Lemme see what I can do for this...
Character Sheet:
Name: Slade Wilson
Age: 48
Alias: Deathstroke, "The Terminator"
Hero, Villain, Walking the Line, or Undecided: Walking the Line; Slade's work as a mercenary revolves between paid assassinations, bounty hunts and self-proclaimed hits.
Gender and Sexuality: Male, Heterosexual
Abilities/Powers: Superhuman Strength, Enhanced Senses, Enhanced Intelligence, Hyper-Reflexes, Accelerated Healing
Distinctive Items/Tools: Promethium Sword, Promethium Mesh/Plate Armor, Ballistic Staff, Various Pistols & Rifles & Explosives, Tactical Vision
Brief History:
A gifted individual who joined the military at age 16, it seems Slade has always been known for his finesse and brutality as a soldier. In the field, he grew to love fellow soldier Adeline Kane, who ended up teaching him much about tactics and the battlefield in turn. When they returned from duty, they married and had two children, a son and a daughter. Slade found himself returning to service for the army in order to help maintain the future of his family.
Despite Slade's rapid rising through the ranks over the years, he found himself more often questioning the authorities behind his actions. Slade finally was forced to resign when he disobeyed a direct order to fire upon what was an innocent village. To keep this fact a secret, Slade took up the work of a paid mercenary in order to maintain the family's upkeep, under the alias 'Deathstroke'. But this career turned disastrous as well, when a rogue corporation Slade had been hunting turned to attack his family to learn who Deathstroke was working for.
Slade's rescue came too late; though the rogues were driven off, his son was killed. Outraged at this betrayal of trust, Adeline shot Slade through his right eye. It did not come to be a fatality, but the shot left its mark, ruining his eye permanently. Disowned from the family and forced to assassinate just to keep his own life going, a secret military corporation hailed Deathstroke as a candidate for a super-soldier experiment.
It's hard to tell what has happened since. Slade has tried to return to normality with no avail, with a second relationship going sour. To him there always seems to be some sensations of his past grave mistakes haunting him, in the form of an unexpected daughter and a boy who wanted a place under his wing. A sort of lunacy has shown itself, plaguing Slade with longing for a loving family and knowing that he can't afford such weaknesses.
Regardless, Deathstroke has been seen numerous times later as a brutal, calculating assassin-for-hire. One can bet that if you see this armored figure, it's because you have a price on your head, and he wants it.
What's Happened in the Past 6 Years:
A possible theory for the Batman's disappearance explains that a massive bounty was placed on Batman, leading to his assassination. Truth or not, it seems Deathstroke was sour for letting this hit 'get away'. In reality, the price on Batman's head had always been there, and just had kept growing over time as countless kill attempts, some by Deathstroke himself, failed. Slade hasn't been seen much during the Dark Knight's absence, some thought that he had finally retired to live the rest of his life in luxury.
No such thing; Deathstroke has been noted to have harassed the likes of the Bat-family several times, especially the retaliatory Dick Grayson. Though most people think it is for some sort of bounty, only Slade knows why he attacks them, for some manner of insanity-fueled revenge.
Relationship Status: Divorced
Other: "So you've shown your face again, hm? That doesn't just mean you're back on the map; you're back on the market, and I'm looking to cash in on you, Batman..."
Sample Post:
"Hurry the hell up, will ya?"
"I'm on it, hold your damn horses!"
For your sake, I hope you two are not screwing up anything.
They were just tiny rats, scurrying around with their loot. Crime lord Black Mask stood metaphorically above them, dishing out orders. 'You, grab that crate', 'You, get off your ass', 'Don't make me come over there and cut more than your paycheck', crap like that. It was clear Sionis wanted to be out of this place already, with the stockpiles of secret weapons, money, and supplies hinting well towards his intentions once he breached the Arkham City wall. Hordes of the white- and grey-suited mobsters under his command all herded these things towards the border as carefully as they could muster, Black Mask shepherding them scornfully.
If Slade had his way, Black Mask wouldn't get within five miles of the wall before dropping dead. With his breath and his rifle held firm, Deathstroke took aim...
"W-who the hell is that!?"
Dammit. Now or never, Deathstroke leaped from his perch atop one of Arkham City's stone gargoyles. Certain though that the pounce couldn't meet its mark on Sionis, Slade's trigger finger slammed tight, opening fire on the mob scene below.
"Gah-!"
"Aw, crap!"
"It's the Terminator!"
"I didn't sign up for getting my ass killed tonight-!"
Rolling to hit the ground feet-first, Slade bent over into a roll, two feet past the target. The hail of hard gunfire echoed in the air, the effect evident in the blood-splotched white suit. That man was dead before he even hit the ground, the black skull of a mask cracking on impact.
But that wasn't Black Mask. Why would it have been?
"Get 'im!"
"You get him, idiot!"
"Ah, no, dammit-"
A swift flip of the arms holstered the rifle on his back, and then Deathstroke stood up fully. It never was Black Mask, just a stunt double, a good friend standing in for him. Sionis would never in his 'right' mind be out here like this. Maybe age was catching up, if Slade was screwing up this bad.
"C'mon, I ain't scared!"
"We can take 'im, he can't beat us all!"
All the more reason to practice, Slade supposed. As Black Mask's fifty or so prime mobsters surrounded Deathstroke, the mercenary calmly reached his left hand up again. Ripples of men recoiling in fright permeated through the crowd at what they thought was the drawing of a sword, but was instead the detachment of a small metal rod from the sheath. Mobsters began to pick up weapons of their own, from pipes to taser sticks to the automatic weapons Sionis wanted delivered.
With the flick of a thumb, the rod Deathstroke held shot out into the size of a quarterstaff. Several men flinched.
"Funny," the snarling voice of Slade announced through the mask,
"This is almost a fair fight." They were all convicts deserving of Arkham City, sent in here for a damn good reason. They wouldn't be missed.