Presenting Slade and Batman in...

Side by Side

TikaTikaTikaTikaTikaTikaTika-tunk.

Batman's fingers flew across the keyboard of his impressive computer, pulling up police files, pictures, newspaper articles, etc that flooded the various monitors with text and images. Slade could appreciate top-of-the-line technology, even if his mainframe was more impressive. He began to wander around the Batcave (did old Batsy really have to name it that? How camp could he get?), curious about the plethora of mementos on display.

Slade circled the cavernous hideout. A giant penny, a life-size Tyrannosaurus Rex, an over-sized playing card…Hey, was that his old sword? What kind of weirdo keeps this stuff?

Moreover, what kind of obsessive freak showcases not only his costume, but his students' costumes? The domino masks covering the empty faces of the mannequins made it difficult to remember that it wasn't people donning the incarnations of each costume. He could almost feel Robin staring back at him as he stared at a younger version of the iconic imitation traffic light getup.

Robin.

Robin, somewhere out there, probably being tortured by that deranged clown.

Robin, crying for help and hoping he'll live to get back to his family, friends, and beloved mercenary.

Robin, the sole reason Deathstroke and the Dark Knight weren't at each other's throats right then and there.

It didn't take much to notice the kinetic energy just waiting to fall into entropy. The two dark characters were itching to duke it out, but they had a little birdie they had to save first. Yet not even Harvey Dent's scarred coin could determine if the enemies could reign in their hostility that long.

Slade knew that Batman blamed him for this whole mess. The man probably believed that all villains were a part of a secret league, joining forces to battle the heroes of the world. Well hey, just because the good guys did that doesn't mean everyone else followed suit. Pompous asses, thinking they inspire even the opposing team.

The mercenary casually strolled over to the Dark Knight's luscious chair, and perched on the unused armrest.

"Go away," grumbled the cowled man.

"You don't like me," said the unmasked one, pretending to be offended.

"I don't like criminals," was his barbed reply.

"Then you must hate yourself, vigilante," dug the mercenary.

The caped crusader growled. The mercenary remained seated.

Silence.

TikaTikaTikaTikaTikaTikaTika-tunk.

"Why are you doing this to him?" the hero questioned, a deep frown marring his perfectly square, aristocratic visage.

"Why did you do this-" he gestured to the lavish cave "-to him?" the mercenary shot back, a smirk slapped on his rugged, imperfect face.

"Don't change the topic."

"But I'm not. You drew him in because you were lonely; you needed someone who would understand you, who you would understand. Oh sure, you've got your butler, your money, your fame. But inside, you were cold and desolate, a little orphan boy crying out for someone to love him. Well I've got my butler, my money, my infamy. Why can't I have a Robin of my own?"

"Because you would turn him into a killer."

"Such little faith in your protégé. You don't think he's strong enough to resist me?"

"Every stone wall crumbles if enough waves hit it."

The mercenary hummed in agreement. "I suppose that's why we're all bat-shit crazy."

Neither acknowledged the pun outwardly, although the sting was felt and the victory was savored.

More silence.

TikaTikaTikaTikaTikaTikaTika-tunk.

"Why not find your own Boy Wonder? Then you could mold him into exactly what you want, and leave mine alone," asked the Bat challengingly. But the mercenary was ready to battle.

"And miss the chance to get under your skin?"

The hero's fingers froze mid-flight.

"Oh, calm yourself. All banter aside, I really do love Robin…" Slade smiled distantly at the monitors, raising his hand to gently finger the plain gold ring hanging from his neck, before smirking slyly at the hero.

Batman didn't know how to react to the villain's honesty…

"Just like you do."

Until he saw it for its black-mail.

"Yes, I know all about your…obsession. It's not unlike mine. Thinking about him day and night, wanting to touch, resisting simply grabbing and devouring. Ah, but that's why you're so angry. You drove him away, purposefully pushed him to the edge until he left you, so all temptation would vanish. But I did what you never could. I chased the prince, and now he is my prize. Yes, I prompted him, but he decided to run into my arms. I have what you can only dream of."

Despite years of practicing self-restraint, the caped crusader couldn't help but spring from his seat, and leap towards the taunting man. But Slade glided away easily, and slipped into the throne-like chair. Steepling his hands, he continued his tirade while the Bat stood in front of him, ready to fight but unable to move. Mesmerized by the sickeningly true, manipulative words, the once-proud hero clenched his fists with every emphasized syllable.

"How did you handle it, Batman? How did you look at the boy's former costume, with those short shorts and pixie boots displaying all that skin, and deny yourself the right to even stare? How could you resist touching those sensual thighs, that boyish chest, those charmingly innocent cheeks? How badly did you want to tear off his tights and rip scream after yell after shout of ecstasy from him? Even now you can barely fathom how good it would feel to rub against him, bare flesh to bare flesh, baring your soul through physical touch. But you can never caress him, never hold him; it's wrong and immoral according to your code of ethics. But not mine. And now he belongs to me. He's given himself to me."

The hero broke once more, lunging for the chair, but he was too late yet again. The mercenary had hopped over the back of the chair, and stood tall behind it, towering over the crumpled hero.

"I won't ever tell him or anyone else. Although I despise you, Robin would be devastated if his hero was ever branded anything less than pristine. And I don't want to hurt Robin. I do love him; you know I don't lie. I just wanted to let you know that I am aware, and I will act if you step out of line. So don't try to dissuade my Boy Wonder from romancing me. You're just making your life unnecessarily difficult."

His communicator buzzed. He took it out and glanced at the screen.

"While you were distracted by my ramblings, Wintergreen found the Joker's hideout. We should hurry if we want to see him alive."

And with that, he turned to the Batmobile and strode towards it, clicking the proper buttons to unlock it. Stepping into the driver's seat of the symbolic car, he stated:

"Are you coming? Your former ward needs you."

A/N: This was originally intended to be part of a larger story, but I think it stands alone just fine.