Chapter Text
Slade could admit that he could have a specific taste when it came to bed partners. Don’t misunderstand, he could make any situation enjoyable for all present, but there were some things that come with the territory of being Deathstroke. People assume a lot about you when you’re a known lethal mercenary, and the things they bring to him are usually of the more violent type. It seemed to have some sort of pavlova effect on Slade and now the sight of someone offering themselves up soaked in blood just did something for him.
So it wasn’t a surprise when a familiar heat began simmering as he watched footage of Red Hood’s take over of the slums of Gotham, then again when he decided he wanted to watch in real time. He was ruthless, efficient, and painted in the blood of his enemies. He was trained and well. He fought dirty and mean. At first, Slade had thought he was just an upstart running around and causing as much noise as possible. However, the more he watched the more he became sure everything was meticulously planned. On top of that, the man knew how to improvise. He had a good instinct and knew how to act on it without becoming sloppy.
He was also chatty. To himself. To the people he was beating up. To the homeless kids he passed sandwiches out to. To the prostitutes who hung all over him. There was an endless stream of chatter, but something about it felt purposeful. He never gave away anything actually important and the way he talked changed with each person. Grayson, Slade remembered, used aimless chatter to make people underestimate him. Red Hood used it to inspire sloppy anger in enemies and familiar trust with allies. It was smart. Calculated.
He didn't shy away from getting his hands dirty. For a self-proclaimed crime lord, he was awfully willing to put himself on the front lines instead of handing behind his lieutenants. Slade knew his share of crime lords and they were mostly all greedy, obsessive, cowards. Not Red Hood. He seemed to purposely put himself in the way of any danger and take care of it effortlessly. It inspired a fierce loyalty in his people, but it also got him a lot of attention from hero and villain types alike. Red Hood proved good enough for that to not matter, killing several assassins and slipping the Bat, like it was easy.
He was everything that Slade found attractive in a man too. He was broad; wide shoulders pulling the shirt tight and thick thighs straining his holsters. He was tall too. Not as tall as Slade, but still towered over most. He was built with enough muscle to, hopefully, pick Slade up with ease. Slade’s never been able to catch him without the helmet, a feat of its own considering how much Slade had been following him, but with everything else, he didn’t really care what his face looked like.
Slade could admit it, he sent others as a test for the man as well as to get Black Mask off his back. He watched the fight from a distance. Watched Red Hood, the helmet catching in the light, as he rose from a crouch like a predator. Listened to his dark amusement and taunting. Watched him pull off flips and moves that would make Grayson pause. He was winning easily. Then Batman came. Slade was going to pack it up and leave, there was plenty of footage of Red Hood and Batman at this point, but the Bat helped Red Hood. In turn, the man grew more performative, somehow. Bloodier in his tactics of bringing down the mercenaries. Batman, visibly angry, spun on Red Hood after the fight was over. Hood said something too low for Slade to hear and made a break for it. Slade considered the interaction while he watched the man fearlessly jump off the building.
Red Hood was planning something. Something bigger than taking over Crime Alley. Using Red Hood as his name and the way he interacted with Batman felt bigger than a simple crime lord. Slade couldn’t put his finger on it and it wasn’t often a man had caught his attention like this, so he did what he knew best; set out on a hunt. He’d watched and stalked as much as he could without making his presence known. For more information he’d had to convince a bird.
“What are you doing here?” Grayson gripped the back of his couch, the cast on his leg making standing a struggle. Slade slipped the rest of the way inside the window. He had changed into simple black tactical gear in hopes that would make this conversation a little easier. Full Deathstroke regalia tended to freak people out.
“I wanted to ask you a few questions.” Slade held up his hands in surrender, an action that meant nothing to either of them. The wary look on Grayson’s face made Slade have to force down a smirk.
“I’m not going to help you with a contract.” Grayson, apparently no longer feeling fear in the face of Deathstroke the Terminator, flopped back onto the couch and hauled his leg up to elevate it on the coffee table.
“It’s not for a contract.” Slade let out a breath, annoyed already. He had little patience for overgrown birds these days. Bats in general, if he was being honest. It seemed that their righteousness just continued to become more and more unbearable. He rounded the coffee table, towering over the man. “You and the Bat had a run with Red Hood.” Grayson frowned, a little confusion and a lot of suspicion.
“Why do you care?” He spoke slowly, eyes narrow.
“He’s been brought to my attention.”
“You said this wasn’t about a contract.”
“I haven’t taken anything yet. Dealing with you Gotham freaks is never fun.”
Grayson paused to study him, “We're literally not in Gotham.” Slade glared, he was too old to roll his eyes but boy did he want to. “He’s good, very good.” He still spoke carefully. “Trained well and by a lot of different teachers, probably all over the world too.”
“Do you know anything about his identity?”
“Slade, what do you want?”
“Honestly,” Slade smiled, all teeth and feral delight, “I’d like to fuck him. Or he can fuck me. Hopefully both. But first, grand gestures and the like. I need to know who he is to plan it.”
Grayson blinked once, then again. “You want to romance him?”
“Is that what you got from that?”
“Drop it, Slade. There’s something else going on with him. B is,” he pauses and tilts his head, thinking, “concerned. He won’t talk to me but I know something is going on. You don’t want to get involved with that for some ass, do you?”
“There’s something else. What?”
“He’s just,” Grayson’s face scrunched strangely, “he’s familiar somehow.”
“How?”
“I don’t know. Some of his moves, just kind of,” he tilted his head and closed his eyes, probably replaying the exact moves he was talking about, “look like mine and B’s. B trained all over the place and they have a similar build so their moves looking similar kind of make sense. But mine are,” he trailed off, opening his eyes with a frown.
“Are from the circus.”
Dick hummed, “and were made for beating people bigger than me. I was and still am fighting people bigger than me all the time. Hard to believe that many people are going to be bigger than Hood.”
“Maybe he started young.”
“Maybe, but he's in Gotham. Taking over Crime Alley. Using Joker's old name. Taunting B. It's all too much to be a coincidence.”
“It's not some Joker worshiper or mimic?”
“I don't think so. It's someone connected to B.”
“He seems to be trained by the league.” There was a disapproving glare that Slade wanted to roll his eyes at, but once again held in. “Listen, bird, I mean the man no harm.”
“Cause you're gonna romance him.”
“Fine, yes.” He was above rolling his eyes at the young man, so he just looked at the ceiling exasperated.
“I really don't know any more than that. Everything else is just a weird feeling in my gut. If you wanna ask Batman, I'm sure he's hiding something from me.”
Slade hummed and left through the window to the sound of Grayson’s protests. Wintergreen called him that night with a new job. Slade asked him to keep an eye on Gotham for a little while which only received a suspicious sound from the other man. Slade did one last run around Gotham looking for the Red Hood but left with the disappointment of not seeing him.
It was months later when Wintergreen handed him an envelope declaring the Red Hood dead. There was an altercation with Batman that ended in a building blowing up and the Joker in another full body cast. Disappointment settles heavily in Slade's chest. He moved on deciding that the details would just weigh him down. The man was no longer any of his business and he couldn't be even if Slade wanted.