It Comes With the Cape

Eyes Wide Shut

A handful of warnings before we jump in:

Moderate gore. Most is implied, but it's pretty significant. Much blood. Big ouch. 

Mild censored language. I mention this because I usually include none.

Basically, if you wanted humor, fluff, or any level of resolution this chapter, you came to the wrong place. I had the idea for this scene when I was trying to fall asleep, and it escalated very quickly from there. I did not plan to post it, but it wrapped up nicely in a cliffhangerish way.

Please see the note at the end if you want anything else from me. :)

xXx

"Let me go!" Dick stirred at the sound of Tim shouting in defiance. There was the clattering of wood on thick metal. "Let me go!" he repeated.

Dick opened his eyes, unable to stop himself from groaning as his brain seemed to collapse on itself. He'd taken a sizeable hit from... who was it? He was suspended by his arms, which were bound above him by thick rope.

"Take it easy, kid." Deathstroke. Right. That douchebag. He sounded calm and collected, despite the fact that he was pinning a struggling teenager to an operating table and strapping his arms and legs down.

"What are you doing?" Dick demanded with a ferocity that his headache protested painfully.

"You really don't remember, do you? It was probably just another undercover mission for you." Slade tightened the last strap on Tim's ankles pensively. "You agreed to train Rose and, at the same time, train under me. It was a win-win-win situation. I had another apprentice, Rose had another teacher, and you were learning all kinds of things Batman never would have thought of teaching you." Tim and Dick both struggled in their respective restraints. "Imagine my surprise when my daughter was driven to take out her own eye because of you."

"She did that because in your sick version of parenting, that's what a child needs to do in order to be loved," Dick spat.

Deathstroke didn't respond immediately. He was deadly calm, calculated. Dick knew it was no good sign.

"You may think that," Deathstroke said quietly. "Even so, it was you that eventually drove her to leave me and join your merry band of teenage misfits. My daughter chose you and your band of angsty teens over me!"

"Surprising absolutely no one. Do you want the reasons alphabetically or chronologically?" Tim asked.

Deathstroke shook his head slowly, apparently not hearing (or, more likely, ignoring) him. "A man like me... just can't stand for something like that. I have my pride. And you challenged it." He unsheathed a serrated knife and approached Dick.

Dick struggled with renewed vigor. "You know that hurting me won't get you anywhere. Nothing will be changed."

Deathstroke's eye gleamed beneath his mask. "Oh, trust me, I know." He turned to face Tim strapped to the table.

Realization dawned on Dick. "No, don't!" He yanked at the ropes frantically, tugging at the knots in futile desperation. "Leave him out of this! He didn't do anything!"

Deathstroke walked to the other side of the table and pulled off the domino mask over Tim's eyes. He placed one hand firmly on Tim's jaw, holding his head in place as he writhed in his restraints. "Neither did Rose," he said softly. He lifted the knife over Tim's left eye, and Tim looked desperately to Dick for help, for reassurance, for something that he himself lacked. Dick hated himself for the fact that he couldn't give it to him.

Tim drew in a shuddering breath.

Deathstroke plunged the knife down.

There was an instant, a brief moment, where the only sound was that of the sharp blade piercing soft flesh.