Joker was set up in his Black Mask guise as Bane stood nearby. A well-renowned assassin, one of hired, was coming to talk and knowing how the Joker didn't like anybody taking issue with his business, whatever this assassin needed to talk about may just turn deadly. Bane was there as a referee.
Joker smirked and spoke in his normal voice, "I'm really getting a hankering to shoot someone. What about you, big boy, want to snap a few necks for me?"
"Only if absolutely necessary, I do not kill at random," Bane scowled.
"You would suck to bring at parties, you know that?"
Just then a thug came in, gun in hand. "Jok...err...Black Mask, sir, Deathstroke is here."
Joker readjusted his tie and collar before deepening his voice to a nearly identical copy of Roman's. "Of course, let him in."
Bane had heard of Deathstroke and that he had one of the highest kill counts of any mercenary in the world. Even Santa Prisca had tales of him. Regrettably, Bane never met him, but he had high respect for the guy. Some people would even call him a fan of his work.
The doors to the penthouse suite opened and everyone turned their attention to the armor-clad assassin with peak interest. Bane even stared a little as Deathstroke walked in. The man was armed to the teeth with the best weapons and held a very intimidating posture everyone in the room could read as a "don't fuck with me" attitude. It was common knowledge he was ex-military and he probably had more skeletons than the entire attendance currently, even against himself and the Joker combined.
"Ah, Mr. Deathstroke, so nice to see you. I take it you're not here for pleasantries and all that?" The faux Black Mask spoke.
The assassin growled, "I don't know why it's my problem having to babysit that runt of an arms dealer and his idiotic men. I wasn't hired for that. I'm almost tempted to find the Batman myself tonight and kill him before Christmas Eve, send his body over to you wrapped with a bow."
"No! You will follow the rules of the bounty or you get nothing!" Black Mask angrily shouted, almost giving himself away. As soon as he realized it, he cleared his throat and continued, "The Penguin, ahem, is a good arms dealer and a very reliable ally right now. With his help, Gotham will be ours for Christmas and I know that Batman will try to track him down at some point that night once we cause a stir at Blackgate. When he comes for the Penguin, you and Electrocutioner will have your chances though between you and him, I'm betting on you. I like your style more."
Deathstroke huffed, "Fine. I'll let it slide because its fifty million and its Christmas after all but next time, I won't be so lenient."
The Joker in disguise gave an agreeable nod, "Good, glad we could come to a reasonable conclusion. Is that all?"
"All I can say at the moment. You wouldn't want to hear the rest of it."
There was a slight irritable twitch in Joker's eyes behind the mask only Bane seemed to notice but like always, the jester played it off with one of Black Mask's haughty laughs. "As always Deathstroke, a pleasure to be around. So now that we have that settled, Bane will escort you out."
That came as a surprise. Bane wasn't expecting to be called over to escort but then again, the Joker always liked to throw people off. This was going to be interesting though Deathstroke seemed not as intrigued about it. Bane acknowledged the silent order and stood, walking up to the armored man and gesturing towards the door.
"After you, Señor Wilson."
"Heh, never thought you'd be a butler, Bane. I thought you were a mercenary of destruction...or was that misinformed?"
"I suggest you start moving or I will make you go flying through those doors," he hissed.
Deathstroke only chuckled, "Charming."
They left a peeved Joker and several unfortunate henchmen when they exited the room and with Slade walking in front of him, he couldn't help but eye the assassin. A very good build and a sharp mind, the man was set for life alright and he was supposedly almost sixty years old, double Bane's age.
"I can feel your eyes on me. If you have something to say, I suggest you spit it out."
Bane stumbled over his words briefly. "Well, I...um...I have to say I admire your work. The greatest assassin in the world. What you have done to earn that title is quite magnificent. To hear you took up the offer to take on the Bat, I have to ask what do you seek out of dealing with a lone man? Usually, you would take on armies."
Deathstroke slowed himself to walk side by side with Bane as they navigated the Royal Hotel's grand halls. "I took on a job in the Congo for twenty-five million to take out a dictator and his forces and got a few bonuses for my effort including the swords you've been staring at. There's fifty million dollars riding on a single man, one man when I've slaughtered more for half the price. Now I don't know about you but that's a big paycheck for a single target and who am I to refuse a deal like this? Of course, why it's so high had me thinking what the hell did this one man do to earn it? If the Bat's as good as they say, I want to prove I am better and I want him to know it as his life drains from his body impaled by my blade."
"You know it is not just you going for the Bat. There are seven other assassins too including me. I want to be the one that kills him so unfortunately, your wishes may not be met," Bane said.
He heard Deathstroke begin to laugh and gave the man a frown as the latter spoke up. "If you have studied me for as long as you say, you would know that I never fail. The only way you're taking that bounty from me is if you get to him first. Sorry, but those are the rules of common courtesy I would assume you follow and I'm not backing down."
"Fair enough," Bane mused, "but I don't lose either."
Slade stopped right before they reached the elevator and Bane turned to face him so he couldn't attack him from behind. Deathstroke rolled his shoulders in frustration but his voice didn't reflect the emotion.
"Then I guess we have a problem between us. I've studied you too Bane and I know you aren't lying. We're alike, you and I...and that's a problem. The only differences between us are weapons and motives. I mainly do it for money. What do you want the Bat for is my question?"
Bane towered over the man and even the mighty Deathstroke backed away a little from him as his posture went rigid. "My vengeance is to rid myself of a Batman who has plagued me for years and on Christmas Eve, I will kill him to find peace."
"Poetic," Slade sneered. "An assassin's mission should never get personal in my opinion, tends to cloud crucial judgements. Your peace isn't worth fifty million, just saying. Save the trauma for the therapists. I heard Blackgate has a few doctors who are very good at it, assuming they are still around when Roman burns it to the ground."
"You mock my suffering?"
"No, I just don't care compared to my own interests in this. The Bat is mine and you should remember that. Or I will devote my time and effort into hunting you down as payment instead. Sounds hypocritical, I know, but I'm here to kill someone and if it isn't the Bat, it could be you or one of the other assassins. Seem fair enough for you?" Deathstroke snarled.
He quickly passed Bane and activated the elevator. Bane didn't stop him but did shoot him a dark glare. The assassin barely tipped his head in acknowledgement before the elevator doors closed.
Bane almost punched a hole in the wall in anger. Nobody took his kill and Deathstroke, as respectable as he was, wasn't going to get in his way. If Deathstroke made good on such a promise, he would be prepared. After all, he never lost...yet.
A few days before Christmas Eve, he met the assassin again, this time as he came around to check on Penguin and if the small man was keeping his end of the bargain.
While his mercenaries made peace with Penguin's gunmen, Bane wandered around the Final Offer's rest hall where the few remaining suite rooms intact remained. All the other rooms had been torn down or modified to hold more gun rooms and trophy cases. The Penguin was a fan of trophies...including dead men who crossed him and showing how he extracted his revenge as a few fish tanks demonstrated. It was a bit chilling to see men tied by their ankles to the base of the tank and drifting lifelessly just below the surface they couldn't reach.
One door was open and at first, Bane made the respectful choice to walk by and not peek in, leaving whoever it was inside alone.
"A little rude of you not to say hello to a colleague," the occupant said.
Bane turned back and carefully entered through the door into the suite. He was slightly surprised how well kept it was assuming Penguin had hired housekeeping for temporary guests. It had a nice balcony view of the lighthouses beyond Gotham's shores and of the dwindling sun. Above all, the room had a bed and a man dressed in rather casual clothing for an assassin.
Slade chuckled, "What? You expect me to wear my armor twenty-four seven? Did you think I wasn't human underneath?"
For a fifty-some odd-year-old man, Slade was in better shape than most twenty-year-olds. The black dress shirt he wore did no disservice to his figure, in fact it improved it if that was saying anything. White hair never looked better on a person than him and the goatee was nice too. A "silver fox" type guy as the term would be. The eyepatch held a story, one Bane found he might be willing to do anything to find out just what its origin was.
"N-no, no, Señor Wilson, I was expecting you would be doing something tonight, maybe roaming around Gotham to get a sense of the layout. So, naturally, I assumed you would be...armored," Bane gestured as politely as possible.
The smaller man all but cackled now as he closed a book he was reading. "Oh please, I don't give two damns about Gotham. Navigating it is nothing compared to Jump City which has so many ins and outs, you'll think you're losing your fucking mind just going down the street for a coffee. Fun city, hate the people though. If you ever visit there, avoid the Meadows."
"Meadows?"
"Name for the suburbs. Looks like your typical taxpayer homes but a lot of dirt hidden underneath those pristine houses and fancy sidewalks. A lot of questionable folks," Slade mused. "Oh, and by the way, you can just call me Slade. 'Señor' would be for my father if he was still around. I appreciate the respect though."
Bane stood quiet, feeling a little claustrophobic in the suite that had a ceiling that almost touched the top of his head. Definitely wasn't made with his caliber of person in mind. He kind of preferred the Royal Hotel over the suite and that was the only compliment he would ever give that eyesore of a hotel.
"What exactly do you want, Slade?" Bane asked, carefully examining the man's expressions.
"You went looking for my suite, you tell me, Bane."
The larger man scowled, "I was not searching for you, if that's what you mean. I came across you by accident, nothing more. I was looking around the ship hoping this Penguin was as well stocked as they say."
"I don't believe you. There's something you want when you look at me, something I have but you don't and the fearless, proud Bane will do anything to obtain. Or perhaps you don't like competition so you put on this façade of sincerity when in reality deep down, you would rather incapacitate me so you will be the only person capable of taking down the Batman. It's funny, how brilliant you are but how short-sighted pride has made you."
Bane snarled and stepped close to Slade's bed, "You don't know me."
Deathstroke was hardly intimidated. "I know what you are and that's enough to deduce your pride will destroy you. I can see it in your eyes; you are going to make a mistake, Bane, no matter how talented you are. But I guess I strayed a bit far off topic. You want to know what I want? I want you to admit to me what you think of me. Why are you so obsessed with figuring me out? I think I know when a person is checking me out or having a few unnecessary thoughts about what I do when they should be minding their own damn business."
"I was not-look, it's not like that. You can believe what you want but I am not obligated to tell you anything, colleague. If you must know, you are an admirable opponent. I will take our rivalry for the Bat's head with great respect but I still assure you, I will win," he said.
Slade seemed to be contemplating something but before it could be asked what, he got up and stood in front of the taller man with no fear despite Bane could bring a lot of pain for someone so close. He crossed his arms.
"I think I know why you want to understand me. You want to know your enemies, every detail and every weakness. The smallest fact can make a big difference, and it's eating you up inside knowing you don't know what I am capable of aside from rumors and fireside chats. But I know you. I'm a threat to you and your first instinct is to get rid of the threat by any means necessary. You know I can kill the Bat, but you're too afraid to say it out of that weakness of yours, pride."
Bane glared at him before peering off to the side. Deathstroke was unfortunately right. He was as cunning and cutthroat as they say, not skipping a beat to get down to the problem and exploiting people's errors better than Bane could.
"So, I take it we won't be colleagues then?" Slade huffed with a smile, "Pity, but just so you know, I kind of like you too. It's just business, what we do. We both want to win but only one of us can come out on top. Keep in mind, losing a battle doesn't mean you've lost the war."
Deathstroke walked to his balcony to peer out at the night sky, leaving Bane alone. The larger man debated whether to press the issue further but decided against it. He left the room without a word.
He would take the Bat's cowl on Christmas Eve and Deathstroke would not take that away from him if it was the last thing he did. He may have idolized the assassin but sometimes, it was better to break the mold than follow. He would show him.
AN: Deathstroke is a silver fox kind of character and of course, I was going write him as such but he's also no fool either. I still find it hilarious this guy was the primary enemy of children instead of Batman. Unpopular opinion but I think Deathstroke works better as a Batman villain than a Teen Titans/Nightwing counterpart because this is exactly the challenge Bruce Wayne needs.