Most people assumed Deathstroke married for practical reasons.

Connections.

Resources.

Influence.

Something useful.

Something strategic.

After all, Slade approached life like a military operation.

Every decision had a purpose.

Every action had a goal.

Everything was calculated.

Which made his marriage particularly confusing.

Because there was absolutely nothing practical about his wife.

She was an assassin.

An exceptionally talented one.

That wasn’t the problem.

Slade respected talent.

The problem was that she was completely unhinged.

Not in an obvious way.

Not the screaming, dramatic kind.

That would have been easier.

No.

She was calm.

Pleasant.

Reasonable.

Until she wasn’t.

The first indication something was wrong had come shortly after they started dating.

Slade had returned home to discover she’d broken into his house.

Not to steal anything.

Not to attack him.

Just because she wanted to see if she could.

She had left a note grading his security system.

The second warning sign came when she mailed a rival assassin a sympathy card after eliminating them from a contract.

The card had included flowers.

Nobody knew whether to be disturbed or impressed.

Then there was the incident involving a bounty hunter, three stolen motorcycles, a helicopter, and a zoo.

Slade still refused to discuss that one.

The truly concerning part?

None of this had convinced him to leave.

If anything, he seemed increasingly fond of her.

Years later, most people had accepted the reality of the situation.

Deathstroke had married the only person capable of making him seem normal.

Now, standing in the kitchen at two in the morning, Slade watched as his wife casually sharpened a knife she absolutely did not need to be sharpening at that hour.

The room was quiet.

Suspiciously quiet.

Which usually meant trouble.

Slade took a sip of coffee.

“Why are you awake?”

A mistake.

An enormous mistake.

Because the look she gave him suggested she had an idea.

A terrible idea.

The kind that eventually ended up on international news.

For several seconds, Slade simply stared.

Then slowly set his coffee down.

Because after years of marriage, he had learned something important.

He could survive metahumans.

He could survive superheroes.

He could survive impossible missions.

But surviving his wife required an entirely different skill set.