Into the Depths – Chapter Twenty-Eight

Chapter Twenty-Eight
Purgatory

May 25th, 2009. Monday, 1:00 am: a month prior to current events.

Tsk.

Slade clicked his tongue in annoyance, growling beneath his breath. He dropped his arms, the gun hanging at his side.

It was just a shadow. There was nothing there. The Tower was empty, no life whatsoever, except the furball and the worm. It was just a phantom, a figment of the imagination. He was being overly paranoid – wait, no; there was no such thing in Slade’s opinion. But maybe this whole thing was foolish. Honestly, bringing a gun into the Tower? Who was Slade expecting, the Joker?

And yet…

The kitten was still hissing at that figment of the imagination.

The hostility of her voice grew more. Her glaring gaze was in the exact direction Slade’s shot rang through. He gave the kitten a passing glance, before he clicked his gun, readying it for a second shot. The squishy mutant moth continued to whimper at her side. If animal instincts were to be listened…

The shadows flickered. Slade pointed his gun towards them. He watched them, waiting for another sign of life. One chance. That’s all it would take—

And then, there was a low chuckle, silky and dark in its tones. It was enough to chill even Slade’s heart.

“You missed me.”

Every sense inside Slade’s body screamed in alertness as a grey, black mist flowed out of the shadows. It circled Slade, mist vaporizing as further shadows collected to maintain the form. Slade kept his eye on the creature at all times, even when it attempted to slide into his blind spot.

“I’ve been waiting for you, Slade.”

“You know my name,” said Slade with a raised eyebrow, watching the mist fade and reappear. Though his tone sounded almost conversational, his muscles were tense and ready. “But I don’t have the same courtesy. Who are you?”

A better question would’ve been, ‘What are you?’. The mist held no true form. Sometimes, Slade would catch the glimpse of something which resembled that of a human form, before it faded into something less tangible. It was constantly moving, as if it couldn’t maintain a single form for long.

“Who am I?” purred the form, the black mist rustling intensely. “I am known by many names. Which would you like to hear?”

“As many as you wish to divulge,” said Slade, his eye narrowing. The mist chuckled darkly, coming to float and flutter near Slade’s shoulder. It continued to circle him, nearly engulfing him in the blackness. There was a deeper hiss from the kitten.

“A seeker of truth. Excellent. Very well, then. I shall indulge you,” purred the mist, sounding darkly pleased. There was a light pause, before it continued. “I am he who was accused as the Liar from the beginning, yet was that old serpent who showed the truth to the Mother of all living.”

Slade’s eye widened; a chill slid down his spine. The mist circled once more, black specks of the dust raining down with every movement. Yet, nothing touched the ground beneath it.

“I am claimed by many to be their Adversary, yet I have done nothing to warrant this cruel, iniquitous title.”

Slade’s breath caught in his chest, a feat to only be obtained when his children were in danger. He gritted his teeth, yet showed no outward change to his impassive expression. Well, he’d certainly screwed up here. He had picked up the whopper of all dangerous foes, now didn’t he? Just… wonderful.

The mist continued to circle, like a shadowed predator. In its tone, a faint waver of smug pleasure could be heard, as if it knew Slade’s thoughts.

“I am known as Lucifer, the son of the morning – the fallen son to whom few listened. For my revolutionary ideas, I was thrust from the Heavens.”

Slade let out his breath silently, slow and drawn out. The tension faded with it and he regarded this creature with feigned dismissal. “Hmm?” he drawled, attempting to remain calm, yet every part of his soul was weighed down with a sickening feeling. “So, speak of the devil himself.”

There was a dark, silky laugh.

“Oh, you’re funny. I like you. You have quite the wit.”

Slade’s skin crawled.

“But such names bring only ill memories to mind. Thus, to many worlds and planets of this universe, I am merely known as Trigon.”

Ah, yes. Now that name Slade knew well. But that name had just as many ‘ill memories’ as the originals. He’d heard of this demon’s terrible nature, but he always assumed it was a matter of other planets and not an actual threat to be dealt with. Slade had met plenty of enemies, but he had never met one of equal or greater power than himself.

Batman needed a competent sidekick before he became a threat. Even with Superman, though the fight would be intense and enormous in proportions, he had his weakness. With Kryptonite being such a rare commodity, getting an ounce of it would be relatively easy.

Yes, that was a contradicting statement.

Slade already had a small stash of the stuff, just in case, not that he was about to mention it to Dick anytime soon. The boy would have a fit. But, an ounce of prevention was a pound of cure, as the saying went. It paid to be overly careful and paranoid.

But preparing for such an enemy as this? It had been inconceivable; no thought could have predicted this.

Nonetheless, he was just another enemy to be taken down.

“So, you say you’ve been waiting for me,” said Slade, his mind pouring through every possibility of ending this creature. For the first time in his life, he saw no way of penetrating the mist. “What do you want from me?”

The mist stirred in amusement. “Have you not been seeking me? I’ve only answered your… aheh, rather intense summons.”

Slade’s eye narrowed. “You’re the one targeting Dick?” he hissed. His heart pounded against his chest. Time; he needed more of it; how to take him down; must think of something; stall it. “Why are you harming my son? What’s your purpose?”

The mist paused in front of Slade. It shivered, specks of black falling rapidly; an inhuman, yet chillingly soft exhale breathed over Slade’s senses.

“Let’s just say… I wanted to meet you.” The breath changed; there was a silky laugh. “Think of it as my calling card.”

Slade bit back the growl that threatened to rumble his throat. “Well, you’ve met me,” he said, unable to hold back the slight hiss in his tone. “What do you want?”

“Mmmm, you are an interesting person, are you not?” purred the mist, but something deadly now entered its tone. “Your very existence defies all the laws of nature. Not only you, but a number of your offspring as well. I am, in fact, very surprised that you are even allowed to exist by them. This is something that they would be angry over.”

Slade swallowed. “What are you talking about? What do you mean, they?”

The chuckle that shivered through the mist’s form made Slade’s skin crawl even more.

“Oh, you know very well that if I exist, then the residents of the Heavens exist as well,” purred Trigon, his misty form fluttering darkly. “You go against the very rules and designs of Heaven. Immortality is only given to those who deserve it, who have proven themselves. You and I both know your history would give you a one way ticket to my homeland.”

Slade bristled. This thing knew too much. “I’m an Atheist,” he said. “Do keep your babblings on the level of reality.”

The mist seemed greatly amused. It purred, its form shivering slightly. “Oh, isn’t Atheism a lack of belief in deity? But there is no need for belief when proof lies before your eyes.”

No. No. No.

This wasn’t happening. There were no such things as angels and demons – no matter what this thing said. Otherwise, it forced Slade’s outlook on life to change, forced him to reevaluate the meaning of life, and that just wasn’t going to happen.

“Oh… denial much. How… delightful.”

No, no, no.

This was just a bad enemy – a terrible one, a deadly one. This thing could be conquered. He had to have a weakness. Find the weakness, destroy the enemy. End the threat.

“Your first born…” The mist trailed off suggestively and Slade stiffened, alarmed that this creature knew something so personal. “He died at such a young age, did he not? Such a tragedy, really.”

“What of it?” asked Slade, his tone clipped with irritation.

“Such impatience,” chided Trigon. “I was hoping you would make a deal with me. I just need you to do a little job for me. Really, it’s very simple. You do something for me, I do something for you. If you aid me, then I can restore what you’ve lost. I can bring back your first born son, Grant, from the Veil.”

Slade sucked in his breath; his eye widened.

“Wouldn’t you like to see your son again?” purred Trigon. “He was lost at such a young age. Fourteen… Now really, that is far too young. So much life to live. He had such grand potential. He could even have children, as your other two are unable to due to their… condition; thus, giving you the grandchildren and posterity you so richly deserve.”

“Son, what do you want to be when you grow up?”

The ten year old, brown headed boy grinned up at Slade, his grey blue eyes sparkling with innocence and unveiled mischief.

“I wanna be just like you, Dad!”

The pain of the boy’s absence stuck Slade with the same strength it dealt him on the death anniversary. Grant, you missed so much.

“Dad, can you help me with this?”

“Dad, can we go hunting this weekend?”

“Pop, you’re too stiff. No one thinks like that any more. It’s the eighties; get with the times!”

“This is so unfair! All my friends are going, why can’t I?”

“I hate you! Don’t even talk to me any more!”

“I’m going over to my friend’s house, okay? I’ll be back in a few days.”

Two days later, Slade would get the boy’s mangled body in a box. The grief he had felt at that moment washed over him in renewed power. It was like learning his son had been killed all over again. It overwhelmed the senses. The mist expanded, wrapping around Slade’s body and dousing him in the darkness. It spidered its way over his skin, crawling upward to smother every living section.

“You could see him again,” whispered the mist. It was so soft, so seductive. “You could see your boy again. You only have to do one little thing for me.”

‘You could see Grant again.’

‘He could live a full life.’

‘Your mistake can be erased.’

Words whispered into Slade’s ears. Memories flooded through his mind. Reality blended with the past and, for a moment, it seemed as if Slade would be lost in the flood of darkness. The gun slipped out of his hand and fell to the floor.

A boy with bright, crystal blue eyes shone through the memories, instantly chasing the darkness away. His gentle laugh broke the specks of black; his beaming smile shattered the dust of the darkness. Slade could remember the trickle of moments that had brought them together – Dick hugging him for the first time; Dick signing the adoption papers; Dick glowing with softened, tender delight when Slade had said, “Yes, you are my son.”; and the pure happiness that flooded through Dick’s entire being when Slade first said, and continued to say thereafter, “I love you.”

A clear, abundant peace flushed through Slade’s every sense. A trilling, lilting murmur encompassed his soul. Wherever it touched, the mist recoiled.

That boy had filled the void left there.

It seemed as if the darkness had muddled his senses for a time. Slade wouldn’t have been able to realize this had it not been for the powerful wave of peace that was present through his being.

The dead couldn’t be brought back, no matter the sins of the living. Slade had always know that. There had been so many minutes, hours, days, weeks spent wishing he had a second chance during that time. If he could go back in time, he would change it all. He would do things right. He would remember what life truly was about.

But he could never forget the one who had taught him that.

There would no real change, no real desire to do things differently, had Dick not been in his life. The boy had, inadvertently yet beautifully, taught him what it meant to be human. For so many years, Slade had always desired the exciting adrenaline rush of the high danger jobs, whether it was being in the army or being the world’s most feared assassin.

Without that special, bright boy, Slade was stagnant – and he knew it, without a doubt.

Slade opened his eyes and faced the demon. The sole reason he was here was for Dick. The boy was suffering; he was under attack; and even though he wasn’t Grant, he never had to be.

“Excellent try,” said Slade softly. The mist dispersed. Then, it molded back together, forming itself in front of Slade once more. The darkness was no longer suffocating. “Good effort, but I won’t be lured into a falsehood. The dead are dead; they can’t come back.”

The mist shivered in amusement.

“My power lies there. I can bring your son back,” whispered Trigon, closing the distance between them again. The mist threatened to drown out the light, but Slade withstood it. “Or,” he continued, his tone breathless, yet rising with new danger. “You could decline my generous offer and I can give you a one way trip to meet your lost boy. Of course… That would mean leaving your new boy behind.” Slade stiffened as new darkness entered the creature’s tone, hatred and loathing hissing through the voice. The mist rippled in agitation. “Ripping your unnatural immortal spirit from your corrupt body would be a most easy task.”

Slade drew in a deep breath, focusing on remaining calm.

“I believe the term immortality has an exactness in its meaning,” said Slade, his lips curling in mocking. “I’m afraid the threat of death has little meaning to me. You can’t kill me.”

Those words had a poor effect. The mist expanded, hissing furiously. Its entire essence changed. It thickened and, with a sudden attack, the mist formed into an arm. Suddenly, Slade was thrust backwards into the wall by a force that was so powerful, yet so inhuman, he’d never experienced the like of it before. Mist flowed around his neck like the sands of the sea. The force that held Slade trapped against the wall assimilated human touch, but didn’t have it same warmth and life.

“Foolish one!” hissed the mist, his voice lowering and becoming disembodied. The pressure around Slade’s neck intensified, cutting off his oxygen. The mist was agitated further, never slowing down. Though it tried to maintain a human form, it never quite stayed in one appearance. A face formed, the mist splitting apart to form eyes. It never held the form long and a new face would materialize immediately afterward.

Whatever face it did managed to obtain, only reiterated the creature’s absolute insanity.

It was the most disturbing thing Slade had ever witnessed in his life, even beyond the horrors of Vietnam.

“You think you can defy me?” snarled the mist. Wide eyes and snarling face formed before melting into another. “You forget who I am, you pathetic mortal!”

The force on Slade’s neck doubled. Stars broke through his vision. He choked, unable to breathe. The mist poured over his entire body, the granules of black sand digging into the very pores of his skin. Thought began to fade, but he struggled against it.

“Your death is meaningless! I will strip you of your life and go after the boy!”

Never, in all his life, had Slade felt powerless like this. The enemy was going to suck his life away. The power stole the rest of the air in his chest. A sensation Slade only ever felt when his body realigned with his soul in his death ravaged his heart. It truly felt as if the beast was trying to rip his soul away.

Just like that; death was as simple as that.

Breath wasn’t possible. Movement wasn’t possible.

Doubt flowed through Slade. What if it was true? What if Trigon could kill him? Where bullets, swords, and torture had failed, could this inhuman, formless creature really do the impossible?

Slade struggled to keep his eye open. The monster was talking, but Slade couldn’t hear any more. The creature’s black mist was tinged with sparking red, as if the friction between each grain created flames.

Blackness formed in Slade’s mind. If this creature didn’t let go soon…

A powerful wave flushed through Slade’s veins, a force unlike anything he had ever experienced before – and yet, it was soft, warm, and tender. Its nature was an absolute dichotomy. It trilled with its lilting, warming his entire soul with an unquenchable heat that wasn’t overbearing.

The pressure on Slade’s throat released and he dropped to the floor, where he proceeded to gasp for breath. The creature hissed and howled in pained rage. The warmth faded; a gentle sensation touched Slade’s shoulder. But it was gone before he could fully understand what it was. His hand clutched at his throat, yet the flesh didn’t ache, nor was it bruised.

Slowly, the creature stilled, its previous agitation calming. Then, when it spoke, nothing gave away its condition moments ago.

“The noble always choose death. The intelligent know to choose life,” said Trigon, his whisper arrogant. “You’re an intelligent man, aren’t you?”

Slade didn’t answer. His limbs wouldn’t answer his command to get on his feet. He didn’t want to be bowed on the ground, crouched on all fours like some subservient. Immortality was a curse; it had been, almost from the beginning. If this creature could kill him – of which Slade now had no doubt – would it not be a welcomed blessing?

It wasn’t noble to seek death, no matter the intentions. It was selfish. Those left behind were tortured, left wondering and second guessing in agony.

And, for a brief moment, Slade felt selfish.

It was but a fleeting feeling when he remembered the boy waiting back home. That boy had given him a second chance with his other children. Now was not the time to give into weakness. Dick needed him and Slade was determined not to fail a second time.

Once was enough.

“You could gain from our pact,” whispered Trigon, the mist shivering into its seductive tones. “Wouldn’t you want to gain something, instead of losing everything you’ve received so far?”

“That’s… blackmail,” hissed Slade, his voice hoarse.

“Mmm, perhaps. You’re intelligent. I’m sure you’ll pick the right choice.”

Slade’s jaw clenched. He had been trying to find the sick devil who had been targeting his son. He had no idea it truly had been the Devil himself. If that wasn’t ‘karma’, then there was no such thing.

“Sooo,” purred Trigon, the mist assimilating into a black arm. A hand formed there and it held out, as if waiting for a handshake. The mist formed a face; sickening, deformed eyes were wide with a light of insanity that rivaled the Joker. “Do we have a deal?”

Slade narrowed his eye.

“Only on my conditions.”

The mist shuddered in dark pleasantry, chuckling in a low whisper.

“As you wish.”

ooOOOOOoo

June 21st, 2009. Sunday, 9:28 am.

That grey blue eye flared with undeniable fury.

Dick could only stare at the face before him. It wasn’t actually a face. He could see the black eye patch; he could see the grey blue eye. The only problem: that eye was so unnaturally set within grey bone. There was no flesh, no muscle, no skin – nothing of what constituted as a normal, human face. It simple terms, the man looked like a walking Halloween skeleton.

It was freaking scary!

“Why don’t you ever do as you’re told?!” snapped the skeleton, his gloved hands motioning wildly in front of his body. Well, it sounded like Slade. The mouth moved with that familiar voice. Oh, but that face was not his father.

“D–Dad? W—what happened to you?” asked Dick, gasping. He barely noticed the pain in his scraped hand as he slowly got to his feet.

“Oh, so now I’m ‘Dad’?” drawled Slade in utter derision. He bent down and picked up the mask. “I’m not sure if I should be flattered. Oh, yes, it hasn’t been lost on me that you’ve failed to call me ‘Dad’ up until now. Should I expect this to continue or are you simply experiencing a lax in self control?”

The man’s tone oozed with bitter sarcasm and rightly so. Dick, on the other hand, was far too focused on the fact that the man had no face any more.

“What happened?”

“The real question is why can’t you ever obey me?” snapped Slade, slapping the mask over his face. Dick had to admit, the mask was an improvement. The man looked away, putting his hands onto his hips and letting out a low huff. “I can’t wait for ‘the end of the world’ to end. You are so grounded, I can’t even begin to number the months.”

Without realizing it, Dick took a few steps closer to the man.

“We can add this to the growing list of your indiscretions. You already have prolific profanity, constant disrespect, extreme cheekiness, endless backtalk, and now blatant disobedience. Have I left anything out?”

Slade’s tirade stopped, just as Dick reached out to him. His hand rested against the man’s middle arm. Like before, he felt no warmth. Something in the man’s demeanor softened.

“Don’t ignore me, brat,” said Slade with another huff, but his tone was more gentle now. “You’re in big trouble. The least you can do is look a little contrite over it.”

But Dick wasn’t listening. His hand slid upward; he felt the man’s armor beneath his fingers. It was colder than normal. He looked up at the mask, looking into the only human feature left to Slade. Now, it held a different meaning to Dick.

“Is everything like…”

There was a pause as the man’s chest rose in a deep breath. Slade nodded. “I am without flesh and blood. I am merely a walking, talking skeleton.”

Dick smiled. “Who still has a decent walloping hand there,” he said, his mouth twitching upward in sheepish mischievousness. Slade let out a low breath.

“You deserved every swat and then some for your words,” said Slade with an irritated growl. “You’re lucky we’re in this mess. You would’ve been taken to the bathroom by the ear so fast for a mouth washing you’d soon never forget. Not to mention, a trip over my knee, unlike the express version you got—don’t you ever express your displeasure of me in such a way again, young man. You won’t see the light of day until you’re old and grey. You were lucky this time.”

“Hey, you’ve said some pretty colorful language before.”

There was a low, dark chuckle. “Yes, but certainly not about the adult with authority and definitely not in front of said adult!”

“So, I can swear whenever you’re not around?” asked Dick, now grinning impishly from ear to ear.

“Oh, try it,” drawled Slade. “And see if you survive the experience.”

Dick smiled again, the pressure in his chest relieving somewhat. But the good mood he had tried to create quickly vanished. He bit his lower lip as he stared at the man’s armored chest. His hand lowered; his palm flattened against the cold armor, right over the man’s heart.

He was tempted to know what the man looked like beneath the layers. Would it show only skeleton? Was there truly no flesh there? Would Slade’s heart be there, beneath the row of ribs? What had happened to the firm, warm chest that held the man’s heartbeat? How many times had he been drawn against this chest? How many times had he been held in a protective hug? Would he never experience it again?

Was there still hope to change everything?

“What happened?” asked Dick in a low whisper. His fingers curled inward against his palm. The man let out a low sigh.  A comforting weight rested against the middle of Dick’s back. Eyes closed as Dick rested his forehead against the cool metal.

“Trigon never intended to keep his end of the contract,” said Slade. “When it became… apparent that there was no other way to deal with him but through a contract, I insisted on four conditions for the contract. One, he was to stop targeting you. Second, third, and fourth were three lives. Grant, Mary Grayson, and John Grayson.” The man’s tone lifted, as if he were smirking. “When he mentioned that my conditions were high, I told him I was expensive; ask any of my previous clients.”

Dick blinked, before he let out a breathy, soundless laugh.

“Long story short, he turned his back on the contract once Raven arrived. Since she became resigned to her fate, I had no part in completing our end of the contract – according to Trigon’s flawed logic.”

The hand on his back gently patted and, for a moment, Dick was able to forget their surroundings, focusing solely on what had become perfectly normal to him.

“Will gave me the ring of Azar,” whispered Slade; his voice was pained. “Said it would protect me. I should’ve left it with him. The only thing the ring did was to ease the pain of Trigon’s betrayal. My soul is permanently anchored. I was a fool to think Trigon could actually kill me.”

“How do you know?” asked Dick.

“I’m not sure,” said Slade with a sigh. “When the contract broke, it supplied me with information. Like the possibility that Raven is still alive and her potential location as well. I also know where to go to restore my flesh. Some things are just feelings and intuition. I realize now that Trigon only had the power to tear my flesh away, not my soul.”

The skin on Dick’s hands became white as they clenched further. The backs of his fingers brushed against the armor. The man’s hand moved to the back of Dick’s head. Gloved fingers carded through his hair.

“Come, we need to keep moving, before further demons slow us down.”

Dick nodded, but before he could move away, his ear was painfully grasped. Wincing, he was forced to tilt his head to relieve some of the pain, but the pinch was relentless.

“Ow, ow, ow, D–Dad—”

“Listen up,” said Slade sharply, and Dick opened his eyes, narrowing them in the pain. The pinch doubled in strength; now Dick was fully paying attention. “When I tell you to do something, you better do it. I don’t have time for you to think about it and then, maybe you’ll do what I say. Remember what I’ve said before? This isn’t about disobey and be punished. It’s about disobey and get hurt. Are we clear?”

Dick nodded, his eyes watering on their own. The man still didn’t let him go. Though the mask obstructed the man’s face – for good reason – somehow in Dick’s mind he could see the exact expression his father would’ve given.

“When I say to do something, it’s for your good. Not mine. Understand?”

“Yes, yes! You can let go now!”

“That’s ‘yes, sir’. If I tell you to jump, your answer is, ‘how high?’ – are we clear on this?”

“Yes, sir!”

“I won’t tolerate your disobedience any more. I want the upmost of respect. I am your father and don’t you dare forget it again. No more backtalk, no more sulking, no more disrespect, no more disobedience – and do keep your cheekiness down to the bare minimum. Am I understood?”

“Yes, yes, Dad!” cried Dick, wishing the man would release him already. “Please let go! I promise—I promise! Just let go, please!”

Slade made a satisfactory sound with his throat, before letting go. Dick instantly rubbed his ear, the flesh heated to the touch. The man’s shoulders shook slightly and Dick knew the man was quietly chuckling at him. Well, hey, he didn’t just have his ear pinched, now did he? It wasn’t pleasant at all!

Slade tapped Dick on the nose, causing him to glance up into the mask. The light within that grey blue eye was soft.

“Don’t forget.”

Dick only nodded, still rubbing his ear. Though he swore to himself he wasn’t going to forget, a small part of him told him not to get his hopes up. He was fifteen, after all. Couldn’t expect the impossible here.

Okay, well, this impossible, anyway.

It didn’t really occur to him that Slade had meant something a little deeper than just disobedience.

Without another word, Dick followed after the man. The trail descended deeper into the earth. The light the lava had provided began to dwindle as they walked further downward. The dull pain that had pinched his ear had now subsided. Dick’s mind was in swirling with everything. He realized that Slade had paid a high price for his choices, but the man’s heart had been in the right place.

As for Dick… Well, he felt bad for not trusting the man from the beginning. He should’ve trusted in his feelings.

But… He had trusted in his feelings the last time, too. Terra had betrayed them. His trust in her had failed in a way. Even though she had turned back to them, she had still been planning on betraying them from the beginning. His intuition on the matter hadn’t been correct. And yet, Dick still wanted to believe in her. He still wanted to believe in his father.

This time, Dick was going to make sure to be strong. He wasn’t going to weaken. He was going to be a strength to his father. Slade had borne a too heavy weight all by himself. Dick wanted to be someone who Slade could rely on – like a son, like an apprentice, like a partner, like an heir.

It had always been his role; its meaning had only changed.

Suddenly, the ground gave out beneath Slade’s feet. There was a loud, low grunt as the man fell from Dick’s sight.

“Dad!”

Dick rushed to the edge and slid down after Slade, with no hesitation. The jagged rock face tore into his supporting hand. A moment later, his feet touched earth. He tucked his head and fell into a roll, crouching when the momentum halted. He wasn’t aware that his hand was now bleeding. Crumbled broken rocks lay across the ground. Amongst the debris, Dick caught sight of Slade.

“Dad, are you all right?” asked Dick, rushing to the man’s side. He pulled the remaining rock away. There was a low groan, as the man made an effort to push himself from off the ground. Dust fell at his sides.

Something wasn’t right. Slade didn’t normally act like this. He was strong. He was invincible. Dick had rarely even seen the man tired. Exasperated, yes, but never to the point of total exhaustion.

So, why was the man struggling to get up?

Slade didn’t struggle.

Dick helped the man push upward; however, Slade resisted help to his feet. Instead, the man stayed on all fours, breathing heavily; it was as if every breath took an enormous amount of energy.

“What’s going on?” whispered Dick. “You’re not okay. Why can’t you get up?”

The man let out a hefty sigh through the labored breathing.

“Being without flesh and blood… It’s weakening. I don’t have the same strength I used to.”

The man continued to breathe deeply, as if trying to draw strength in through every breath. But it was obviously it wasn’t going to work. The man didn’t have lungs, did he? Dick wasn’t sure, but the way Slade was breathing, perhaps it was true.

“You’ve been pushing yourself too hard,” whispered Dick, more to himself than to Slade. “You can’t do things like you normally can.”

He was weak; his father was too weak. They weren’t just here to save Raven; Dick was to save Slade as well.

“If you continue down that path, you’ll find Raven… I think,” said Slade, still breathing heavily. “We should split up and meet—”

“Are you insane?” demanded Dick. “I’m not leaving you like this. You can’t even get up.”

“Dick, I have to—”

“Have to what? Get yourself killed or too hurt to meet up?”

“Would you stop interrupting me?” snapped Slade. “And I’m not going to die, silly boy.”

“Uh, huh; just like I’m not gonna leave you behind.”

The man let out a low huff, but didn’t say anything more.

“Come on,” said Dick, putting the man’s arm around his shoulder. He hoisted them up. The man’s weight was heavy against his side, but Dick was strong enough to handle it. He began to help the man walk. “Don’t worry, Dad,” he whispered. “You don’t have to do things by yourself. We’ll find Raven and then I’m going to help you get your body back.”

No matter what. I’m not losing another father.

ooOOOOOoo

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