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caw4brandon · 1 year

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The Three Conditions (Lore)

It's been a while since my last post and I would like to take this opportunity to show a fun bit of lore that will play an important role in the < Murder The Crow > series.

For a simple rundown. My characters; Sadie mac Lir, Jamie Ann Robyn, and Hector James Dagger don't look human at all. In fact, they always have one offset feature found on their head area.

These features are known as; The Three Conditions also known by its other name; Hear No Evil, See No Evil, Speak No Evil.

- Eyes, Ears, Mouth, and Nose? -

First, let's get down to the basic details.

How did the conditions come to be?

In the universe, the Conditions are an after-effect of being under the atmospheric influence of The Burning Core. Which mutated the said humans of this fictional world; Kingshaven developing highly sensitive conditions to aid them in this once hostile and dangerous world.

These conditions help increase a certain trait but also overamplified the individual to require external aids or accommodations to make their lives tolerable. As a quick rundown, here are the names of said conditions.

Elvenlead - Elf ears with the perk of heightened hearing, and temperature sensitivity. This Condition however comes at the cost of overstimulation to the slightest peak of sound and temperature.

Hollowaye - Darken eyes with the perk of night vision or being able to see through hidden things. This Condition comes with the drawback of light sensitivity.

Grimmjaw - A Venus Flytrap-like mouth with the perk of a strong grip and a uniquely sensitive tongue. This Condition removes the need for teeth and leaves the person vulnerable to all airborne bacteria.

With that said, there are ways to combat the discomfort respectively. Elvenleads found the solution of noise-canceling headphones or earbuds to lessen the stimulation and earmuffs on hand in case of terrible weather conditions. Hollowayes use special sunglasses to help adjust their eyes to light. Grimmjaws learned to use facemasks to cover their mouths thus, protecting themselves.

- The No-Evil Monkeys -

When I originally set out to design my characters, I made the mistake of giving Sadie elf ears but that mistake lead to this peculiar idea of making none of my characters look normal which re-ignited this memory of seeing the monkey statues on display.

My characters and this universe, in general, reflect the phrase; Hear No Evil, See No Evil, Speak No Evil. Which is indeed a part of the inspiration. In an ironic way, these Conditions ultimately reveal the evils found in each sense. Sadie hears all, Hector sees all and Jamie tastes all. (in some way, feels all)

Despite this, for the Conditions. Sadie, Hector, and Jamie are still human in a sense. Peculiar humans if you will but humans still. Said Conditions are categorized as a Dominant Mutation that is bound to appear as one or the other based on the child's gender.

For example, should an Elvenlead mother and Hollowaye father produce a child. The daughters will obtain Elvenlead traits while the sons will have Hollowaye conditions. Under another scenario, if a Havenite (resident of Kingshaven) reproduces with a Normie (human with no Condition) the mutation will follow based on the Havenite parent regardless of gender.

- Do You Know The Muffin Man? -

While I have talked about this very subject in the past, the intention of this post is to lay AN OFFICIAL RULE as to what the Conditions are and provide a colorized version of said subjects because the doodles in the past are all in black and white.

Something I hope to share more after this post is to share more about the respective character's profiles as I am in a bit of a joking mood recently. I've been hinting at the dynamics between these three and I feel confident that I can achieve a lot more for this coming month, despite the fact that it will be a very busy month this coming April.

While drawing this, I was suddenly reminded of the video of about three housemates asking about a certain [Muffin Man] because...I'm just kinda random like that. hahaha~ With that said, that is all for now about the Three Conditions. More to come surely.

Thanks for reading

- Caw4B -

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havenitewisdom · 1 year

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anathema: no i can't play outside today i still have the curse

#haven smp #incorrect haven smp #havenite wisdom #hsmp #anathema #knife moth

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mushroom-soup-is-my-religion · 1 year

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I am at the stage in writing where I have to come up with superhero names

#Luckily its not delaying shit because of the havenites that get introduced first three of them don’t use hero names and two of them are the #ONLY ONE I CAME UP WITH and cAster that was decided months ago when it was just going to be a cameo rather than a full plotline #Also for the hermits and stuff most aren’t necessarily surviving but they ARE mentioned #Except TFC because thats the only pov i watched #Trying to decide cEli’s powers is also hell #and cNoah. BITCH WHAT DO YOU EVEN DO BESIDES MAKE SHRINES AND LIGHT SHIT IN FIRE

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s0urte3th · 9 months

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spam pressing E

#pspspspsps #cmere medic #if you want a guy to cut open i am right here #i have a thyroid you can have do you want that #i dont want it so you can havenit do you want it

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i-maybe-exist · 2 years

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Followed you because we were on a minecraft smp together and you were mutals with a few of my mutals

oooh cool!!

ive met sO many people through minecraft-

#im curious which smp it was #because it’s probably one of two #and they were. Very different adfrsxfesft-#im assuming you aren’t a havenite also #god I’ve met so many people through Minecraft ASFRSSCFSZXEAZ #ask #answered #anon #anonymous #feel free to send me an ask about which smp because im really curious #you don’t have to of course and i won’t post it-

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shannon-foraker · 2 years

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Summary: In the Havenite Navy, everybody has demons of the past that haunt them.

The title was a joint effort between @pratchettfan87 and me, though it's unbetaed, and I just got help on the title.

Snippet:

This is Twelfth Fleet. They are the People’s Navy’s best.

They are:

An Admiral, who’s reckless and a cowboy, yet humble enough to give the credit of his greatest victory to someone else, yet skilled enough to get promoted anyway.

A Commissioner, who may just sympathize more with Citizen Admiral Cowboy than he was supposed to.

#honorverse #honor harrington #honor harrington novels #set in the one more time universe #fanfic writer here #ao3 link #ao3 #set in the one more time verse #Twelfth Fleet (PN)#i'm a havenite and have no regrets #lester tourville #everard honeker #yuri bogdanovich #karen lowe #harrison fraiser #berjouhi lafontaine #shannon foraker

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blorbosfromminecraft · 2 years

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End screen chatter beloved <3

#let me tell you about haven smp #lore was v good #how are all the havenites so good

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radioactivepeasant · 3 months

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Free Day Friday: Viper continuation

Picking up from Here

Thrax scarcely recognized the city anymore. In the five years since his banishment for questioning the research into dark eco, he'd sort of assumed nothing would change, not really. But the Haven he crept through now was barely half of what he'd left behind. The slums were gone, replaced by gleaming modern architecture and locked behind force fields. He'd thought it was to keep the displaced rabble out until he saw the first metalhead lounging on a filthy street corner. Until he saw the crushed remains of the Stadium, the Grand Hotel, the museum-! The Palace District of Main Town was destroyed.

How far Praxis must have fallen before the end! Thrax found himself, to his surprise, hoping the old fool had met a hideous death at the hands of Damas’s pet demon. The count was right, he was an abomination, but that was more Praxis's fault than the monster's, to his mind. Praxis made it out of some kid who didn't get a say in the matter. In his own way, Thrax felt sorry for Jak. But sympathy for demons didn't get you far in life.

Bitterly cursing the cold, Thrax pulled his scarf higher and found himself turning down an alley in search of things to burn. He should have been home by now. Well, not home, his old penthouse from his days in the Guard had a support beam impaling the top three floors now. Somewhere better, perhaps, in New Haven. He'd even have accepted military barracks if it came with the proper pay and respect! That had been the promise, that was to be his reward: all that Praxis had stripped from him restored. And all he'd had to do was kill that weakling Damas.

Only, Damas wasn't a weakling anymore. He was as harshly pragmatic as Praxis had ever been. Ruler of a land of barbarians! It was madness! Honestly, Thrax would have been relieved to have Haven destabilize and assume control of the city. But now...now, he doubted Haven had anything close to the manpower that would require. No wonder assassination had been suggested instead!

And he'd failed, pure and simple.

Thrax was no fool, he knew his glorious homecoming was contingent on him holding up his end of the bargain. Still, he couldn't help a sullen thought that he might have succeeded if Veger hadn't sent the monster straight to Damas’s doorstep like a housewarming present.

There were two other people huddled around a barrel at the end of the alley, burning garbage for warmth. They didn't acknowledge him at first, until the light flickered off his tattoos. One of them swore and kicked at him.

"Get out of here!" The kick unbalanced him and his friend caught his elbow. "KG scum! Metal-lover! Go back to hell!"

Something grated high above their heads. The sound of a boot on a slate shingle. Even with the heat of the fire in his face, Thrax suddenly felt cold. What forgotten instinct warned him not to look up? That he had no time to look?

The shingles cracked.

Thrax ran.

For once, he was grateful for the grueling, brutal training Damas forced candidates to endure before he allowed them to enter the desert alone. A Havenite -- gods, when had he stopped thinking of himself as a Havenite? -- would never have been able to clear the fallen masonry, or the burnt-out husks of hellcats that littered the streets. A mantis-head took a swipe at him from the shadows of a fallen archway, and Thrax lost his footing as he dodged.

He landed hard, skidding down a short drop that had once been part of the road. In the two seconds required to pick himself up, Thrax saw what his instincts had been warning him about.

The monster. The child-soldier. Jak.

He leapt from the awning of what used to be a racing memorabilia shop, landing with a predatory grace that momentarily froze Thrax. His creepy talking Teacup Mine-rat hunched on his shoulder -- everyone said there was no such thing as Mine-rats having a teacup breed, but they were the only animal he'd ever seen with those proportions and that nauseating shade of orange -- watching him with those beady little eyes. In an almost careless move, the rat pointed out the mantis-head that had knocked Thrax down. The monster shot it in the head after only glancing in its direction.

The spell was broken. Thrax ran down the cracked and sunken crater that the road had become, desperately scanning the horizon for a place to hide. He was too far from New Haven -- not that the elite would have any compunction to help him when he'd failed his mission -- and he could see metalheads and those Krimzon robots blocking many of the avenues he could have used for escape. Stopping to shoot them would give the monster time to catch up.

Thrax knew what the abomination was capable of. He'd seen what happened to his co-conspirator. Dropped like a stone as they tried to flee, obsidian claws buried in the base of their skull while watched by the pitiless eyes of whatever evil spirit the boy had become. Would those same claws paralyze him, too? Drag him back to the desert to die or worse? Or would death be swift?

No, no he couldn't think like that. He had to escape. He had to hope for a way to kill the thing. Thrax charged into another alley, hoping against hope that a door would be open or unlocked. If he could get inside, his chances of survival would dramatically increase.

The Precursors, however, did not favor him that day.

The alley ended at a wall of twisted rebar and half melted plastics, fused together with foul acids secreted by the metalheads. A panicked whine escaped Thrax's throat as he whirled, already knowing what would be behind him.

But there was nothing.

That did not calm his nerves. Where was the creature? Thrax's eyes rolled back and forth, scanning every shadow. His breath came in shallow pants as he backed up, fumbling for his morph gun.

Then came the sound of boots on shingles again.

He had forgotten to look up.

Jak dropped silently, driving his knee into the fugitive's back. Thrax fell with a cry, gun clattering from his hand and onto the ruined cobblestones. He was under no obligation to bring Thrax back alive -- they'd gotten most of the information they needed out of the monk, Nadab. Damas had given him explicit permission to kill the would-be assassin if the situation warranted it. But at the same time, Jak had a suspicion. He was catching on to a greater trend of treachery within Haven, and he had a feeling Thrax knew who was behind it. All he needed was confirmation.

"Do your worst, abomination," Thrax gasped, clawing for any shred of courage he had left. "I do not fear death."

"Captain."

Thrax faltered. "What?"

Jak flipped him over so that their eyes met. His eyes were cold, and in the darkness, Thrax wondered in a daze how they could look so much like Damas’s.

"It's Captain Abomination. If you're going to insult me, do it properly."

The rat snickered and nudged his head encouragingly.

"Now you have a very small window of opportunity here," Jak growled. "You tell me who put Nadab in contact with you, and you get a chance to give up your beacon with a shred of honor intact. If you have a shred of honor left."

"This is a limited time offer," Daxter warned.

Trembling, Thrax repeated, "I do not fear death!"

Jak smiled, but there was no humor in it.

"Yes you do."

He was right.

#fic prompts #writing prompts #free day friday #continuation #viper au #jak and daxter #jak and daxter au #background dadmas #Jak is here to LARP Assassin's Creed and he's having a great time #cliffhanger because frankly i haven't decided whether or not to kill Thrax #meanwhile Jak has ignored fifty percent of the missions Ashelin insisted he do #he's already on a mission for his dad leave him alone #jak and daxter oc #krimzon guard oc

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jak2gooberglub · 28 days

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CALLING ALL JAK AND DAXTER FANS

Us fans need a name for ourselves.

Like how certain fandoms can call themselves by THEIR OWN NAME THAT THEY MADE IN THEIR FANDOM

We need that

for example:

(It might be a bad example)

Boys that are fans of my little pony

Are called bronys

Gravity falls fans (if you've watched the show all the way through)

The creator said that you are officially a pines family member

I know there are more better examples but I can't think of any because it's currently 2:48 am

BUT STILL US JND FANS NEED A NAME!!

I WAS THINKING PRECURIANS LIKE PRECURSORS??

OR HAVENITES??

OR ECO-NIANS ECONIANS??

OTZLES??

METAL HEADS??

LURKERS??

WASTELANDERS??

IDK I NEEDHELP BC I THINK THIS IS A COOL IDEA TO GIVE OUR FANDOM AN IDENTIFYING NAME.

#jak and daxter #jak #jak 3 #dark jak #jak 2 renegade #jak2 #fandom #jak x combat racing #name #help #naming #precursor stone #the precursor legacy #jnd fandom #jnd tess #jnd sig #jnd ideas #IDEAS PLZ

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hecketernal · 5 months

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IT'S THE HORNS AU

Descendants of Mar have a remarkable tendency to grow horns.

Every Ex-Havenite old enough to remember the family of Mar knows this. They come in all kinds of colors and shape, and even the horn growth pattern seems completely random. A parent often having entirely different looking horns to their child. Damas wondered if Mars' horns would be so different to his own. They hadn't grown in before he was taken. Most descendants didn't start budding until at least their teens.

Mar, the warrior who built Haven city, bore two thick, tusk-like horns that framed his jaws. Damas' mother had had blackened ram horns, meanwhile his sister had had a bright neon blue pair that grew out of her temples angled out like a second pair of ears. It had always made his older sister look rather intimidating. With the sharp cut of her eyeliner drawn in angular slashes around her eyes, he had watched no small number of men quail under that glare.

So yes, those that were old enough (or just brusque enough as native wastelanders tend to be to ask the king to his face why he had horns coming out of his noggin') knew exactly what having horns meant to their leader.

This is the reason why the arena grows hushed, when the newest recruit transforms into a pale frenzied thing with black little horns standing out clearly from the white hair.

#can't stop won't stop #making aus #jak and daxter #jak #damas #it's the horns au #jnd #my aus #several wastelanders are getting bruised ribs from all the excited elbowing from the wastelanders next to them #should have been paying more attention to what was happening in the arena Ruin and Futz #already coming up with ocs? yes #Ruin renamed herself Ruin because she's petty and dramatic and when she was told she would spell ruin for her family by getting exiled...#well she took that shit personally #Futz was named Futz cause he gave his wastelander mother a lot of grief by always kicking his little baby footsies into his mother's kidney #jak 3 #damas jnd #jnd damas #jak and daxter au #damas jak and daxter

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caw4brandon · 3 months

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- Owen The Twiggmun -

Its said that [the Omnibeasts] are the masters of the STAB. Their Cores are described as non-Newtonian. Never as a certain state of matter and always changing. That is how this abomination is discovered.

Owen is a twisted experiment of the Havenites who took on the shards of an Omnibeast with aims to make it a new element for its weapons. However, due to the instability of the element itself. The experiment supercharged the Omnibeast Compound to life.

Since its conception, The creature was forced to stay in enclosures to be studied and learned. It was uncovered that Owen requires a shell to ensure its survival. Like The Omnibeasts, Owen's body shares that non-Newtonian state. Always changing forms that is similar to the STAB itself.

It is also uncovered that Owen does not need food. He instead, feeds on energy. Mainly electricity to sustain himself. Owen was kept from the world for about 15 years until that one faithful night when Sadie mac Lir managed to break in a steal this being into The Lightstone Club.

Since then, Owen has become a house pet to Sadie and Hector. Later with Jamie. As the versatile being that he is. Owen can adapt into any of the STAB. Often acting as the eye in the sky for the trio. Although he does not speak, Owen is the most trusted companion to the team. Team JSH (Jamie, Sadie and Hector) has finally found its O!

#murder the crow #murder the crow reforged #kingshaven #kingshavenacademy #hoodlites #twiggmun #owen the twiggmun #Omnibeasts #sadie mac lir #hector dagger #jamie robyn #jamie ann robyn #hector james dagger #The STAB #the STAB system

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murderthecrowreforged · 3 months

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- Elegance of The Switch Blade -

We Havenites; have collected and harnessed energy from the Core and placed them into our best weapon made in history. The sword.

The Switch Blade is an elegant weapon founded in the ancient times of Kingshaven history. As the grand hub of trade and advancements whom; the lesser civilizations will blindly label as Witchcraft.

The Blade takes on the simple form of a regular sword upon first appearance. Concealed to appear like a normal weapon. The unique design to the weapon is the piece of Burning Core fitted at the near edge of the Scabbard. When unsheathed, the weapon takes on one of the abilities of The STAB as shown.

While this weapon on display shows; the Tide.

The other parts of The STAB is just as fitting to the weapon with varying effects. The Switch Blade functions much like a normal Melee weapon that also has the function of a range weapon to fire blasts of the STAB.

The weapon also has a limited charge between its Cross Guard section and the Scabbard. Often requiring it to be sheathed to recharge. On the Pommel, lies the Core Bar that shows the user its current percentage.

The design aspect of the Switch Blade varies from the person's personality. The most common customization is the Scabbard of varying designs with matching pieces on the handle. Its a weapon that is famously given to a Havenite child when they come of age (around 14)

Given that the Blade only holds one of The STAB, it encourages users to not only master their STAB but also learn how to work with others as well.

#murder the crow reforged #murder the crow #kingshaven #kingshavenacademy #burning core #switch blade #The STAB #the STAB system #hoodlites #solid liquid gas plasma #weapon #sword

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dc-said-bi-robin-rights · 11 months

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“I want you to stay away from my daughter,” is the first thing out of Slade’s mouth the moment Dick enters the apartment.

To his credit, Grayson barely startles, even though the only sane reaction to finding Deathstroke the Terminator sitting in your living room when you come home would be to run screaming from the room and swan dive off the nearest window. It’s almost like he’s been expecting him—more evidence of his daughter’s betrayal of her own blood, maybe. “What?”

“You heard me.”

“I’m pretty sure I didn’t,” Grayson shoots back, tongue sharp as always, though he doesn’t move. Maybe he’s seen the silenced pistol Slade’s holding, or maybe he’s just not in the right state of mind to pick a fight. Slade should know, but he doesn’t, not really. Grayson’s been a stranger to him since Bludhaven. “Because I could have sworn the guy who asked me to train Rose in the first place just asked me to stay away from her, and that just doesn’t seem right to me.”

Slade doesn’t know how to reply to that. He should, but he doesn’t. “Situation’s changed,” is all he can muster, and it sounds lackluster even to his own ears. Hadn’t he once delighted in matching wits against Grayson, gruff barbs against his pointed quips? Hadn’t he once enjoyed this, the familiarity of being hated and respected in equal measure, the thrill of being feared, the freedom that came with his profession? Hadn’t he been good at this? Hadn’t he liked it? Slade isn’t sure he’s liked anything in a while, and that, more than anything, medio him uneasy. Not even the Herculean task of keeping the monster of his own enhanced mind chained and in its place every hour of every day compared with the sheer discomfort Slade felt whenever he was cursed with melancholy. “You’re to stay away from her from now on.”

“And if I don’t?” Grayson retorts, too quickly to disguise the genuine anger in his voice behind a curtain of empty wit. “What are you going to do about it, Slade?”

“That a trick question, kid?” Slade waves the gun in his hand. “I’ll kill you, and I’ll send your bones to the reconstruction effort so they can make a mausoleum for you next to the mayor’s.”

Grayson’s jaw tenses. Bludhaven’s newly-elected mayor had been a much-beloved figure with an anti-corruption platform that experts had theorized could reduce theft of public funds by nearly half. She had, of course, perished in the chemo bombings, but people sworn up and down to have seen the mayor personally rush into a scorched building to save a family trapped inside before it collapsed under its own weight. It was probably bullshit, but people needed heroes that weren’t mighty superheroes or genius vigilantes, and the remaining Havenites had eagerly taken the mayor on as a symbol of the city’s eventual rebirth. “You’re going to die screaming for what you did.”

Slade feels amused. “That no-killing rule of yours getting tiresome, kid?”

“Never said it was going to be me who kills you, Slade.” Of course. “But sooner or later, someone will. It’s only a matter of time before everything you’ve done catches up to you.”

“I’m sure it is, kid.” Grayson always got off-track whenever Bludhaven came up. “But as fun as arguing about by imminent demise is, it’s not what I’m here for. Are you going to promise to stay away from my daughter from now on or not?”

Grayson starts moving. “Depends. Are you going to promise to stuff that gun of yours down your neck and pull the trigger if I do?”

Slade’s gun follows Grayson as he circles around the couch. “I think you know the answer to that question.”

“Then, no, I’m not going to.”

A muffled shot rings out and a crater appears on the wall to Grayson’s head, causing the younger man to die to still. “Not even if I ask you nicely?”

Grayson’s hands very obviously go behind his back. “Nope.”

Slade stands up, keeping the gun trained on Grayson’s head. He should shoot, but he doesn’t. “Why the hell not?”

“You lost the right to have a say in her life when you drugged her,” Grayson says, confirming Slade’s suspicions about his daughter’s loose tongue, “and I’m not a big fan of people telling me what to do, anyway.”

“That’s news to me.” Slade’s lip curls into a sneer. “Or does daddy bats write his commands down now?”

Grayson’s eyes narrow. There’s a pause. And then he moves.

There’s always a grace to the way Nightwing fights, but it isn’t Nightwing who leaps at Slade in that moment, but Grayson, who had once found a home in the walled-off ruin that could still be seen from Gotham harbor and desperately loved each and every one of its inhabitants. There’s no agility in his tackle, only the hateful strength of a grieving man, and Slade had thought Grayson was smarter than that because Slade would always win a strength match, but then his back hits the floor and Slade grunts in surprise, and he keeps grunting as hit after hit after hit hits his face, and for a moment—

Yeah, no. Slade’s fist crashes into Grayson’s face and his head snaps back, then forward, then back again, blood spurting from his mangled nose, and Slade almost thinks he dented Grayson’s face in before he realizes it doesn’t matter and he throws Grayson off him, leaping on him before he can recover. They roll along the floor, Slade on top, then Grayson, then Slade, then Grayson, before Grayson manages to get his legs underneath Slade and he feels himself being launched into the air. His back hits the wall, hard, at an angle that takes the breath from his lungs, but he manages to turn so that he can roll to his feet as soon as he hits the ground only to finds Grayson on his feet as well, a pair of escrima sticks in his hands.

“Not bad.” Slade wipes at his mouth and begins circling again, cursing himself for his sloppiness. This is not going how it should be going. He’s being slow, impatient… he’s letting his emotions get the best of him, and it’s costing him the fight. Maybe it’s time to change tactics. “But tell me something, Grayson—have you ever considered that maybe Rose doesn’t deserve you sticking up for her?”

Grayson’s brows lower into a frown. “What the hell are you on about now, Slade?”

“Think about it,” Slade says, his tone painfully condescending. Condescension had always worked like a charm on the acrobat—like any son of Batman, Grayson hated not knowing all the facts, and pretending he had missed an obvious conclusion planted seeds of doubt in him like nothing else did. “Did you see me drugging her? Even once?”

“What are you—”

“Did she seem drugged while you were training her?” Slade presses, his one eye observing every little twitch Grayson’s face makes as Slade speaks so his enhanced mind knows where to take this based on his reactions. There was nothing more important to his craft than knowing where to push and where to withdraw—every human had things they were sure of and things they weren’t sure of, and drawing attention to the wrong thing was a surefire way to get your statements thrown back in your face. “Did anything about her behavior even suggest it?”

“Are you seriously trying to… what, imply that Rose made the whole thing up?” Grayson asks, not so much skeptical as wholly incredulous, but Slade can swear he hears the tiniest hint of doubt in his voice.

“I’m not ‘implying’ anything, kid,” Slade retorts, I’m saying that’s exactly what happened.”

“Do you think I’m an idiot, Slade?” Grayson asks, scowling. “Putting everything else aside for a moment, you realize that it wasn’t just Rose you drugged, right? Cassandra says you drugged her too, and they can’t both be making it up.”

“I did drug Cassandra,” Slade admits, because he senses pressing in that direction would be the wrong move, “but I didn’t drug Rose. Why would I? She came to me willingly.”

“That’s not what she says.” Grayson’s hands are tight on his escrima sticks. “You kidnapped her after her foster parents were killed. The Titans confirmed it.”

“She stayed with me willingly, then.”

“Not the same thing.”

“It might as well be.” Slade senses he’s getting closer. “Try to use that brain of yours for a moment, Grayson. What’s more plausible to you… that I drugged my own daughter for months on end for no benefit to myself and that no one ever figured it out… or that Rose felt ashamed of what she’d done after she had a change of heart and made the whole thing up to try to exonerate herself in the eyes of those around her?”

Grayson is silent for a moment. Then: “What about the eye?”

Shit. He hadn’t thought about that. How was he possibly going to justify what Rose did to her own eye if she wasn’t being drugged?

Grayson scoffs after three seconds pass with Slade saying nothing. “Thought so,” he says, and leaps… only to grunt as Slade catches him in the air and throws him to the ground.

“Mistake,” Slade growls, delivering a brutal kick to Grayson’s face before jumping back as Grayson’s leg sweeps the bit of floor he was standing.

“You wanna know what I think, Slade?” Grayson sneers, spitting out a mouthful of blood and swinging his legs around behind him, arching with the motion and getting to his feet. He raises the escrima sticks, his lips curling into an expression that is not at all like a grin. “I think you’re jealous.”

Strike one. “Jealous?”

“Yeah, jealous.” Grayson advances, escrima sticks crackling with electricity. “Jealous of little old me. That must be so embarrassing for you.”

“Did I hit you in the head too hard, kid?” he growls, stepping back despite himself. “What the hell are you talking about?”

“Come on, Slade, don’t pretend that’s not what this is about,” Grayson says, turning sideways as Slade flings a chair at him and smashing the vase that flies at his head next in midair without breaking his pace. Slade heard the sound of the chair smashing through the floor-to-wall window behind Grayson a moment later. “I mean, seriously, it’s a little pathetic, don’t you think? Trying to kill me just because your daughter likes spending time with me and Joey more than with you?”

Strike two. Slade’s lips curl into a scowl. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“You wanna know what the worst part is?” Grayson continues, his tone turning conspiratorial, the crackle of electricity growing louder as he gets closer. “I wouldn’t even have met Rose if you hadn’t asked me to train her. Hell, I only came for her after you blew up Bludhaven. She might still be with you if it hadn’t been for you messing with people I care about.”

Strike three. Out.

Slade suddenly grins. “You stupid idiot.”

Grayson blinks, lowering the escrima sticks in bemusement. “Huh?”

Slade clicks his earpiece, and the dark room suddenly floods with light as the television screen turns on by itself. Grayson slowly turns around to see Rose there, eyes wide, lips slightly parted in shock.

“You got all that, honey?” Slade asks, even though he knows she did. He has to give his tech guy a raise. Guy had some seriously good ideas.

Rose doesn’t reply. Slade can hear Dick’s breath catching in his throat as he realizes whats just happened.

“Rose, that’s not… that wasn’t… I didn’t…” he tries, but the damage is done. Rose furiously stabs the monitor on her end and the transmission ends, bathing the room in darkness once more. Slade is pretty sure he saw tears in her eyes before the screen went dark.

There’s silence for a long moment, before a small chuckle escapes from Slade’s mouth, and then another, longer one. He’s won. He’s won in a way he couldn’t have imagined even in his wildest dreams. His chuckles rise into a scathing laugh as Grayson stands there, staring stupidly at the dark screen like he could will it to turn back on so he could explain himself if he stared hard enough.

“You… you…” he whispers once he’s gotten over his shock, turning to Slade with wide eyes.

“Me, me, me,” Slade mocks, the final vestiges of his laugh slipping from his mouth. “Not so clever now, are you?”

“I… that’s not what I meant,” Grayson says desperately, his own words clearly replaying in his head. “I would’ve come back for her eventually. I just didn’t think… I… that’s not what I meant at all.”

“I know that.” He nods at the screen, his grin growing larger. “She didn’t.”

Just then, the sound of rushing wind fills their ears through the broken window, and Slade’s grin widens even further as he walks towards it, clapping a still-stupefied Grayson on the shoulder as he walks past. “And that’s my ride. Thank you for being such a great sport about this, Grayson, I really do appreciate it.”

“Slade… you… this doesn’t mean anything,” he snarls, turning towards him. “Rose will understand if she just lets me explain.”

Slade steps out into the open void, grabbing hold of an unseen rope ladder and hooking his feet around one it’s rungs. “And here I thought you’d know your own so-called protege.” He can’t help his smugness. He’s won. Completely and utterly. And he didn’t even have to falsify something to do it—Grayson just said everything Slade needed him to say with his own damn mouth. “My daughter isn’t a very understanding person, Grayson. In fact, I’d say you can go ahead and lose her number now… I have a feeling she won’t be picking up any of your calls anytime soon.”

Grayson’s hands bunch into fists. “Slade, you… you bastard.”

“No, that’s her,” he grins, pulling on the ladder. It begins to retract even as the helicopter begins rising into the sky. “So long, kid. I’ll tell Rose you said hello.”

He laughs all the way to his safe house. Who knew that cutting Rose off from the people she cared about would be so easy?

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