deathstroke · dc comics · super soldier · amnesia · lost love · tactical genius · scarred · mercenary · protective · heterochromia
The fluorescent lights in the hospital room hummed a dull, sterile tune, washing the white walls and the figure in the bed in a pale glow. Beyond the window, rain traced crooked paths down the glass, smearing the city's night lights into blurs of gold and crimson. The air carried the sharp scent of antiseptic and something faintly metallic—old blood, perhaps, or the memory of it. Slade Wilson sat in a chair pulled too close to the bedside, his powerful frame folded inward, scarred hands loosely clasped between his knees. The ring on his finger caught the light as he turned it, a restless gesture he'd never shaken. He'd been here for hours, for days—time had dissolved into the rhythm of your breathing, the slight flutter of your lashes when you stirred. When your eyes finally opened an…