Gotham, Wayne Enterprises
Bruce sat in his office,feet up on the desk, poring through an Acura catalog.
Ever since the unfortunate incident with his prized super car, he had been on the market for a new one. The super car companies had heard of this of course. Few people in the world could afford their cars, and there were even fewer billionaires. So it was that he found himsel looking through a big stack of car catalogs from Acura, McLaren, Ferrari, Koenigsegg, Pagani, Mercedes, Noble, Lotus, Bugatti,Lamborghini and just about every company that made a dangerously fast and expensive car.
He tossed the catalog onto an ever growing pile on his left,which meant he wasn't impressed by their specifications. He eyed the phone on his desk, which was off the hook. He had been forced to leave it off the hook after the 11th call from a gossip magazine. He hoped he hadn't missed any important calls. Spinning his chair round he looked out at the city. Bruce had a thing for floor to ceiling windows, and from the street his office looked like a giant glass box sitting atop the Wayne Enterprises office. The sun hung bright in the sky, the rays splintering out between the buildings in the skyline.
From here it looked so normal. Like a post card photograph of any other big city in the country. No sign of the rot that lay therein. You wouldn't know that it was controlled by criminals, corrupt bureaucrats, dirty cops and protected by a lone vigilante. A lone vigilante that had a massive target on his back. That kind of thing tends to complicate work.
Of course this was going to happen. Did you really think it was going to stop with the GCPD? Your efforts, futile as they may be, are hurting the criminals.
They're losing money. They're bleeding.. And like wounded animals, they're lashing out. But I am a hunter. Hunters strike first, before they can be hurt. The families will put out another contract. This will never end. I'll just have to stay a step ahead.
Make that 10 steps ahead.
The office door opened. His assistant/occasional advisor Susan walked into the room. She had been working at Wayne Enterprises since he was a little boy, and had watched him grow up. When he returned from his 'travels abroad', one of the first things he did was promote her and quadruple her salary. She was one of the few people at the company whom he trusted implicitly. She was experienced, intelligent and level-headed. He swivelled his chair round. "Yes?" he asked.
"Uh.. Bruce, there's a Mr James Gordon here to see you."
Interesting.
"Who?"
"A detective James Gordon?"
"A cop? What does he want?"
"I don't know. He won't say. He was asking around the whole building for you. I would have called to warn you but..." She motioned to the phone on his desk.
"Tell him I left already."
"Bruce, your car is still parked in the street. I think he knows you're here." She hesitated. "Young man,are you in trouble? Should I start looking for another job?"
"No. I'm sure it's nothing serious. Unless its about the insider trading." Her eyes widened. "Joking, joking.." He added with a grin. "All right then, send him in."
"You better not be in trouble Bruce. If you are, you'll be drinking stale coffee and eating dry donuts for months." she said before she left. That wiped the smile off his face.
Bruce straightened his tie unconsciously. He put his hands flat on the table. Then in his lap. Then back on the table.
Relax for god's sake. He knows nothing. No need to fear. He let his hands fall on the arm rests of the chair.
The door opened and the detective walked in. He looked a little haggard. He had dark circles under his eyes and his hair looked a little tousled. There was a bruise forming on his cheek and one lens on his glasses was cracked. His shirt was torn at the hem and his trousers and shoes were caked with dirt. Even his usually perfect handlebar mustache was a little iffy. Bruce took this all in with a cursory glance.
He stood up as Gordon approached the table. Or more accurately, staggered and nearly fell as he approached the table.
"Whoa there. Looks like you've had a rough day detective." Bruce remarked with real concern as he helped Gordon into a seat.
"I have. Gotham will do that to you." He replied.
"Mind if I ask what happened to you?"
Gordon waved it away. "I'm sure you'll see it on the evening news. Anyway, this isn't about me."
"Naturally. So, to what do I owe the pleasure?"
Gordon smiled and tipped his head a little. "Most people wouldn't consider a Gotham cop dropping in on them as a pleasure."
"I like to help in any way I can."
Gordons eyes darted around the room, noting the numerous vehicle catalogs. "I hope I didn't interrupt anything."
"No. I don't really do much around here anyway. I just get this fancy office because my name is on the building."
"Car shopping?" Gordon asked as he picked up a Ferrari catalog.
Classic black-ops interrogation technique. Make your mark sweat, don't let them know your purpose. Eventually they'll start to ask questions. Slip up. And that proves their culpability. You're in the wrong line of work Gordon. A guy with your skill set should be in the FBI, minimum.
"Yeah. My old car is.. indisposed."
"Shame. It was a sweet ride. Many a time we clocked you going well over the recommended speed limit." He gave Bruce a look.
Bruce simply shrugged.
"I saw the one in the parking lot. The cherry red Ferrari 458? Very nice." Gordon remarked.
"Thanks. But the Veneno will always be my favorite."
"Anyway, I'm here to ask you some questions about the gala that took place at your hotel. Standard stuff." He said as he put down the catalog.
"Oh?" Maybe he was just making small talk. Stop being so paranoid.
"Yes." He pulled out his notepad. "Now, you were at the Blue Marlin Hotel 3 nights ago, correct?"
"Yes. At the gala."
Gordon nodded. "There was an attack. A mercenary by the name of"-he flipped a page-"Deathstroke the Terminator"-
"Like the movie?" Bruce interjected.
"Yeah, like the movie. Although this Terminator is in the business of killing people, not machines."
"Really?" Bruce asked incredulously.
"Yes." Gordon said, slightly irritated.
"So he was there to, what, kill someone?"
"I'll be asking the questions Mr Wayne."
"Of course. Of course. How rude of me. Ask away."
"According to witness statements from several different people, you attacked this Deathstroke character. You managed to hold him off long enough for Superman to get there and finish off the job."
Bruce simply nodded.
"Thats a very heroic thing you did Mr Wayne. You saved a lot of lives. This man had quite the rep sheet. He was responsible for the assassination of several high profile targets. Ever heard of Alexander Litvinenko? Apparently he was behind it."
"I'm sorry to interrupt, but I notice you keep referring to him in the past tense."
Gordon sighed wearily. He seemed to sag in his chair. "Look, I'm really not supposed to tell you this but, as you'll find out about it in a few hours anyway, I don't see the harm. Deathstroke is dead. Can't tell you how, where or why. I'm just here to wrap up the investigation, so if we could just finish up here. I have a few questions, that's all."
What a relief, he thought. "By all means, proceed."
The detective flipped through some pages.
St. Maria Hospital
The entire hospital had been on full alert for several hours. Everything was normal in the lower floors. Doctors checked on their patients or sat in the lounge. Nurses made their rounds. Masses of people sat in the waiting room. Those waiting on news clearly distinguished by their panic stricken expressions. A little boy ambled up to a trash can and vomited violently inside it. Business as usual.
The upper floors were another story. There was heavy police activity. Yellow tape cordoned off several areas. Paramedics moved up and down with stretchers bearing wounded people. In most cases the stretchers carried body bags. The walls were covered in blood in some places, in some places they had only droplets, in others there were complex spatters. The walls were so bullet riddled they looked like swiss cheese.
"Damn. This is what they call a clusterfuck." said one officer.
"Yep. You should have seen what it looked like before they cleaned out the bodies and all the blood."
The officer looked around."They cleared the scene?"
"Of course. No need for investigation. We know who did it. There's CCTV footage. What does it matter anyway? The guys dead."
"Not my point. You mean the place looked worse than this?"
"Yep. It was like Egypt."
"What?"
"Y'know, river of blood?"
"I was raised atheist."
"Oh."
"I heard the video is some scary stuff."
"Yeah. It's kinda like watching Paranormal Activity. Except there is way more violence and you know it's real."
"Heard he got Jensen." said another officer as she walked up to them.
"Oh man. Really?"
"Yep. Flattened him with a vending machine. Poor guy was just a rookie. Got Ealy and Cole too. Snapped Ealy's neck like it was a toothpick. Shattered Cole's skull with a fire extinguisher. Alvarez is in the ICU. Broke damn near every bone in her body. Her spine is fractured. He had her in a bear hug. She's the only survivor."
"I heard Gordon survived too."
"Who?"
"You know. Glasses, mustache, red brown hair. Ex- Special Forces guy?"
"Nope. Don't know him."
"He's not on the take. Guy that hospitalized Flass."
"I heard that was a rumor."
"It happened man."
"Oh, that guy? Smokes, right?"
"Yup. That's him."
"Damn. Are those all the casualties?"
"Not even close. Those are just the guys he killed when he ran out of ammo. This guy was the MacGuyver of murder. Killed 15 of ours with scalpels, a wheelchair,de-fibrillators.."
"Damn."
"I hear things only got worse when he got his hands on surgical instruments."said one officer. "Heard he decapitated 3 guys with one stroke."
"Killed 12 on the top floor with a pistol. Headshots,right between the eyes, every single one. Killed about 52 cops before they vaporized his ass. Pumped him so full of lead you could use him as a lightning rod. Scary thing is, he wasn't dead. Not yet." The female officer added.
"Damn. Why the hell were there so many of our guys around anyway?"
"Capn's orders. Beef up security. Apparently the guy woke up from a coma overnight. They were worried he might try to escape."
"Jesus F christ. He did all this after waking up from a coma? What is this, Kill Bill?"
"Dunno man. It's crazy."
"How many shots did it take to kill him?"
"Hell if I know. All of them. You ever seen The Godfather?"
"Yeah."
"Remember that scene where Sonny gets killed?"
"Yeah."
"Picture that. Now multiply it by 10."she held up both hands.
"Damn."
A burly firefighter walked past them carrying a huge power saw.
"What the hell is that for?"
"He.. harpooned some of our guys. They're stuck in the walls."
"So he's cutting the bodies?"
"Nope. They got the bodies down. The guy used bedframes as makeshift spears. They're stuck so deep in the walls no one can pull them out, so they have to cut them in half."
"God damn. Who the hell was this guy?"
"I have no idea. Heard some of the guys say he was a terminator."
"What, like the movie?"
"Uh huh."
A paramedic moved past them, wheeling on his gurney the body of a young nurse with two large syringes sticking out of her eye sockets.
"Have some respect for god's sake. Use a body bag."
"We're out of body bags." came the reply.
"Damn."
"This is definitely what they call a clusterfuck." The officer said.
Morgue The paramedic, Jared, wheeled the body down into the morgue. He wiped a tear from the corner of his eye.
"Damn Rosie. I'm sorry. I'm so sorry." He sobbed as he draped a sheet over her body. He looked at the bodies that filled the room from wall to wall. He walked slowly over to the corpse of the man responsible. He didn't look as bad as the cops said he did. He looked pretty terrible. One eye missing. Battered and bruised, his long blonde hair crusty with dried blood and dirt. He looked pretty shitty,but he didn't look like someone who had 'died like Sonny did times 10'. Another tear rolled down Jared's cheek.
"Rosie was a civilian. I don't understand why you had to kill her." More tears rolled down his face. He spat into the empty eye socket. "Fuck you asshole!"
Quite suddenly a hand clamped around Jared's throat, crushing it in its vice-like grip.
He tried in vain to get away, but the hand just stayed there. Bright spots danced before his eyes. He looked down to see the one eyed man looking at him.
"You're...kkkfthhh...dead... kkk...impossible.."
In response the grip tightened. Jared tried everything. Punching, kicking, scratching. It had no effect.
"GGGGKKKRFSHHH..GHSKSRSHHH..GHHhhhrkshh...kkkk..."
His limp body fell to the floor.
The pain was nearly unbearable. But he had to move. Now. While the adrenaline was pumping. Someone would be coming back soon. He hobbled over to the nurse, Rosie's corpse. There was still the faint smell of lavender and alcohol rub on her body.
"Sorry Rosie. Wrong place wrong time." he whispered. He pulled out the syringes from her eyes and jabbed one into his arm, depressing the needle only a little bit. After a few seconds the pain began to slowly abate. He hobbled back to Jared's body and stripped him as quickly as he could. He stuffed the syringes into his pockets. The clothes were on the small side,the shoes pinched his feet terribly. But they would have to do. He placed Jared's body on the gurney and covered it with a sheet.
He was starting to feel much better. But he had to get these bullets out of him. Not only did they hurt like hell, but they were a liability. Infection, or worse, lead poisoning, would occupy his healing factor too much. He knew a guy, not too far from here. He wouldn't ask any questions.
Slade broke the steel door at the back of the morgue, wincing at the stiffness in his legs and the bullets scraping against each other in his flesh. He stepped outside into the cold morning air.
A/N: Slade will be back. When? I don't know. I want him to be a long-run villain. Showing up every now and then. Don't hold your breath waiting for him.
Brief note on his character. I've always liked Slade best when he has some sort of moral code, but when that moral code is flexible e.g killing a nurse that was really nice to him to save his own ass.
If you haven't watched the scene in The Godfather where Sonny dies, I suggest you do so ASAP. In fact, drop everything now and go watch all 3 films.
On a random note, Saint Maria Auxilatrix is the patron saint of assassins.
I don't know when I'm going to write again. I'm physically exhausted, so I hope the chapters I've been pumping out these past few days will tide you over for some time. I'll probably be back real soon though. I do need to revise too. Get F's instead of U's. Until next time.
As always, read and review.