This inside of Legends was like just about any other VFW bar Percy had been in. Old photographs of men and woman from all over the globe, fighting on any number of continents. Old flags, scarred with the effects of battles or trophies from various theaters of combat.
There were only a handful of patrons in the bar, not unexpected given that it was barely past noon, but that served Percy just fine. He grabbed a table in the corner of the room, but near enough to the door that Ogami would see him as he came in. Percy had only been seated long enough to order a pair of draft beers from the host before Ogami walked through the door. A tall Black man, a few inches taller than Percy himself and built like a house, Ogami cut an impressive figure. The sun shone off of his bald head, and his dark brown eyes met Percy's before he made a beeline for him.
Ogami had been in the teams with Percy, though he had been running with a different team than Percy. But, they had worked together a handful of times, and Percy knew him well enough to know that he wouldn't be able to stop himself from helping, in spite of his own reservations about Percy.
"Thanks for meeting with me, Ogami," said Percy meaningfully, only to receive a mild grunt in response. Percy bit back an exasperated sigh. He wasn't surprised by the response. Percy had garnered a reputation after the botched mission in Biyalya. His entire team had been very publicly executed, but Percy had somehow managed to worm his way out.
The only survivor.
There had been a lot of questions about what happened, and while Percy had been eventually cleared, his reputation had been stained forever. Percy couldn't blame the other teams. Had he been in their shoes, had watched as an entire team save for one man had been publicly murdered, he would have had his suspicions as well.
But he needed answers. Knowing that Ogami wasn't going to be feeling very talkative, Percy reached into his pocket and withdrew the bullet that had been shot at him the previous night.
"I'm investigating an ongoing murder spree," explained Percy rolling the bullet onto the table. "I have three bodies so far. Each one has had their brains blown to pieces with one of these. Each shot, seemingly more improbable or impossible than the last. Was hoping maybe you'd be able to give me something on whoever would shoot something like this."
Ogami was staring at the bullet, his eyes wide. Reaching down he wrapped his long fingers around the bullet and brought it up to his eyes to investigate it further.
"Damn," he muttered, "Was hoping I'd never have to another one of these damn things again,"
"You've seen these before?" Asked Percy, unable to hide the excitement in his voice.
Ogami nodded, his face solemn, "Yeah…yeah I recognize this." He sighed and rolled the bullet back to Percy, "And unfortunately, I know damn well who it is you're looking for."
"And?" Prompted Percy,
"Goes by the name Deadshot. No idea what his actual name is, but he calls himself the best marksman in the world. Always hits his target, never misses, regardless of how difficult the shot."
Percy, who had since brought his notepad out wrote down a quick series of notes. "You said you ran into him before?"
"Back in '08," said Ogami, "We were pulling a defector out of North Rhelasia. We thought we had gotten out clean, right up until that smug son of a bitch rolled up on us." His fists clenched tightly as his jaw locked,
"You remember Connolly?"
"Yeah," nodded Percy, "Came out of the same BUD/S class. He was good people,"
"He was," agreed Ogami, "Up until that bastard shot clean through him to kill the defector. We didn't even know what had happened. One minute, we were bunkered down in this building on the outskirts of the DMZ waiting for our pickup, the next thing we know Connolly's bleeding out on the floor and the defector's head looked like he'd spent a night with Gallagher."
His lips tightened into a snarl, "There was a fucking hole in the wall, barely the size of a damned nickel, and that son of a bitch had managed to shoot through it, through Connolly, and into the defector."
"Fucking hell," muttered Percy, leaning back into his chair as he ran a hand through his hair,
"Gets better," grimaced Ogami, lowering the collar of his shirt to show off a mess of contoured flesh and scars just under his collarbone. "Bastard wasn't satisfied with taking down just the defector, he wanted to make sure that the rest of us were down for the count too. It was nothing short of a fucking miracle that we got out of there in one piece."
He looked down at his hands as he let go of his shirt,
"For the most part, anyways."
"Jackson," said Ogami, his eyes flashing dangerously, "If this guy is in Gotham, then you might as well kiss whoever it is this guy is after goodbye." Percy finished jotting down a few notes, before throwing a wad of cash on the table and standing up,
"I'll be the judge of that,"
BREAK
Percy had taken the information he had gotten back to Montoya, who had brought Bullock into the fold. Given his expansive knowledge and close proximity to the Falcone investigation, it was the logical decision and Percy didn't question it.
After running the name Deadshot through a few federal databases, they were able to get their hands on a semi-complete file on Deadshot, otherwise known as Floyd Lawton.
Lawton was a career hitman. His total kill-count wasn't known, but it was believed that it was easily in the triple digits. He had taken contracts all over the globe, and his M.O. was getting to his targets in ways that no one else would have been able to. If someone needed an impossible shot to be made, then they hired Deadshot.
Given what he had managed to do in Gotham, Percy wasn't surprised.
"We need a list of potential victims," said Montoya as she shuffled through a stack of papers on her desk, "If we figure out who he's after next, we can probably cut him off before he gets too close."
"I just can't figure out why the hell Winston was targeted," said Percy gruffly as he looked through a stack of files on various Falcone family Capos. "I mean, I get the other guys, they were friends of Salvador, and they were running profitable operations for the family, but why go after Winston? What sense does that make?"
"It doesn't," grunted Bullock, "But when it comes to these types, there isn't any sense to 'em."
"Helpful, Harvey," muttered Montoya, "Don't stress too much about it, Metro. Let's just focus on what we know for sure. We know that Lawton is going to be going after important people in Sal's circle." She held up a picture of a young man, "Antonio Guile?"
"Works the construction jobs for the family," said Bullock, "His old man was a capo, but jr. there never could cut it like his dad. Never really lived up to the hype, but was kept close because he and Sal were friends when they were kids. I'd put good money on him being on the list too."
"Any chances that he might go after Sal himself?" Asked Percy, "I mean, if we're thinking strictly pragmatically then wouldn't it make the most sense to just off him? The entire thing would probably die with him that way."
"Sal and Christian might be pissed at each other right now, but there's no way that Christian would order the death of his own brother," said Bullock,
"At the end of the day, family is everything to these people. Add Guiles to the list, make him a high-priority. If Christian gets his hands on the construction company, then he effectively owns the biggest money makers and money laundering operations for the family." He fished around in his own stack for a few moments before holding up another stack of names,
"I'd also say we put details on Mark Colombo, Frank Espisito, and Lorenzo Bianchi. All three are prominent members of the family and old friends of Sal. I'd be willing to bet my salary that they're on the list in one form or another."
Percy jotted the note down on the table, and let out an aggrieved breath,
"This is going to be impossible to keep quiet," he observed, "If he sees us putting this much of a police presence on the targets, what's to say that he doesn't just tuck and run?"
"Given that this guy is supposed to be some kind of all-time badass?" Said Bullock with a snort, "I'd say it doesn't matter too much. You said this guy somehow managed to ricochet a fucking bullet through an inch-wide gap in a doorway. I don't think he's going to be worried about a bunch of cops around his targets,"
Bullock scoffed and shook his, "Can't believe that we're actually going out of our way to protect these bastards," he spat, "We might be better off just letting them kill each other. Save us the headache."
"Don't go there Harvey," said Montoya warningly,
"Oh come on Renee," scoffed Bullock, "Don't tell me that you aren't thinking the same thing,"
"You think I like this, Harvey?" Demanded Montoya, slamming her stack of files on the table angrily. Loose pieces of paper shot into the air as they were disturbed,
"I grew up here, Harvey, I was there when Chris and Sal's old man was still running things! When the Falcone and Maroni families were killing each other in the streets. My fucking dad was shot because of those bastards, you really think I enjoy the idea of trying to keep these bastards alive?"
"Jesus Renee, calm down," said Bullock placatingly, pulling a loose cigar from his pocket and chomping on the end of it nervously, "I was just saying is all,"
"We don't get to pick the victims," said Percy bitterly, "Murderous shit or not, we don't get to decide who lives or who dies and we don't get the choice of sitting idly by while someone else decides to take matters into their own hands." Percy threw his own files on the table and took a tired sip from his mug of stale coffee,
"Besides, it's hardly like he's doing us a favor. Bastard is a hired gun. Nothing more, nothing less. He makes his living in blood, of killing potentially innocent people for the highest bidder. If it helps, don't think about it as protecting Falcone's boys, but protecting all the potential future victims of this freak."
Bullock didn't have anything to say, and Percy clicked his tongue in annoyance,
"Now that we're all on the same page," said Percy, "Let's get to work."
BREAK
Percy ducked under another tree branch, doing his best to step quietly and not to disturb more than he absolutely had to. The hour was late, well past midnight, and Percy had only just been relieved by the overnight watch. He had been assigned to detail over Guiles, and for the next gods only knew how many days, Percy would be acting as the man's veritable shadow. However, Percy had a feeling he knew how things would play out, and had decided that he had had enough of playing on the back foot and the time was right to begin playing a little more offensively.
For the last several hours, Percy had been hiking through the forest behind Guiles' home. Much like the other prominent members of the family, Guiles lived in the suburbs, only a couple of miles away from where the other men had been killed. Percy thought he had a good idea how things would play out. Deadshot had proven that he was nothing if not a creature of habit, and thorough.
So, Percy had spent the last several hours scouring the woods all over the neighborhood, looking for any and every potential sniper's nest that Deadshot would potentially use. In each spot, Percy laid down a series of the same seal arrays that he had used to track Megan several months ago. They would alert him whenever someone had stepped into the clearing, and Percy would be able to arrive to that point simultaneously. It meant that he would be required to vapor-travel, but given that Deadshot had already killed three men, and had tried to kill Percy, Percy was willing to sacrifice his ideals in the name of putting the bastard down.
Even if it pissed him off.
It was potentially a long shot, but Percy was working with less than nothing and he would work with what he could. As he finished setting up the last set of arrays, he could only hope that this would be enough.
With his work done, Percy slipped back into the forest, and prepared to bide his time.
BREAK
Christmas came and went with nothing to show for it. There had been no additional murders. No new attacks, and Percy and Montoya had begun to think that maybe Deadshot had only been assigned to kill the three men he had, and had already left the country. However, after checking with the tollways, train stations, ferries and airports, there had been no indication that Floyd Lawton or even anyone looking like him had left the city.
Percy was convinced that he was still in the city, though Montoya had her doubts. But in spite of her reservations, they had stayed on top of their protective details. Percy had followed Guiles everywhere he went, only pausing every couple of hours to swap sleep shifts with a couple of uniformed officers.
It was boring, tedious work, but Percy could be a patient man when he wanted to be.
The snow was falling softly that New Year's Eve night, as Percy sat in his patrol car outside the home of Antonio Guiles. He was hosting a party that evening in which Salvador Falcone would be in attendance. It was still early in the evening, but there were already a large number of cars and attendants inside the home.
Stifling a yawn, Percy poured more coffee from his thermos into the lid and tipped it back. It was stale and cold, and his legs had grown stiff after staying in the cramped confines of his car for the last six hours. Groaning in agitation, he twisted his neck to the side and enjoyed the way it popped. He was just about to pour himself another lid full of coffee when a jolt of energy coursed through his chest. His coffee landed in the cup holder with a slam, coffee sloshing over the lid and spilling onto the console but Percy didn't even notice.
One of his alarms had just gone off.
He was out of his car with his phone in his hand and taking off at a dead sprint down the street. Montoya answered after the first ring.
"I need every available unit at Guiles' right now!" Said Percy as he dashed into the trees in preparation for his vapor travel,
"You see something?" Asked Montoya, as Percy heard her engine roar to life in the background,
"Just get here!" Thundered Percy as he ended the call and withdrew his side-arm. Snow flurried around his feet and he disappeared in a flash of water vapor as he travelled toward where his trap had gone off. He landed in the trees a few meters away from the clearing. He could see a dark shape lying in the snow and Percy brought his side-arm level as he approached quickly. Knowing he wouldn't have much time, he didn't waste any more trying to be subtle.
As he burst through the clearing, Percy got his first look at Deadshot. He was dressed head to toe in a red, heavily armored jumpsuit. His face was covered in an equally armored face mask and Percy could make out some kind of device covering where his right eye should have been.
"Police! Drop your weapon!"
Almost faster than Percy's body could react, Deadshot had whipped onto his back and was firing in Percy's direction. However, Percy's body was naturally faster. He dove out of the way of the rounds just as they ripped into the trees behind where he had been standing a moment before. Brining his pistol up he let off a flurry of his own shots, but Deadshot rolled out of the way.
Percy was forced to duck behind the cover of a nearby rock as more shots whizzed overhead. Knowing that the rock wouldn't serve as feasible protection against the kind of armament that Deadshot was packing, Percy swiveled and fired off another volley forcing Deadshot to seek his own cover. Using the distraction to his advantage, Percy dashed into the trees, diving into the safety of the darkness created by the night and shadowy branches.
"I was hoping it would be you," called out Deadshot, his voice modulated and distorted as Percy ejected his spent magazine and slammed a new one home and racked a round.
"You're on my list you know. Got a hell of a price on your head, and I've been intending to collect."
Percy was forced to duck to the ground as rounds slammed into the tree he'd been hiding behind.
"I can count the number of people who have managed to dodge my shots on one hand," said Deadshot, as Percy scrambled out of the way of another flurry of shots.
"Congratulations on getting yourself on the list. I don't know how you managed to do it, but you should know that I don't miss twice."
"Pretty sure you've missed more than twice in the last five minutes," Percy shot back.
Growling in aggregation, he summoned a blanket of snow from the ground and wrapped it around himself creating his divine form of camouflage. Whatever that thing on his head was, Percy was certain that it was capable of night-vision or thermals, probably both. But Percy highly doubted that it was capable of tracking magical energy. Loathe as he was to use his powers, he didn't have much choice in the matter.
"That's a neat little trick of yours," snarled Deadshot in frustration as he let loose another flurry of shots where Percy had ice been. However, Percy had not been idle, and as soon as he had gone dark, he had begun making his way towards Deadshot.
"I don't know how you disappear like that, but it doesn't matter. In the end, I always get my man!"
Percy ignored him; he was focused on counting the number of rounds that had been fired. Judging by the size of the rifle, and the magazine Percy had seen, he deduced that Deadshot only had a handful of rounds left. When he was forced to reload, Percy would make his move.
Less than a second later, two more shots cracked through the forest and Percy raced forward. Deadshot was in the middle of replacing his empty magazine as Percy dropped his camouflage and tackled him to the ground. The rifle clattered uselessly into the snow as Percy wrestled with the large man. Deadshot might have been strong, but Percy was stronger. Maneuvering onto his back as he wrapped an arm around Deadshot's neck and pinned his leg's with Percy's own, as he tried to force him into a submission hold.
It would have been a simple matter to kill him then and there, but Percy wanted the man brought in alive. They had questions that only he would be able to answer.
Percy grunted as Deadshot leveled an elbow into Percy's solar plexus, but Percy's grip remained true as he slowly began to increase pressure around the man's neck. He was taking care not to use too much strength and only to choke him enough to knock him out. However, Deadshot was equally quick-witted. A knife appearing from a hidden sheath on his arm, and he jerked his arm up and, to Percy's immense surprise and pain, stabbed through his own shoulder and into Percy's chest.
Percy let out a gasp of pain as his grip slackened on Deadshot, which gave the man the advantage he needed. Slamming his head into Percy, who felt his nose crunch painfully as it was broken, his head slammed into the snow and hardened ground as Deadshot scrambled to break free.
Fighting through the pain and the way the world was spinning, Percy's arm shot out and snagged the back of Deadshot's belt. Pulling Deadshot back to him as Percy leapt to his feet, threw a punch into the kidney of Deadshot, who doubled over in pain. He swung a fist wildly behind him, as a strange contraption on his arm roared to life as bullets ripped through the air. Percy grabbed onto the arm, forcing the bullets into the snow. With a hefty roar, Percy wrapped a hand over the contraption and ripped it free from Deadshot's arm.
Deadshot spun, trying to bring his other wrist-mounted weapon on Percy, but Percy caught that arm as well and kept it at bay. Deadshot, still doubled over, howled in pain as Percy brought his knee up to Deadshot's jaw. Stumbling back, Percy reared back a fist and threw a blow into Deadshot's dazed temple. The man crumpled to the ground, his body limp. Percy, still acting almost exclusively on adrenaline, jumped on the body. Ripping the other wrist-mounted weapon from him. He grabbed a pair of handcuffs and quickly restrained the unconscious man.
Breathing heavily, the endorphin high slowly seeing away from him, he realized with a start that he had used too much strength in his last blow. Panicking, her ripped Deadshot's mask off his face and placed his fingers on the pulse-point of his neck. He let out a sigh of relief as he felt a pulse. He then checked the man's neck, and using his rudimentary understanding of anatomy that he had been taught he couldn't find a point in the man's neck to indicate it was broken in any way.
Satisfied that he hadn't killed or paralyzed the man. Percy set about searching him and stripping him of any and all armaments that he could find. The mundane activity gave Percy an opportunity to think over what Deadshot had said. There was apparently a price on his head, and Deadshot had been on his "list," whatever that meant. That just left the important question of who put the price there? Had it been Falcone, or was it the Shadows? He didn't think it was Falcone. Percy wouldn't have put it past the man to put a contract out on him, but given the way Deadshot had said it, it led Percy to believe that Deadshot had not been ordered by Falcone to kill him.
No, it seemed far more likely that the Shadows would have been the ones to put out the hit. Judging from what little Percy knew about the organization, it seemed to be on brand for them. But that led to a more worrying question. If Deadshot had failed…
Who was going to come after him next?
BREAK
The doors to the throne room closed behind her, and she approached the center of the room. The hour was early, with the first vestiges of sunrise peeking out from behind the distant mountains. There was but a single soul in the room, a tall and lanky man of advancing years. His hair and beard streaked with white, the arms of his shocking green tunic tucked behind his arms. He was not in his throne, but was standing at a railing at the side of the room, gazing out on the coming sunrise.
Shiva knelt in the middle of the room, as she waited for her lord to recognize her presence.
"Rise, Lady Shiva," said the calm and deceivingly gentle voice of Ra's al Ghul. Rising to her feet, Shiva remained silent,
"I have just received word," said Ra's, his tone soft, "That our agent in Gotham has failed in his task. He has just been apprehended by Detective Jackson."
"Deadshot? Or our agents within Falcone's family?"
"Deadshot," said Ra's, still peering out into the horizon.
"My…allies, will be most displeased when they hear of his failure. Twice now, our plans for the detective's death have been thwarted. He has proven far more elusive than initially believed."
"What do you will of me?" Asked Shiva gently, she knew what he would ask of her, but duty and tradition demanded that she hear the orders herself.
"Go to Gotham. Ensure that the Detective does not live to see the New Year. The jet has already been prepared. You will be in Gotham before the festivities commence." He finally looked at her,
"Be swift, and return to me as soon as your job has been accomplished." He directed his gaze back out to the sunrise, as the sun's warm glow raked over him, dousing him in its glowing light.
"By this time tomorrow…the world will have seen…the Light."
AN: We're in the endgame now folks! Only two chapters left and boy are they doozies! Hope your excited and have enjoyed the way this story has been playing out. I can't believe that we're already at the end of the first book, but it's been a blast the entire way through. As always shoutout to Double0Sxvxn for being an awesome Beta and dealing with my bullshit and as always if you enjoyed this but haven't checked out my other work, give them a try you never know you might find something else you like. I'm also on discord now, where I and a bunch of other writers hang out, chat and brainstorm ideas, you just have to copy the link that's in my profile bio if you want to come and hang out with us. Stay safe, stay healthy and have an awesome week.
All My Love and see you next week,
LilDB