Hawkman once told him his armor wasn't pure. That the properties contained other elements paired with Nth metal. Of course the true owner of said alloy would know the difference, as it became part of the Justice Leaguer. And once upon a time he was in possession of a set of protective cover that never came close to what he had hanging from rough hands. The craftsmanship was otherworldly, one would guess. It was alien tech. Details that fall under; need to know soon if he ever wrote it down. Those memories were fuzzy, so were the small and trusted persons he had to watch his twenty when occupied by blowing a hole into a Soviet monster, or branded the skull of a dictator who wasn't living up to his side of a bargain, with a special bullet to scramble his brains.
He knew of a million and one ways to die. Ways to eliminate a threat without breaking a sweat but his confidence in doing any one thing other than killing was low. Shattered wouldn't describe his stance on limitations in this reality, but a far disadvantage. He took a gamble in thinking that he could best more than he knew to be lurking around. Fighting off a league of heroes for protecting his pay out, flooded his conscious. Six ground fighters all out matched but ultimately got the upper hand after hitting their weaknesses and preying on habits in a strategic manner. Oh how he missed thee. Always leaping ten steps ahead, surpassing a challenge because knowledge was power. Knowing yourself was power. Knowing that you can steal life or bargain for it was power. Knowing that your legacy spoke volumes, good, bad, or somewhere in between, was power.
It danced in his mind, tangled with ego, and pride. Sunk it's heels right into the foot of greed and all other intentions of self fulfillment that narrowed a view no one else was invited to. He himself saw it reflected in an assembled garment that surprised him upon arriving home from a trip away from the snow globe that was Boston. Vision singular, eyed the suit and it's vital placed armor. Helmet, the mask, rest beside it as it became a wonder to not only himself but the kitten that started tumbling on the bed with it. The furball was trapped under its weight, only saved by a hand that lifted it to touch again. Its weight was light to him but strong enough to tap into the confidence that invincibility will cloak leaving him impervious to fatal contact.
At least it wore down its chances after the second line of defense made available. He felt it the morning waking up in Cabo next to a strange but all too fascinating brunette. Another killer. Someone who understood the life but one who was wrapped up into a person his weaker self seemed to despise or is getting soft on. He scoffed bluntly at it, knowing Nathan's days would be outnumbered if he allowed himself to fall victim to wiles he knew he could protect himself from. But Slade needed like-minded people to be around. All for study, while ways of rebuilding self to peak shape was made available. The possibility of answers to the why any inhabiting a body not his own, was lost on him as his direction was linear. His mind was stuck to what it was going to take for him to be the Slade he remembered himself to be.
Half blindness was part of the charm. Part of how he took a handicap and made it a positive but it was how he saw the world visually, except his mind's rapid processing and former heightened senses took care of the rest. His cat stared at him, pawing the air in greeting or wanting the attention Slade was giving his present. Just like a human needed touch and other sustenance of interaction, so did Nate's second in command but Slade couldn't bow out momentarily to collect the furry thing. He felt it had no place around but it did. Just like the missing pieces in this life. A stoic face, once immovable, curved into something forlorn when family suddenly came around at the start of another headache.
Thoughts of his children, the ones he tried to save only to make their lives hell, as his own selfish need to be who he was and remain loyal to his legacy, caused more harm than good. He fell at the edge of the bed not fighting what his undoing became. What his involvement caused, knowing his kids hated him. It was a dose of humble pie that reeled him back from going far into channels of where invincibility would take him but madness had ways of disguising itself. And he was unable to detect it properly. Not when the crazy settled and grabbed him in a smothering embrace as nostalgia was pressured on the bridge of his nose. There he winced and deftly jumped when the cat pounced on him after prancing along the rug of a suit.
Grabbing fur by the top of its neck for a lift to his shoulder, the kitten perched there without harm allowing him to think. To sink in what he had on his hands. Felt like half a man but a full contender at what lay beside him. No haste given as the mask joined his face. Gliding on to obstruct the light in the room briefly until air breathed in was different. Adjusting felt like throwing on a favorite hat, one that brought him protection in identity and also in battle. But one look and the name remained. Falling off the tongues that he had no qualms about ripping out or slicing off if it ever came to that. Head canted to the side as a paw scratched the alloyed surface, it's way of tapping at his owner's head for attention. The kind nature that allowed for it to happen appeared but he didn't remove him so quickly.
Shoulders slumped, head fell between them, and arms rested against his thighs while contemplating the journey of thoughts and what his next move would be. Easily he could try it on. Question its validity if it were real and who happened to place it at his door like an abandoned child. Go out into the cold ass night and walk about the streets like a maniac, but one thing that sat heavily, was checking in. He needed to see someone, a connection to Nathan's life and for confirmation. Lifting the mask from off his face slowly, he tossed it behind him on the bed, and grabbed the cat into his arms before getting up slowly. The exit was clear, along with grabbing of the stray eye patch. Lights were out, saying farewell to an old friend.