Chapter 20: Clean, cut, and to the point...

December 3rd, 10:00 p.m

"Hmm... 6 million... Very well, Enigma. I'll accept your proposal. There is a starting fee, of course. I don't work cheap," Deathstroke responded.

"As you wish, Mr. Wilson. How does half now, half later sound?" Enigma questioned as he typed on his keyboard.

Digital bank documents flooded Joker's computer screens. When the collage of documents halted, two large screens appeared, with the financial credentials of both Joker and Deathstroke.

Joker stared at the screen of documents in awe. Joker noticed these were indeed their bank accounts. Joker noticed Deathstroke's 2.8 million dollar, off-shore bank account. Joker noticed his account compared to Deathstroke's was steeply different, with his reading 785,000.

"Why, you dog!" Joker said to Deathstroke, as he gave him a grin, "Hahahahaha!"

Enigma continued smashing keys until the 3 million was transferred to Deathstroke's account. "Oh, and just for a show of good faith," Enigma said, as he transferred 2.5 million to Joker's account.

"Okay, Enigma, I'll accept the contracts. But as far as the heist goes... what exactly are you bringing to the table on the operation?" Deathstroke questioned.

"Well..." Enigma said, as he sat and crossed his fingers together behind the shroud of darkness, "It's very simple, really. I'm gonna rob the bank for you. With a small deed on your ends, we can take more money than the bank has to its name."

"Mmmm! Tell me more, tell me more!" Joker shouted out, with his arms outstretched to the roof.

"The head executive running the bank we'll be hitting has a USB drive around his neck. His office is on the top level of the bank.
He's an uptight English prick with a piss poor attitude. Without a doubt, when you enter and run amuck, he will act as a negotiator in the event.
Get the USB drive from him and plug it into the computer in his office.
With this USB drive, we can shut down the bank's firewall, and digitally upload money ranging from their investors, to their share holders. All in all, it's a win-win: no heavy lifting, no unnecessary time consuming.
Clean, cut, and to the point. Any other plan would be just too stressful!" Enigma plotted.

"Well, well, Mr. Enigma, I look ever so forward to working with you," Joker said with a sinister grin on his face.

"Until next time, gentlemen," Enigma said, as the screens faded to black and returned to their previous settings.

"It would seem you've made a new fan, my boy," Joker joked to Deathstroke.

"Unfortunately, we have to play with him. He's too resourceful to let go. So we will pledge our allegiance for now," Deathstroke said to Joker.

"Hmm... I have the strangest feeling this will be a bitter sweet alliance," Joker pondered.

"Perhaps... But for now, I must go and seek out a few leads on my new contracts," Deathstroke announced. Deathstroke headed for the door, exiting the room.

"Oh, and before you go... Don't forget who you work for," Joker said, as he waved a hand over his chair and stared at the computer.

Deathstroke rushed across the room, snatching Joker from his chair, by the collar.

"Let me make this very simple for you, clown. I work for no one. You sought me out to assist with your pointless endeavors. So if you want your operation to continue, I'd suggest you watch your tongue and tread lightly, or end up as another head on my wall," Deathstroke threatened.

"Oooh! Bitter sweet indeed, my friend. Hahaha! You're so cute when you're angry. Bwaha-hahaha-hahuh!"

Deathstroke threw Joker back into his chair, as Joker laughed and chuckled.

Joker turned his chair to face Deathstroke, as Deathstroke exited the building. Joker rested his leg upon his knee as he crossed his arms. "I'm so anxious to see how this all plays out... Here we come, Gotham! Someone call the Bat out! It's time to play!"

-

December 4th, 10:00 a.m

"I'm so sorry to bother you while you slumber, Master Bruce... But it seems we have an incident on our hands," Alfred frantically expressed.

Bruce pulled the covers over his head, to escape the light Alfred let in through the curtains.

"Master Bruce! Deathstoke and Deadshot are held up at the Gotham City Museum... in a battle to the death! I suggest you wake up this instant!" Alfred barked to Bruce.

Bruce jumped up and ran down the hall.

"When are you going to hire some help!" Alfred shouted to Bruce, as Bruce ran to the Batcave. "He's going to exhaust himself mad," Alfred said to himself.

December 4th, 10:30 a.m

**Pfffffft** The Batwing's hatch shot open and ejected Batman from within its hold. Batman shot into the glass on the roof of the museum, crashing into the museum's attic storage. Batman rushed to the nearest door. Batman stood above the museum, atop a balcony. Batman spotted his adversaries. Deathstroke stood deflecting bullets raining down on him from unknown locations. Deadshot jumped down a balcony, lower to ground floor. Deadshot swung his large bowie knife hard at Deathstroke, colliding hard against his sword.

"Don't leave yourself open!" Deathstroke roared, as he released his lock with Deadshot, back-flip kicking Deadshot's knife from his hands.

Deathstroke landed in a crouched position, and swung himself upward in a circle. Using the momentum, Deathstroke planted a spinning kick into Deadshot's chest, shooting him across the room into the marble wall. Deathstroke jumped into the air and spun horizontally... as Deadshot's knife made its way back to the ground. Deathstroke kicked the knife into Deadshot's left shoulder, impaling him to the marble wall. Deathstroke slowly walked to Deadshot's beat-and-battered body.

"If there's anything you need to say... now's the time," Deathstroke calmly said to Deadshot.

Deadshot peered up, bloody and weak. Deadshot spat a mouth full of blood onto Deathstroke's mask.

Deathstroke grabbed Deadshot by his throat, lifting his limp body into an upright position.

**CHHIIISSSSTTTT** Deathstroke stuck his sword into Deadshot's other shoulder, posting him to the wall.

"AGGGGHHHHH!" Deadshot screamed in agony.

Deathstroke withdrew his pistol and took aim at Deadshot's head.

"This is a dangerous and unsightly field of work! As far as the food chain goes, the weak will always perish in the presence of it's predator. Second of the world, huh?! What better way to go out then by the hands of the first?! Most would consider your death a 'death of admiration...' Now, die with dignity. It's nothing personal. Natural selection... It's the way of the world."