Change of Plans

Chapter 2

Jason's heart was racing as he stumbled away from Doctor Light, the half-conscious man making no move to get up from the dirty ground.
Why was Deathstroke here? What was he doing in San Francisco? Was he after Rose? That would explain some things, but why here, why now?

And then it clicked and Jason had to fight down the rising panic, the urge to flee like a trapped animal. Trap, this whole fucking thing was a fucking trap and he fell right into it.
Fucking shit.

Jason had never been one to quit, but he knew when to pick a fight and when not to. This was a 'not' situation, defenetifly a 'not' situation. He moved to sprint into the direction he had come from, to find Gar, to warn Dick of Deathstroke the fucking Terminator, to do anything at all, but before he could even take two steps, a gloved fist pulled his cape backwards, the piece of fabric choking him for a second, before Jason landed hard on his back, all air rushing out of his lungs. He laid there, coughing and wheezing, before rolling backwards over his shoulder, pushing his arms up to land on his feet, hands raised to protect himself and legs spread so he had a stable stance, eyes narrowed at the mercenary.

Looks like Deathstroke wouldn't let him go easily. Just his luck.
Even on good days, Jason would be no match for someone with Slade Wilson's stature, and the fight with Dr. Light had taken its toll.
Jason could feel the dizziness of a light concussion and taste the blood from his split lip, not to mention that his ribs hurt like a bitch from where Doctor Light had hit him earlier.

"What do you want?" He questioned, lips pulled into a defensive snarl.
Instead of answering, Deathstroke unsheathed his sword.
"Wow, great conversation skills," Jason mocked, ducking and rolling to the side as the sharp weapon cut through the air where his head had been only moments before.

"Don't you think that's a bit obsolete?" He grinned, jumping to his feet, "fighting with a sword, I mean. People use gun nowadays, asshole."
He blocked a punch to his chest with his underarms, dropping to the floor and trying to sweep Wilson's legs out from under him, but the assassin jumped and as he came back down, thrusting his sword down with the momentum, aiming to impale Jason's still outstretched leg, but the hero back-handspringed, worsening the spell of dizziness, but avoiding the sharp object.

Before Jason could regain his bearings (the world was spinning in the wrong way for some reason), a fist collided with his nose, his head snapping back against the wall, the sound of flash hitting metal echoing through the tunnels.
Pain exploded from his face, hot and searing pain, as blood flowed down his nose like a waterfall, dripping from his chin to the floor, soon building a small puddle of ruby red liquid.
Breathing through the pain, Jason screwed his eyes shut as the world tilted dangerously to the left, hands shaking as he pulled himself back to his feet, heavily relying on the wall next to him.
Even through closed eyes, he could feel the world spinning and his own blood choking him.
He coughed, trying to clear his lungs of the steady flow of blood.

"Fucking bastard," he hissed, pushing against the wall and throwing a punch at the mercenary's neck, but he was slow and unbalanced, and Deathstroke easily caught his fist, striking Jason across the face with his other hand, his knuckles leaving a mark on the teenager's cheek.
Jason's head jerked to the right, his body falling with the momentum of the hit, but Slade hold his hand in a bruising grip, keeping the boy upright, as he pulled him closer, whispering, "You do not know when to shut your mouth, do you?"

Jason spit blood and saliva onto the other's face and retorted, "I guess not," grinning challenging, a thin line of blood running down the corner of his mouth.
He could imagine the sneer behind the mask as Deathstroke punched him in the stomach and Jason doubled over, wheezing for breath, just to get kicked under his chin by a steel-tipped boot, head snapping back and even more blood dripped out of his mouth.

The man let go of his fist and Jason dropped to the floor, coughing and spitting out blood.
Despite the situation, Jason smirked, rolling on his side with a groan and looked at Deathstroke with a clear challenge in his eyes. "That all you got?"

Apparently not. Jason had just enough time to curl into a defensive ball and protect his head with his arms as kicks rained down on him, pain painting his world black and blue.
Jason tried desperately to hold back the small sounds of pain, but gasps and groans escaped his bloodied lips anyway.

And then it stopped, and Jason had the time to breath, his body trembling as waves of pain shot from head to toe and back again.
For a short moment, Jason was reminded of another time he had laid like this, another angry man standing above him, screaming and raging as his mother begged for him to stop, too blue to actually know what she was pleading for.

He was snapped out of his thoughts when Deathstroke crouched down next to him, holding something black in his hand, but Jason's vision shifted too much to see it clearly.
"You don't want to know what I can do to you, boy," he growled, his voice deep and threatening.

Jason slowly uncurled, pushing himself on his elbows. "Try me," he shot back, eyes glistening defiantly.
He could swear he heard the assassin sigh as the black object was pressed against his neck. "Too bad."
And then pain enfulged Jason as electricity run through his body, the taser being held fast against his tender skin, and Jason arched his back with an animalistic scream, feeling as if someone was pulling his insides out, the clashing pain turning his vision dark.
Maybe, he should just go to sleep for a while.
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I know this was short, but this was basically just fighting, so...