Dicks POV

My name is Ren, short for Renegade. I am a hitman who is loyal to, and is trained by, the League of Assassins. Deathstroke has taught me all I know, and I have never failed a mission.

"Renegade." Slade said, I sat up straight in my chair. Someone had made a contract with us, more so with me. My work has been so phenomenal, I've basically put Deathstroke and all other hired assassins out of business.

I am the very best.

"Are your ready to go?" The one eyed man asked. I nodded and tightened the strap that held the gun to my side.

Together we walked to a jet, Slade's personal jet. Some people in the League of Assassin's say I'll have my own jet soon. They say that the league may even throw out Slade and make me there number 1. I don't think they will though, Slade is still my teacher, my master.

We flew in silence to my destination. A mountain. I have to say it was a good base. Hidden in plain sight, so obvious you wouldn't think of it.

The jet skidded to a stop right above the mountain, "This is your stop." The pilot announced, I nodded up at him and jumped out.

My small body flew threw the air with grace. I landed above a vent then kicked it in. I pulled the blue prints of the vents up on my holo-glove and started crawling around.

I crawled through their extremely dusty vents. And after a few minutes I arrived at my destination, the generators.

I silently dropped into the room, demolishing them both. The power around the whole mountain went out. That included their zeta-tube. I slid on my night vision goggles then jumped back into the vents.

I crawled around for a while until I found my target, or targets. They were scrambling around the dark room like mice, they looked pathetic and disgraceful. I dropped to the floor without even the slightest tap. My true mission about to begin.

One of the targets saw me, which was intentional, I was standing in the middle of the room. The target rushed me, I quickly jumped over him and onto his shoulders. The target started running around, trying to get me off. But I pulled out a glowing green knife. The target instant began to slow and soon collapsed. While the target laid on the ground I slowly pulled the green knife across his neck, blood began to gush from the wound. It spilled all out into the floor and around the dying body. I shook my head down at it, how weak. I heard a scream and went to it.

The next target flew towards me at a fast pace. It then disappeared from my view. I smirked, I knew this ones tricks. I turned on my infrared vision and saw the target was a only a few feet away from me. I grabbed a match and a container of hairspray, making my own flame thrower. I popped the hair sprays top off then shot the flames at the target. The target scream bloody murder before falling to the ground. Its body completely charred. Sad.

Using what hair spray I had left, I shot it at my next target. It was discombobulated but not down, all the target needed was an extra push. I sprang at it while it swayed from the sudden heat. It's seemed to be regaining its balance so I quickly pushed it down with a flying kick. It fell to the ground with a hard thud, I jumped off it then pulled my gun from its holster. Loading the gun within a second, I shot at the target in the head and watched as the blood pooled around it and the life faded from its eyes. How worthless.

An arrow shot past my ear, making me aware of my last two targets. I shot multiple bullets at the target with the bow. They would not have missed, if a blur had not caught them before they hit their intended target. I threw a smoke pellet to the floor, allowing the whole area to fill with the black-grey gas. I soundlessly unsheathed a sword that had sat on back and ran towards my target. It didn't see me until I had plunged the blade through its body. The target looked down at the sword then looked up at my cold eyes. It's face was wet with uncontrollable tears. These poor creatures.

The last target was vibrating with anger and fear and sadness. So emotional. I walked towards it amongst the fog like gas. The target began to call out the names of its comrades, getting no reply.

"Dead men are the wisest, for they know how far the roots of a flower go. How long a seed must rot to grow." I began to corner the shaking target as I recited the poem.

"Dead men alone bear frost and rain. On throb less hearts and heartless brains. And feel no stir of joy or pain." I had the target in the corner now. It's speeds inhuman wouldn't allow me to kill. Though I knew it desired death.

"Dead men alone are satiate; They sleep and dream and have no weight, to curb their rest of love or hate." I punched the target repeatedly, we were locked in an on-going hand to hand. I continued to recite the words.

"Strange, men should flee their company. Or think me the strange who long to be. Wrapped in their cool immunity." I finished the poem as I rubbed the bloody knife across my forearm, trying rid it of the excess blood. My target lay on the ground, a whole ripped through its heart.

I jumped into the vents, crawling away from the horrific scene with a satisfied smile.

My name is Dick, short for Richard, Grayson. I am also known as Ren, short for Renegade. I am a hitman who is loyal to, and is trained by, the League of Assassins. Deathstroke has taught me all I know, and I have never failed a mission.

I was sent on a mission to kill my targets, and I have succeeded flawlessly.

The Young Justice team is now dead.