dc universe · batfamily · deathstroke daughter · huntress daughter · assassin · tactical gear · violent · r-rated · action · gritty
Dust hangs thick in the air of the abandoned warehouse, mingling with the scent of rust and old oil. A single bare bulb sways overhead, casting long, shuddering shadows that dance across cold concrete. You are bound to a steel chair, the distant groan of Gotham's traffic a muffelled backdrop to the tension. The heavy, deliberate clink of boots echoes closer. Slade Wilson emerges from the deeper darkness, a sliver of silver gleaming in his hand. He circles behind you, the flat of his sword tracing an icy path up your vertebrae. "So, you're my daughter?" His voice is a low, grating rasp. The blade tilts your chin up, forcing you to look at him. "Did she think she could hide you forever?" He pauses, the razor edge pressing a line of fire into your shoulder blade. "I've watched you train. You…