Slade had mixed feelings about Gotham.
The city was an ever-present cesspool that he loathed visiting, a place full of shitty bars, ugly views, and a general lack of anything interesting to do. Despite his brutal reputation, he was still a man who enjoyed a bit of adventure, and Gotham managed to feel like the worst parts of every city piled together into one miserable heap.
The only halfway decent places were packed with rich snobs who had never worked a damn day in their lives. He despised those prisses just as much as they despised him. Fools who had never earned their wealth through blood and sweat.
He might be an assassin, but at least he worked for his money.
Still, as much as he loathed the place, Gotham was also one of his best money makers. Criminals ran rampant here, both the organized kind and the completely insane variety, which meant a steady flow of contracts that had put more money in his pocket than even years of work abroad.
Not to mention the interesting prey the city produced.
The Bat and his brats were always good testing material. The urge to draw his blades and prove his superiority over Batman had him itching for a proper fight whenever he was in town. The fact that hundreds of other mercenaries and assassins treated Gotham as a proving ground also kept him sharp.
There was plenty of fodder here to crush and remind the world who the best in the business was.
Unfortunately, the contract came first. It was one of the biggest payouts he had seen in years, and there was no way he was letting some amateur snatch it out from under him.
He tapped a finger against the side of his helmet, and the earbud crackled to life.
"Status report."
His eyes continued scanning the abandoned brick buildings across the street.
"No signs of him," Rose replied irritably. "Aren't we just wasting our time here?"
Slade felt a flicker of annoyance at her unprofessional tone but let it slide. They had been staking out one of Gotham's lower districts for hours, and the place would test anyone's patience.
"The Joker is a crazy bastard," Slade said calmly. "But the man has a method to his madness. Blindly trying to track him down is C-lister work, kid."
His past contracts involving the clown had given him a deeper understanding of the madman. While Slade would readily agree that the Joker was a complete lunatic, the man had a dangerously sharp mind when it came to building schemes and orchestrating chaos.
As much as Slade looked down on him, he would still admit that the bastard was a capable general when it came to organizing plans and directing his cult of followers.
Even so, that was the limit of his abilities.
Without his little army of crazies, the Joker was just a man.
Which meant it was only a matter of time before he came crawling back to them.
Slade lifted his scope and watched as several henchmen dressed in clown-themed outfits rolled barrels into the building across the street. A black-haired woman with white paint smeared across her face stood nearby, directing them.
None of the faces were notable, which meant they likely would not be much of a threat.
He considered the situation for a moment. Perhaps he would let Rose take the lead when things kicked off. She needed more experience dealing with larger groups of enemies.
The Joker himself could put up a decent scrap in a fight, but he was nothing compared to Slade. Still, the freak had a strange habit of surviving things that should have killed him.
Slade had money on some sort of metahuman nonsense.
Even if that were true, it would not help the Joker here.
Not like the job required him to die. Slade never did any unpaid work. He fulfilled the request exactly as it was given, no matter how strange the details might be.
Still, he had to wonder what the clown had done to piss someone off badly enough for them to offer hundreds of millions for this job.
"Movement from the west," Rose's voice came through the comm.
Slade adjusted the rifle scope and caught sight of a small convoy of vans rolling toward the building. They pulled to a stop along the curb, and he immediately recognized the familiar checkered costume as Harley Quinn stepped out of the lead van, barking orders while the henchmen began unloading various tools and materials.
A quick headcount put the number at around a dozen, maybe a little more. Annoying, but not difficult to deal with.
Harley Quinn herself was a non-factor. She was barely better than a trained gangster, which meant he would leave her for Rose to handle.
The final van door slid open, and his target finally appeared.
The white-skinned, green-haired freak seemed to be in excellent spirits. The Joker stepped out in a posh purple suit and matching fedora, strolling forward with a golden walking cane in hand. The entire outfit was overly gaudy and frankly made him look like a deranged pimp.
Slade's eyes immediately traced the cane.
The Joker had a nasty habit of turning toys and mundane objects into weapons, and Slade carefully scanned the man's body for any potential surprises.
Some kind of taser or gas dispenser hidden in the cane? Maybe even a concealed laser weapon. Either option would be perfectly on brand for the clown.
Slade was mildly curious where the hell the Joker even managed to procure half this equipment.
None of that came cheap or easy, something Slade knew better than most.
Half of his own payouts went toward maintaining equipment that stayed at the absolute top of the line.
"What's the plan?" Rose asked, an anticipatory edge in her voice.
Slade clicked his tongue at the sound. His daughter was still too inexperienced.
You never went into a job nervous or excited.
"Drop in and clear the first floor," he ordered.
"By myself?" Rose asked, confusion creeping into her tone.
"What. Not up for the job?" Slade let thick disdain creep into his voice at the hesitation.
"Fine."
The comm clicked off.
Across the street, Slade spotted Rose scaling down from her hiding position before rushing toward the rear entrance of the building.
So easy to rile up.
Moments later, the sound of gunfire echoed from inside the structure, which told him exactly how things were going.
No plan. Just bullrushing.
Slade clicked his tongue in irritation. He was definitely going to knock some sense into her once this job was finished.
Dropping his rifle, he pulled out a grappling gun and fired it toward the building. The hook landed cleanly and dug into the rooftop ledge.
He gave the line a firm tug before shaking his head.
He would deal with it after the job.
Taking a few steps back, Slade broke into a sprint and leapt from the roof, the grappling line snapping taut as it pulled him toward the building.
It was time to cut some crown jewels.
—
Fun. Fun. Fun.
Joker would have to thank whoever had planned this little shindig! The past week had been exactly what he needed after being stuck in that crummy old Arkham. Although, he did feel the need to quibble about a few of the details.
Putting him near a children's hospital? So cliché.
Still, being the good samaritan that he was, he could hardly resist doing his part to make the kids laugh.
Pity old Batsy always had to ruin the fun.
"Mr. J, so how'd I do?" Harley leaned forward with a wide, eager grin. "I did exactly what you told me. I got all the bombs and tools we needed for the big show!"
"Congratulations. You did the bare minimum," his newest addition snickered from across the room.
Harley spun immediately, hand already reaching for her hammer as she prepared to attack. Punchline, his newly named little tool, had knives out in an instant.
Ah, what a beautiful sight. It was enough to bring a tear to his eye.
Still, it was a little early for them to start killing each other.
"Ladies, ladies," Joker sighed theatrically. "I'm disappointed in you. The stage isn't even set, and you're already trying to slack off?"
"IT WAS HER—"
Both of them shouted at the same time.
"Ah, but whose the boss?"
"You," they both muttered, suddenly looking far more guilty.
"That's right. So let's all get along—"
The ground shook violently, and the rapid sound of gunfire suddenly filled the air. From the first floor came the screams of his followers as bullets tore through the building.
Oh?
"Batsy…?" He tilted his head, listening more closely.
Hmm. No.
There were far too many bloodcurdling screams and far too much return fire for it to be Batman. This sounded more like someone carving their way through the place.
Another player had come to mess with the Joker.
Oh, he liked that.
"Punchline, be a dear and go greet our guests!"
"Of course, sir!" the young woman said eagerly, practically preening at the honor of delivering the greeting.
Joker had to hold back a chuckle as Punchline no doubt shot Harley a smug look just outside his line of sight.
Funny girl.
"Pudding…" Harley turned to him with desperate eyes. "You should get rid of that bitch. More time for both of us."
"Ah, ah, my dear." Joker wagged a finger playfully. "It would be a waste of such a good little card."
He flashed her a reassuring smile.
"Don't worry. I've got a good little joke for Punchline."
"Alright, Mr. J…"
The joke, of course, was which of the two women would manage to kill the other first.
It was endlessly entertaining watching them drive each other mad. He would bet good money that Harley was already thinking up ways to kill their new hire.
Then again, perhaps the young and ambitious Punchline would manage to kill old Harls first.
Oh, he could hardly wait to see how that joke played out.
The sharp whirring sound of a grappling hook suddenly cut through the room, and Joker perked up instantly. He grabbed his cane and turned toward the second-floor window with a wide grin.
Unfortunately…
"Strokey?" Joker gagged dramatically. "What a tease. You here for tea with good old Mr. J?"
"No." Deathstroke stepped through the window, unsheathing his sword as he rose to his full height. "Give me your balls."
…What?
&&&
Comments and Thoughts would be greatly appreciated. Likes are like a drug to me and boost my creative juices.
I have advanced chapters on Pa tre on/daisyberry if you wanna read ahead.