If Slade were the type to laugh maniacally, now would be the time to indulge. Instead, he simply tilts his head, the slightest hint of smile, cruel and sharp, tugging at the corners of his mouth.

Of course, Grayson believed this was about him. It's a failing of this younger generation, he's found -- the belief that everything is personal. About them. It's why they'll never defeat him. It's why they'll always lose.

"Of course not, dear boy. You were simply the most useful tool for the job. You'd be surprised by the things I've had you do for me." His singular eye gleams ominously in the dark. "The things you have yet to do for me."