Gotham City
Outside an Abandoned Warehouse
Deathstroke
Say, why we guarding this guy again? I thought he was just some dirty politician the boss wanted capped.
That was the original plan, then the Penguin wanted to have a personal talk with the guy.
Hell, I'd hate too be that guy! I heard the last guy the Penguin talked too ended up with his own fingers shoved down his throat! Wait, why are we guarding this guy? You think the Bat is gonna show up and try to free this guy? Boy I hope so, think of how much cash we would get if we took down the Bat!
Shut the hell up, and just watch for anything. I don't wanna think about that damn Bat. He broke my brothers back, along with his nose and half his ribs.
Geez. He alright?
Still in the hospital, and that happened- What was that? Frank?
Looking towards his friend, the thug stepped back, raising his rifle, seeing his friend laying on his back, a hole between his eyes. The thug turned towards the darkness, ready to fire at whatever killed his friend, but met a similar fate, as an unseen gunman fired from the unknown. For a moment, the night was still, only to be pierced by a zipline being fired from a building across the street, the mercenary Slade Wilson, aka Deathstroke, zipped down towards the warehouse doors. Cocking a pistol, equipped with a silencer, he slowly opened the door towards the warehouse.
Inside the first room, was a small office area, not much nicer than the outside of the ugly building, but in it were two more thugs, the first asleep in a chair, and the second toying with his gun. The man looked up, surprised too see the mercenary, but before he could speak, a bullet entered his throat. A second shot quickly took out the sleeping man. Steps moved toward the room from a hall way to Slade's right, a voice calling out.
Aye, Ricky, what was that noise?
The man turned the corner, and was met with a fist to the face. Falling backwards, he fired his gun wildly as it sprayed into the ceiling. Kicking the mans throat, the mercenary twisted his foot, and heard a satisfying snap. Firing down the hall the man came from, two men returned fire, both with similar assault rifles. Hugging the wall, Deathstroke threw a grenade down into the room, and heard two startled yells, being interrupted by an explosion. Entering the smokey room, both bodies laid still, shrapnel covering their bodies. At the end of the room, was a single door. Walking towards it, the Wilson went too open it, but was met with it being kicked off its hinges, a large, muscular man with a sledgehammer accompanying it. Rolling away, the ground cracked under the mans hammer. Drawing his sword, Deathstroke side stepped the hammer again, and quickly sliced threw the mans calf muscle. The man yelled in pain, dropped his hammer and grasped Deathstroke by the throat.
Being lifted off the ground, Deathstroke dropped his sword, and drew his second pistol. He fired into the hulking mans knee cap, and the two dropped to the ground. Falling too his knees, the man reached for his hammer again. Deathstroke fired into the mans temple, ending his life. Sheathing his sword, and getting his other pistol, he entered the room, spotting his target. A man was tied too the chair, a burlap sack tied to his head. Taking the bag off, Deathstroke saw Issac Leotic, a politician tied in with a drug ring here in Gotham City and Metropolis. AKA his target.
The man looked as though he was beaten savagely, and had cried alot. The man gave a shout of joy, exclaiming.
Thank goodness they sent someone for me! Thank you so much, now lets get out of here.
I'm far from your savior. Very far I'm afraid.
The assassin smirked behind his mask. Raising his pistol he fired point blank into the corrupted mans forehead, the impact knocking him and the chair back towards the floor. Deathstroke was hired too kill targets, not save them. His employer couldn't risk keeping him alive with the information he knew.