Titans: Rise of Talon

Correspondence

14:23 SST
The Island
December 1st
...

Lunch came and went with no change in Richard's condition. He was still out like a light, sleeping soundly in his new room. This left Slade in a predicament. Will had forced him to get some food, whether he was hungry or not, and the mercenary didn't want anyone to think he was overbearing or worried about the teen, because he certainly wasn't. That meant he couldn't go back to the room to check on him. His butler could wipe the cheeky grin off his face if he knew what was good for him.

So Deathstroke the Terminator found himself in his private office, bored out of his mind and his thoughts clouded over by emotions that weren't supposed to be there. Instead, he started planning. Richard would still be his apprentice; that part never changed. It was just he would have to adjust his schedule to accommodate for what had changed. Thinking about the Talon side of the young man reminded him of something Will brought up earlier.

Just a little over twenty years ago, before and after the experiment that made him what he was, Slade had kept a correspondence with John Grayson. The acrobat had a habit of losing his phone, and when Slade started accepting contracts as Deathstroke, he couldn't afford the chance to be traced. So they kept in touch the old school way—writing. They wrote back and forth for several years, sharing the news of when John got married or when Joey was born. John would also send him evidence of the Court's dealings in Gotham and what they did to Talons, both by blood and by make.

"One day, they'll fall," John had said, "And I'd like to know that somewhere out there is the proof that will put all of them away for good. You're the only one I know that I can trust with this though, so keep it safe. You'll know when to use it."

Slade had never opened the last letter, he realized. He had been grieving the deaths of his own children and the divorce of his wife. The last thing he had been thinking when the letter came in the mail was that he should read it and see how great John's life had been since marrying Mary, a Romani woman he had met on tour.

The assassin tore through his files, searching for the stack of envelopes he had let lie too long. It was time to read that final notice. Seconds ticked by, and he found them lying neatly at the opposite corner of his desk. Slade facepalmed. Wintergreen did say he had gone through them to find ways to help accommodate Richard.

He took off his gloves and idly fingered through the stack of yellowing papers until he found one still sealed, dated to about sixteen years ago. Slade released a deep breath. John had been the only one besides Wintergreen to keep in touch after the lab procedure. It was time to see what his old friend had to say.

Slade opened the envelope and unfolded the loose-leaf paper inside. He was surprised to find a twenty dollar bill along with it.

Slade,

I hope things are going well with you and your family. Congrats on Grant's graduation. I'm sure you're happy about that. There's a little cash inside for him as a gift. I know it isn't much, but tell him that if he ever comes to Haley's while we're in the states, we'll give him a special welcome.

Slade refused to admit that his eyes had glossed slightly at that. Why did John always have to be so considerate? The mercenary sat in his chair and leaned back as he continued reading the familiar messy writing.

However, there's something very important I need to ask you, and I'm telling you upfront that you can say no.

You see, I haven't written in a while because Mary just had our first baby. He's an adorable little tike and light as a feather; I wish you could see him. We named him Richard Grayson, after my brother, since they named their first son after me. We don't know if his eyes will change colors yet, but right now their the brightest blue I've ever seen. And he has a head of black hair, just like his mother.