"We have Rose," Dick said.

Slade was tied, arms above his head and hanging just high enough that the man had to awkwardly balance himself on the tip of his boots. He wasn't bothering to do that anymore, just hanging limply. He didn't react.

"Slade," Dick said softly. His eyes stung a little, from Seeing Slade caked in blood, bruised so badly it took a day or two for his enhanced healing to make the marks disappear. The man was breathing raggedly. "Slade, look at me."

A harsh, spiteful eye looked up at Dick from under the white hair plastered to his forehead. Dick was sure Slade couldn't hear him properly, not after the hit he took to the side of his head yesterday.

"We have--" He repeated it a bit louder. "We have Rose."

The result was almost immediate. Slade tensed before wincing when it aggravated whatever injuries he had, his expression pinching as he let out a low groan. When he relaxed, he looked at Dick with worry in his eyes.

"You might be a lot of things, Slade," Dick said, faking the confidence he knew Superman expected to see. He walked to Slade, gripped the man's chin and held in so Slade couldn't look away. "Liar, thief, murderer. But even someone as low as you wouldn't let their daughter die."

Slade scoffed. "You sure about that?" He smiled.

But inevitably, the smile got stiffer as he searched Dick's face, a slight tinge of fear coloring his features. It was subtle, but Dick had fought Slade for years-- fought with him, when fate aligned their goals, even trained under him for a year. He could read the man better than most.

He prayed that Slade knew him just as well. Maybe Slade would see through the lie.

"It's a shame the girl's already lost an eye--" And he felt sick doing this, emotionally and physically attacking Slade, but doing it every day for weeks had helped Dick learn how to cover up the enease, act like he really believed in what Superman wanted him to do. "Wouldn't want her to lose another, would we."

Slade watched him silently, and Dick's not sure what gave it away-- but Slade relaxed slightly, looked up at the ceiling and let out a huff. "You're lying, kid."

"You sure about that?" Dick mimicked.

"I trained you," Slade said. But there was still a weariness in his eye. "You've never been able to lie to me."

Dick walked around Slade, and the man tried to follow him, but he was too weak to fight the position he was being held in. Dick ran a hand across Slade's bare shoulders, digging his fingers into a particularly deep gash, reopening it and sending fresh blood down Slade's back. "Is that a risk you're really willing to take?"

.

Slade gave in.

Dick sat in front of the toilet, his forehead pressed against the rim of the seat. It was warmed from how long he had been pressed against it, and he knew he wasn't going to throw up, but he wished he would. He wanted to be so disgusted by what he's done.

There was a part of Dick that was relieved-- he wasn't sure how much longer he could continue torture sessions with out outright refusing. It made him nauseous, and he felt as if he was living in a fog. He wanted to stop-- but he couldn't afford to lose his place in the League.

On the other hand, It meant that Slade's time was up. And that brought a gripping fear that Dick could barely hold in. He knew-- from the moment Slade gave the name to a single location-- Dick was gonna be the one to end Slades life. 

.

Dick barely ever found himself in Clark's office anymore. It was well lit, with small, silly things like drawings from fans on the wall and small gifts he got for Christmas on his desk. They seemed alien, now. They were off-- like a projection, something from a past life reflected in this horrible reality.

"Uncle Clark," Dick said, barely able to hold the sob out of his voice. He hated calling Superman that, but maybe it would be enough to make the man have some pity. "Please, I don't want to do this."

"Of course you don't," Clark said, understanding sweetening his voice. Clark's hand went on Dick's shoulder, giving a reassuring squeeze. "None of us do this because we want to. We have to."

"Can't someone else do it?"

Clark's head tilted, just slightly. "Oh, Dick. You know I care about you. You would do anything I asked you to, wouldn't you? After all, I only want what's best for you."

Dick had to swallow back tears. "Of course," He lied.

"That's good," Clark let go, "I wouldn't want to think you're starting to get... rebellious."

It was as if someone had poured a bucket of ice cold on Dick. "N-no," And he cursed the stammer in his words, willing his heartbeat to slow down. He would have played it off-- wouldn't have worried about it-- but there was something sadistic to the way Clark smiled at him. "I would never do that. Not to you."

Clark cupped Dick's face, pulling him closer and planted a gentle kiss on his forehead. "I would hope not. We wouldn't want anything to happen." He walked towards the doorway, opening it halfway. "We can't risk a public execution, not with someone like Slade. Too many chances of escape. It'll be tomorrow, in his room. Eight A.M. I expect you to be there on time."

He left Dick alone.

Okay-- its been along wait but would you look at that its another chapter lol

So, if any of you guys have any ideas on what youd like to see, please tell me. id love to discuss it. even if i dont use it, just talking out ideas helps me be more creative, and also its fun so