The room was scanned meticulously by the small in the steel chair, his hands rested in his lap as his head slowly moved to be in a position of mourning; hung low, a slow drip of blood traveled from his forehead and lip to his thigh where it began to stain the dark green of his pants. His black hair shaded over his eyes. The boy seemingly held no threat.

"What has been and what will be are two separate things, wouldn't you agree?" a cool, calm voice sounded from all areas, the sound of shoes walking down a staircase were dominant in the warehouse. The boy felt goosebumps rise on his arms, fear. Aside from the leaking pipe in the corner, the slight chirp of crickets outside and the calming sound of boats horns in the distance. They were by the Warf. His voice seemed to slightly bounce of the walls with reverb. There was an obvious accent to his voice, Australian.

"Yes." The captive's voice was weak, clearly Romani in the way he spoke and worded his diction. His head and lip were bleeding, fresh from the Gotham Juvenile Detention Center, the sound of a tsk was heard, his head raised just to hear the creak of the chains above him. Head raised now, completely opposite to it's original position, his eyes watched as the black and orange clad figure dropped in front of him. He jumped in his chair slightly as his heart pounded in his chest. His face was covered in a black and orange mask.

"Don't worry, child. I'm not the scariest thing you have seen. Surely." Slade said and held his hand out to introduce himself. "My name is DeathStroke, Slade if you would prefer to call me if that's simpler." Slade asked with interest, a distinctive tone in his voice. The boy stretched his hand out as he lifted his head slightly. His hand was small in comparison to that of the man in front of him.

"Richard Grayson, but call me Dick." The small boy introduced and gave a slight eased look after meeting his răpitor de oameni (kidnapper)? He didn't know the English word for it.

"Well Richard. I've heard your parents have recently passed." The man said as the boy's face instantly brushed away the calm he had been in. "And I'm sorry to say that. I lost my parents at a young age. They never found who did it. And I don't want you to have to go through with that." He almost sympathized with the boy as he looked up at him. The boy tilted his head slightly. This man wanted to help him?

"I can help you find who did this to your parents and I can help you get justice... Revenge if you will." Slade said as Dick straighten himself up, feeling a dull voice in the back of his head.

"Isn't revenge bad?" he asked quietly as Slade smirked slighty, not that the boy could see with the mask on his face. A blank look as the only thing that could be seen was his one eye. Inside those grey eyes stirred something dark, as if something had been unleashed and no one could stop the new storm that blew into town.

"If it's justified, then no. It's not. Don't you want justice for your parents, Richard?" he asked, persuading the boy into his argument. Guilt the boy into what he was truly planning.

The boy couldn't have been more than 7, 8 at best. Not really understanding the full concept of what he was getting into. But he nodded. Justice was a good thing as far as his mother had told him. The boy looked down at his suit that his mother had made him as he felt a tear in his eye. He looked up at nodded.

"I do want justice for them." He answered, almost surely as he felt the darkness around them almost grow darker as Slade nodded. "They deserve justice."

"Good Richard. Now, let us go. Yes?" he asked as he outstretched a black, gloved hand to the boy. Much larger than his own as before. He felt almost confused but he took the hand. Knowing it would avenge his parents. At what cost? He didn't really know. He was only 7. But soon that cone light above him went out before he could blink.