Chapter 1:

SMACK!

Dick's head snaps to the side from the force of the hand. Blood runs from the corner of his mouth. He has learned to just deal with the beatings, it would be less painful that way. He has been with this madman for almost six years now, only a month after being in the juvenile detention center he was taken by none other than Deathstroke himself, at the age of nine.

SMACK!

Dick's head was forced the other direction. He had watched his parents fall to their deaths; his only family along with them. His cousin, uncle, aunt, mother and father all fell. Dick could constantly see the mangled bodies on the cold, hard ground, blood staining the ground as he ran to them. Their limbs bent in unnatural directions. His life had pretty much ended in that moment. Everything was a fog from that moment, and a dull pain.

Until he came that is. Deathstroke lifted the fog. He helped Dick make sure Tony Zucco paid for what he did to his family. Dick had wanted him to go to prison for the rest of his life but Deathstroke wanted him to kill Zucco. But when Dick didn't Deathstroke did it himself, while Dick watched.

Deathstroke trained him. He had only trained him a few months before the Zucco incident. Afterward was the first real beating he experienced. It hurt. He had had worse in training but he couldn't even fight back this time, or he was beaten worse.

SMACK!

"You disappoint me Richard. Now get out of my sight," Deathstroke looked down at him.

Dick didn't say anything, he just slowly got to his feet and limped to his room down the hall. His face was covered in bruises and his sides ached. His leg was badly bruised. When he got to his room he got in the shower. In just his boxers he examined his injuries in the mirror. A big purple bruise spread across his right side, his leg was almost completely black from the constant kicking it got because Deathstroke wouldn't break any bones because he needed him for missions. Speaking of which, luckily, he didn't have a mission tonight.

He hated killing. Luckily Deathstroke didn't make him kill much; he's only killed a person himself three times. All the others he was forced to watch as Deathstroke finished them. Most were just innocent people that threatened some fat cat with their intelligence or just pissed someone off.

Dick's missions didn't come around that often either. Once a month maybe if he was good. And even then he was under the watchful eye of Deathstroke, one way or another. After six years, six years they had absolutely no trust between them. But with each passing year the leash gets slightly, ever so slightly, longer. So Dick bides his time until the time is right, and he is well enough to escape. He doesn't care where he goes because just about anywhere is better than living in his shadow, to watch as he slaughters the innocent.

Dick flopped on his bed. His flat pillow felt like heaven to his throbbing head. His hard, springy mattress lulled his body to sleep within minutes.

'I have to get out of here before I start enjoying the accommodations here' he joked to himself as he drifted in to a dreamless sleep.