Haunting were the memories of hearing bones break, internal organs shift by way of a blade or penetration of bullets. He worked through the noise rattling through his head, surely driven by it's echo of insanity. The places Slade went, hell and back, and around the globe again, could never prepare him for enacting as much pain to anyone who crossed him in this current incarnation. His brace was a nuisance, not understanding why Nathan used it time and time again when the life in his joints seemed to be renewed. Jumps were at their natural level of performance, speed, the same, punches were just at where they should be but Slade was frustrated. He couldn't compute moves as quickly as knowing his opponents in seconds before technical moves swept them off of their feet, and onto their backs with a blade embedded deep in the chest. He pulled through a series of repetitive lunging moves, claiming a grappling hold against the swinging sand bag. Sweat contaminated the pits of his sleeveless shirt, while running against sinewy muscle.

Thriving for the challenge and pushing Nate's body beyond it felt it could go, he inched closer, standing just at the edge until a turn of his knee backfired, sending him tripping with an off step and rolling against the ground. Holding the bend of his knee almost close to his chest like a hug, limits were underestimated, and he paid for it through a sharp resistance. Face crumpled up as mouth expelled words cursing anyone and anything he'd ever felt slighted by. Back and forth he rolled on his back still holding his knee close, wishing the pain would immediately subside. While breaking through on common defensive MMA moves, including ones where kicking to sting from low got him the place that he was in now, wouldn't be the end of him.

Flat on his back, leg extended slowly to straighten out. Face remained the same, sweat rolling from the pores as he looked up from his viewpoint, wondering why twisting his knee from a simple move landed him there. With a forearm to his forehead, he bounced his other knee, wanting it to subside as Nathan was screaming inside, wishing there was an instant relief. He thought quickly, dual personalities combating on wanting a quick fix. The candy in his bag, which had been locked away and too far to try and walk off too. Falling victim to an injury concerning his limbs wasn't needed, nor was wallowing in the idea that medicine would fix it when his body, one of the things that Slade wouldn't have lived much without, was working itself out. No pain, no gain, and he would have to work for it while damage done ironed itself out.

He couldn't see fully, was given one other piece of his old life, and delirious from hours in the gym. Late in the evening was strange for him to turn to but this time where the chaos became apparent, he had to find a place to feel more of himself than Nate's half battered body could provide. Minutes were drawn out, pain still present in itself form but dulling as he ripped his mind off of it. Slade would push for it again. Adding extra force, practicing until he felt sure in his moves as a combatant without specialized enhancements. After all, he was no superhuman nor had ever been one before claiming to be the entity he valued over his own family; Deathstroke.