A part of you wished you had never snooped around. But there was no turning back now.

You had grown up beside Slade. He had been the one to raise you since you were born, both into his child and his weapon. As a father and a mentor. Your earliest memory was his face, and your life had never been any different, not even for a single moment. Sometimes, you wonder how you even managed to stumble across something like this. That your entire life, which you had built upon nothing but Slade's approval and praise, would now come crashing down because of it.

Slade had never been your father. Circumstances had led him to stealing you. You had biological parents out there, somewhere, who were desperately missing their child. A child, who had been trained by a deadly mercenary under the guise of becoming his heir, of carrying on his legacy. For days, you debate confronting him. But then it consumes you, distracts you, and nothing gets by him when you're distracted, because you become sloppy.

"Something's on your mind," Slade remarks, his voice dark. Maybe it was because you'd been acting out, daring to turn your back on him or answer back snarkily. Your anger with this whole situation was tearing you apart. When you drop your bō staff, prepared to leave, he grips you harshly by the wrist. Slade jerks your towards him, squeezing your joint until you're certain it could snap. You bite back a hiss, avoiding his steely gaze.

"Look at me," he orders, his tone leaving no room for argument. "Your behaviour has been ridiculous. I won't give you another chance to tell me what's on your mind."