Deathstroke: Year One

Part Two

By JoeyJoell

1999-Cadmus Labs, Australia

Wires and needles shoot into Slade Wilson's flesh as he is suspended on a wall, connected to various pipes full of a green substance. His hair is halfway white and looks thinner, aging shown on his face and an incredible amount of scars on his abdomen. To his side, a man in a lab-coat, short, balding and thin, he leans over a computer, typing away while his eyes burn to stress. Constantly jumping from wall to wall, the lab-coated scientist stops to look at Slade, who painfully opens his eyes, light shocking them.

Scientist: Hello? Are you awake?

Slade: What do you think?

Scientist: I'm sorry, General Lane insisted that we stop using any type of sedative.

Slade: Wants me to suffer, I see.

Scientist: I can give you some anaesthetic, if you want.

Slade: Let Lane get what he wants.

Scientist: Are you sure?

Slade: I'm sure.

The scientist goes to press a button, the click is like a funeral bell as Slade goes into infinite pain, scorching every organ, every layer of his skin, every centimetre of his body. Instantly, his hair loses even more colour, the slightly grey parts becoming bleached white and the coloured areas turning grey, the blank white making its way up from the roots to ends. Constant screaming projects from his mouth, which begins to pour blood, along with the pores in his skin. But all of a sudden... everything turns white, flashes of memory begin playing in his mind's theatre, Slade taking a seat and chomping at the popcorn. Looking back in time.

1994-Pakistan

A green-yellow glow is spread throughout a green, large, candle-lit tent, a shadow scaling the walls. Following the feet of the shadow is a large, muscular man, Slade Wilson, his left eye bruised, wearing a kind of combat gear. Bullet shells cover the left side of his chest, while a retracted blade lies on his right wrist, even more bullet shells surrounding that. Two guns are holstered on each side of his hips, while a sword rests on his back in a sheath. In front of him sits a large crate, a yellow and black mask on top of it, which he picks up and places on his head, a perfect fit. The top of the crate is lifted, revealing a large automatic gun, with a scope, red light pointer and a blade near the barrel. A seemingly infinite amount of magazines are below it, blending in together like a black sea. The zip on the tent turns, a gap between the door area and the rest of the tent forming, until the door area becomes a hole, a man dressed similarly walking through it. His mask, unlike Slade's, is made of metal, a red glowing eyepiece where his right eye stays. Black armour over a red long sleeved Kevlar shirt, with black combat trousers and two gun holsters at the waist. Bullet-shells are strapped along his chest, while a large automatic gun, similar to Slade's is strapped onto his back.

Slade: Got all dressed up, rookie?

Lawton: Speak for yourself. What's with the mask?

Slade: It's a medal of honour. Are Kane and Fyres ready?

Lawton: As they'll ever be.

Slade lifts the gun from the crate, as well as a few magazines that he straps to his armour.

Slade: Well then, let's do it.

Slade and Lawton exit the tent, finding their selves in a sandy area, with four more tents sharing the green-yellow glow, lighting up the night. A woman and man stand in the centre, holding similar rifles to the two.

Slade: Fyres, Kane.

Kane: Would you look at that? Baby's first day out.

Lawton: ...and it'll be your last if you keep pissing me off like that.

Kane is a quite tall woman, her mask navy blue with two eye-holes, her hair in a ponytail sticking out of the back of it. She wears similar armour, with even more bullet shells attached to her, and knives instead of guns holstered. Fyres, who stands next to her is the only one without a mask, his hair is greying, the blonde disappearing and his grey eyes almost sinking. He is similarly armoured, two batons, holstered on his waist and an American flag pin on his Kevlar.

Fyres: So... let's do it.

Islamabad, Pakistan

The four mercenaries have surrounded a large building that serves as a light source to the slums of Pakistan, its glowing light stretching out to the otherwise dark streets filled with poverty and desperation. Floyd Lawton lies on his stomach from an opposite building, aiming a sniper rifle at the building, while Fyres and Kane stand atop the roof and Slade is inside, climbing up the elevator shaft. It's quite tiring, leaping from wall to wall, jabbing his knives into the gap between bricks, groaning. He continues to groan, reaching above himself and jabbing his knife into the next gap, and the next gap, and the next gap.

Kane (communicator): You okay up there?

Slade: Happy as can be.

Kane: Good.

Slade:...wait... keep talking.

Kane: Why?

Slade: I need something to... *he climbs farther up* NYAGH... distract me.

Kane: Is our little veteran afraid of heights?

Slade: Y'know, you're welcome to do this for me.

Kane: Fine, I'll keep talking... have you seen Pulp Fiction?

Slade: Pulp Fiction?

Kane: It's a movie.

Slade: I don't have a lot of free time in my current lifestyle choice.

Kane: Can't sit in a movie theatre for two hours?

Slade: Not without a government agent breathing down my neck.

Kane: Y'know what? We make it out alive, we'll watch Pulp Fiction, all of us. That alright, guys?

Lawton, Fyres (communicator): Sure.

Slade finally reaches the top of the elevator shaft, wheezing as his face turns a plum purple. He groans again, coughing as he pries open the doors, rolling in and lying on his back.

Fyres: Getting tired?

Slade: Have you ever tried to climb up an elevator shaft?

Lawton: Hey Slade...

Slade: What?

Lawton: I...see...you!

Slade: Shut up, rookie.

Lawton: I'm the man with the sniper, here.

Fyres: Lay off the kid, Slade.

Lawton: Will you guys stop calling me a kid?

Slade runs down the corridor, setting off a fire alarm, giving Kane and Fyres the signal to enter the building, guards run towards him but he shoots them all perfectly in the chest, their dead bodies falling to the ground quickly. He reaches a door, shooting out the camera and kicking it in to reach a dining room. Everybody is on their knees as Slade shoots five bullets into the air and letting out an intimidating chuckle.

Slade: You guys on your way?

Fyres: Getting there as fast as we can, Wilson.

Slade: Good, there's too many of them.

Gunfire is heard as Slade is pushed back a bit, a bullet denting his armour. All of sudden, a sea of gunfire is headed Slade's way as he is forced to take cover.

Slade: Motherfucker. Get down here, now!

Fyres: Almost there.

Slade angles his shot almost perfectly and fires, killing tow gunmen as people begin to parade and run for their lives around the dining room, gunfire clouding their screams. Fyres leaps into action, as well as Kane, Kane launching knives into the air and double flipping into cover. Fyres doesn't seem to do anything. He stops, standing as the men in suits don't seem to be shooting at him.

Fyres: Slade Wilson, you are under arrest under the authority of the United States government.

Slade: Goddammit!

The gunfire stops, Slade rising from his cover and Kane looking unsure of what to do. The men point their guns at Slade, while Kane readies her knives.

Fyres: Don't even try, Ms. Kane.

Slade: It was a set up... of course.

Fyres: Apprehend Mr. Wilson and Ms. Kane, would you please?

Slade: You fucking bastard.

The men in suits head towards the two mercenaries, holding handcuffs until a bullet is heard. A large piece of metal hurtling through the air, creating a hole. It's a small hole, red runs out of it and the man who holds it freezes, and then drops. Slade and Kane looking confused. Soon, multiple pieces of metal start flying into the air, and the other men jump on the third eye bandwagon. All except Fyres, whose face turns red, almost as red as those third eyes.

Lawton: Rookie, eh?

Fyres turns and shoots like hell at the building that Lawton stands on, missing every time. Lawton is able to fire at his kneecap, shattering it instantly, Fyres dropping and clutching it.

Slade: Lawton?

Lawton: C'mon, get out of there.

Slade: Way ahead of you.

Slade grabs Kane by the wrist, both of them running to the exit.

A few hours later...

Liverpool, the United Kingdom

Slade, Kane and Lawton all sit together, a lights appearing in front of them as voices launch from the screen. They all chomp on popcorn, laughing every few seconds.

Jules: Does he look like a bitch!?

1999- Cadmus Labs, Australia

Slade awakens, having dreamed of the past, his old life. His life on the run, with the CIA breathing down his neck, cornering him at his every move. A ghost appears before him, a man he hadn't seen in years, Andrew Fyres. He walks with a slight limp, his hair even greyer and his eyes weathered. He smiles.

Fyres: It's so nice to see you again, old friend.

Slade: *coughs* Likewise, bastard.

Fyres: Lawton shattered my kneecap. I lost most of the cartilage, had to take a desk job.

Slade: Yeah, I thought you'd gotten a bit stockier.

Fyres: Don't make me gut you like a fish, Wilson.

Slade: Speaking of guts, yours seems awfully large.

Fyres: Don't push me, Slade.

Slade: Your grudge is with Lawton, not me. Besides, I've got that serum running through my veins, haven't I? Near invincible, they'll make me. I wonder how they'll hold me after.

Fyres: Testing, testing, pushing you to your limits. They'll make you bleed, Slade. They'll lobotomise you after, if they think you're fit for the battlefield and use you as a living weapon, a slave to the country.

Slade: Well, you'd better gut me now.

Fyres: Oh, Wilson. Do you think after saying that, I'd gut you? No. I want to see you suffer, I want to see you scream in agony as they shoot you over and over, seeing if you'll survive the next round of bullets.

Slade: Did Lane send you here to taunt me?

Fyres: No, I just thought I'd say hi to an old friend.

Slade: You used to be a good man, Andy.

Fyres: ...and I deserve an Oscar for it.

Fyres digs a knife deep into Slade's abdomen, Slade squealing and then screaming, Fyres removing the knife, chuckling. The wound instantly begins to heal up, very slowly.

Fyres: Impressive. You know what this means?

Slade: They won't give you the pleasure.

Fyres: You're a strong one, more torture for you.

Fyres walks away, closing the doors in on Slade, Slade laughing.

TO BE CONTINUED...