Rose hesitated upon answering, and instead pulled the half-smoked cigarette from her mouth. She crossed a leg over her bent one and stifled the end of the burning paper into the soul of her boot until it was completely out. She then moved to stand, able to just use her upper leg strength to bring her back to her feet without so much as needing to use her hands or the wall. She perched the half-smoked cigarette behind her right ear, brushing her blonde hair to the side as she did so and began a rather slow-paced walk up to the observation deck where Roy was, and stood next to him, leaning her forearms against the railing and watched as her best friend and little brother battled the crazed Harley Quinn, finally able to see what was going on for the first time.

"Don't you dare tell me that you aren't." She said, keeping her eyes on Scorpion, watching his moves. He had grown so much since he had been here, both in mind and abilities. She couldn't have been more proud of him. Someone had to look out for the little guy when he first arrived, the poor kid was so out of his element at the Tower, she had taken pity on him and since had 'adopted' him as her little brother. The only person she cared for more than him was her own father.

Snapping herself out of her thoughts, Rose hopped up onto the railing, sitting on the thin bar of metal with her back now facing the simulation, and her full attention to Roy.

"I think they are being babied." She said flatly, though if Iron Fist were around she probably would have refrained from saying so.

"I... see..." Tempest answered back to Taskmaster.

Truthfully he had no idea what the kids were saying these days and had little to no interest in such. Staying "with it" was possibly the furthest thing from his mind at any given moment. Not only was he not human, and therefor not totally concerned with the affairs of the surface world, he was royalty, and needed to behave as such. Slang would be below him even if he were interested in it.

"I suppose the first order of business would be to speak to Iron Fist, yes. This way please, don't wander off."

Tempest led the masked individual through up and into the lobby, where he found some of his colleagues gathered around the screen. The focus of their attention was apparently a simulation taking place upstairs. A good chunk of their team was currently engaged in it. Clowns or ninjas or something, he wasn't quite sure from only seeing the latter half of it. If there was a sim taking place, Iron Fist was likely leading it, and couldn't be reached in person. Tempest had left his communicator in his room, as he had been meditating in his "fish tank" (as his teammates were prone to calling it), where it most certainly would have become water-logged and useless.

"R-" Tempest stopped himself from using his teammate's actual name in front of Taskmaster, who was effectively an outsider. "Ravager, do you have your comm on you? Do you mind paging I.F. and telling him that there's one Taskmaster requesting his presence?"

"Don't you dare tell me that you aren't." Rose paused for a moment before she spoke again, "I think they are being babied."

Roy raised a brow as he kept his smirk. “You think a billion dollar simulation chamber that is sporting ninja robots and Harlequin is babying them? You're nuts. I mean I admit it’s not a real physical test of their abilities—but it does show their adaptability to the spontaneity of a scenario. We’ve fought our deal of less than predictable opponents even for our eyes and you know that.”

As Roy replied to Rose, the appearance of Tempest adverted his attention to something else. The new recruit was looking for Iron Fist. "Ravager, do you have your comm on you? Do you mind paging I.F. and telling him that there's one Taskmaster requesting his presence?"

Roy turned to the voice of Tempest before Rose could reply, “Our benevolent babysitter will be back shortly, he’s seeing to an absent member in the simulation.”

Rose adjusted herself on the metal bar and looked from Tempest to...the other one. Something about that costume struck her as familiar, but hell, Roy was right; they had both been through so much and seen so many different things, it was hard to distinguish who was who anymore. A light chuckle came from Rose at hearing Roy calling Iron Fist a 'Benevolent Babysitter', still she showed some interest in the situation. She stood up on the iron bar, balancing on the two inch wide strip of metal and reached into a small pocket on her belt and pulled out a device that resembled a blue=tooth head set and plugged it into her ear. Most of the time, Rose never wore the stupid thing as she felt it tied her down to grounds she didn't desire to be tied down to, but kept it on her person in case of instances like this. With a quick press on a small button on the device, the headset was on and she was linked to everyone wearing the headsets.

"I.F. Someone here to see you in the simulation room. Multi-tasker or something...Tempest brought him in." Rose said into the comm link, walking the thin bar of metal back and forth as easily as if she were walking on a flat floor, completely over-stepping what Roy had just said about needing to wait until he was done with Amy. While waiting for their leader's reply, Rose gave Roy a quick wink, it's intended purpose unknown really, sort of like a misplaced signal of seduction, and then turned her attention to Tempest.

"I had almost forgotten you knew how to breathe air Tempest, we hardly see you up here on the surface." She teased him lightly. Normally she didn't particularly engage in conversation with him, as he was very to-himself all the time, but Rose couldn't pass up putting in a few jabs here and there. And then, without waiting for a reply from Tempest, she turned her attention then to Task Master, dropping herself down on the metal bar so that her left leg was left completely suspended in air, as her right leg was bent into her chest as she crouched down low so that she was once again level with her teammates.

"You look kind of familiar..."

Taskmaster looked around the building as he followed Tempest. Well the small part of the building that he walked through anyway. He looked to the people in the lobby when he reached it. He noticed Ravager and the others as he walked in. He remained quiet though. That is until Ravager said he looked familiar.
"Well I've came around here a few times, and you lot have interrupted my own crime fighting that I was doing to get publicity" He reminisced about his early days of crime fighting
"It's just like that time I punched Thor in the jaw even though I knew I would lose but that bitch hawkeye took all the credit" He folded his arms
"You're Ravager aren't you?" Taskmaster asked rhetorically.
"I've seen your sword skill, bit sloppy, mostly good" He joked

New York City
Brooklyn
01:14 A.M

The man of the age of 26 was sprinting over the rooftop. His heart was pounding against his chest, and sweat was running down his face and back. His legs felt as if they were on fire. He looked behind him, and then pressed on forward faster. He let out a yell as he jumped off the roof-top, to the lower platform, rolled onto the ground, and climbed down. The guy was a rather skilled free-runner. He rolled backwards as he hit the ground, and then continued to run down the alley. He was almost in his own territory now.

Almost..

He rustled down a alleyway, and took a turn. He came towards the gangbangers, the ones who belonged to his screw. "Ayy. Holmes. Who ya' runnin' from?" The man panted, leaning forward. "H-he"

"Chas..." He couldn't form a completely sentence, both from exhaustion and nervousity. "Vamos, man! Whatcha runnin' from? The cops?"

"I think he's running from me." A voice said above them, as the vigilante in the black suit dropped down into the circle that had formed around the runner. He grabbed two by the neck, and jammed their heads together knocking them out. Before the others could react, he kicked a third one in the ribs, sending him flying into the alley wall, knocked out cold. Fourth threw a punch. The hero Spun around, and lifted his leg up, and wrapped it around the somewhat taller man's arm. He then clenched his leg, breaking the arm just above the elbow, and then used the momentum to spun around and throw the guy into a dumpster, the lid falling over him.

"Now then.. Jean-Luke... Time to talk." The masked man said.

"W-Who are you?" The man said, his skin pale, and he was still panting.

"I'm the Red Hood."

Jean-Luke let out a scream before he went silent. The police would find Jean Luke's full confession about smuggling, rape and murder, along with the five thugs in the alley in a few hours.

***

Jason Peter Todd walked into Titan Tower, talking on the phone with Bruce. “Do I really have to deal with the sidekicks again? Bruce, come on. Make me run special-ops, or something. Not babysitting.” Jason complained, Bruce didn't budge. Saying that it would make him a better team player, and it'd be good for him to meet some old friends-. “Yeah.. Because you're the authority on team playing and friendship... 'Batfamily - Friendship is Magic.'.. You're a hypocrite. But fine. I'll babysit.” Jason said, as he hung up the phone.

He was wearing casual clothes, with the natural exception of the red domino mask covering most of his face. “Okay.. Where the heck's Iron Fist?..” The former Boy-Wonder exclaimed, carrying his dufflebag with him.

Amy Winston, Titan Tower's Rec Room

As Iron Fist calmly lectured her, Amy remained quiet, occasionally twitching anxiously as she listened to the older hero. She didn't really know how to respond... Here she was, hiding away from the others and goofing off when she should be training, and yet he was acting like she wasn't in any trouble.

"W-well, um..." Propping back her glasses, Amy tried to look him in the eye (well, the mask at any rate), but somehow found her eyes drifting to his shoes instead. Even though he was always so calm, she still found him somewhat intimidating. Really, she found all of the other Titans intimidating too; they had been fighting crime for much longer than she had, and they were all older than her... "It just... It just feels kind of... I mean, I'm the youngest one here, and... Everyone is so much more experienced than me. I just feel so nervous that I can't... I just feel so..."

Sighing, Amy begin awkwardly fiddling with the amethyst that hung around her neck.

"I'm just... Not good at adapting, I guess... I know I have these powers for a reason, but... I don't even know why I have them in the first place!" As she finally looked Iron Fist in the eyes, Amy's face was filled with frustration; if she was a weaker willed girl she would probably be crying right now. "When I was in Gemworld, everything seemed so much easier... But now I'm here, surrounded by all these other superheroes... They called me a princess back there, but I have no idea why. I'm no princess... I'm just... I just don't know if joining the Titans was a good idea anymore..."

"Listen up you bozo's. Mistah J won't be too happy if you reach the top of this tower without his permission, so I suggest you morons just leave!"

The all too familiar Jersey accent was nearly enough to make Scorpion lose his concentration from what he was doing and plummet to the ground below. Why the hell was Harley Freakin' Quinn at the top of the Castle of The Nightingales? Looking back down, he spotted Roy, another Den Mother. Obviously the redhead had gotten bored of watching them fight ninjas. With a determined look on his face, Tim continued to climb.

The sound of gun fire filled the air, only to be followed by more shouts from the blond psychopath. Moving quickly, the Scorpion heaved himself over crenelations just in time to watch as Ricochet knocked one of Harley's pistols out of hand with one of his disks. Harley swore at the top of her lungs, before opening fire on the white haired hero with her other gun. Pouncing from where he was perched, Tim flew through the air, throwing a punch at Harley just before he hit her. The psycho was knocked to the floor under the weight of Scorpion, her second weapon falling to the floor as well.

However the battle was not won yet. Quinn kicked upwards, knocking the teen to the side, before jumping back to her feet. He delivered another good kick into Tim's ribs before running towards the corner of the rooftop, where her signature hammer was perched.

My name is Slade Wilson. I'm the mercenary known as



A man groans in pain as my foot slams into his gut, shattering four ribs. He won't be breathing normally for quite some time. Immediately, his compatriot runs towards me, foolhardy. I turn, drawing and firing my sidearm, a smooth motion honed by more than a decade of experience. The double-tap appearing in his forehead stops him cold. Turning my attention back to the man on the floor, I lift him up by the shirt, his weight almost effortless to my enhanced strength.

"Now, Mr. Draykov, you were telling me the location of my target." I say, the filtered voice coming from my mask terrifying the man. He panics, trying to scream, but failing from his ribs. "I don't know! I swear. He keeps to himself. Only comes by once a month for new jobs." His terrified simpering stops as his face turns red. It wouldn't matter if he did have more to say; he's already told me all he knows. I toss him against the far wall, sending him into unconsciousness.

As I swing my leg over the motorcycle, I activate the handsfree in the mask. It's programmed to dial only one number, and cannot be traced. The line on the other end rings, and when its owner picks up, I speak. "Hey, Rose, it's Dad. Listen, I know you're at the tower, but I'm off work and I'd like you home. I'm cooking."
Despite the innocuous word usage, I speak to my daughter in code. I'm cooking means it's time to come home; training begins. I wait for her reply.

My name is Slade Wilson. I'm a father.

Danny listened as Amy expressed all of her worries one after the other and though he had expected something of the sort to be the actual reason for the young girl's hesitation in training with the other Titans, the sheer depth of her lack of confidence and self-doubt still struck him as profoundly painful. If she was ever to succeed as a hero, she would need to believe in herself, at the very least. If he could do something about that, then maybe he really could do more good here than simply being an instructor. More than that, Danny owed t to her to try and help her find happiness and inner peace, not just as his student but as a person.

He put a hand on her shoulder as gently as he could and using what little he knew of the empathic and telepathic practices of K'un-Lun, attempted to radiate his feelings of calm and sincere confidence in Amy so that she could sense them as he spoke. He wasn't entirely sure she would believe him otherwise and he didn't want her under the illusion that he was lying to trick her into anything or falsely bolster her confidence in any way.

"Hey, you may be younger than most other heroes out there, but you've already saved an entire world. That's more than some of the others down in the training arena have done, and that means a lot. You have every right to be here regardless of your youth. Even the simple fact that you're here shows that the Teen Titans and maybe even the Justice League recognize your potential as a superheroine. More personally than that, I believe in you. Because right now I can see a girl who feels lost and confused and full of doubt, but who still wants to do the right thing despite feeling helpless, so much that it hurts. Going on when everything feels hopeless because you know that it's right, That's real heroism, Amy. You've got all the qualities of a superhero, and you owe it to yourself to believe it."

Danny allowed himself a small smile as he finished the little speech. As corny as he knew it all probably seemed, he really was sincere.

"Plus, if you're still nervous about training with the other Titans, I can always train you personally, one-on-one. The most effective training happens outside all the drills and simulated exercises anyways, so I'd be happy to teach you everything I can. I may not know exactly why you have your powers, but my childhood home of K'un-Lun was a place filled with magic and arcane knowledge, the rulers of the city often consulted with agents of the Lords of Order as well as the Sorceror Supreme of Earth. I was considered a poor student, but my knowledge about magic is considered very extensive for someone with no talent at it and I'm sure that if we work together we can figure things out. Also, ah, I don't like to brag but if it ever interests you I've been told I'm pretty good at something called 'martial arts.' " At the last part he gestured towards the still active fighting game and might even have winked.

Just then he winced and put a hand to his head as Rose said that a 'Taskmaster' was waiting to be interviewed for his audition to be a Titan.

"Okay, okay, I'll be right down, just finishing up here." He took his hand away and regarded both Amy and the fighting game again, noting with some irritation that the player on the other side had continued to mock and taunt his student's character. "You know, interrupting his low-kicks with a projectile works fine, but a Rising Dragon Fist from the crouched position could work even better if you timed it just right. If you stop by the training rooms later, I could even teach you how to do one without a controller."

Danny walked away from the Rec Room and towards the elevators, noting Jason as he did so. The young man's irritation buzzed around him like a hornet's nest. "Jason Todd I take it? You're expected. Follow me to the training arena, we have an interview to conduct."

Once down there, Iron Fist noted Taskmaster's unusual costume with a slight trace of unease, magnified by the reports of what his power apparently was. If it were true then the potential recruit could be trained into the most skilled martial artist on Earth with barely an ounce of effort. It was a repulsive thought and he had to work to suppress the emotions that came with it.

"So, you're here to be a member of the Teen Titans?"

Taskmaster moved his head to watch Iron Fist enter the room before listening and answering his question.
"Yep, especially since I've seen the place now" he spun around on his heel while making a short whistling before facing Iron Fist again.
"Beats living in abandoned warehouses anyway" He thought for a second before stating that
"This could get me more publicity right? Like enough for a record deal? Don't wanna brag but I have chords of steel" He joked. If he was a more serious man he would have probably bowed at the sight of Iron Fist. Taskmaster had heard about his martial arts skill along with the fact he can use like hadoukens or kaioken or chi or something to make it even more powerful than before. That would really be a game changer at your primary seven amateur Judo lesson tournament. He decided to stop the joking momentarily though and get to the more serious topic of his recruitment.
"So is there a test or something?" The moment had passed
"Arm wrestling? Horse Polo? Dance Battle?" A smile grew under the skeletal mask of his.

A muscle in Rose's jaw tightened up a bit as Taskmaster replied and her brows furrowed a bit. Something about this guy, waltzing into the place as he did and asking for a place on the team (not to mention his demeanor) just really rubbed her the wrong way.

"Listen..." She said, the slight twinge of her Austrian accent coming out as most of her teammates would know as a sign that she was just about to tell someone off. "That's a really nice mask you've got there, so if you don't watch it with coming off the way you are, it's going to be real painful when the surgeons pull it out from your-"

The doors of the simulation room opened once again and in came Iron Fist, followed by no one other than Jason Todd...the step-in for Richard. Though Rose had never had the pleasure to meet with Nightwing except for the rare missions he bothered himself with to help the Titans, that didn't bother her. It was Jason who had trained her, who had taught her what it really meant to be a hero, and also her first real serious crush. She didn't know what it was about him that drove her absolutely crazy. Could it have been that broad chest? The way his butt looked in his outfit? His darkened personality that she was able to relate to? Whatever it was, she was sure she was in love from the first time she met him.

A familiar buzzing sound came from a small pouch attached to her suit, next to the even smaller pouch that held her communication link just minutes ago, causing Rose to snap back to reality. There was only one person she could think of right now that would be calling her. Pulling out her cel phone, Rose quickly swiped the screen to answer.

"Hi daddy." She turned her back to her team to take the phone call.

Listen, I know you're at the tower, but I'm off work and I'd like you home. I'm cooking."

A broad grin lit up Rose's face. Her father was back, and there was training to do. REAL training...not this simulated bull crap.

"Okay, I'll head home soon, I just need to gather up my things."

The phone hung up on it's own just as soon as Rose pulled it away from her ear and she turned back to the group, mainly talking to Jason.

"Looks like my weekend is up here, daddy came back from his business trip a little earlier than I expected. Besides, it's not like I'm doing a whole lot around here anyway." She said with a shrug. She pulled what remained of her cigarette from behind her ear and lit it up, inhaling deeply for a moment as she began to walk towards the doors. She turned and gave them all a half-wave with a soft smile.

"I'll see you all next weekend." She called and then she was gone, a faint trail of smoke following behind her.

It took a bit for her to gather her things as she had everything spread out in her room expecting to stay the whole weekend, but as soon as she had everything collected, she walked out of the front door and began her walk to meet up with her father.

Jason nodded in response to Iron Fist, when he called his name. "It's Red Hood to you, pal." Jason said, his voice harsh, as he walked towards Danny, and then his face cracked up into a soft smile. "Kidding. Nice to meet you." Jason said, holding out his hand for a handshake. "So, you know mine, what's yours?" Of course, Bruce had briefed him extensively on the team. He was really just checking if Iron Fist would be willing to tell Jason his name. He scoffed after introductions, and then followed the senior hero. They came across Taskmaster. The guy seemed like a complete jackass. For someone wearing a skull-motif on his face he wasn't very intimidating.

Jason followed Iron Fist into the simulation room. "You're still doing the Harley Quinn thing? Damn. She's twice as scary when real." Jason said, half-joking, as he greeted everyone. He saw Roy and Rose, and then smiled. He walked over to Roy, after Rose had left for the transporters. "Take care, Ravager. See you back here Monday. At latest." Jason said, half-teasing. He smiled as he looked at Roy, and shook his hand. "How're we doing?" Jason asked him, as he turned back towards the others.

"I haven't been in the tower since it was being built. You mind showing me around?" Jason asked Roy. Scoffing as he nodded to his bag with his belongings in.

Skull Fortress, the Pacific Rim

Dr. Wily had just picked up this fighting game to do some extra research for the programming of his latest Robot Master, and as a means to unwind. However, he was now hearing over the line that this random matchup was something unique. He had a direct connection to the base of the Teen Titans. A connection that could be traced with the proper equipment. Equipment that he had in his base.

...equipment that would take hours to haul up here and set up. Equipment that would need a continuous connection to trace the source. Equipment that was fiddly at best. However, the Teen Titans' base could be a fairly profitable venture. The gears turned for a moment, and he coughed into the mic. This girl liked her games, and he could use that.

"So, miss! Care to fight zis out seriously from here on?"

Rose walked the two blocks that she had grown familiar with ever since she went to live with her father, the two had quite the system when it came to pickups and drop-offs as they each had a secret kept from the world. As she turned the second block, she went into an old abandoned warehouse where she stripped herself of her metallic silver costume and stuffed it inside of her small bag she would take with her to and from the Titans Tower for the weekends and adorned one of her more usual outfits of a band logo T, an almost too large black leather jacket and some faded blue jeans. Once dressed in a more 'socially acceptable' fashion, she left the warehouse and walked one more block and stopped at a local bus stop and sat on the bench, awaiting her father and inhaled the last of her last cigarette, tossing the butt to the floor and stomping it out with her boot. Unfortunately, it wasn’t soon enough as her father had just pulled up.

Slade had divested himself of his armor having swung by their apartment first at the same time Rose got into her street clothes. Their timing was pretty well down as this had become quite the common routine. As Slade slid into a drift, simultaneously opening the door, she was already there, waiting; her blond hair tied in a ponytail trying to hide the evidence of the cigarette smell that might have been caught in her hair. As Rose slide in the car, closing the door, Slade clicked his tongue thrice.

"What'd I say about smoking, Rose?"

"I don't remember." Rose mumbled under her breath, slumping down in the luxurious leather seat of her father's car with a bit of a pout on her face. Not wanting to talk about her 'habits' any more, she sat forward a bit and turned the radio to one of her favorite stations to help detour the conversation.

"Your home early this weekend. Did everything go okay?"

"Target was successfully acquired but rendition will take a bit of work. He won't come out of his shell till next month. In that time, I expect his men to retaliate. Therefore, I'm upping your training this weekend and week."

He paused to let the words sink in as he peeked at her from the corner of his left eye. Having only one eye, it made Rose nervous when her father drove, so in order to put her at ease, he continued on.

"But enough about work, sweetheart, how was your day at the Titans Tower?"

A mixture of both excitement and dread came over Rose when her father explained that he would be upping her training, and not just for the weekend, but the whole week coming as well. Finally, she was going to be able to do some real fighting, which excited her; also the coming days of training were bound to be full of ways to make her father proud of her, which is all she ever wanted. Then again, the bruises and sprained joints that came with it...not so much; not to mention she found some of her father's work to be...questionable...sometimes the complete opposite of what Jason Todd had taught her when she had first joined the Titans nearly a year ago. Rose just shrugged, turning up the heat on her seat to at least give her muscles some sort of relaxation before the grueling eight days of training would begin.

"Some punk-ass kid broke into the tower today, not a peep from our security system so the whole thing must have been down or he was able to surpass it somehow, though I've seen Cyborg's work...that man is a technological God, I can't see how anyone could breach that..." She turned to look at her father, a slight grin on her face. "Not even you daddy." She teased. "Oh, and Robin came back finally, but I left before I got a chance to talk to him about anything."

Slade took the crack at his infiltration skills in stride, not wanting to burst her bubble. Robin, though....

"Robin, Hm? Don't you like that kid?" He asked, serious. Rose knew he'd kneecap any kid trying to mess with her.

"A little." Rose admitted, but that was an understatement. She had liked Jason Todd since the very moment they met. When she turned the heat on, Slade realized she was trying to relax before he put her through the training.

"Calm down, Rose, you still have History, Math and English Lit to go through, and so help me, If you skimp out on homework again....."

Rose let out a loud groan, slumping into her seat even more. There were perks to being home schooled by your own father, though when your father was Slade Wilson...those advantages didn't very much exist for a sixteen-year-old.

He paused again, pulling the car into the garage. With six different security checkpoints at each level of the six floors of the garage, the building is one of the most secure in the area, needing a key card to even access the elevator. As Slade grabbed his briefcase hiding his armor and locking the door, Rose fell in step as they strode to the elevator. He hand her the key card as he craned his neck, rewarded by the sound of two loud cracks, and for a moment he took off the eye patch, revealing the empty eye socket beneath. Upon being handed the card key, Rose slid the card key into the slot, gaining them access to the elevator. She made it a point to not stare at her father whenever he didn't wear the eye-patch. It didn't disgust her or make her feel uncomfortable or anything, as this was the only way she ever knew her father, she was just raised in the fact that it was rude to stare, even if it was in awe and pride that her father was such a brave man of war. She knew the story, he had told her many times. She had wished that she could have met Wintergreen, he seemed like a very good person for her father, if Slade wouldn't have found a daughter in Rose...he might have just gone insane with his own thoughts...and the feeling was reciprocated.

As the elevator dinged into the main lobby, the obnoxious doorman (in Slade’s opinion), Carlos, once again tried to hit on Rose, calling her a "Beautiful work of art" and once again, he flipped him off, choosing not to break his skull. He could, easily, but then the cops would come around. More trouble than it was worth. When Slade was well in front of her, Rose shot Carlos a slight wink, only to just tease him a bit as she had grown so fond of doing with boys lately and with a very soft giggle, ran to catch up with her father. Slade stepped into the second elevator, pressing the ten digit key code to allow the pair access to their apartment. He readjusted the eye patch and spoke to Rose again as they were alone once more.

"A little? Rose Lilian Wilson, You know you're not ready for any sort of dating, at least, not until your birthday." He added, his chest imperceptibly swelling with parental pride.

'As if dating was what was on my mind.' Rose thought, she didn't dare even mutter it under her breath, as her father had a very...inhuman sense of hearing. Once inside their apartment at long last, she set her bag down and made a direct line to their leather couch, plopping down on her back in a comfortable position. She remembered the first time she came to her father's apartment, it was nice...too nice for what she was used to and was too intimidated to touch anything. Now, just a few months later, she felt right at home.

S A M A R
The Visaya Islands, Philippines

The boy lay on his back. He could feel the warmth of the sun on his face, the sand of the beach beneath his body, and breeze blowing across his skin. Staring up at the blue sky, he wasn't certain of how much time had passed. He felt cool water lapping against his feet, the sand beneath his legs growing moist as the tide started to come in. Fingers twitched at the tips of the outstretched arms, the boy's mouth working as though it were necessary for him to try and recall how to breathe. The chest rose and fell, the child's throat bobbing as he swallowed with the realization that his throat was dry. As the water rushed over the tops of his feet, drifting up along his legs, he finally sat up. Sand cascaded down from out of the shock of blond hair, trickling down over the narrow shoulders as the boy drew his knees up and sat upon the beach. He realized he was naked, but that wasn't unusual for children playing on the beach in this part of the world.

What was unusual was the fact that he was here. Flesh and blood, the warmth of the sun, or the cool ocean mist. This was the mortal realm. This was Earth. Home, or, at least, he thought of it as home. That wasn't really true anymore though.

He had been here of course. After he had parted with Al, Chris had spent time in the Afterlife. But he'd come back. He'd tried to do right, to be like Al, but he wasn't. He wasn't Al Simmons. Still, Chris had decided it was well enough and good if he could help a few souls to escape the ravages of Heaven and Hell by helping them cross over and above the tedious and spiteful War in Heaven. And that was the last thing he remembered, being in the Afterlife. There had been a child in New Mexico. The victim of a family of abuse. It hadn't been pretty, and Christopher couldn't save her, but what he could do - what he had done - was to make sure that she wasn't alone.

He had taken her home.

And now he was... here? There had to be a reason. One thing Christopher had learned was that nothing about his life or death existed without a reason, though it would be helpful if there was a script or manual or something he could read to help him know just what it was he was supposed to do when randomly finding himself on a beach somewhere. The sound of children laughing caused the boy to look out across the waterline for the first time, witnessing small groups of girls and boys splashing in the ocean. Standing, the young Hellspawn provided for his own modesty as his very flesh seemed to shift as though alive, changing form so that he was suddenly wearing a pair of black board shorts trimmed in red and white, with a skull icon on the left leg, and chains hanging from out of the pockets.

He'd picked a direction on a whim, strolling along the beach with neither purpose or cause. Just walking, one foot in front of the next, hands tucked into the pockets of his shorts as his mind wandered free of distraction. He thought about Al. He thought about the Green Lady. He thought about his mother, tried to recall her face, finding the memory clouded as though trying to see a reflection in a fogged over mirror.

The boy came to a stop, at first uncertain as to why. A breeze tickled at his ear, carrying it on a whisper that sent a chill up his spine, as realization and recognition connected inside of his mind. Death.

Someone was dying. Someone close.

The young boy's eyes darted back along the waterline. A group of children were calling out, not in an excited way but in more of a panic. Even as he started toward the ocean, Chris knew that one of them had been pulled under the water and hadn't resurfaced. Dashing past one of the kids splashing in search for their friend, the young Hellspawn hit the surf as he allowed himself to let go of his tangible body and embrace his phantasmal nature. Gliding effortlessly through the currents, the Hellspawn found himself drawn to the sense of impending death, as he saw a young girl drifting in the water. Her body's struggles growing weak. Her panicked heart beat growing faint...

Chris broke the surface of the water a moment later, the girl choking and coughing as she spit up water, oblivious to the fact that the two of them were hovering several feet above the ocean. And it was in that moment, feeling her heart beat grow stronger, that Chris knew what his purpose was.

This was why he was here.

Press Confrence
LexCorp Tower
Metropolis, New York

The associated press had been gathered for the better part of an hour waiting Lex Luthor to arrive and announce his latest weapon to be pushed to mass production. Among them sat Clark Kent, mild mannered reporter sitting patiently for the illusive Mr. Luthor. Finally at long last Luthor walked calmly to the center stage with a sense of pride that bordered on arrogance. As he took his place at the podium cameras began flashing wildly trying to a front page cover.

Clearing his throat, Lex began his prepared speech,

“Ladies and gentlemen of the press I welcome you all here today for the unveiling of my latest line in defensive military equipment.”

As his voice trailed off Lex pulled out a remote from his inside jacket and pointed it towards the ceiling, splitting it in two and folding like the roof of a convertible. Behind him, on a rather large monitor, a local radar image of the area with LexCorp Tower being the center point.

“As we speak there are two side-winder missiles fired from an F-15 Raptor are headed on a direct collision course with this podium.”

The myriad of concerned murmurs erupted from the crowd, while Clark simply narrowed his glare at Luthor prepared to move at a moment’s notice. Luthor turned his gaze to the left hand side of stage and pressed another button on his remote, bringing up the focus of his press conference.

“I present to you the LexCorp Sky Sentry. It fires concentrated microwaves able to completely scramble the guidance systems of any missile.”

As the technician took his seat in the mounted turret the monitor behind Luthor began beeping fanatically indicating that the missiles that he had mentioned were coming into range. His confidant smirk and demeanor undiminished, Luthor turned to his technician and gave a single nod. As the machine whirred to life two bright balls of light formed from the ends of the barrels of the turrets, all was going according to plan. Without warning, the machine sputtered and shut off and the balls of light vanished. Before Luthor had a chance to begin criticizing his employee, Clark had already taken off, already taking off his suit.

"How're we doing?, I haven't been in the tower since it was being built. You mind showing me around?"

Jason Todd. Roy had partnered with the second Robin a few times in the past but had never really grown to know him outside of what Dick would mention and what he could read from Green Arrow’s computer archive—assuming Ollie still upkept the Quiver to some utility. Either way, there was a silent rage that Roy recognized in Jason and if what Nightwing said was true than they were more alike than he could imagine.

“You don’t want to see how these two handle Harlequin all on their own? I mean yeah, it’s not quite the real thing but the AI is very convincing.”

He turned away from the simulation for a moment as he added to his comment, “But yeah, I guess I could.”

S A M A R
The Visaya Islands, Philippines

The girl's name was - is - Maria. Her family lived on the far side of civilization in a quaint town where people still got most of their news by radio. Working televisions were rare, along with working cars or trucks. It was the precipice over which one could see the third world, and yet million dollar hotels were quite literally just down the road. And, yet, the young Hellspawn could feel that people were happy here. There was a genuine sense of community. Everyone knew each other, knew their parents, knew their children, knew their sins... and their graces. Knew their charities and their debts.

It had been three days since Chris had saved Maria. He'd wound up at her family's home, a meager hovel which housed a multi-generational branch of the family tree. They hadn't asked him any questions, but it wouldn't have mattered if they had. Chris didn't speak Tagalog and they didn't appear to speak English. But they were eager for him to stay as their guest. He could understand that much. They called him anghel.

Even not speaking the language, Chris thought he might get the gist of to what they were referring, and didn't have the heart to correct them. Had he, he still wouldn't have known the Tagalog word for devil anyway. And he wasn't all that certain it was accurate. Not then, and maybe not now. That was part of what he'd been trying to sort out in his mind when he'd been distracted by Maria's near death. Now, she was safe and he was still as uncertain as he'd been when he'd started walking along the beach.

No, that wasn't right. He was even less certain now. About everything. Who he was. What he was. Why he was.

What it had all been for.

Or even who.

Some rational part of his mind had the idea that, maybe, when you were dealing with the cosmic machinations of gods - angels, demons, higher beings - that maybe it just the nature of it to be beyond comprehension. Wasn't faith the great unknown, the undiscovered country? It was irony, perhaps, then, that young Christopher was quite unsure as to whether he had any faith or, if he did, what in. Faith in Al? If that were so, he'd have to get another name. Al bless you was never going to catch on. And, on the more theocratic dictatorship side, kneel before Al was similarly lackluster. So as a religion that seemed to fail on the sides of both charity and wrath. And wasn't that what God was? One-half mercy and one-half cast you in the lake of fire, where there is weeping, and gnashing of teeth?

The sound of Maria giggling broke through the young boy's brooding, as the fair haired Spawn woke from out of his own dark reverie with the realization that he hadn't touched the bowl of rice that they had set in front of him. Maria and her brother, Marco, were playing some kind of game back and forth, laughing. Surveying the communal dining table, Chris realized that the adults had all migrated around the radios in the house - the women talking among themselves with the radio going in the kitchen, the men around bottles of beer and a deck of cards at the dining table with a radio propped on one end.

It wasn't music, it was a newscast... but of what, he couldn't tell.

A crack of thunder, drew the boy's sapphire eyes out of the open window to the beach just outside. He could see a breeze whipping through the trees, as white caps tipped the dark waters crashing against the shore.

There was a storm brewing.

There wasn't room for Chris in the house. The first night, they had doubled up the kids in order to make a spot for him, but he'd demonstrated the ability to do something aside from rescue girls from drowning; he formed chains from out of his body and the tattered, red cape that seemed to be his wings to craft a hammock between the house and the porch. Each night in turn, he did it again. On the third night, as with the first or second, the family said nothing. They merely whispered about their anghel. He left them to their religion and they left him to sleep.

To sleep, perchance to dream. Aye, there's the rub.

Chris did neither. He lay in that hammock, staring up at the stars, and wondering who or what was up there. He thought of his own grave and wondered who or what was in it. And he thought of Al, of Hiroshi and Kumiko. But, most of all, he thought about fear. Maria was afraid of thunder. Marco was afraid of the dark. As night fell and the storm grew worse, Chris could sense their fear from outside the house.

No, he didn't just sense it. He could taste it. And it was addicting. Not just their fears, but those of all the children in the town. It was like a snort of cocaine, he breathed it in and felt a rush of blood to the head.

Anghel. Not very likely.

A flash of light illuminated the sky as though, for a moment, the sun had come up. The ensuing clap of thunder seemed to shake the foundations of the house as a torrential rain suddenly broke, pummeling the roof as it poured down onto dirt streets that were rapidly becoming rivers of mud. Grabbing hold of the edges of his cape, Chris drew the tattered, red cloth tighter around his body, before the door to the house was flung open.

Before he could so much as turn his head, Maria's small form had pounced upon the makeshift hammock. The girl struggled to work her way under the tarp-like covering, as Chris pulled back the cape and extended it over the child's small frame. The young girl huddled tightly against him. Chris could feel her heart beating, and yet, she relaxed as she hugged against him. It was as though she felt safe with him. She was muttering something in Tagalog and it was a moment before Christopher realized what she was doing.

She was saying a prayer.

He hoped she was saying one for both of them.

Something was churning around in Rose’s gut though as she tried to get comfortable on the leather couch. She had been debating for a while whether to tell her father about that boy that broke in to the tower or not, as she didn't want to give him any reason to find disappointment in her...but at the same time, she hadn't ever lied to him before.

"Daddy...that kid I told you about that broke into the tower today..." She started, avoiding his gaze, afraid of that disappointing look that tore her heart every time she saw it. "I...I think he was from the Court of the Owls, and...he was good. I don't know what kind of shape I'd be in right now if Superboy hadn't shown up." She bit the tip of her tongue a bit, something that hurt almost as much as feeling her father's disapproval was the feeling of her own pride breaking.

"The Court of Owls. Their Talons are fiercely loyal. This will affect your training regimen. And not in the way you want it to either."

Slade strode over to the bedroom, shutting the door and changed from his Armani business suit to typical workout gear. Sweatpants, and a tank top, barefooted. She knew she would regret this, the second she saw him disappearing into his room, she knew that now the bruises and month-long soreness would soon begin. Rose dragged herself off of the couch in a bit of a slump and took off her leather jacket and t-shirt, revealing a light purple training bra she wore when she would either work out on her own, or spar with someone else. She sat back on the couch, slipping her jeans off to show a matching pair of light purple under-armor shorts and just put her discarded clothes in a somewhat neat pile on the couch as Slade’s bedroom door opened again. As he re-entered the living room, he strode to the far wall, activating the hidden panel which slid away to reveal their training center. Complete with a full armory, it also housed their uniforms, Slade having many more variations than Rose did. In the center of the room was the training mat. Slade walked over to it, and motioned Rose over. As he did so, he grabbed a pair of eskrima sticks.

At first Rose attempted to reach for her favored bo staff, a good counter to the eskrima sticks but his gesture immediately told her that she was going at this weaponless. She entered the training area, a good five feet from her father and took a defensive stance, crouched down low with her arms extended, covering as many vulnerable points as she could at one time as he had once taught her when learning the basics. Now wasn't a time to start wishing she could instead be inserted into one of those dumb ass simulations...those she knew she could beat; but this...this was both exhilarating and frighting. Well...at least she was able to skip history today…Or so she thought.

"OK Rose, since this is going to take up History, I'll tutor you as we train."

He said, immediately going for a blow to her bicep, leaving a bruise the size of a strawberry. "When we last left off, I had assigned you four chapters in the history textbook. Did you actually read it or were you too busy ogling Jason Todd?" Slade didn’t even allow enough time to stretch before launching into a series of textbook eskrima attacks on his daughter.

"Or was it Ricochet?"

You could have seen Rose's jaw drop from a mile away. Fighting and history? At the same time? She didn't even have time to register that information as a bruise was already starting to form. She shook her head though, putting her game-face on once again and furrowed her eyebrows to her father. "I don't oggle!" She snapped, getting irritated. Why did everyone always think that? First Roy, now her own father? She jumped to the side, doing a quick tuck-and-roll maneuver as he swung his sticks at her once more, able to roll underneath them just at the right moment before regaining her footing only to be kicked back down by her father’s foot before she even had a chance to re-evaluate his stance.

She moved quickly though, it seemed that the second she made contact with the mat she was right back up again, taking the hit with grit teeth and turning the pain into a slight emotion of rage. Slade had figured out Jason's identity long ago, as he had with the rest of the bat family, therefore when he used his name it didn't come as a surprise, but at his mention of Ricochet, her eyes narrowed to slits. "He's a friend, nothing more. They all are. So stay out of it!" She said firmly and then took her first offensive move. She stepped in towards him, putting her arm up as a block to the first stick while her opposite arm countered with a left hook to his ribcage greeted immediately by her fist throbbing in pain from the sheer mass and toughness of his skin and muscle.

Slade smiled. "So when last you actually did your homework, we were on the American Civil War" He tossed the sticks aside as she seemed to have gotten the hang of blocking them with her arms, though it left them bruised from elbow to wrist, and went for the one thing she wasn't expecting: The stainless steel sword he used mainly as Deathstroke. Swinging hard in a v style arc, it came as no surprise when she managed to dodge the initial arc but got cut on the arm on the upstroke. She may have been his daughter, but she wasn’t physically enhanced like he was, and she can't be…not after what it did to him.

Slade had nearly gone insane in the first three months, trying to cope with the physical and psychological changes the serum forced on him. He refused to let his daughter go through that, not until she's strong enough; but even then......He shoved the thoughts away as he dodged her heel with ease in an attempt to clip his jaw.
"Stop thinking, Rose, and start using muscle memory."

Rose hadn't read the chapters, not even a hint of an attempt to look at those damn books over the past few days. She gasped as the steel sliced through her feminine skin like wet paper. She clutched her hand over the bleeding wound and took a few steps to the side. "WHAT DOES IT MATTER?" She cried out, raising her voice. She couldn't do this, she couldn't think and fight, it was always just one or the other. Her hand now crimson with her own blood, she clenched at her arm a bit tighter before rushing him, angrily. It was a stupid move, but she had always fallen victim to letting her anger over-step her common sense.

She weaved through the two swipes that had been attempted to draw blood once again, using her agility to the best of her ability until she was able to grab the hilt of the sword with both hands, trying to wrench it from him. It was a fruitless effort on her part, since he was literally five times stronger than a regular human, but she had to prove to him that she was still capable of SOMETHING in this scenario.

"I didn't read your stupid text book and I don't see why I should." She said using all of her strength to at least try to take the sword from him. "Who cares about what happened who the hell knows how many years ago? That's not going to help me in the future. My future will be simple..." She went on, her arms screaming at her to stop the struggle, but she kept going. "Because in my future, I'm going to be just like you!"

Slade jabbed the sword in the ground, and with judo style throws, landed Rose on her back like a rag-doll.

"We look to the past, Rose, to learn for the future. I lost my eye when I had to fight-and kill-my best friend who'd betrayed me. I could've died which would've meant you'd never be born." He helped her up, and walked over to the Armory, placing the sword in its sheath, noticing a syringe of some sort in her bag.

"What the hell is this, Rose?" He whispered lifting the syringe out of her bag. He turn and stormed over to her, lifting her easily four feet off the ground by the back of her sports bra. "What the HELL is this, Rose?"

The wind had been knocked out of Rose temporarily from landing on her back so hard, but it seemed the second that she had regained her breath, she was back up in the air in her father's death grip. He had found her syringe, something she had never told him about. To her own justification it wasn't lying, it just wasn't telling. She knew he would have freaked out if he knew she was shooting up adrenaline to heighten her abilities, including the ability to be able to see just seconds into the immediate future. She could see the fire in his eye, the disappointment, and the paternal fear boiling in his chest.

"Rose. Lilian. Wilson. Tell me what the hell is in this syringe or so help me..." She keept looking down at him, terrified of telling and debating whether to lie. Slade stared at her for a minute, waiting for an answer, praying for it not to be Mirakuru. If she'd taken that.....
Swallowing hard, she finally met his eye once again, keeping a tear in the corner of her right eye from slipping. The look on his face didn't so much as scare her as it did tear her heart to shreds. She would have given anything at that moment to be back at the tower, back with Roy and Jason, Johnny and Tim...hell even Garth and Iron Fist...

"It's-it's not that daddy." She managed to whisper out without hinting to the fact that she was just about to let her tears slip. He had to have at least that assurance first, that she hadn't come across the serum on her own...though only God knew she tried.

"It's just adrenaline. I only use it when I'm out on the field and I'm overwhelmed. It...it helps me get my second wind, and with, with my ability." She decided to leave the part out where she had become addicted to it, just as she had become addicted to cigarettes.
Slade set her down and threw the syringe into the nearby furnace they used for burning documents.

"I suppose you've become as addicted to it as your cigarettes, haven't you?" He drew her in to a tight hug, his fears allayed, though only slightly. “Well, no more training, as for the rest of the week you're detoxing from the adrenaline and cigarettes. The minute you're clean and healthy, you'll be grounded for a month. No TV, no friends, no phone, no tower."

She pulled away to look me in the eye and found the look of a scared parent etched into his face, fear for his child's life.

"Drugs are not the way to increase your abilities, and certainly not with adrenaline. What the hell were you thinking?"

The hug had caught her off-guard, as she was thoroughly expecting a slap across the face or...or something. Still, a chance to feel loved by her father physically was something she wasn't about to take for granted. She threw her arms around him, hugging him back, and tears staining the corner of her eyes. She felt...ashamed...a feeling all very new to her as this time it came with guilt.

"Okay daddy."

Sure, for the moment she said okay, she would do anything to make him happy, not even thinking of the actual detoxing period...as if she would even be able to do it.

"I...I just wanted to become stronger...like you. I..." She looked back up at him, her arms still wrapped around him in a hug. "I just want to make you proud."

Finally, a single tear leaked out and rolled down her cheek, a sign of weakness she had never showed him. The second she felt it drop though, she released her hold around him and quickly wiped it away, unable to look back up at him now and left, going up the flight of stairs to shut herself in her room.