"I never thought you would come looking for me alone, Robin."
Deathstroke emerged from beneath the water's surface. He placed the unconscious Raven on the shore and then suddenly leaped, landing about five meters in front of Robin.
Deathstroke removed a shotgun from behind him. His gaze turned icy as he looked at Robin and said, "It seems you're my prey today, Boy Wonder!"
"Is that so? Then let's begin!" Robin replied.
Robin reached for a short iron rod on his belt and with a quick motion, it extended into a staff.
"Are you serious?" Deathstroke stared at Robin disdainfully, "I believe you're skilled, but you're not that—"
Before he could finish his sentence, Deathstroke swiftly raised his shotgun and pulled the trigger towards Robin.
However, as fast as his action was, Robin's response was faster. "Ha, is this the only worn-out trick you've got? I encounter people like you every night in Gotham!"
While Deathstroke was raising the shotgun, Robin's staff had already lunged forward.
First, he flicked the hand holding the shotgun upward. At that moment, Deathstroke had just pulled the trigger, and the bullets were aimed slightly above Robin.
Immediately after, Robin's staff followed the upward motion, forcefully thrusting towards Deathstroke's chin.
The sequence of attacks flowed smoothly, like water, with precise angles targeting vulnerabilities, all without hesitation.
Yet, Robin's face displayed no satisfaction.
This was because when his staff jabbed at Deathstroke's chin, he didn't feel any tangible impact. It was as if he had poked at thin air.
In reality, it was just as he had surmised: Deathstroke hadn't been hit by Robin's attack.
As Robin's staff was about to connect with Deathstroke's chin, he had tilted his head back, narrowly avoiding the blow.
Simultaneously, Deathstroke's other hand snaked out and grabbed Robin's staff.
Robin attempted to forcefully retract his staff, but Deathstroke's grip remained unmoved.
"I must admit, you're surpassing my expectations. But compared to the original Robin, you're still far behind," Deathstroke calmly remarked.
He then tightened his hold on the staff and with a swift twist, the slender iron rod snapped.
Robin maintained his composure, immediately dropping the broken staff and retreating. At the same time, he swiftly retrieved a small sphere from his belt and hurled it at Deathstroke.
Deathstroke held a shotgun in one hand and in a lightning-quick movement, drew a katana from his shoulder. He sliced through the air, intercepting the incoming sphere.
Success! Observing this, a smirk of scheming accomplishment curled Robin's lips.
However, in the very next second, Robin's expression suddenly changed.
Because Deathstroke's katana hadn't struck the small sphere directly, but rather the air next to it, in that instant, the blade perfectly aligned parallel to the small sphere.
Immediately after, Deathstroke's katana struck the small sphere's side, sending it flying several dozen meters away.
Upon impact with the ground, the small sphere suddenly detonated, releasing a cloud of smoke that enveloped an area of about five meters in diameter.
"More paralyzing smoke, can't you come up with something new?" Deathstroke remarked casually.
"Did you really think I'd strike it directly? The old Robin used to play this game with me often, and the current Robin is still playing it. Is Batman teaching you all this?"
Robin remained silent, simply pulling out another staff from his belt.
"I don't have much time. If you surrender resistance, I'll make it quick for you," Deathstroke said earnestly as he gazed at Robin.
"Like what you did to Jericho? Inserting a blade into your own son's heart. I wonder if he felt any pain when he died."
Robin's words came out unexpectedly.
Deathstroke's eyes grew cold in an instant, a touch of anger entering his voice. "You're not entitled to mention that name, none of you Titans are!"
Swoosh! Swoosh! Swoosh!
Before the words had fully left his mouth, three batarangs shot towards Deathstroke.
Reacting swiftly, Deathstroke rolled to the side to evade the attack.
As he raised his head, Robin's staff came swinging at his head. The staff cut through the air, emitting a sharp whistling sound.
Clang!
Robin froze. It was the first time since this encounter began that such a blatant look of astonishment appeared on his face.
Casually, Deathstroke raised the hand holding the katana and with lightning speed, he slashed at the staff.
The iron staff was sliced through as smoothly as tofu, the cut surface incredibly clean.
At this moment, Deathstroke's displayed reaction speed was entirely different from before, as if he had been toying with Robin all along.
The surging anger within Deathstroke signaled that he was no longer interested in playing games and was now ready for real action.
"You've truly ticked me off..."
Deathstroke's voice turned deep as he suddenly kicked, aiming for Robin's abdomen.
"You fell for it!"
At that very moment, the astonishment on Robin's face vanished, replaced by a smile.
As Deathstroke's leg moved, he suddenly lost control and fell to the ground. His leg had been ensnared by a rope at some point.
As it turns out, the three batarangs Robin released before the attack weren't ordinary ones; they were batarangs equipped with ropes.
Using a boomerang-like technique, Robin had thrown the batarangs. When they returned, one batarang helped entangle Deathstroke's leg. His attack on Deathstroke was merely a feint.
"If Batman taught me anything, it's that no matter how shrewd and composed someone is, they'll lose their rationality when their emotions run high," Robin said softly, looking down at Deathstroke.
"I think I'm starting to admire you, Robin. You've truly impressed me," Deathstroke remarked, his composure returning despite his bound legs.
"It seems Batman did teach me some valuable things. So now let me teach you something else: when you become immersed in the joy of victory, failure is not far behind!"
Snap!
Suddenly, Deathstroke raised his right hand, targeting Robin—specifically, the hand holding the shotgun, the same hand that was pressed beneath Deathstroke when he fell.
Simultaneously lifting the shotgun, he squeezed the trigger.
At this incredibly close range, the shotgun's muzzle was nearly against Robin's face.
At such a short distance, there wasn't any ordinary person in the world who could evade that shot, including Batman.
Even if such a person existed, it would certainly be a superhuman.
But one thing was sure: that person couldn't be Robin.
"Tell me, is your mask bulletproof?"
Bang!
In the nick of time, a short blue staff flew in from nowhere, hitting Deathstroke's hand just a moment before he could pull the trigger. The impact not only shifted the shotgun's aim to the side but also caused Deathstroke to involuntarily release the weapon.
Robin, who had narrowly escaped death, was covered in cold sweat on his forehead.
This turn of events provided Deathstroke with ample time to break free from the rope and retreat a distance away.
°°°
Hungry for more chaps? Then check out our pătreon!
Link: Påtreon.com/BaphometFiction
I post 11 advanced chapters of this fanfic there.