(no subject)
Title: Send me a wound
Summary: He's got some choices to make.
Author's Notes: AU of Identity Crisis, for mildredmilton.
Title from this poem.
Disclaimer: I do not own any characters described herein; DC has all.
When Doctor Light shows up, desperate past the bravado, and tries to hire him for a bodyguard Slade doesn't simply say no.
He takes three steps forward, fast enough that Light can't react, and knocks him out with one strike.
Looking down at him, at the blood on his face, Slade wishes that he was more willing to do torture. If anybody would deserve it, it's this scum.
It won't just be as simple as not taking this job. There are rumors of a new team coming, a Society of villains with Doctor Light as their mascot. He's made a choice and picked his side.
He's heard enough of what the League did as payment to Light to know that there's no way in hell he's going to that team.
He used to be able to go to the Titans. After Joey... no.
Not the Outsiders, either. He knows Arsenal and Nightwing, but he doesn't know that team.
He'd never worked with the Doom Patrol. Logan, sure, but not the Doom Patrol.
Slade breathes, feeling the pain in his knuckles -- Light had better armor than he'd thought -- fade. There's no team he can call.
And there's Rose to think of.
Damn it. Calling Grayson's apartment gets a 'This number has been disconnected' message that makes him frown. When he'd been there -- Christ, really just that few months ago? -- the kid had been fine. He doesn't have time to check on the boy now.
No options.
Calling Wayne gets him Alfred, and games he's not in the mood to play right now. He hangs up.
He toys with the idea of calling Wonder Woman. He's worked with her before.
"Superman," he says instead, quietly, knowing he'll be heard. "I have something you might want."
-- Finis
Summary: He's got some choices to make.
Author's Notes: AU of Identity Crisis, for mildredmilton.
Title from this poem.
Disclaimer: I do not own any characters described herein; DC has all.
When Doctor Light shows up, desperate past the bravado, and tries to hire him for a bodyguard Slade doesn't simply say no.
He takes three steps forward, fast enough that Light can't react, and knocks him out with one strike.
Looking down at him, at the blood on his face, Slade wishes that he was more willing to do torture. If anybody would deserve it, it's this scum.
It won't just be as simple as not taking this job. There are rumors of a new team coming, a Society of villains with Doctor Light as their mascot. He's made a choice and picked his side.
He's heard enough of what the League did as payment to Light to know that there's no way in hell he's going to that team.
He used to be able to go to the Titans. After Joey... no.
Not the Outsiders, either. He knows Arsenal and Nightwing, but he doesn't know that team.
He'd never worked with the Doom Patrol. Logan, sure, but not the Doom Patrol.
Slade breathes, feeling the pain in his knuckles -- Light had better armor than he'd thought -- fade. There's no team he can call.
And there's Rose to think of.
Damn it. Calling Grayson's apartment gets a 'This number has been disconnected' message that makes him frown. When he'd been there -- Christ, really just that few months ago? -- the kid had been fine. He doesn't have time to check on the boy now.
No options.
Calling Wayne gets him Alfred, and games he's not in the mood to play right now. He hangs up.
He toys with the idea of calling Wonder Woman. He's worked with her before.
"Superman," he says instead, quietly, knowing he'll be heard. "I have something you might want."
-- Finis