall the instructions Lex gave along with the box. After a few failed attempts, Deathstroke was successful. A small vortex opened, yellow and glowing, which Lex had called a ‘boomtube’.
Lex said it would leave faint traces behind when he used it which could be tracked by the Justice League, so only activate it outside the city. But Richard would be dead by then. Deathstroke couldn’t let that happen. He unbuckled Richard and carried him in his large arms to the portal.
“Hope this works, Lex.” Deathstroke closed his eyes and stepped into the vortex.