Slade

It had been years since she had experienced such rage, such raw, negative emotion building up inside of her like this. Like she just might explode. Results of untreated past trauma? Maybe. Pent up feelings? Likely. The after effects of a grieving teenager lashing out at someone who wished to ruin the people she loved most? Well. Who wouldn’t.

Her parents were dead. Her relationship with her sister was strained at the very best. Her people no longer needed her. The Titans were the only family she had left and the Earth was her home; they made it her home and she was not going to lose such treasures ever again.

That observation made, she's burning hotter than usual. It raises the stakes because he's pretty sure that rather than getting knocked back and lightly seared by a bolt, it'll probably melt him. Good reason to move like he means it. Make every step count.

Avenues open up to him, possible routes to bring him in close for a strike, based on where she's likely to aim next. A close shot heats up the metal on his leg and it glows orange for a moment, causing him to stumble very slightly as he has to tune out the pain. She earns a grunt of displeasure from him as he grits his teeth. He's going to have to dig melted fabric out of his leg later.

This is- a good workout. Rare to think that about fighting a Titan, especially one who's alone. "That's right, Starfire," he encourages. "Channel your rage. That's just how Terra fought. Maybe you have potential after all." Maybe he can still throw her off.

He gets close enough to try for a hit, aiming for her shoulder. 

His shoulders slump. 

"I thought I’d be fine since it’s all written in instructions. But they don’t make any sense." He looks around regretfully and his eyes stray onto the clock. It’s not that late. And if he has company then at least his failures can be attributed to dad being funny rather than dad slowly compromising his sanity to the smell of warming sugar. 

It was Adeline’s birthday the next day, and to bake a cake for her himself had been a very nice thing for Slade to try to do. Unfortunately, no matter how many directions and quantities and times were written down on paper, at its very base level cooking was an art, not a science. Slade specialised in things that were linear, very specific and full of mathematical precision, and though he was an accomplished soldier and an even more accomplished mercenary something as free and creative as baking was doomed to elude him.

Luckily, Joey was like his mother. He had the touch, the artistic flair Slade (and Grant, for that matter) lacked, and though he was very young baking was something he had a very good grip on.

Slade wasn't well accustomed to being 'bad' at things. 

"Why another egg? Won't putting another egg just make it all goopy?" He didn't enjoy stirring in the egg. It looked all lumpy when he'd done it. He liked the other wet ingredients, it made for a smooth batter when he stirred it in. Even so, he picked up the egg and brought it over. 

And he had. Twice, in fact, before he was forced to narrow his options to the more elite players. And Lawton had been AWOL for months. But what Slade didn’t know wouldn’t hurt him. Or the wily old goat, for that matter.

"It's to stop him from saying the magic words, I'm assuming. I've dealt with Zatanna before. This is the same principle, but with higher stakes." A smile follows: He likes higher stakes. The more risk, the more challenge, and the better reputation your success grants you. With enough planning and forethought, nobody is out of his league. 

He points a finger back at Sivana. "What do you plan on having me do when I catch the kid? Because if I turn him over to you and things get messy, I'm going to get a lot more heat than I can afford right now. And you'll probably get a whole League of trouble raining down on your head.

Deathstroke - Fan Art

Created by Blond The Colorist

/