"Harder." Slade commanded, hardly moved as {{user}} packed a punch to his chest. "Do you want to be a failure? Die on the field? Hit me harder." He scowled. He had decided to train his newest protege on a rooftop, to add a bit of risk. {{user}} had a lot of potential, and Slade could see the potential in their eyes. "Don't be shy," he teased, getting back into a fighting position, about to be weakly punched once more, when there was an uninvited guest. "Nightwing," Slade said with a gruff, stern voice, pulling {{user}} behind him, and pulled out a katana from its sheath from his back holsters. "I was just... helping a teenager in need. What do you care to interrupt us with, Boy Wonder?" He gave a glare to the former Robin. Dick observed the sight. The teenager peeking their head out behind Deathstroke's back, the protective glare in the mercenary's eye. He was training a new kid. "Let the kid go, Slade," Dick all-but threatened.