Here's a short chapter to lead into what will be a big chapter next week. Thank you so much to Willowbrook2642, 14Fanfiction14, and Asilla for reviewing! It really means a lot to me. Getting feedback in reviews motivates me to write more. If you have the time to review, please let me know what you think so far :)

Four heroes stood next to the zeta beam device in Gotham, all of them were hesitant to go through and back to Mount Justice. They stopped to talk about what they had just experienced and felt like criminals trying to get their story straight before going into an interrogation.

"Soooo," Kid Flash sounded, "Who wants to be the one to tell Batman that Nightwing has crossed over to the dark side?"

Artemis balled her fist and punched KF across the shoulder. "Shut up, KF. He hasn't crossed over to the dark side!"

"Cassandra too," Superboy murmured from where he stood.

"Stop it, I refuse to believe that Nightwing would ever join Deathstroke under free will. If the Court of Owls could make Nightwing forget his memories, isn't it reasonable that Deathstroke could brain wash him? Or hypnotize him? We should ask Zatanna about this," Red Arrow rationalized.

"Alright, but I'm not going to be the one to tell Batman, someone else can do it. Bats scares me," Kid Flash said before putting in the codes for the zeta and walking through. The others exchanged glances before following after Kid Flash.

Batman was waiting expectantly when they arrived back at the mountain. The team didn't know that Batman already had a good idea of what had happened. Their quiet demeanor was all telling.

"It was him, wasn't it," Batman stated what he already knew the answer to.

Red Arrow chose to speak. "He said he goes by the name The Target now. From the uniform he was wearing and his presence with Renegade, it would seem he's working with Deathstroke. He also got away with the blueprints they were trying to steal. This can't be him though, Deathstroke must have hypnotized him, he didn't know what he was doing."

"No," said Batman solemnly, "I believe he knows exactly what he is doing. Cassandra warned me earlier that Deathstroke would soon threaten or blackmail Nightwing into becoming his apprentice. It would seem he's been successful. Until we find out what Deathstroke is using against him, it can be assumed he will continue to follow Deathstroke's instructions. He hasn't changed sides, but he does need our help."

"As much sense as that all makes, what could Deathstroke have against Nightwing to use as blackmail? Oh, wait, there's his secret identity," Kid Flash considered.

Once again, Batman shook his head. "No, Deathstroke already knows the secret identity of myself and Nightwing. The only reason he hasn't used that information against us is because we also know his. Mutually assured destruction."

"Do you know what the blueprints he stole were for?" Superboy asked.

There was a pause of silence as Batman didn't want to admit what the blueprints were for. Only Kid Flash understood why Batman would have an opinion on any items stolen from Wayne Tech.

"A weaponized laser, to put it simply," Batman answered. He could explain that this new type of laser generated an energy source quicker and more powerful than any weaponized laser currently being used by the military. He could also disclose why it was crucial that they recover the blueprints before a new weapon was made but that was information the team didn't necessarily need to be said. Batman was sure they could understand how any weapon in the hands in Deathstroke was not a good thing.

"This surely won't be the only thing stolen, what happens the next time we run into Nightwing?" Artemis asked. She refused to call him The Target. He would always be Nightwing. "Do we try to stop him? Fight him? Try to capture him and bring him home?"

"If Nightwing is being blackmailed, he'll do anything to follow the orders he's been given. This will likely include fighting back and resisting capture. The best you can do is try to get information from him. I'll work with the League to discover what Deathstroke is holding against him. Until then, trying to get him away from Deathstroke could cause more damage than good."

April 24th 2018 3:52 pm

Wilson Manor

Dick Grayson sat on the floor, comfortably cross-legged, with the pieces of a disassembled gun sprawled out in front of him. This was part of his new training given by Deathstroke. He quite literally wanted Dick to know a gun inside and out, which made his stomach churn. Dick didn't like guns. Never had he felt the need to use one, not even as a police officer. Because his time with the Bludhaven PD was short, he never actually fired his weapon on the job. He didn't even like having to pull it out. Guns were deadly force. His fighting skills and weapons could easily subdue an attacker without killing them.

Cassandra walked up to the artillery room and sat down across from Dick. "Whatcha doing?" she asked, but from what she saw, she had a pretty good idea of what was going on. Deathstroke had made her do the same years ago.

"Putting a gun back together," he said, his concentration zeroed in on a small spring like piece. "Trying to, at least," he admitted.

"Can I talk to you about something?" Cassandra asked, folding her arms over her stomach and holding them tight together at the elbows.

Dick put the pieces down, "Sure, what's up?"

"Here's the thing," Cassandra began, "With Deathstroke, he always gets what he wants one way or another. Even when you think you're going against his plans, he has another in mind already ten steps ahead. When he starts giving you orders you don't like or demands that are questionable, it's better to just go with it. If you refuse or don't complete orders fully, he'll just come up with something worse as an alternative. We're stuck in Deathstroke's playing field, and he always wins at his own game. I guess what I'm saying is, just play along. We need to stall long enough to form a plan to get you out of here. Until then, play along."

Dick thought that over and picked up the scattered pieces once more, this time, locking some of them in the right places. "I hear what you're saying, but I can handle Deathstroke. I'll play along as best I can, but there are certain things I won't stand for."

That response greatly concerned Cassandra; Dick wasn't hearing her warning. "You can't take on Deathstroke. Don't even try it. Please, for your own sake, just do what he says. Or you'll quickly learn what the consequences are."

He looked up at her with a smile. "I appreciate the warning. I've got things under control."

She didn't smile back. "I know you're being blackmailed. Or threatened. I'll help you get rid of the threat, but it'll take time."

Dick was about to speak but Cassandra placed her hand up against his face. They both listened silently and that's when Dick noticed the footsteps coming down the hall. She had heard it sooner than he had.

Deathstroke appeared in the doorway. "Training session, now," he commanded.

With a soft sigh, Dick got up to his feet and abandoned his project. At the thought of training with Deathstroke, Dick suddenly missed the task of reassembling the gun. They walked together in silence to the training area.

"Put these on," Deathstroke held out a pair of metal cuffs. The metal was thick and heavy. He held out a pair to Cassandra as well. She knew what it meant.

Dick turned them over in his hands, "What are they?"

"Train well and you won't have to worry about that," Deathstroke answered, "Put them on," he repeated.

Cassandra put hers on and waited for Dick to do the same. They were the handcuff version of a shock collar, and Cassandra knew all too well how much that shock hurt when it was turned up on high. These were the types of things Cassandra tried to warn Dick about. If he'd just listen and do what he was told, he'd be alright. But disobey? That would mean pain.

"Now I want you to fight against Cassandra. I want to see how far your progress has come," said Deathstroke next.

At first, Dick didn't have a problem with that order. He didn't necessarily want to fight against her of all people, but he had fought against his teammates before. It was good to learn the fighting style of someone you worked closely with. This was no different than a training day at Mount Justice. That's what he thought.

They began to circle each other like a dance until Cassandra made the first move. She bounced lightly on the tips of her feet before shifting forward and extending her arm out in a punch towards his lower torso. Dick brought his forearm down and blocked the attack. They continued this dance of attack and block back and forth, meanwhile Deathstroke was getting bored of watching.

"Fight like you mean it! Target, you're not even using the techniques we worked on," he criticized. He had his hand hovering over the trigger on the electric cuffs.

Dick stopped circling Cassandra. "Those attacks you showed me were deadly blows. I'm not going to use them during a sparring match with a teammate."

His response flared Deathstroke's anger. "What is the point of me teaching you these attacks if you're not going to practice them? Not going to use them? Now fight the way I taught you."

Cassandra could see Dick's hesitation. "I can take a hit, you know," she encouraged him. He needed to cooperate with Deathstroke's game before his anger took over.

Deathstroke seriously expected him to come at Cassandra with that level of violence? No way. Not a chance. "I'm not going to fight her like that," he countered.

Deathstroke stared him down. It wasn't like the batglare but was equally chilling in a different way. "Then you'll fight me instead."

"No," Cassandra stepped forward. Anything but that. She'd rather take hits from Dick than watch him go up against Deathstroke. He wouldn't go easy in the slightest.

Now Dick knew what Cassandra meant about playing Deathstroke's game. That's how he was going to be? He knew what choice Deathstroke expected him to make. It would be the coward's choice.

Suddenly Dick felt a course of electricity flow from the cuffs up his arms and into his core.

"Tick tock, make your choice," Deathstroke taunted.

Dick gritted his teeth. Cassandra went along with anything Deathstroke said because it was a means of survival. She'd always been around Deathstroke and knew no other way. But Dick didn't want to be that way. He knew there was a way out and he wasn't going to break like Deathstroke wanted him to. "I'll fight you," he finally decided.

"Wrong choice," Deathstroke snarled before charging Dick.

Dick jumped back from the first swing but he wouldn't be able to dodge for long. Deathstroke jumped up and spun with a metal toed boot at Dick's face. The kick snapped his jaw to the side and sent flashes of light across Dick's vision. Deathstroke didn't give him any time to recover from the kick and slammed a fist into his solar plexus causing him to double over in pain, gasping for air. Something inside of Dick snapped and he whipped his head up in anger. He ran at Deathstroke full speed and faked an attack to his right before jabbing a punch up into Deathstroke's ribs.

"Good, Apprentice, but you'll have to do better than that," Deathstroke smirked, showing no pain. He pulled a knife and spun it between his fingertips. No one said weapons were off the table.

Cassandra was having a hard time standing still watching. She wanted to intervene yet that would only escalate Deathstroke's violence.

An animalistic snarl came from the masked assassin before he charged Dick once more. The gleaming knife sliced through the air and towards Dick's chest. Dick did a back handspring to avoid the tip of the knife within centimeters of his body. He jumped up and brought the heel of his foot down towards the top of Deathstroke's wrist, knocking the knife out of his hand. With the same speed and momentum, he used his other foot to kick at the crook of Deathstroke's other arm with as much force as he could muster. This was an attack he was taught by Deathstroke.

Despite the fact that Deathstroke would have suffered irrefutable nerve damage if not for the layers of body armor, Deathstroke was enthused to see Dick using the fighting techniques he was taught. Finally. He wouldn't allow Dick to celebrate any small victories just yet. Deathstroke darted forward and grabbed Dick by the arm. Using Dick's momentum against him, he pulled Dick towards the ground and twisted his arm behind his back then continued to press the arm further back until the limb couldn't take the strain and popped out of place. Dick hissed out in pain as his arm dislocated from its socket. His arm now hung uselessly limp at his side.

Deathstroke let Dick jump back to create distance between them. Although Dick was a strong fighter, there was no competition against someone who had been fighting for as long as Dick had been alive. Deathstroke rolled his neck and evaluated the damage he had inflicted.

"You're a fool if you ever thought you'd gain the upper hand in this fight," Deathstroke said with disdain. "I've gotten what I wanted from this fight." He pushed Dick to the edge, made him use the training he seemed to show such disapproval of.

"And what is it that you wanted? You wanted to see how much you could fuck up my shoulder?" Dick fearlessly snarked.

Deathstroke approached him before Dick could flinch out of the way and without warning, grabbed his shoulder and popped it into place. Dick's eyes widened and watered as he tried to hold in the scream of pain that desperately wanted to jump up from his throat. He couldn't tell which hurt worse, the dislocation or his arm being popped back into place. Dick slowly rotated his shoulder to see if it was truly functional once more.

"Have you learned your lesson?" Deathstroke asked. "The next time your Master gives you an order, you'll follow it without hesitation."

Was Dick broken into compliance yet? Absolutely not. He had too much fight left in him.

"Yes," Dick said, but his tone suggested otherwise.

"Yes, Master," Deathstroke corrected him.

Dick tightened his jaw, one second of hesitation too long. Deathstroke finally had enough of his disrespect. He could see he needed to remind Dick who was in control of the situation at hand.

"Cassandra," Deathstroke called her over. She moved quickly to stand at his side. Deathstroke's anger could be read in his posture. He reached into the compartment on the side leg and pulled out a small black switch and pressed the button.

Cassandra felt her chest tighten and her breathing hitch up. It started in slow waves that increased in intensity until it took more effort to take in shallow breaths. Soon she recognized the feeling was similar to how she felt back in Red Hood's cell. Cassandra brought two fingers up to her neck and felt for her pulse which had sporadically jumped up in speed. This was Deathstroke's doing all along, she realized.

"What was that?" Dick questioned, his eyes fixated on the switch in Deathstroke's hand.

Cassandra's vision crossed and she began to see two Dick Grayson's next to her. She stumbled forward and then down to her knees as her legs gave out under her.

"Cassie!" Dick shouted out, reaching forward trying to help her. Cassandra began to shake until her eyes began to flicker open and shut while seizing. "Stop it! Turn it off!"

"I can't do that," Deathstroke said, standing still where he was and watching the scene before him. "You need to be taught a lesson. I need unwavering obedience and loyalty from you. If that has to be taught the hard way, so be it."

The seizing stopped and Dick thought it was finally over but it only got worse. Cassandra's eyes didn't open but she screamed out in agony. She felt like a million invisible knives were stabbing into her all over. She kept screaming out in pain.

"I'll do what you say, just make it stop!" Dick pleaded.

Deathstroke didn't look convinced. "You've told me similar lines before, why should I believe you this time?"

Dick looked down at the pain Cassandra was in, fearing she was dying, and thought of any one of his family members in her place. He couldn't let that happen. Tears stung at the corners of his eyes. No, this wasn't going to happen.

"I'll do as you say! I'll be loyal! I can't lose my family," he declared. Cassandra finally stopped writhing in pain.

"If you're ever considering disobeying me again, think on this moment," Deathstroke commented with no emotion.

Cassandra had stilled, a little too much. Dick checked her pulse and breathing. "She's not breathing!" Dick panicked before going into autopilot and starting CPR.

"And whose fault is that?" Deathstroke asked before leaving the room, showing no concern if Cassandra started breathing again or not.

May 8th 2018 9:17 pm

Wilson Manor

Two weeks had gone by. Deathstroke had ordered Dick to steal more items for him, items which seemed to have no connection to each other. What Deathstroke was really doing was testing the obedience of his new apprentice. Each time Dick completed his assignment before he could be spotted or caught by Young Justice or the Justice League.

Slade Wilson sat in his office while Wintergreen stood across from him. "Do you truly believe the boy is ready for this magnitude of change?" he questioned the plan his master had just laid out before him.

"He's ready, Wintergreen. The Handyman is the perfect victim. Dick will have no problem executing the kill. This is one step further into molding Dick as my apprentice. He must be willing to kill without hesitation."

Wintergreen was surprised by the amount of progress Slade had made with the boy. He expected it would take weeks longer to break the boy's spirit and remold his morals.

"When will you send him to complete the task?" he asked.

Slade folded one hand over the other and almost grinned. "Tomorrow night."