John fired a shot right at Deathstroke's head, the masked assassin swiping the slug away with a swing of his sword. Deathstroke pirouetted on towards John and swung at his chest, the assassin throwing his chest back just out of the blades reach. John once more aimed and fired at Deathstroke, who braced his sword before him to deflect the shot. Slade then sprung forward in an attempt to impale John, who sidestepped the piercing attack and grabbed his sword wrist. John then attempted to fire at the assassin in his clutches from point blank range, the muzzle directly in Slade's face. Deathstroke yanked John forward and forced his shot off the mark, pulling John into a spinning back elbow. John managed to duck under Slade's blow and shoot his foot back into the rear of Deathstroke's knees after bracing his free hand onto the ground. Slade collapsed to his knees, John throwing his full weight ahead as he dove forward with a swing of the butt of his gun into the back of Slade's skull. Slade collapsed forward, John raising his gun up and ramming the butt repeatedly into the back of Slade's head. His efforts were in vane as he left hardly a scuff on the helmet. Panting, John stammered back and turned his gun over, reaching into his belt and loading more slugs into his gun before aiming at Slade.
Slade pushed himself once more, commenting, "Impressive, John," before turning and facing him once more. John fired a shot as he charged ahead at Slade, the assassin blocking the shot with the broad side of his sword. Catching Slade by surprise, John fired a shot at his foot as he drew near, knocking him off balance and sending his leg flying back to brace him. John once more took advantage and fired at his other foot, the bullet once more bouncing off Deathstroke's armor but sending him flopping forward. Slade impaled the earth with his sword, propping himself up on his knees. John aimed at the crown of Slade's skull and the two froze, waiting for the other to make the first move. "You really don't disappoint, John." complimented.
John stared down at Deathstroke for some time, uttering, "Thanks. You too."
With that, John squeezed the trigger but was interrupted by Slade swinging the blade up out of the earth and at his face. John managed to duck back out of lethal range, Slade releasing the sword and letting it pinwheel up into the air. Focusing on his balance and the sword spinning into the air above, John was unprepared as Deathstroke rolled towards John and lunged at him with a leaping straight punch. Deathstroke's fist nearly jarred several of John's teeth loose with the shot connecting to his jaw and sending him sprawling, his shotgun skidding away. Deathstroke brought and open hand back behind himself and grasped his sword as it fell perfectly back into his hand. Slade aimed his sword ahead and pointed it down at John's throat, the assassins staring each other down once more. "It's honestly unfair, isn't it, John?" Slade asked.
"What is?" John said, seeking clarification.
"Your bullets cannot touch me. You can't hurt me. My sword alone is enough to cut you like paper. And it's not fair that I kill you before I'm fully convinced you are who they say you are. But show me, baba yaga, what I'm unable to see."
With that, Deathstroke cast his sword aside, extending John a hand. Incredulous for a few moments, a nod from Slade goaded John into taking his hand before he was pulled to his feet. The two assumed their fighting stances, John with his open hands both before him and Slade in a boxing stance with his forearms braced before him with clenched fists. Slade launched the first strike with a hook that John deflected with a palm to the forearm, shooting his other palm up into Slade's face and making him lose a step. Undeterred, Slade attempted to strike John with another hook of his opposite hand, only to be blocked and struck in the side of the head with John's palm, making Slade stumble. Just to rub salt into the wound, John front kicked Slade in the rear, sending him stumbling forward. Slade, with a grunt of frustration, returned with a wild haymaker, John stepping forward and catching Slade's bicep under his arm, tightening the vice with his forearm and making Slade's elbow pop. Before the assassin could respond, John brought his fist back and shot out his fore and middle finger, slamming into the eye socket of Slade's mask and jamming his fingers into Slade's eye; the assassin had barely managed to close his eye before John could dig his nails into it.
Yelling in pain, Slade grasped John's hair in his free hand, retching it back in attempt to drag him away. In response John pushed his fingers further into Slade's eye, forcing Slade to release his grasp on John's hair and attempt to rip his hand out of his mask. John responded by grabbing Slade's free wrist in his hand and falling back with his foot in Slade's stomach, catapulting the assassin over him and sending him flopping onto his back. John rolled over to Slade's side and grasped his elbow between his knees and wrist in his hands, cranking back. Fighting through the pain, Deathstroke brought his knees to his chest and managed to kick himself forward and onto his feet, rising up with John hanging off his arm and attempting to break it. Deathstroke brought his arm back and swung John into the support beam holding up the guard tower, cracking his back. John arched back and released Slade's arm, plopping to the ground.
Deathstroke grabbed John by the collar of his jacket and flung him up against the beam once more, the assassin propping him up with hand nearly crushing his throat, John able to see the blood trickling from Slade's eyelid where his nails had gouged him. Slade unleashed several hooks to John's ribs before following them up with a knee. Gasping for air, John attempted to kick Slade away but his ankle was grabbed by Slade, who hauled him in and crushed him back into the beam with a clothesline. John was given release to breathe as Slade let go of his throat, bringing his fist back. Slade let the punch fly, John ducking the shot that left an impression of Slade's knuckles in the steel support. John shot up once more and seized Slade's wrist once more, striking him in the chin with an upward palm strike with his free hand. Rocked back, Slade was too dazed to react as John looped his arm around the beam, bracing his foot against it and rearing back. Deathstroke's elbow snapped backwards, the assassin screaming in response. Before John could release Slade's hyperextended arm, the assassin revolved around the beam and grabbed John by the back of his head, driving his skull into the beam with echoing metallic ting. John slid onto his hands and knees, blood dripping from his hairline as Deathstroke threw his arm forward, snapping his elbow back into place and working it around as if nothing happened. John attempted to rise but was met with a fist to the back of the head, dropping him as Deathstroke reared his foot back. John was sent flying from a soccer kick to the ribs. John writhed on the ground and sucked in air, feeling for a possibly broken rib.
John was once more dragged up to his feet by Deathstroke, holding him by the back of his jacket once more and backhanding him across the cheek. John pivoted around in Deathstroke's grasp, dragged into a clothesline to the back of his head that floored him once more. Deathstroke rose his foot up to crush John's skull with a stomp, baba yaga pushing himself out of harms way as Deathstroke stamped the ground. John inverted his body position as he fell back and wrapped his legs around Slade's leg, forcing Deathstroke to the ground with all his might from the grapevine. John then ensnared Slade's ankle in the crook of his elbow and cranked his foot to the side with an ankle lock. John continued to press until Slade's ankle, too, snapped out of socket. Unsatisfied, John released Slade's leg from his and rolled him over, delivering a side kick to Slade's face. John kept hold of Slade's ankle as he leapt up and stomped down with both feet on Slade's knee, hyperextending it as well like a boomerang.
Deathstroke thrashed about and howled in pain as he held his leg. Slowly, his knee began to bend and rotate his ankle about the socket as his body began to heal the damage rapidly. He turned and saw he was staring down the barrel of John's gun, jesting, "Using guns, John? So unfair, unless I can use mine."
With that, Slade unholstered the pistol from his side, firing at John. Baba yaga braced his suit jacket before him, deflecting many of the bullets. Merely a distraction, Slade had risen and delivered a side kick to John's chest, once more sending him sailing back and skull first into the guard tower's support beam.
John managed to brace himself against it, Slade rushing at him with his sword in one hand and pistol in the other, trying to skewer John with the former. John spun around the steel pole and watched as it glinted off the side of the pole and away from him, John grabbing his wrist. Slade continued to fire at John, forcing him to hide behind his jacket as he dragged Slade around the beam. John forced Deathstroke around the beam and stuck his foot out as he yanked him around on one of his knees, tripping Slade and sending him cartwheeling to the ground onto his stomach. John and Deathstroke both took aim from one another on the ground, John still holding Slade's wrist and propping his shotgun on the crook of his elbow. In unison, they both fired, Slade's bullet bouncing off John's jacket covering his chest and John's slug denting and ricocheting off Slade's face plate, making his head snap back violently before flopping forward into the dirt. John continued to grasp Slade's wrist and rose to his feet, stomping his hand into the ground before unleashing two more shot into the back of Slade's head. John hissed, "Shit," as he realized his slugs had only dented Slade's helmet.
Slade ripped his hand from under John's foot and grabbed his ankle, yanking him off his feet and sending him onto his back. Slade threw himself up into the air with a push up receiving all his might, sword brought back to split John in two. John responded by aiming his shotgun ahead and once more denting Slade's face plate with a duo of shots. Slade's body sailed out from under him and he crashed onto his back, groaning. Attempting to sit up, Slade was blasted back down with another slug to the chest. John stepped on Slade's temple and began to inspect his helmet, finding what he was looking for and aiming point blank at his temple. The slug not only dented his helmet but began to pry a gap between his face plate and the plate covering the back of his skull. John, realizing his gun was empty with another pull of the trigger, grabbed it by the barrel and began to slam it down like a shovel into the side of Slade's head repeatedly. The gap grew larger and larger until John felt confident it was large enough, unholstering his own pistol and aiming at the gap.
In an instant, Slade's hand was grasping John's forcing it upward as it fired into the air. Slade then grabbed John by the throat in his other hand. In desperation, he merely flung John aside before kipping up to his feet, regaining his sword and pistol before reloading it. John, having rolled onto his knee from the throw and holstering his pistol, began to desperately fill his shotgun's ejection port and internal magazine with more slugs. John's attention was brought back to his opponent with a shot bouncing off his shoulder, turning to see Slade speeding toward John with his gun leveled at him. John merely braced behind his suit jacket before Slade swung his sword at him. John threw himself back and fell back against the guard tower's beam on his seat. Slade was diving at John as he rose to his feet, sword brought back across his body and going for his throat. John narrowly fell back onto his seat under the swing as it sliced through the beam with ease. John aimed up under Slade's chin and fired once more, his head flinging back at an excruciating angle.
Wasting no time, John next aimed at Slade's sword hand and fired, forcing the sword out of his hand as it flung back from the weapon. John dropped his shotgun and took the sword in both hands, thrusting it up at Deathstroke. The blade finally pierced his armor, sliding through his chest and out his back. The assassin gasped in shock and breathlessness, shakily leveling his pistol at John once more. John quickly pounced up onto Slade's arm, putting Slade's elbow behind his head and taking his shoulder and gun in each hand. John pressed up with all the force he could muster until the gun was ripped from Slade's grasp. Slade attempted to sock John in the back of the head, who ducked under the punch and shot his own elbow back and up into Deathstroke's face, sending him dancing back. John attempted to regain his gun but was rocked by a straight punch to the temple, Deathstroke as unrelenting as ever as he begun to huff and puff in fury, the sword still running him through.
John could barely recuperate before he was rocked back again by a cross kick to the chest. Slade attempted a front kick to John, who spiraled around it and caught Slade in the back of the head with an elbow. With the assassin double over, John grabbed him by the back of the head and kneed him in the face, sending Slade stumbling back. Fed up with the fight as Slade was, John brought his fist back and slammed it into his cheek, merely turning his head. John grabbed his hand and let loose a harsh, brief sucking of air from the pain. Slade responded by grabbing John's shoulder and stepping on his foot, rearing back and ramming the crown of his skull into John's temple. As baba yaga went limp in Slade's grasp, John was once more throttled in both hands by Slade, hoisted up off his feet, and rammed up against an adjacent support beam, Slade replying, "You've truly proven you are the baba yaga, John. Unfortunately, every monster has its weakness. Be seeing you."
Black, inky darkness began to creep over the corner of John's vision as he stared down into Slade's eye. His eyes began to roll to the back of his head, only to be snapped into focus by his gaze falling upon the sliced support beam. Foam forming at his lips, John released Slade's forearm with his right hand and snatched his pistol from his hip, managing to force from his nearly caved throat, "No...you won't."
John fired a shot directly into Slade's eye, the assassin releasing John as he seized his face and threw himself about blindly from the pain of being blinded. John, falling onto his hands and knees, quickly tried to reacquaint himself with as much oxygen as quickly as he could. Finally getting back to his feet, John was bumped into by the still incensed yet blind assassin, who aimlessly tried to embrace him. John stepped back from the grab, holstering his pistol, before wrapping his arms around Deathstroke, pinning his arms against his chest. John turned and attempted to suplex Slade, tripping over their feet and falling back with him. Slade crashed against the steel pillar in a seated position, John collapsing on top of him. The sword had only managed to cut halfway through the beam, John raising up before the seated and beaten foe. John suddenly unleashed and reverse spin kick to the side of the sword's hilt, making it cut through the beam and making the entire structure squeal and creak. John sprung into the air with both feet drawn as close to him as he could and jammed down onto Slade's chest with all his strength he had remaining, skewering him into the ground by his sword.
The building slowly teetered off center and down onto the duo. John had barely an opportunity to look up at the collapsing structure before Slade grabbed his ankle. In desperation, John dropped down and twisted the sword, Slade blindly shoving him away to escape the pain. John was sent soaring back into the stairs with the upper half of his body, knocking him back onto his face as he collapsed to the earth, sword in-hand. John lie their, motionless, as Deathstroke merely lie, sprawled out like a big X. The creaking turned to tearing and ear-piercing shrieks of metal as it began to fall forward on its remaining support beams like a massive hammer. The chaotic noise managed to shake John enough to move. Giving all he had to fight through the pain and fatigue, John threw himself back with the extension of his arms and then braced his forearms above him as the structure collapsed down onto Slade, crushing itself like a pancake. John lie there, seemingly unconscious, feeling the first few drops of rain on his forehead and then his palms, making his fingers twitch. He barely managed to open his eyes, focusing through the blur of his vision, as the intercoms of the area began to scream to life, the ever-grating voice of the Joker cheering, "Absolutely spectacular, Jonathan!"
Annoyed more than he was in pain, John forced his aching, quaking body up to a seated position, Joker continuing, "I thought you taking down little old Baney boy twice was something, but this? The world's greatest assassin undone by a man in a special suit? Absolutely unthinkable!"
John forced himself onto a knee and placed his hands on the ground, bracing himself before pushing himself up to his feet with grit teeth. "And, while I'm sure you're more than in need of some rest and relaxation, I still have a bounty out on you."
John took notice to the doors to the mansion had opened and several painted inmates were coming from the direction of the penitentiary and medical facility, some brandishing knives, pipes, and a few guns. His head snapped back around to the sound of voices, more coming from the way to his car and maximum security. "And all these boys were really hoping to meet you and bring you to meet me, one way or another."
Dozens of the inmates began to stream to John, forming a circle around him as merely stood in their midst, unmoving with the sword in his hand. "Well, boys, your time to shine. Go play!"
The speakers made their sound off screech before all John was left with was the sounds of the sounds were now taken over by the cheers and chatter of the inmates, a bolt of lightning illuminating his face from the distance.