Two enemies in the room.
"When'd you get a sense of humour, Strokey? I never took you for the vulgar type." The Joker giggled.
Slade ignored him and quickly assessed the situation. One exit to his left and four windows lining the room. It was an abandoned office, with a few desks and chairs scattered around and several tall metal filing cabinets pushed against the walls.
Harley Quinn held her oversized hammer loosely in both hands. The Joker leaned on a golden cane.
Slade's rapid assessment took less than a quarter of a second.
Perfect conditions to get the job done.
His sword flashed out in his right hand while his left drew his pistol, sending several shots toward the Joker. At the same time, his blade smashed into the unprepared mallet Harley tried to use as a shield. That clash was exactly what he wanted. Harley stumbled back, unable to properly absorb the blow against his enhanced strength.
The madman had already thrown himself behind a desk.
That was exactly where Slade wanted him.
His second sword came down as he stepped in.
Harley had barely pushed herself upright when the blade went for her neck. She twisted the shaft of her mallet to knock the strike aside, but his other sword was already in motion. He felt the bite of steel even as she abandoned the hammer and jumped backward.
A nasty cut across her right thigh made her stumble.
Slade stepped in and kicked her hard in the stomach, the blow smashing Harley into the far corner of the room.
A whirring sound followed by the sharp hiss of liquid cutting through the air made Slade drop flat to the floor.
Not a moment too soon. A stream of green acid splashed across the wall behind him. The brick sizzled violently as the twisted concoction ate through even solid stone.
Slade rolled, came up to one knee, and sprinted toward the Joker.
The madman held some kind of revved-up squirt gun in his hands, still spewing acid. There was a reason no self-respecting mercenary used acid as a projectile. The Joker aimed again, but for someone used to dodging bullets, predicting the arc of a spray was trivial.
Slade weaved under the stream as he crossed the room in quick strides.
Another slash.
The acid gun split cleanly in half under his sword.
Joker swung his cane toward Slade's ribs. Slade batted the strike aside with his blade and stepped inside the man's reach, closing the gap before the clown could retreat.
"Strokey, if you wanted to see me you could've just called!" Joker cackled.
Slade answered with a brutal slash aimed for the man's throat.
Joker jerked back and caught Slade's wrist with his gloved hand. A violent electric shock surged through Slade's arm as the buzzer hidden in the glove discharged. The jolt forced Slade to release one of his swords, the weapon clattering to the floor.
Joker laughed harder. "Little handshake surprise!"
Slade ignored the pain and drove forward anyway. His fist slammed into Joker's stomach hard enough to knock the air from the clown's lungs. Joker staggered but grabbed Slade's vest, dragging him into a messy grapple as they traded short punches and elbow strikes.
The Joker's grin never faded.
Slade feinted a strike toward the clown's neck. Joker snapped his hand up again, grabbing Slade's wrist as another surge of electricity crackled through his body.
Slade had expected it.
His other hand was already moving.
The knife came down toward its real target.
"Tickles, doesn't it—whoa!" Joker kicked both legs up into Slade's chest, the sudden impact shoving him back a step.
"Tch. Lucky bastard." Slade bent down and picked up the knife that had only clipped Joker's pants.
"Hey, hey, hey! That's against the rules!" Joker pointed accusingly.
His pants promptly slid down, exposing clown-themed boxers underneath.
"Rules?" Slade scoffed.
"No below the crotch unless it's funny," Joker replied, looking genuinely offended. "Vulgar humor is only funny with perfect timing! Overdone sex jokes are the worst form—"
Two bolas snapped through the air.
One wrapped tightly around Joker's raised arms while the other bound his legs. The madman, too lost in his rant to react, toppled over immediately.
Slade strode forward and looked down at Joker with open contempt as he aimed the knife toward the prize.
"Usually I take no pleasure in these jobs," he said coldly. "But I'm going to enjoy doing this, clown."
He flipped the knife in his hand and moved to complete the request.
A gunshot cracked through the room.
The bullet knocked the blade clean out of his hand just as he was about to bring it down. Slade's eyes widened as he tried to move, but he was already a second too late.
The next shot slammed into his chest.
Slade grunted as the round pierced his armor and knocked him backward onto the floor. There was only one marksman he knew capable of making that kind of shot.
"Piss off, Deadshot!"
He rolled and ducked out of the window's line of sight. Slade nearly growled when he saw Joker shimmying across the floor toward the front window like a cockroach. The madman had apparently realized they needed him alive for the payout.
The clown had tears in his eyes now, babbling nonsense, but Slade ignored him. If he could just sprint—
Footsteps approached the room.
Good. Once Rose got here—
He frowned.
Those footsteps were too heavy.
Blond hair and a gray hockey mask appeared in the doorway. Their eyes met as another mercenary stepped inside.
Sportsmaster.
What the hell was Rose doing?
The sound of shattering glass snapped Slade's attention toward the window. A familiar figure stepped through the broken frame: tall, lithe, and unmistakable. The Asian woman held a black blade loosely at her side.
Slade's eyes slowly narrowed.
Lady Shiva.
The three assassins studied each other in silence.
Deathstroke's irritation boiled immediately. They were trying to steal his contract, even though he had the obvious first claim.
Slade rose slowly, drawing both swords as his regeneration began knitting the bullet wound closed. Two enemies inside and one target on the floor. A third assassin remained outside, peeking through the shattered window.
"While I'm flattered by all the attention," Joker chimed in nervously, and Slade could see the sweat on the madman's face, "I must say I can't quite tell what's going on."
"You didn't know, you freak?" Sportsmaster laughed darkly. "Your crown jewels and cock are worth millions. So be a good little clown—"
Lady Shiva moved first.
She leaped forward, her blade stabbing downward in a lethal arc.
Slade scowled as his own sword flashed up to meet hers. Steel clashed, and he shoved her backward with brute force.
Sportsmaster pulled a puck from his belt and aimed it at them.
A shockwave blasted outward from the trick weapon.
The force sent all of them sliding backward across the room.
The wall behind them gave way under the pressure, chunks of concrete tearing loose as debris rained down. Slade caught the flicker of motion as a dart flew from Sportsmaster's hand.
A gunshot boomed.
The dart shattered midair, inches from Joker's crotch.
"EEEK!" The still-bound clown wriggled on the floor like a trapped rat. "This isn't funny at all! I'm a PG clown!"
Amateurs thought they could steal a contract from him!
"His balls are mine!" Slade snarled.
"Go eat shit, Slade!" Sportsmaster drew a fencing rapier and charged.
"They are mine to remove," Lady Shiva said coldly, sending both men deadly glares.
"BATMANNNNN! SOMEBODY CALL BATMAN!" Joker shrieked from the floor as he continued wriggling helplessly.
&&&
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.