2015.03.15 - Blüdbath: The Man Wonder Returns

Place: Private Room. RABE Memorial Hospital
Time: Just After Visiting Hours.
"And you've been making sure he takes his vitamins?"
It's a long walk down the corridor. Long enough to make one take note of the terrible condition that most of the hospital is in. The linoleum is stained and peeling off of the floor. The walls are stained, and the paint and wallpaper are starting to separate. Everything is stained, basically, is the point we're trying to convey here.
The entire hospital is filled with disshevelled individuals who wait either in their rooms or in the hallway for the same thing: Death. The hospital staff don't look much better (or even more qualified...) than most of the patients. It looks more like the sort of hospital that would be erected in a refugee camp than the sort of thing one might find in a relatively large city.
It's not the sort of place where patients get a lot of guests. This makes Col. (Ret) Slade Wilson look even more conspicuous than he otherwise would. And that is saying quite a bit, as he's wearing a suit, carrying a bouquet of flowers, and rocking an eyepatch.
On his left, a doctor paces beside him, trying his best to keep up. "Absolutely, Colonel Wilson. We've had our top nutritionist monitor his diet personally."
This answer seems to please Slade. Though not, you know, a lot. "And the television station has been alternated regularly between local and national news stations? Nothing else?" He looks out of the corner of his eye, his crazy gaze potentially signifying that the doctor's life might very well hinge upon his answer.
The further they get away from the hospital's main areas, the nicer things start to look. On this hallway, all of the private rooms are kept. The rooms for the unfortunate people who are rich enough to leave Blüdhaven, but stuck here due to an unforeseen injury. Most of the rooms are empty, which likely means that either there are no sick rich people left in Blüdhaven, or someone has rented most of the rooms in this wing.
Colonel (Retired...) Wilson's right arm is held up, almost as if it were in a sling. He's not injured, of course, but it provides a handy crook for his companion to put her own arm through. A bit of an archaic gesture, but we are talking about a guy who uses a broadsword in combat, after all. Finally, all three of them are at the end of the hallway, in front of the very last room. Without knocking, or waiting on the doctor's approval, Slade steps past the two armed guards posted outside, opens the door, and walks into the hospital room.
"It smells a lot like rotten feet covered in shit in here... has someone been skipping his weekly sponge bath?"
The one known formerly as Batgirl is dressed in 'civvies' today, a simple outfit consisting of jeans, a comfortable black hooded, zip-up sweatshirt and a black tee with an old rock band's tour art on it along with old, black Converse hi-top Chucks. Kind of looks like a throw back to the emo-craze, in a way, especially with the hood up to partially conceal her face. She's walking along side of Slade as he speaks to the doctor, her arm looped through Slade's, completely content to allow him this courtesy. While silent she's by no means lazy, her mind working over everything being discussed while outwardly she might appear to be bored.
When the door is opened and she follows her nose wrinkles, it being her way of agreeing with her ally. It /does/ stink in here. Frowning, she looks around, seeking out the source of this stench.
Not far from the door, laying in a bed in the middle of the room, sits a single individual. He's being held there against his will. Both legs from the knees down are encased in plaster casts but that isnt enough. Around each leg about mid calf are thick leather straps, the kind you would see at a Psychiatric hospital. His waist is also bout as are arms, strapped down at the wrist and bicep. His head however is held in place by two padded blocks on either side of his head so he cant look away from the chaos on the television. 
The figure can't speak thanks to the food tube forced down his throat. And the only indication that he gives any visitor that he's not comatose is the fact his hands form into white knuckled fists and he makes eye contact. But its the gaze he gives Slade is enough to burn through a soul. 
"Ah... there's my happy little camper." Slade strides into the room as if he owns the place. Which isn't too far from the truth at this point. He nods at the three armed guards in the room, all of whom are carrying black AK-47s. And wearing black balaclavas. In a hospital room.
In response, the armed men stop training their weapons on the captive patient. Sure, he doesn't look like he'd be able to move much in his current condition, but then again we ARE talking about someone who has spent the vast majority of his teenage and adult years getting captured and tied up and somehow always manages to get out somehow.
Slade relaxes his arm, and the crook vanishes. Cass has more important things to do now than hold hands. Like... keeping the room safe with her ninja skills.
You're looking great. Very sexy. Very... emaciated isn't the word I want to use.... what's the word?"
He snaps his fingers suddenly, a big smile coming across his face. "Toned! You're looking very toned, is what I meant. Doesn't he look toned, Cassandra dear?"
Slade gets closer to the bed, returning Dick's hateful glare with a smile that's at least as hateful, but far more triumphant.
Cass only nods when asked about Nightwing's looks, not exactly feeling talkative which shouldn't be a problem since it seems Slade has no problam doing the talking for both of them. Nope. Not her place to talk and she's more than happy to just watch.
A place about ten feet is assumed, putting her next to one of the rifle-bearing guards on his left, her expression growing minutely bored with this whole thing. Thankfully the captured-and-bound hero is giving her some form of amusement, even if only by his facial expressions when he takes in Slade. Almost comedy gold, that.
The man's blue eyes dart to Cassandra. Dick knows who she was and what she did to his family. And in his eyes this makes her the enemy. "Ehwayer." he tries to speak past the food tube. But his gaze changes when Slade gets close. Bastard is the first thought that goes through his mind. And the tought is enough for hism to struggle causing the sounds of leather creaking audible. He's finding the strength from somewhere. 
"Looks like the good Doctor Phillips was right. He HAS been taking his vitamins. You should be more grateful... if I had told them to feed you nothing but used baby wipes they probably would have forced them down that feeding tube until you were as blocked up as New York's sewer system." Slade both looks and sounds quite a bit crazier than usual. But perhaps that's to be expected, when his moment of triumph is at hand. "But that...." He points in the direction of the television. ".... that, my friend, is what you should be most grateful for."
On the television screen there is live video of an armored patrol roaming through the streets of Blüdhaven. The video cuts to the reporters discussing the latest crime statistics.
"Wow. Look at that... a seventy percent drop in crime in just three months? Is that even possible? Surely they've gotten their figures wrong." Slade looks at the television in mock bewilderment. "And all thanks to me and my highly-trained, ill-tempered, and most importantly: unbribable mercenaries."
He turns back around, and gets almost close enough to the patient that he could feel his breath against his face. "Oh sure... they've been killing anything that gets in their way. But the people of America don't care about that. The people just want to believe that Blüdhaven is finally improving. And it is, at a cost."
Slade waves at the doctor, a sudden frown on his face. "Doctor? This isn't as fun as I thought it would be. Go ahead and take his feeding tube out. Be careful though, Doctor. He'll probably try to spit on me, and if that happens I'm going to have my protege pull your heart out like in one of those violent video games my children used to play."
The doctor hurries over to Dick's bedside, and begins the simple, but extremely uncomfortable, process of extracting a feeding tube.
It's a weird sensation being awake and feeling a feeding tube pulled from ones throat. As it pulls free Dick coughs. "I'm going to break every bone in your body for everything you've done." Dick says in a raspy whisper. Its not vengeance in his eyes its something more primordial that has no name. "Especially what you did to her..." god it hurts to talk. His eyes then shift to Cassandra. "And then youre next." Now that is vengeance speaking. 
"Break every bone in my body? Ha! Did you guys hear that?" The guards behind Slade force a chuckle, thought it isn't all that enthusiastic. But we'll give them a break, they're near the end of their guard shift and are probably more interested in just getting home and having a beer.
"The guy with two broken legs is going to break MY bones. Maybe the humor is a bit lost on everyone else, they didn't see exactly how you got into those casts. But don't worry, Boy Wonder. Doctor Phillips here assures me that you'll be able to rejoin your ballet troup soon." He looks at the doctor, as if expecting him to also join in the laughter. Nobody seems to find it quite as funny as Slade does, but this doesn't deter him at all. It's his moment of triumph, after all.
"I told you this would happen. I made you a promise that you would wish that you had killed yourself the first time you crossed me. And here I am, slowly making good on that promise. I've broken you. Tortured and humiliated your friends. I've forced you to watch the news..."
He points behind him at the television. The newscasters are showing footage from a burning apartment building that the mercenaries have pinpointed as a hideout for 'insurgents.'
"But worst of all, I've taken from you what you took from me. I've taken away your legacy. This city is falling, and when it's rebuilt nobody will even be able to remember that you were ever here. Your entire career has been for nothing."
He looks at the doctor again, the mirth gone from his face. "Okay Doctor. Let's get him out of these bandages. I think it's time for him to see the city he failed. Up close."
The response from the felled hero is to be expected, really. He lost a lot at the hand of Slade as well as her own and what hasn't been lost broken beyond repair, most likely. Would tug at Cass' sympathetic heartstrings, if she still had them. But no. Nightwing does not get more than a hand lifted to him and her fingers moved up and down, puppet-like, her way of telling him 'you talk too much'. Is she trying to egg him on and goad him into a fight sometime in the future. Of course she is. Let's just see if he'll take the bait.
When Slade orders the doctor around she comes up to slide her arm around the burly merc's body, her adoration for him very apparent. She does nothing to conceal her feelings for him.
As Dick stares at Slade as he talks about Bludhaven and his legecy. It is then that the anger and the rage seems to subside and he starts to laugh. "Oh man youre nothing but a two bit megalomaniac. You just had to monologue your plans to me like some kind of movie villain." he says as he continues laughing. But the laughing slows and stops and he looks right into Slade's eye. The sound of leather resisting is head again "Just remember Slade: You lost your legacy easily. But you had to take mine by force. So you tell me who's life is nothing?" 
"Hmph..." This isn't exactly the reaction Slade was expecting, and certainly not the one he was hoping for. "Hey Doctor? Can you hand me that real quick? I want to make sure his thetan levels are where they should be."
The doctor dutifully hands Slade the lancet he brought to help clear away the stray bits of cast. As soon as it's in Slade's hand he brings it down in a motion so swift it's almost a blur. The lancet is stuck right into Dick's thigh, right above the top of the cast.
"NO! You won't ruin this for me! This is MY moment!" Shouting right in the patient's face, flecks of saliva fly from his mouth. His eye is slightly dialated, a sure sign that he's pushing a bit past the legal definition of 'crazy' right now. But just as soon as it happened, it's gone, and Slade relaxes his grip, leaving the lancet in the young man's thigh.
He slowly stands up, clearing the way for the medical staff to begin cutting off the cast. Soon the sound of a circular saw fills up most of the room, drowning out the noise from the television.
"I'm sorry, Cassandra. I know how badly you wanted to sign his casts. But I'm fairly certain it's bad luck to be the first one." Possibly a low blow, but it's not like Dick has had any visitors TO sign his casts.
A shoulder gets shrugged - 'oh well' - as the sound of metal grating against plaster begins to reach its apex, the former Bat-friend not bothering to waste words on the situation. Or at least she doesn't until thirty or forty seconds pass. "Next time." That's right. There's expectation there. She fully expects Nightwing's next fight against Slade to result in the same kind of injuries although part of her does hope she'll be the one who will inflict them upon him instead.
Moving once more, she leans over the bed Nightwing's on and she pats him on the head, much like a curious child might pet an animal that's new to them. Pat, pat, pat. "Don't squirm. It hurts less." The lancet that has been left in his leg is pulled out and brought with her when she leaves his bedside, her mouth curling into a cold, cruel immitation of a smile. "Memento," is offered, the explanation as to why she did that.
With a minor wince Dick adds the pain to the list of the pain he's been in this whole time. He's just been putting it at the back of his head. His eyes then turn to Cassandra and he smiles. "Won't your parent be proud of their little psycho? I guess once a traitor always a traitor?" he smirks as he looks at the girl. "You turned on them and then on us." he gives out a chuckle. "Hey Slade, watch your back with this one. You may find your sword in your own back. But then that would put you up one on me in losing a legacy huh?" 
The doctors are pretty quick about getting the casts off. But it's a pretty simple process, really. One of them starts to get out his little reflex hammer to make sure that Dick's legs are working properly, but Slade shuts that down pretty quickly.
"No need for any of that. He'll be fine. Just get him out of the restraints. I'm sure he's eager to get out of here. Right kid?"
Slade's enjoyment is rapidly decreasing with every moment. Perhaps he expected the man to sob and beg for a mercy that would never come. Whatever he expected, it's clear that the young man's resiliency is bothering him more than he wishes to let on.
"Of course, we'll have to push you out of here in a wheelchair. I know, I know, you want to walk around, but it's some kind of insurance thing. But you're not going to be able to walk all the way to the door anyway. Not after... how many weeks has it been?" Slade runs his fingers through his white goatee as he tries to remember.
"Anyway, your legs are going to hurt like hell the first time you try to use them. Atrophy and whatnot. It should be pretty minimal... but if it isn't give me a call and I'll have your physical therapist decapitated. He was supposed to keep your muscles working."
The doctors begins releasing the straps, starting with the ones keeping his head in place.
As the straps start getting released, Dick starts to go over the many plans he's worked up in his head. Three gunmen, Slade and a bodyguard. A bodyguard trained by Batman to a point. No this will work. As he continues to look around he know which one to go for. As Dick sits up he stars rubbing his wrists, his blue eyes darting around the room. As he analyzes the situation in his head, he quickly concludes he wont make it even if he tries. Too many unknowns, namely Slade and Cassandra. 'Think it through dont react to it Dick' he remembers Bruce once saying when he was nine. He just needs to get back to the cave. That is primary objective right now. "Get me a wheelchair, please." he says to the doctor, but his eyes remain on Slade. 
"Oh no. Let me get it Doctor. I insist..."
Slade crosses the room in a few long steps, returning quickly with the wheelchair that was parked next to the door. He pushes it right next to the bed, and reaches down to lock the wheels in place. You'd almost think that he practiced this part already.
"Alright kid. I'll hold the chair in place, if you need help getting into the chair I'm right here." Surely that's not a look of compassion in Slade's eye? Regret?
"But I think you can handle this part on your own. Weren't you a gymnast or something?"
The guards seem relieved that this detail is finally over. One might think that guarding someone with broken legs would pretty much be a cakewalk, but Slade has definitely made this one of the most stressful jobs for his mercenaries.
Dick does do something amazing. "Hey boys." Dick says attempting to get his guards to look at him. Now with his hands free he picks his body and useless legs up. He goes into a complete handstand, on the bed, before he 'walks' his way onto the armrests of the wheelchair positions himself and takes a set. "Be glad he kept me locked up." Intimidating even when not at full capacity, Bruce would be somewhat proud. 
It's kind of hard to tell if someone is rolling their eyes when one of the eyes is covered (or gone, more precisely), but that's probably what tha upward look of Slade's is meant to signify. If there are things he's missed about clashing with the former Robin, his propensity toward showmanship certainly isn't one of them.
"Careful. If you break something on the way to the exit we're all going to feel really silly."
He pushes the patient out of the room and down the hallway, quickly getting past the 'private rooms' and into the hospital proper. Once again he has to steer through all of the injured and sick, many of whom are in the hospital thanks to actions taken by Slade's mercenaries. At any rate, the hospital certainly seems more crowded and depressing than usual.
"Look around, Boy Wonder. I'm sorry, we don't really call you that anymore do we? Okay... look around, Man Wonder. Before I'm done with your little town, there won't be enough room in this hospital to even stack the bodies anymore. It's going to keep getting worse, and I'm going to keep taking more, until you beg me to kill you."
Although he's threatening the lives of a couple hundred thousand people, Slade's voice is cheery and pleasant. You'd think that he and Dick were just talking about the contestants on Dancing with the Stars.
As he's wheeled out of the hospital Dick listens to Slade. His face showing no motion as he listens. Then just before they reach the doors, Dick reaches to the side of the wheelchair and pulls on the brakes. Coming to a quick stop the former Boy Wonder smiles and finally speaks. "I'll be back on my feet before you know it. Long before your plan finishes don't worry. And it'll be you in the hospital this time." A threat from a man in a wheelchair. 
"You're assuming I still have a plan. But the way I see it, I won a couple of weeks ago." Rather than reach down and unlock the brakes like a normal person, Slade reaches down and grabs the entire wheelchair by the seat. Lifting it up until his hands are at chest level, he walks out of the hospital's sliding doors. Of course, this gets quite a few gasps from the crowd, but that isn't really something he's caring about right now.
With the rest of his crew in tow, some of whom are openly carrying automatic rifles, it may be recalled, Slade was probably going to attract a certain amount of attention even if he hadn't picked up a grown man in a wheelchair. As he sets the chair down, he takes a couple of steps back, reaching into his pocket for his cellphone. Pressing the button, he starts it up for the first time since his public execution of the redhead got botched.
"Let's see if this still works..." A familiar old number is punched in, and Slade puts the phone to his head. "Why hello, my sultry opponent. I have something that might interest you. I'm leaving the package here in front of RABE Memorial. It should be sitting where I left it when you get here, like a turd on a porch."
Click.
As he re-pockets the phone, Slade takes a few steps forward and pats the former Robin on the shoulder. "Your ride should be coming soon. Be sure to tell them how well your old Uncle Slade took care of you. Oh! Speaking of rides... here's mine."
A black Range Rover pulls up in front of the hospital, and Slade and his crew are pealing out of the parking lot within a few seconds.
Slade gets a text message back a few moments later. "You got me a present? How sweet. I apologize for not communicating more. *Someone* decided to upload a virus on my server. You wouldn't know about that, would you?"
Dick just sits there as the car peels away. There is nothing he can do right now. What he needs to do is get back to the cave. As the car vanishes from sight Dick's brow lowers. This is going to be tough. He thinks to himself. As he waits for his ride to show. 
It takes a while, but there's the sound of a motorcycle coming. It sounds like... Red Hood's? But as the bike comes into view, it's not the Red Hood on the bike.
It's... Batgirl?
She parks the bike, and steps off, the movement looking very jerky and stiff. She pulls off her helmet, and green eyes widen underneath the mask. "Oh God!" She runs towards Dick, every step unsteady. "Oh God, I am so sorry! I couldn't find you... I'm so sorry!" She kneels down next to him. "Come on... we need to get out of here."
Category:Log