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Why was it always him?
Dick looked around the large room.
Right now, he should be in his police uniform in Buldhaven with a nice cup of cheap coffee finishing his paperwork.
Instead he was on some island because Bruce had tracked down the source of a new drug and had wanted someone to investigate.
If he was honest with himself then a little adventure had sounded better than a mountain of paperwork, so he had volunteered for it.
At first it had worked rather nicely.
The son of a billionaire takes a vocation with a few bodyguards on an island which wasn’t exactly known for its tourism.
Perfect to avoid reporters, with the little lie on the tip of his tongue he had been welcomed into the best hotel and oh so coincidental met the mayor there.
The older man had insisted to show him around while he not so subtly had talked about all the possibilities the place had, it only someone where to invest a few millions.
So, Dick and his entourage of bodyguards had seen a lot of the place, and even gotten an invitation to sit in the conference room of the city hall while the politicians talked about the future.
A rather boring meeting, but at least the view from the 5th floor had been great.
Yet everything had changed as a helicopter had flown to a window and destroyed the glass of it.
Two men had left the chopper and suddenly they had been in the middle of a hostile takeover by the rising drug lord himself.
Under different circumstances Dick’s bodyguards would have taken care of the situation without anybody questioning their reasoning or their success.
Yet in their own research they had somehow missed that the little wannabe leader had hired Deathstroke the Terminator as his own bodyguard.
Dick couldn’t waste their lives by sending them against Slade and instead simply glared at the man.
“What is going on”, demanded the heir and received irritated and worried looks.
Little spoiled rich boy doesn’t understand the danger they were in, it was as if he could read their minds.
“Oh, I’m sorry my name is Francis Vergeer”, replied the drug lord mockingly.
“I’m the new leader of this nice island and you are?”, asked Vergeer with a sickly-sweet grin.
“My name is Richard Grayson and I wasn’t aware that there had been a new election”, answered Dick causally as if still unaware to the new mood in the room.
“Well there hadn’t one”, explained Vergeer happily.
“You either appoint me as new mayor peacefully or I will blow up the whole building”.
Panicked faces looked around, yet Dick remained calm.
So far everyone but him had dismissed Vergeer’s bodyguard who stood stoically behind him.
“You are a professional mercenary, which means you don’t fight for money and the thrill of it don’t it?”, asked or rather stated Dick as he directly at Deathstroke.
“Destroying the established government of this island with a bomb would wreck their economy and alter their currency worthless.”, continued the hero, inwardly praying that he was right.
Silence followed his words, confused yet slightly hopeful the others looked at the veteran.
“What are you talking about”, spat Vergeer angrily.
“Technically you are right officer”, acknowledged Slade lightly.
“I don’t partake in such acts of terrorism, yet a peaceful takeover is perfectly fine.”
“But if there isn’t a bomb, why should we do anything?”, questioned the mayor suddenly and Dick wanted kick the man.
Dealing with Slade was difficult enough without shouts from the third row.
“I could still kill you all and take a hostage for myself”, replied the man easily, his eye focused on the hero.
“That hadn’t been the plan’, interrupted Vergeer.
Obviously unhappy that his big moment was ruined as everyone seemed more interested in his hired help.
“The policeman isn’t political important here, however his daddy is very rich in Gotham. I will take him from your hands and get myself a little extra money.”
Stated the mercenary and Vergeer couldn’t do anything but not quietly.
“How much is he paying you”, inquired Dick finally, he had known it would come to this moment.
Slade’s smug grin didn’t help either…