Chapter Text
Chapter Ten
"You never completed your training."
He shuddered at his master's words, wondering just what else he had left to learn. After all, the man had gone over everything from torture endurance to weapons. Hell, even just the night before, the man had claimed that he had taught him nearly everything he knew.
So, what-
"In order for you to finally be able to say you've completed your training. You have to kill me."
His heart stopped in his chest, breath hitching at those words. Slade watched him placidly, but he didn't stop talking.
"I won't make it easy on you as I have been. I'm not going to hold back. Once you are able to kill me, when I'm fighting at full strength, once you are able to channel all the anger and rage, all the pain you feel in my presence into that final killing blow…then you will have officially have completed your training."
Dick swallowed nervously.
"Wh-what if I don't want to kill you?"
The man struck him harshly with the flat side of his katana and watched coldly as he hit the ground.
"Then you're weaker than I ever thought you were."
Will pursed his lips as he remembered that night, remembering the way he had panicked at Slade's words. The way his heart had raced in anticipation of finally being able to end the torment the mercenary had inflicted on him and yet at the same time stilling because at that time, Slade had been all he'd known for almost two years. During his captivity, the mercenary had controlled every aspect of his life, from what food he ate to what he wore. Where he slept, who he spoke to, even the more intimate aspects of his body, all of it was controlled by the man that had called himself his master.
The idea of being free of him, of being the one to slide the blade into his black heart himself…was terrifying.
Or at least, it had been.
Until now.
The boy that Slade had chained had changed a long time ago, morals darkening and loosening, becoming almost sociopathic in nature. He had killed men under Slade's hand, had tried to wash away that blood by becoming Nightwing, only for his hands to become awash in it once more as Talon and as Agent 37. He knew how everyone had looked at him before his disappearance, he was the "happy bat", the friendly one.
He and Tim were the bats without a kill count and yet he knew that if someone were to take a closer look, they'd see the truth.
He was the bat with the highest body count.
Too bad no one that knew was still alive.
No one, but Slade.
The man that had taken Bruce's teachings and warped them, twisting and breaking them when he had to, breaking him.
He'd been ready to kill the man for years, and yet before the incident with Blockbuster, with Tarantula, he had stopped himself. Had convinced himself that he "couldn't".
Shouldn't.
Then Slade had helped him, and he'd been so angry and yet so grateful, that once more…his hand was stayed.
Not this time.
This time he knew how it would end.
What he would do.
And better, there was another monster on his side, one as possessive as Slade, and just as dangerous.
Lying in the guest room of Hannibal's home, he could hear Jason slipping out of the house, Then Hannibal soon after.
Moments later there was a soft knock on his door. He stood, dressed in suit he hadn't worn in over a decade, domino mask slipping into place as he did so.
Bruce stood on the other side.
"Ready?"
"As I'll ever be."
The Bat nodded sharply. Then, they were gone.
*/*
He can tell it's a trap as soon as they arrive.
For one, though Flores' car sat in the driveway of the apartment, every light in her home is off. There's no glow of the television, not even the gleam of her bedside table which his sources had told him she liked to leave on as she read in the evening. And yet, he finds himself curious.
After all, the woman had escaped them the night before, and after meeting her earlier that afternoon, seeing the possessiveness in her eyes, the obsession she bore toward his mate, he was unwilling to let her escape them again.
He wanted her dead.
He needed her to be dead, perhaps as badly as he wanted the other monster on Will's shoulder gone.
Maybe that's why he didn't warn Todd.
Why he followed the younger man into Flores' home, ignoring the way his instincts were snarling that another predator was nearby.
Why he caught the glimmer of something shiny in the corner of his eye and still allowed himself to be struck.
Or perhaps it was because he was curious.
After all, he couldn't help but wonder about the other predator drawn into his mate's orbit.
He awoke what seemed like only minutes later to find Todd snarling and cursing beside him, Flores bound to a chair in front of him. The woman looked vastly different from the confident agent she'd been that afternoon, her cheeks wet with tears and mascara, blood staining one shoulder where a blade had been shoved through it.
However, it was the man behind her that held his attention.
He was tall, nearly as tall as Hannibal himself, but much more muscular, his entire being screaming power. Twin swords were strapped to his back, and more weapons were strapped across his body, his face hidden by and metal mask bisected in orange and black. Everything about him set Hannibal's hackle's on end, especially when he realized that the man was observing him just as keenly as he was watching him.
He didn't even seem interested in Todd, a fact that seemed to rankle the boy's fierce temper.
"Hannibal Lecter VIII. Il Mostro di Firenze." The man began, voice deep, musing. "The kid always did attract the worst kinds of people. A surgeon turned psychiatrist. Funny you went from being paid to cut people up to doing it as a hobby when you quit."
Hannibal hummed. "Yes, well according to my records, I was merely haunted by the loss of one too many patients on the operating table." He frowned slightly, while the other predator snorted.
"Of course."
There was a moment of silence before Todd sighed dramatically. "What are you even waiting for? Aren't you here to kill us?"
He got the impression the man was raising an eyebrow. "I have no interest in an undead bird. Especially when I could have the original."
"You killed the girl." Hannibal noted and the man shrugged.
"Punishment. The Kid knows better than to let anyone else get under his skin far enough that I'm no longer the thing he fears the most. He's been mine since I first laid eyes on him, but he almost forgot."
Hannibal felt his beast snarl at the possessiveness in the other man's voice, the challenge in his words and a rush of savage rage went through him.
His skin rippled in response.
The man laughed.
Flores whimpered.
The psychiatrist snarled suddenly reminded of the woman's presence but before he could do anything about it another scent entered his nose. One he knew as well as his own.
Will.
He turned automatically and his mouth went dry.
Wh- what is the world was he wearing?
He had never paid much attention to the caped community, and yet he had heard about how gorgeous Nightwing had been from a few of his younger clients. Seeing him then, the way the Kevlar hugged his lean frame and clung to his every curve was scandalous.
It also made his beast roar in a mix of approval and jealousy that anyone else was seeing his mate. What was worse was that the tension that had been plaguing the other was entirely absent.
Behind his mate, Wayne appeared as Batman, his figure imposing in the shadows of the room.
"Just who we were waiting for." The masked man greeted calmly, and Will shrugged.
"Not like I was late. Besides you and Hannibal seemed to be bonding over who I belonged to."
The man twitched. "Of course, Kid. Your cannibal knows you belong to me."
Todd shuddered and glanced at Will. "Your taste in men is seriously fucked up."
His mate barked out a laugh. "Tell me something I don't know. I've been in love with three men and only one was ever any good for me. And he isn't in this room."
"Ah yes, your Tiger King." Hannibal's eyes narrowed, but the masked interloper only hummed. "He was at your funeral, both of them."
Will didn't reply for a moment, then he stepped forward. "I'm ready, Slade."
Something about their captor seemed to harden in an instant, the air around him going cold then without warning, he was moving.
His swords came down (he hadn't even seen him remove them from the sheaths on his back) and were met with a pair of escrima sticks.
Then suddenly, they were moving.
Kicks, punches, a slash, a parry, they moved in the way people did when they knew their opponent's every move as well as they knew their own and Hannibal-
Hannibal had never seen something so beautiful.
Flores' apartment was spacious, but not so much that they could move with as much ease as he wished and yet it seemed to bother neither of them. He was distantly aware of the bonds around his wrists loosening and he glanced up at the Bat, who stared at him for a moment, then freed Todd.
Then, just as silently as he'd appeared, the Bat vanished.
It felt like a blessing, especially when he saw that the man hadn't freed Flores.
He hadn't even removed the knife in her shoulder.
The woman sobbed in terror at seeing them free.
"Querido!" She called in panic, but Will's entire focus seemed narrowed down to the man he was fighting. Neither was giving an inch.
She cried out even louder and Hannibal snarled at her, his own rage soared higher, it was little effort for him to reach out and twist the blade in her shoulder. She screamed, the sound dying in her throat as the Todd shoved a gun in her mouth.
"Shut. Up."
She sniffled.
Hannibal smiled and beside him, Todd shuddered.
*/*
He'd done it.
A shuddering breath left his lips as he collapsed to his knees beside his once master's body, the man's own sword plunged into its owner's heart. Since entering the fight, it had seemed like he'd been running on pure adrenaline, and yet it while it had blocked out the cries and screams coming from Catalina as Hannibal and Jason wrought their vengeance, it hadn't blocked the last words of the man in front of him.
Hadn't stopped the surge of warmth he felt at them, or the lingering tendril of shame.
"I'm proud of you, Kid." -A gasp, a sputtering cough, then an almost smile. "Training, complete."
An incredulous laugh left him unbidden and unnerving in the suddenly silent room.
He hadn't expected this to be the outcome of his past catching up to him. Hadn't expected the rush of relief and anger and everything to hit him at once as he realized that both of the people that had tormented his dreams in the past decade, both of the people that had nearly destroyed him, were dead.
He was finally free.
A hand landed on his shoulder, and as he looked up into those vivid blood-topaz eyes he did the only thing he could think of.
He kissed him.
No one had to know that his heart skipped a beat when the man's arms wound around his waist and their owner kissed him back.
A soft sound of disgust drew them apart and he distantly heard Jason say something about getting rid of the bodies. Before his successor could do so he reached down and grabbed both of his former master's beloved blade, unwilling to leave them behind.
Once Jason was gone, he looked up at Hannibal.
"How do you feel about France?"
"Me, you, and Abigail-"
"And Winston and Damian."
The cannibal raised an eyebrow. "Wayne is letting you take his child."
Some of his older self bled through, still high on freedom, his lips curling into a slight pout. "He was mine first."
Hannibal smirked then kissed him again. "I have a beautiful estate in Bordeaux."
Inside of him something seemed to settle and he could do nothing but smile.
*/*
They were gone.
He knew it the moment he awakened, even as Tim and Jason shuffled into the living room, neither aware that their brothers were gone.
As he prepared to deal with the inevitable fall out, he felt his spirit ease for the first time in years.
Yeah, they'd be okay.
Besides, Will had promised to help him surprise Alfred for Christmas.
FIN~