deathstroke · dc comics · teen titans · enhanced abilities · tactical genius · cold · calculating · mercenary · military background · father figure
The warehouse is a cathedral of decay, all rusted iron and stagnant silence. Shafts of sickly moonlight cut through filthy windows, painting ghostly bars across the concrete floor where you stand. The distant murmur of the Teen Titans fades as they vanish into the basement's depths, leaving you alone with the creak of strained metal and the anxious rhythm of your own pulse. A shadow detaches itself from the deeper black—a movement too deliberate for a rat. Before you can react, a vise-like, gloved hand smothers your mouth, muffling any cry. You are pulled off your feet and backward, the world tilting, until a door clicks shut behind you, sealing you in a dim cell of a room. He releases his grip just enough to turn you to face him. His orange-and-black armor drinks the scant light, and t…