(Untitled)

[batmanschmatman]

Who: Dick Grayson and Slade Wilson; eventually Billy Costigan
Where: On deck.
When: Forward dated to Tuesday.
What: Dick and Slade cross paths. Dick loses his patience. A fight ensues.
Warnings: Some violence.

Comments

[terminates]

He was thinking.

It wasn't often that he did -- or at least, with any particular depth. Between two jobs, working out, the general chaos of the barge, he didn't actually have much time for it. Of course, now there were other things to occupy him, like Hoffman and the super soldier serum secreted away in a niche of his cabin. The upcoming death match with Chang. What was even the purpose behind it? Boredom? Cabin fever? Those were as likely an answer as any. The placid exterior he showed, while real enough in its own right, didn't even scratch the surface of who he really was. Who he could be.

In just two more month, he'd have been here for a year, and yet he had nothing to show for it. Not really. Of course, at least some of it was his own fault. His own insecurities were as stifling as the day he first arrived (courtesy of dead), as was the stubborn determination that redemption wasn't for him. Even now, the idea was almost laughable.

And yet he waited. Not daring to believe or even help with the process itself, but maybe, just maybe holding out for someone to understand. His warden did, to some extent, but he wasn't Wintergreen by any stretch of the imagination. He'd always known what to say.

Feeling a rare pang in his chest, his brow furrowed a little, lost in though as he leaned over the railing, staring out into the inky depths.

[batmanschmatman]

Dick had been about to continue pacing around the perimeter of the deck, hands shoved into the pockets of his jeans, when he suddenly realized someone else was now sort of blocking his path. A very familiar someone. Someone who - on a good day - Dick could almost pretend wasn't even on this stupid prison ship, and the sight was enough to make him stop in his tracks for a beat.

He should, really, just walk away. Nothing positive was going to come out of talking to Slade when he was in this kind of mood, when he wasn't really sure he had total control of his emotional responses. He was angry, sort of hurting and wanted an outlet that was more than just running or something.

So, no doubt foolishly, instead of heading in the opposite direction and looking for someone to spar with, he kept walking, stopping just a few feet from the mercenary.

"How's the abyss looking tonight?"

It could have been conversational, but there was an unmistakable edge to the words that Deathstroke no doubt recognize as borderline hostility. Not a threat, not trying to provoke him per say, but definitely pushing his buttons, reminding him that he was still here, and he was still angry about what had happened.

[terminates]

His eye narrowed slightly, the only indication that he heard as his expression remained unchanged. He'd known who it was already, but hearing those words (that tone) only confirmed it. One of these days, he'd really have to learn how and why the Bat Brats had such impeccable timing.

The temptation to walk away without a word was strong. In fact, he was very certain he should, but the idea of leaving one of the few places on this damned ship he actually liked just because Grayson had his panties in a twist left a sour taste in his mouth.

Without even sparing Dick a glance, he answered, "See for yourself."

I'm not going anywhere.

[batmanschmatman]

That's fine, because I'm not going anywhere either.

"Telling you anything interesting?"

He wasn't sure why he was still here. Provoking Slade was a bad idea, under any circumstance, but he was feeling edgy and reckless, and the words had left his mouth before he'd even realized he was forming them. This could only end badly if one of them didn't walk away, and he wasn't sure at this point if that was really going to be a viable option.

[terminates]

Idiot.

"The usual."

Vague and subject to all sorts of interpretations. Really, the answer was "nothing". It wasn't the first time he'd done this, and he was more than aware that stargazing wasn't going to result in an kind of epiphany for him. Harsh words and a good punch in the face might, but only coming from the right person.

As of now, though, no such person existed.

He was stuck.

[batmanschmatman]

Dick let out a short, quiet laugh, smirk stretching a little wider for a second before he too went to go look out over the railing. There was still space between them - maybe ten or so feet - but from the general posture, it was almost like they were two friends hanging out.

'Almost', of course, meaning if you were completely ignoring their body language, Slade's clipped responses and Dick's own not quite obnoxious, but definitely less than amicable tone.

"So, what do you see out there? Out of curiosity."

[terminates]

His jaw tightened slightly, the only outward indication of his annoyance with Dick's behavior. He didn't like people picking at him on the best of days, though mostly, he just ignored it. He was secure in his capabilities, nor did he allow another's commentary on how they perceived him to influence his conduct.

Today, though? He was already in a bad mood.

"Nothing better to do?"

[batmanschmatman]

"You mean, no one to hunt down and kill, no league of villains to play Bizarro UN with, no deals to go back on?"

The last bit, of course, being why he was here in the first place, and why he'd honestly like nothing more then to deck Wilson here and now. Over a hundred thousand people had died, and it had been his fault because he'd trusted Deathstroke, a guy who up until that moment had been an enemy, yes, but one with an honor system. A code.

And then he'd okayed the dropping of a living nuclear warhead on Bludhaven.

[terminates]

Of course. Bludhaven.

If he was the type to roll his eyes (or eye, rather), he would. Not because of the deaths -- no, never them. He'd not only made a poor choice, but the same one Cheshire made years ago. Back then, he'd been enraged by it, infuriated that she could have sacrificed so many for a purpose so petty as blackmail. Now that he found himself in the same position, guilty of an near-identical crime, he only felt hollow. The moment he gave the order, he'd known he was signing away a piece of himself he could never get back.

No- what really irritated him about the whole thing was Dick's insistence on making it about himself. HIS failure, HIS pride, HIS need to make amends for something so clearly outside his control or influence. He'd told the Society the bombing was about Nightwing and teaching him a lesson; he'd lied then, but it wasn't the last he told.

His lower lip curled with unmistakable disdain. "It must grate on you more than the shortpants ever did."

[batmanschmatman]

"A costume joke? Really?" He laughed dismissively, looking over at Slade with a kind of dangerous, reckless glint in his eye. "Must be getting complacent. You're out of practice with the bantery insults."

He stopped leaning against the rail, straightening casually, arm sliding off to sort of dangle at his side. Still not in a defensive stance, not visibly tensed and ready to leap into action even if he was on guard in case Slade wanted to start throwing punches - it would have been stupid not to be prepared for something - and kept talking. "But I guess if shooting recycled jokes at me's what helps you sleep at night, good for you."

He was starting to reach the point where there would really be no going back from this. He should have just walked away when he'd first seen him on deck.

[terminates]

Out of practice? Maybe. Or possibly, he just didn't give a shit. Either way, he was quickly losing patience.

"Not as well as your bargain, probably."

For all the flatness in that commentt, the word 'bargain' bore the edge of a sneer. The selfless little Batchild making a deal with the devil in an attempt to do something good. It was a familiar story.

"You think it'll bring them back."

More a statement than a question, that. His tone wasn't particularly kind either.

Back off.

[batmanschmatman]

"Yeah, I do."

He ignored the first quip, and his voice was still tight and controlled, but Slade had touched a nerve, and he'd be able to tell. As much as Dick hated to admit it - since who really wanted people like this in their lives? - but in the grand scheme of things, they knew each other pretty well. Even if he wasn't outright snapping at him, Slade would know he was getting to him.

This, of course, went both ways, as Dick was more than aware that Slade wanted him gone, but he wasn't leaving. Yeah, it was stupid to give in and let him get to him, but Dick was compromised. He wasn't going anywhere, even if he knew he should get out and get out now.

[terminates]

Oh yes. He most certainly could tell. The sad thing was, they did know each other well -- more than either of them would have liked, really. What was done, couldn't be undone, though, and he'd had more than enough of this brat dangling things over his head.

If all he wanted to see was someone to hate, he could damn well have it. Even Wintergreen, strangely poetic as he was, had called him a "master of revulsion".

He was right.

"Don't count on it."

[batmanschmatman]

"You know something the rest of us don't know about the Admiral living up to his promises?"

His voice was still controlled, but that control was wavering dangerously. Slade was pushing the right buttons, and while part of Dick could tell, the more emotional, increasingly angry part of him was blocking his ability to pull back from the situation.

He didn't want Slade to be right, knew he couldn't be right, because people had made deals, had them fulfilled and come back to tell about it, but the idea that there was literally nothing he could do to undo what had happened was potentially crippling, and he forced it away as hard as he could.

[terminates]

"You think a deus ex machina who puts his own lackeys through hell is trustworthy?"

Did he know the Admiral held up his end of deals struck by wardens? Yes. But now that he'd started the verbal abuse, he wasn't about to stop.

[batmanschmatman]

"Trying to make me doubt myself or something? Very cute."

It wasn't going to work, not in the long term. But if Slade kept pushing on that subject, Dick would snap.