He was exhausted but he knew he couldn't stop. He'd lost count of how many pursuers were after him but they were organized, they could rest. He had no such luxury.
Breathing hard, Slade ducked down an alley and headed for the far end. It reeked of garbage, urine. His nose wrinkled, but he kept moving, his hand tightening on his gun, his eye never ceasing its continual scan.
A gunshot rang out and he slammed to the side, the bullet missing him by a hair, so close he could feel its heat.
It was the crazy one after him this night. As he kicked open a door and ducked inside a dark hallway, Slade wondered if Grayson would let his brother kill him.
If he was that far gone.
Slade had always known that becoming the Bat would break his Robin. He wasn't even certain why he had his whole family hunting him through Gotham. Slade had avoided all Bats for well over a year. He'd only come to this hellhole because the chance to take out the new Black Mask was too tempting. The money being offered hadn't hurt either. Now he was wondering if they whole thing was a trap.
He had no answer and no time to try to find one. If he could just make it to the harbor, he had a boat waiting. If he could get across to New York City, he could hide, could rest, and then get the hell out of this country.
Another shot sounded and he felt the bullet graze his side and he started running again.
He wasn't going to die in this pit!
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