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A Hostage Situation

Prologue

Letting his gaze roam around his immediate vicinity, Slade rapidly assessed every option available to him that would allow his leave of this place. Most of the easier paths of retreat would inevitably lead to a confrontation with the Titans; unfortunately, a fight against the teenagers was not on his agenda for the day. Escape was required.

The item that had brought him to this wretched museum in the first place was far too valuable to risk being lost. A scuffle with Robin and his team wouldn't be a problem for his own well being, but it would provide an opportunity for the object to be taken from his grip. Of course, Slade was confident enough in his abilities to know that losing the item to the Titans almost certainly wouldn't happen, but even the smallest chance was not desirable.

He sighed. The hot burst of air caressed his cheeks as it was forced upwards from the obstruction of his mask. Licking his lips, his eye narrowed as he focused in on the people surrounding him. None of them had any clue that he was in their presence - all they knew was that a thief had entered the museum. If anyone had a single idea as to who that thief was, chaos would be erupting all around. Right now, panic was seeping into people's heads, but they were remaining relatively calm.

That was going to change very soon.

A solution to his predicament was needed, and he had the perfect plan. Though it was an action he didn't take often - he loathed using the methods of weaker men - Slade understood that it was his best bet of getting out of here without a confrontation with his enemies.

Taking a hostage required none of his skills. The tactic was repulsive, removing any kind of challenge from the heist, yet he was going to do it anyway. He wasn't an idiot, and his ego was strong enough to take a hit.

Lifting his head, Slade moved his hand to his waistband. Curling his fingers around the hunk of metal that was settled there, he chose to ignore the foreign feeling of worthlessness he felt trudging through his mind. It took no more than a second for the weapon to be freed from its fabric prison. Fighting back the irritation that sliced through him as the weight of the gun made itself known, Slade scowled.

Disgusting didn't even begin to describe what he felt about the action he was about to take. Yes, it was true that he was no stranger to guns - he was a master at all types, as a matter of fact - but using them to intimidate was childish. Only immature morons without an ounce of intelligence or charm needed guns to control their environment.

Blowing out another sigh, Slade pointed the gun at the ceiling and shot two bullets. The noise pierced through the air harshly and abruptly, causing an immediate flood of shock to pour into each person. Momentarily stunned into silence, it took a moment for the sound of weapon fire to register in their minds, and another few seconds for them to react. Hysteria finally filled the room, and screams and cries echoed around the large space.

Lowering his eyebrows in annoyance, Slade shot once more; this time, his aim had shifted to a woman who was trying to leave through the far exit. The shriek of agony that escaped her throat as the bullet tore through her leg had the desired effect - everyone in the room became quiet as, one by one, they turned to him with horror lighting their faces.

The woman collapsed to the floor in a clumsy heap, while her mouth continued to release grunts and pants as she clutched at her leg desperately. Slade eyed her with little concern. It was possible that the wound would be fatal if she didn't get medical attention; any help she would receive would be entirely dependant on whether or not everyone decided to co-operate.

"Sit down."

Without a trace of anger, his deep voice was loud enough to reach every person in the room. He watched patiently as his order was obeyed without hesitation. Satisfied when the last, scared soul sat on the hard floor, Slade couldn't stop the smile that graced his lips. Not caring to hush the pathetic whimpers and murmurs emitting from various points in the room, Slade also chose to ignore the brave idiots who'd crawled over to the injured woman in an attempt to offer her comfort and support.

Taking a moment to check the device was still safely tucked away and in his possession, Slade began scanning the faces of those around him. Many of them couldn't even bring themselves to look in his direction; those that did were clearly terrified. Once again, he sighed. It was only a matter of time before the Titans or cops arrived, hoping to save the day, which was why he needed the gun in the first place. Using it as a means to an end, Slade would point it at the unlucky victim of his choice, giving himself a hostage.

The manoeuvre would throw the Titans off their guard - Slade was not one to use random people as leverage, when he could just fight hand-to-hand - and he was hoping that the move would be enough to distract the teenagers before they could try and act.

Taking his time, he looked over the mass of faces again. He knew that he would need to pick one, but who would be the best option? A snivelling coward would merely slow him down, so he needed to find someone with a bit of a backbone. Perhaps one of the men or women who were trying to help that injured lady would do?

Before his focus could move to them, something unexpected caught Slade's eye. Eyes going wide in genuine surprise, Slade stared down at the young boy with utter shock. His curiosity piqued as he scrutinised the boy's expression. The child - no, teenager - was glaring at him with a fierce hatred, almost as if he were trying to burn Slade by sheer thought alone, and there wasn't a touch of fear in his bright eyes.

Intrigued by the confidence - or was it stupidity? - radiating from the kid, Slade walked over to him and knelt down until they were at eye level. The boy's eyes narrowed as his features drew into a tight sneer. Allowing a delighted smirk to rise on his lips, Slade lifted his hand up and placed the barrel of the gun under the teenager's chin, pushing until the boy was forced to tilt his head up slightly. This, startlingly, only seemed to fuel the kid's rage. Feeling a strange sense of glee rise within him, Slade gestured up with a nod of his head.

"Get up."

Slowly, almost defiantly, the kid pushed himself into a standing position. Following the movement, making sure to stand at his full height - a good few inches taller than the boy - Slade made sure to keep the gun in place in case the kid was foolish enough to try and be some kind of hero.

Inspecting the boy's features - handsome, blue eyes, slightly tanned skin - Slade was caught off guard by a sudden sense of familiarity the pulsed through him. He recognised the tense posture, the slight trembling of the fists as the boy tried to contain his fury, but Slade couldn't quite pin down where the recognition came from.

Had he met this young kid before? Shrugging off that question for the moment - he'd concentrate on finding answers later - he leant forwards a bit so he was invading the teenager's personal space. The kid didn't even flinch.

"What's your name, boy?"

The kid swallowed, though it was the flash of reluctance that swept over his eyes that made Slade pause. This was becoming more interesting by the second. What on Earth could make a teenager reluctant to reveal something as simple as a name?

The boy licked his lips, before blowing out a sigh. Slade raised an eyebrow.

"Richard."

Before he could stop it, Slade's eye widened. Of course. This boy was Richard Grayson, ward of one Mister Bruce Wayne. How had he not seen it? He'd done crimes in Gotham for a while, he'd seen the teenager's face plastered on the news. Hell, he'd even had a few criminals try and make a contract with him to bring them the boy's head, though he'd always declined due to the pitiful amount they'd been willing to pay for the job.

Why the kid had suddenly decided to come to Jump, he didn't know, nor did he care. The recognition of the boy's attitude and reactions to Slade's presence was still a mystery, since he'd never actually interacted with Grayson whilst in Gotham. Finding the face familiar was one thing, but why did he feel like he knew this boy?

Slade silently filed away those questions to the back of his mind. They could wait, for now.

He'd set out to find a person to use as a decoy to get out of this place without any interruptions. And, it seemed, he'd just found the perfect hostage.

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