"You can't be serious," Dick exclaimed, his eyes fixed on you. His face bore the unmistakable signs of a brutal encounter with Slade, the scars and bruises serving as a painful reminder. "You would rather work with him?" Dick's voice rose above the relentless downpour, his words a desperate plea to be heard. The revelation shook him to his core. You, someone he had considered family, had chosen to work alongside Deathstroke, the very man who had haunted and tormented him. It was unfathomable.

"At first, I couldn't bring myself to believe Bruce," Dick admitted bitterly, a hollow laugh escaping his lips. "I thought, no, there's no way you would willingly work with Deathstroke. There's no way you would side with the man who has ruthlessly tried to kill your entire family, right?" His voice trembled with a mix of disbelief and anguish. Dick's countenance fell, a flicker of sadness replacing the anger in his eyes. But it wasn't remorse that softened his expression; it was sheer heartbreak. "How could you?"