"Tell me again, what was it you did for a living?"
"I was the best hired gun in the business, until i retired. I've had two attempts on my damn life in as many weeks. You have no idea how much it hurt my joints to bury all those bodies. My mind is a fucking wreck. I've fought against mutants, aliens, other assassins, and my own demons for too long. TOO DAMN LONG!" The silence caused by the ex-killers tirade was deafening, and felt like it lasted forever. Finally, the therapist spoke up.
"You've been through a lot in your life, i understand that. And i appreciate you coming to us before you hurt someone." Slade looked at the man, an old fire burning in his eyes.
"You want to talk about pain? Fine. I've survived things that would kill the average man. Blades, guns, explosions, poison, falls, you name it. They even tried stringing me up, if I remember. My point is, you won't even begin to know the pain I've inflicted, and taken, in my life. Trust me, it's not for the faint of heart."
"I think you may be mistaken on pain." Slade responded naturally to the mans challenging tone, drawing a .45 from seemingly nowhere as casually as if he was offering his hand to shake.
"You ever been shot?"
A/N: This story is intended to be a one-shot. Let me know if you want me to add more to this story!