[Bruce Wayne's POV]
I had been away from Gotham on League business when I learned that Jason had been beaten by someone. I didn't know who was responsible, but I was determined to find out as soon as possible.
Upon returning to Gotham, I wasted no time in investigating the matter. I didn't bother asking Jason about it, as I knew I could easily uncover the truth in just a few minutes.
"Welcome back, Master Wayne," the familiar voice of my father-figure and butler greeted me as he opened the door to my mansion. With a nod of his head, I acknowledged his greeting."
"Hello Alfred, it's good to be back." I responded with an almost unnoticeable smile on my face, after embarking on dangerous missions with the League in order to keep the world safe, it sure feels good to be home every once in a while.
"How was your trip Master Wayne?" He asked, ever so affectionate and concerned for my well being.
"It was… How do I put it? Messy, but it all worked out fine." I replied to him, handing over my coat to him.
"That's good to know. I'll prepare your bath in a second, dinner would be ready by the time you get out." Alfred said as it came to his notice how exhausted I was.
"Thanks Alfred." I said to him as I took a seat and turned to walk in the direction of my room. I passed halfway and turned back at him. "How are the kids?" I asked.
"I'm sure you already know what happened to Master Jason but I can assure you that he's fine, both of them." I turned back and continued my advancement to my room.
After my bath, I had dinner with the kids and tied like everything was alright. I didn't want to say anything to Jason until I found out what really happened to him and who was responsible for him getting beaten up so badly.
When it came to my notice how roughed up he was, I thought it was done by a major villain and almost rushed back because they probably seemed too much for both Jason and Barbara to handle. But as I searched through, I discovered it wasn't done by a villain but a kid not too older than Jason so I paid it to mind.
They acted normal all through dinner except for Jason who was sulking and for some reason couldn't look me in the eye, I guess he felt ashamed for what happened to him. I ignored it and proceeded to the Batcave immediately. I was done with dinner.
I sat in front of a computer and investigated what happened that day and while I was doing so, I discovered it happened twice. There was a second encounter, the first encounter seemed to shake him to his core but the second one had broken his pride.
I did a little digging on the white-haired kid and he seemed to be a normal kid who moved from Central City to Gotham not too long ago. I searched for footage of their fight, but there wasn't any. The cameras around, either from a building or a surveillance camera.
They seemed to have been tampered and it only showed Jason attacking Tom and Tom walking away with Jason laying on the ground unconscious. The second one was at the front of Tom's home and it was similar to the first one. The only difference was that Jason was conscious while Tom walked away and Jason was so shaken it seemed like he couldn't move an inch from that spot for almost five minutes.
I had to do more digging on Tom, he seemed like a normal kid except that he was so unfortunate to have experienced a tragic loss in his life, later on he was diagnosed with amnesia.
He wasn't recorded as a metahuman and his records didn't say anything concerning him being so good with technology that he could tamper with the footage. The only job he held was working as a bartender at a local bar in Central City and after a few months of working there, he quit his job and after some more he dropped out of school and only frequented a local gym until he moved to Gotham and his activities so far have been mundane.
He often visited the Tin Roof Bar, the Gotham City Library, multiple restaurants and spent the rest of his time at home. I don't see how someone like him could beat Jason who had years of training and experience. Maybe I'd have to speak with Jason after all.
…
[Tom Hendricks POV]
I sat on a bench at the Gotham City park, observing the people as they went about their day while I relished in the feel of nature. The tree above me shielded me from the evening sun as the cool evening breeze swept through the park.
This was a place to rewind and slow down your thoughts, connect with nature and escape from the pollution in the city itself.
I've had my fill of girls in masks and spandex breaking into my place at night and later it turns into some therapy section or a Q&A.
"Hey kid, I didn't think we'd run into each other so soon." A deep familiar voice broke off my train of thoughts as I tried to recall where I've heard it before.
Turning around, I saw the security guard I had seen at the warehouse. Only this time, he wasn't wearing sunglasses but an eye patch over his right eye.
"You took the words right out of my mouth." I responded, gesturing for him to have a seat.
"You seem to have a lot on your mind, I think that's not quite healthy for a young man like you." He said jokingly as he looked laid back into the bench.
"Is it that visible on my face, or did you notice through the wisdom they assume comes with age." I said to him as he let out a chuckle before continuing.
"Be careful now kid, you already have matching white hair to mine and people might mistake you for old and wise from the way you speak." I mused at that for a while before letting out a short laugh.
"The name's Fred." He said with an arm stretched out. I checked his hand as I replied to him with my name. "Tom."
"What do you say Tom? Let me treat you to a drink." Being offered a drink from a stranger I had only met twice seemed normal for males, yet it felt off. But who was I to reject the offer, the sun was setting and it seemed like a perfect evening for a drink.
"Sure, why not." I gave him a reply as we stood up from the bench and headed into town.
As the sun began to set, my companion and I arrived at a bar he had recommended. I had never visited this bar before, as it was located in a region of town that was unfamiliar to me. When it was time to order, he asked me what I would like to drink, and I requested whiskey. The bartender provided us with glasses and added ice before pouring our drinks.
As we drank and talked throughout the night, we found ourselves bonding over our conversation. It was a strange feeling, but one that can often be attributed to the power of alcohol.
As the night wore on, my companion and I decided it was time to call it a night. "I really need to start going," I said, rising from my seat. But as I stood up, my companion placed a hand on my shoulder and asked me to stay for one more drink. Despite my initial hesitation, I eventually agreed to stay for just one more.
The bartender brought over the bottle of whiskey and poured equal amounts into both of our glasses, which were already filled with ice. As I took a sip from my drink, I noticed that my companion, Fred, hadn't touched his yet. Suddenly, his friendly expression turned serious, and in my surprise, I accidentally dropped my glass to the ground.
I immediately realized that I had been set up, but I had no idea when it all began. As I tried to stand up, I stumbled and had to hold onto the counter to steady myself. My head felt fuzzy and my eyes were dizzy, causing the room to spin. My heart raced as I struggled to regain control of my body.
"What did you do to me?" I asked, dropping down to the floor. My consciousness was slipping away and I could see Fred's feet in front of me. The image was blurry and I heard him say something unexpected: "Goodnight Tom, or should I say Ghost." The dim light gradually faded and I completely lost consciousness.
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[Slade Wilson's POV]
After sending my request to Ghost, the only person who I saw around the warehouse's address during that time period was Tom. He claimed to have been lost but I could hear him lie through his teeth.
I followed him, stalked him from afar and observed my prey. One evening I stalked him to the park and it seems like the perfect opportunity to get him down. I went over to a bar which belonged to an old associate of mine, where I made a deal with the bartender to lace the last shot of whiskey he'd poured for me and a companion that evening.
I went back to the park after making the arrangement with the bartender and approached Tom, where I convinced him to go out for a drink with me and later roofied his drink. I was surprised he held out that long and even tried to move in that state.
Most people would have been knocked out cold before they even realized it. I took him back to the abandoned warehouse, and dropped him on the worn out couch at a section there.
For hours I contemplated killing him, but it wouldn't be fun to kill a kid while he's asleep without him getting the chance to fight for his life as he tries defending himself.
Also I needed to confirm he was really Ghost, it could have just been an unfortunate coincidence that he was at the warehouse's vicinity that evening. I went by his profile and dug into him, but there wasn't any evidence that could link him to Ghost.
I went over to take a leak around the back and coming back, I saw Tom trying to make his way out. He woke way earlier than I had expected, so I grabbed my rope and headed for him.
…
[Tom Hendricks POV]
As I open my eyes, I felt a pounding headache and a strange feeling in my stomach. I could barely remember what happened last night. I tried to sit up, but my body felt heavy, like it's weighed down by an invisible force.
I glanced around the room, trying to piece together where I was. It was a small, dimly lit space with peeling wallpaper and old, dusty furniture. It took me a moment to realize that I was on a couch in a section of a warehouse.
Then it all came flooding back to me. I was out drinking the previous night with Fred, and we were having a few drinks at a bar he had recommended. But something was off. The last thing I remember was Fred buying me a shot, and then everything went black.
I felt a wave of panic wash over me but I calmed myself. Did Fred drug me? I shake my head, trying to clear the fog in my brain. I needed to get out of there, figure out what happened.
As I struggle to my feet, I realize that my legs are unsteady, and my vision is still blurry. I stumble over to the front door, my heart racing. I fumble with the lock, my fingers feeling clumsy and slow. Finally, the door opened, and I was hit by a blast of cold air.
Outside, the world was hazy and indistinct, like I was looking at it through a thick fog but the surrounding looked like the warehouse I was asked to work security on.
I took a deep breath, trying to clear my head when I heard Fred's voice. "Oh, you're up early. I gotta admit, I didn't expect you to be up so soon, not till another two hours at least." He said as he pulled me back inside and threw me on the floor. I was still too weak to do anything.
He sat me on a chair and tied my arms behind my back. I couldn't use my powers because my brain wasn't stable enough to make calculations. At the moment, I felt like a fragile human, so weak and defenseless, almost like a toddler with no fighting spirit.
"What, what did you do to me?" I asked him, trying to piece it all together. It was obvious what he did but I needed to hear from him, 'what if it was a deadly poison and this was the early effects?' I thought to myself.
"Isn't it obvious? I thought you were a smart one." He walked over to my position and leaned downward as he continued. "I roofied your drink Tom, or should I call you Ghost."
That moment my heart sank but I tried my best not to show it. I needed to act like I didn't know the meaning of that name or whom it belonged to.
I took a deep breath to calm my nerves and relaxed my tensed muscles. "Why would you call me Ghost? If I remember correctly, Halloween isn't until a few months away." I said, feigning ignorance to his claims.
"Playing innocent are we?" He chuckled as he asked me a rhetorical question.
"I know you are Ghost and I've been paid to eliminate you from the chess board."
My head was finally getting some clearance, as the fog slowly disappeared I could think straight again and my powers were sure to be active again.
"Do you think life is a movie with you as the main character?"
"Excuse me but I don't understand that twisted question of yours." I actually did but it was better to act like I didn't, unless it'll actually give away my identity.
"You think you can play God by overseeing operations and using pawns to do the actual work without getting your hands dirty," he said, turning around and grabbing two swords as if he was about to perform maintenance on them.
"Honestly Fred, I don't know what you're talking about," I replied, effortlessly creating friction around the rope he had used to tie my hands behind the chair and snapping it without him noticing.
"Stop pretending already. It's getting boring, and I'm itching to kill you so I can move on to my next job," he said, pointing a blade at me. "Also, my name isn't Fred. It's Slade Wilson."
That name sounded familiar, but I couldn't figure out who it belonged to. "I didn't get the chance to dress up because you woke up early. Well, maybe when I'm all dressed up, you'll know who I really am," he said as he pulled out some clothes and armor from a bag.
As soon as I saw the orange and black clothing, it clicked. Slade Wilson was the real name of the mercenary Deathstroke. I had plans for him, but I hadn't intended on meeting him now. Nevertheless, he was here, and I knew that this encounter could end either in my favor or very badly for me.
I sat in my chair, eyes fixed on Deathstroke as he changed into his mission gear. Though I had never seen him in person before, I had heard of his legendary skills and reputation as a deadly assassin. As I watched him dress, I couldn't help but be impressed by the attention to detail and precision that went into his preparations.
I watched as Deathstroke stepped into his combat pants, the lightweight, durable fabric hugging his muscular legs tightly. The reinforced knees and cargo pockets indicated that he was well-prepared for whatever challenges lay ahead.
Next, Deathstroke laced up his combat boots, their soles designed to provide excellent traction on any surface. The boots were sturdy and reliable, just like the man wearing them.
As Deathstroke slipped on his tactical vest, I noticed the various pouches and holsters attached to it. It was clear that he had prepared for any situation that might arise. I was currently in a sticky situation, and Deathstroke impressive arsenal of weapons only made it worse.
Finally, Deathstroke donned his iconic orange and black mask, which covered his entire face except for his right eye. I felt a shiver run down my spine as I looked at the fearsome visage of Deathstroke. I knew that this was a man who was not to be trifled with, and I had to hold back a wide smile that was about to creep across my lips.
As Deathstroke finished getting dressed, he checked his equipment one last time, making sure that everything was in its proper place and ready for action. He turned to me and I couldn't help but say, "Deathstroke."
"Good, you know me. You know what I can do and that I'm not one to be toyed with," he replied, his voice suddenly becoming heavier. He took off his mask, as if he had already made his point with it.
"I'm guessing you believe I'm Ghost, and that you have no choice but to either kill me or torture me until I confess," I said.
"Good, you're aware of your predicament. So start talking or things might get messy soon enough."
I closed my eyes, took a deep breath, and calmed my nerves. Then, I looked the man right in his one good eye and said, "How about this? Let's have a fight. If you beat me, I'll tell you everything I know. But if I win, you have to listen to a proposal of mine."
"That's the spirit," the man said with a wide, psychotic smile. "I doubt you'll be able to cause me any harm, but I accept your challenge."
"Good," I replied, matching his smile. "Shall we begin?"
==================
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