Vigilante Struggles

Chapter 33

Dick shivers as consciousness returns. His eyelids feel heavy and his tongue feels to big for his mouth. Clumsy limbs rebel against him as he tries to reach for his eyes and aid the process of opening them fully. Whispered voices attempt to rouse him, insistent and unwelcomed by the thumping headache as he squints his eyes trying to clear his vision. Blurred figures hover over him, their whispers growing loud as their hands pull at Grayson's shoulders.

The muffled noise dissolves and clears bringing Dick's world into focus. The whispers die down and the hands retreat. Swallowing harshly, he attempts to prop himself up on his elbows, failing miserable allowing the hands to return and help him into a seated position. Nodding his head in thanks, not quite trusting his mouth to cooperate he allows himself to take in his surroundings.

A dark hallway with a single bulb slightly off-centred and dimmed by dust. It wasn't a long corridor, but it was skinny and intimidating and didn't have an obvious exit, an oddly shaped room perhaps? Grayson turned to look behind him. Another wall. The concrete beneath his gloved hands made a scraping sound as he moved, were they in a prison cell?

They.

Finally he looked to inspect the others in this strange room with him. A masked man and a strange looking individual, not human with his long slender hands clasped together and his beady eyes staring through him rather than at him. It? He? Was shorter than the average man with greying skin, his hood covering his head as he stood behing the masked man.

"Renegade"

Dick's eyes flicker to the man. His mask removed to reveal an older gentleman with greying temples and one cold silver eye searching his own for some sort of clue?

"Alien, what has gone wrong" a snarling sound that caused the other two occupants of the 'room' to tense up.

"He seems to have little recollection as to what has happened" the creature replied his voice strange and quiet.

Grayson realised that the 'he' in this sentence was him. He wasn't recollecting what he was supposed to be. Questions began to form and worry curled tightly in his chest.

The man looked back at him, his eyebrows crossed tightly in frustration. His hand gripping tightly onto Dick's shoulder making the younger man wince slightly.

"Fix it."

The figure removed his hood and Dick's eyes widened in shock as the alien's exposed brain came into view. Pushing himself up more Grayson tries to shuffle backwards, Slade's strong grip on his shoulder preventing him from moving far.

Memories bombard him as he squeezes his eyes shut, his hands pushing his eyes into his sockets. Slade. No Bruce.....No Slade. Slade. Bruce. Slade. Dick wails in agony as the onslaught continues.....until it stops, so abruptly that Dick was unsure if he had felt it happen in the first place.

"Son?"

That didn't seem right, but Grayson responded anyway, his masked eyes meeting Slade Wilson's.

He could feel a single tear run from under his mask. " I have found you. You are safe."

Another tear follows. What was going on.

"Be careful Deathstroke, I had to strip him down to his most vulnerable state to avoid breaking his mind" that voice again. "He still has his skills and intelligence, but he still retains memories, both sets. From you and from...."

"Don't say his name"

Silence returned. Dick closed his eyes and hung his head.

"Try memory 17. Now."

Dick gasps as he feels the presence in his mind. An orange and black mask invades his vision and the dark takes over.

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Memory 17

The young boy sniffles lightly trying to clear his nose at the sound of knocking at his bed room door.

"Richard? May I come in?"

A small hand wipes a tear from his face as he breathes deeply trying to erase any sign of weakness from his features.

"Yes Sir"

The door clicked open softly and inaudible footsteps made their way towards him. Dick turned his head away as the mattress dipped beside him. An intimidating weight making itself known to him. A mercenary who could kill him without a second thought.

"What have I said about tears Grayson." The voice was soft but stern.

"They are a price no man can afford" came the boy's voice.

"Talk with me then, and end this crying. Look at me!" A fake gentleness cut at the corners of his façade.

"You don't understand"

"Understanding comes with knowledge. Knowledge results from information. To achieve understanding you must provide me with the information"

Slade frowns as he spots the boy's fist curl in anger. This wasnt how this usually went.

"Stop talking in riddles! I have spoken to you about it all before Bruce!!!" The boy shouted, his emotions reaching its peak after the turmoil his mind was put through.

The boy gripped his head. "Bruce. Bruce. Why am I.....why?"

The memories Psimon spoke of were clashing. Slade growled quietly.

"You are NOT BRUCE!"

The room began to fade as colours swirl and explode. Slade was not happy. He was not happy at all.

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The windowless corridor.

Grayson was already on his feet when Slade returned to the real world. The anger in his fake scenario made it's way  to the strange room with Deathstroke as it flared in his chest and sat there waiting.

"Son..."

"You are not my father." Grayson spat, his posture growing defensive as he searches for an escape.

Slade allows his attention to divert to the alien.

"Fix it. Now."

It was an unspoken promise of what would happen if Psimon didn't fix it that made him do what he did next.

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I guess you could say I updated this faster than the last chapter.....enjoy!