Deathstroke: Year One
Part Three
By JoeyJoell
2000-Cadmus Labs, Australia
Voice 1: His body won't be able to take any more of the serum, sir.
Voice 2: He's ready?
Voice 1: He'll need a couple of weeks to adjust, but...
Voice 2: No, I want you to test his limits now and have him ready for the next step as soon as possible, alright? We can't afford to wait.
Voice 1: He'll die, General Lane.
General Lane: Then we'll get another, and then another until it works.
Somewhere, a few days later
A bright light flashes before Slade Wilson's eyes as he awakens, fury in his eyes, blood on his face but no wounds for it to leak from. Trees weave between each other around him as a figure heads toward him, something cylindrical pointed in Slade's face as the figure gets closer, closer. He can just make it out as a man in heavy armour, his rifle almost hitting Slade in the face. Around him, a few other men in seemingly identical armour, they stare, their eyes peeping through the masks that hide their faces.
Man: He's awake.
Slade growls, instantly pulling on the barrel of the rifle and tearing it from the rest of the gun, before the soldier has time to react, he close lines him, instantly knocking him unconscious. He stamps out his head, killing him as his face caves in, gunfire, time moves slowly as Slade dodges the bullets, weaving through their deadly trail. He lunges at a soldier, gripping his armour, forward rolling in the air and throwing him against a tree. Slade pulls a knife from another soldier's belt and throws it, impaling the man and pinning him against the tree, he then turns, punching the soldier's face and then snapping his neck. The final soldier contemplates running, but before he can decide, Slade leaps towards him and fly kicks him, the soldier being thrown against a tree while Slade removes a gun from a soldier's cold unmoving body. BLAM.
A couple of branches start to move, Slade instantly detects this, his eyes shooting to the rhythm of the moving bristles.
Slade: What the hell did they do to me?
Faster, faster, the branches weaving between each other, figures rushing as Slade turns to them, his eyes locking onto them as he sprints after his target, the hunted noticing and running away. The hunter's legs move like lightning, a face of determination as he rips through the trees and screeches.
Runner 1: Please, we don't want any trouble!
Runner 2: Oh fuck this.
The second runner turns, holding a large machine gun and fires into the unknown, all of the bullets miraculously hitting Slade. He brushes them off, the bullets popping out as his body heals. The runner drops his gun, clapping his hands together and creating a fireball, launching it at Slade. It knocks the terminator on his back, however, he instantly recovers and gets to his feet.
Runner 1: Come on, let's go!
Runner 2: No! Go back to the group, call for help!
Slade deflects a fireball with his bare hands, the flesh sizzling away but then growing back. A sight of worry on the runner's face as he blasts Slade with another fireball, it burning at his torso, Slade screeching until escaping from the blast and sliding under. Without giving the runner a moment of reaction time, Slade sweep kicks him, knocking him over. He lifts the dropped gun, pointing it at the runner's face with his teeth grit.
?: Please, no need to fight, mate.
Slade turns to see a group of five, including the runner from before all holding large machine guns, and at the centre, the leader of sorts, a white haired man. He had grandfatherly eyes, although eyes that could shift to those of a predator, but the face of a man around forty. His hair is in a circa 1940's style, as well as his thick moustache.
Wintergreen: My name is Wintergreen, General Wintergreen. Please. Put down the gun.
Slade: Funny. I knew a man called Wintergreen.
Wintergreen: Knew?
Slade: He was a traitor, ready to kill millions following orders.
Wintergreen: Well, I think you'll find that all of us are notorious for not following orders. All cowards not ready to do what was necessary for Queen and country.
Slade: I'm American.
Wintergreen: I know, it just sounds a lot better when I word it like that.
Slade drops the gun.
Slade: What the hell is happened to me?
Wintergreen: Cadmus happened. Don't worry, the torture, the testing, the beatings everything will come back to you in time. None of us remember once we come out of the lab.
Slade: The lab?
Wintergreen: You'll remember. What's your name?
Slade: Slade Wilson.
Wintergreen: Well, Slade, I think you'd better come with us.
Camp, somewhere
Wintergreen, Slade and the others enter a small camp with homemade tents, fires lighting up the area and a poorly cleared area for living. Many stop and stare at Slade as he enters, the others leaving to their tents while Slade follows Wintergreen to a burning fire. They both sit, Slade still looking confused.
Wintergreen: What's the last thing you remember?
Slade: They threatened my family.
Wintergreen: They'll make you do it any way they can, won't they?
Slade: Yep. So what's your story.
Wintergreen: Treason. Ex British secret service in the 60s, they caught me, spent most of my life locked up until they put me in here. They wanted to see if this performance enhancing serum affected aging, obviously... it did.
Slade: So what is this... where is... this?
Wintergreen: They call it the final stage. They put us on this island, kill or be killed, survival of the fittest. There's rumours around here that there are cameras all over but we never find them. But they're watching us, and when they think we're ready we just disappear.
Slade: This doesn't look much like survival of the fittest to me.
Wintergreen: We decided to stick together, well, most of us... the sons of bitches you took out earlier aren't really what we'd call friends. They ran off a while back, the good thing about them, though is that they tend to disappear. Heh. Those Cadmus bastards take em off the island and do whatever with them.
Slade stares at Wintergreen until clutching the back of his head and groaning.
Wintergreen: Memories coming back, eh?
Wintergreen lifts up from the ground.
Wintergreen: I could kill for a Jammie Dodger right now.
Cadmus Labs, Australia
Sam Lane and a scientist stand watching the events on the island from Slade Wilson's point-of-view, almost looking through his left eye.
Scientist: I still don't think this is a good idea, sir. His body isn't ready.
Sam Lane: Do you think I give a damn, Doctor? There's a war coming, a war that we'll need more than ordinary soldiers for.
Scientist: I'm all for being ahead of the curve, sir, but if this man is the start of something big, I'd be careful with how I'm spending my money.
An uncertain amount of time later...
The Island
Soldier: He's found us! He's found us!
A few of the soldiers from earlier gather their weapons, loading them, cocking them, sharpening them, doing anything to stop the monster that approaches them. Panic is in the air as they all aim their guns north. There's silence for a few seconds until a racket of gunfire and death sprints towards the men, a few figures seen coming down a rocky path. Tear gas is showered down, creating a hazy image as through the gaps you can vaguely see them come even closer. They arrive, the smoke clears. Slade, Wintergreen and a few others arrive, heavy weaponry in hand.
Slade: Alright, boys. Give it all.
TO BE CONTINUED-