Deathstroke; War Games
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Chapter 2: What Happens in Vegas...SIDE A -
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They had one lead. Aside from the estimated slots working in the favor of one precognition - user, the rest was cherry and apple pie doable to those two silver foxes on the road. Slade had picked up a converted spy car to, fine tune it a bit. He needed a getaway driver. What better excuse to pull his number one intel junkie Nightwing back into his car for a test run?
They cruised through the desert after talking to some very, very peeved heroes in the confines of a different California oasis.
"ARE YOU FOR REAL??? REALLY ? Dude?" Gar yelled the first time he saw the man with the patch in a decade. Cy stood up taller just to intimate the man to have Wing back off his nemesis. At first, he thought it was the blackmail kick that was keeping Nightwing strung to this crystal chandelier of a stone-cold alibi. Slade even acted civil after all of that. The car being given the gift of technology that was further advanced, thanks to Cy's snooping. "I'll have you know he's next to the best in S.T.A.R labs' history than before when you knew him. Don't push Cy too much, or it will hurt your ego." Dick waved his sunglasses at the man as Slade kept riding while not moving a muscle between his teeth at that time. "Ah, so she was here for business. You say?" Dick made a pose, as if to seem purely curious. He was, just with his wits about him.
The worst, alibi…. boy blunder.
"We'll be arriving soon. You'd better be in character by then." (Noted, Dick is…a bit like his daddy but worse.) Dick pouted and leaned back in his seat with a huffed sigh. "I never break a role until my time's up to take a bow."
"You fly."
Dick grinned. "Right, so no falling behind. Oh! Will we have the suite set up by your "contact?"
"It's ready, but…" Slade gripped the wheel, having a desire to knock Grayson out for the rest of their sheer enjoyment. "I almost wish she'd picked another location. Gambling here of all places, is risky. You can get put on the spot. Like that. How is she just getting around if someone wants her to remain-
"Ah, trap?"
"Shut up, Grayson." Slade took a hard right on the interstate as they came to lights, sounds and an oasis in the desert.
"Are you going to gripe this whole mission at me? I could turn this thing around fast –
Slade swerved once again, making Dick's cheeky face look a pallor if sea – sick green. "Not on the! -
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We're here. Finally." Slade had booked a hotel room in the resort, two bed and the finest his pockets after that settlement could play on. Riches worked for something. The casino was well on the next floors down as Dick's head spun something maddening. "You'll be using your winnings to buy your way out of ruining my car's lining with your fried food habit."
"GRILLED." Dick popped a pepto into his mouth and groaned. "I get it. I won't get on your case unless I have to. What about our rooms, then?"
"We get…" Slade slammed the door and pointed to the highest one up. " The top room – five-star service. Thank me later." Dick was still queasy as he held his lips comically. "That far up…?" He chuckled sheepishly. "Let me, just rest a few…"
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The bell was rung and their deeds had not yet been sung. Every wad of filth was at play, while the floors remained polished, presentable and unlikely to do the most damage.
"Ah!" To meet them, a man came from the elevators in lavish white suit and pants with gold buttons and cuff links. This was…. was a mustachioed ally of the merc in his greater of stories to tell, Dick imagined as he looked to praise the stone – cold killer like some –
"Lord Ackley!"
Dick had to throw his head down to think this far through, but instead he guarded his post as the plus one to this shifty party instead. Why was Slade called that here?? Did his face have a twin?
" Georgie." Slade's face had a new mask to wear as he grinned. Getting over to hug the bro in a manner not worth mentioning in front of your wee – ones. (In this day and age, we don't sweat it as much.) "How's the big business lad keeping up these days?" Not only that, yet his accent was positive….
Brit.
Oh, bother…
By connections, Slade meant with a forged bit of info. BY connections, he meant someone else's payroll was covering their expensive room and board. By CONNECTIONS-
Dick Grayson really had to have a talk with that mercenary.
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"The renovations were a horror show until we settled that mess with the Human Resources department. I hope to never be accused of anything that severe in my life…" Dick walked along and listened to the prank wars and the dirty stool in the lounge due to poodles not being so pampered. His head still pounded from the nausea in the car, looking forward to keeping the lights off and getting into a bed paid for by blood money. Oh, well. As long as he was in the clear financial –
"Howie?"
"Dick was pulled out of his spell a while. "My nephew has an eager imagination. He might be the newest engineer if he keeps that up!" Slade laughed whole into his gut and clapped the mam on the back enough to splinter down his spine. Dick swore on it…that man would get gut punched in the stomach by tonight or by God…. he'd pass…
"Did I…" Slade loved it when the pity was a bit masked. Dick was knocked out because of where he had hit, not how hard. Even if Georgie looked surprised for now, he couldn't be thought of as just another innocent. Well, maybe he was just plain dumb. You could never tell these days.
He could however let them get to their room faster to avoid hearing all of these…stories.
Finally! No more groaning over which buxom blonde had the most hookups in history! This wasn't Hollywood Tonight.
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The doors clicked shut as Dick was left in Slade's arms to the second bed in the room. He wanted peace and quiet and this was no motel. He had a title to keep handy. Dick groaned as Slade just left him there and looked over the room top to bottom for any cameras to sweep. So far, nice call.
Taking a wait for the door, he yet now heard a knock and passed along to see the bell boy with their things. Slade tipped the man and shut the door again passively once he'd retrieved almost everything, they'd taken to get the ball rolling. "I'm going to the bar to get a tip or two." Slade left his note for Grayson to find, sparing no details as he swapped outfits to a finer black and grey button down with white suit pants. He hated being the off kind of guy, but he had to at least smell rich like everyone else would when he walked through those doors. Grabbing a pair of black shades and his annoying surveillance- glass eye spare from the pack of things he'd brought, Wilson took off and left Dick the other key card. He'd sleep a while and go eat probably. That kid was nothing but a walking hunky with not a single chunk to poke fun at. If only he were twenty years older. Snorting, the man let his feet take him to the fun times below. The food could wait. He hated earing meat out unless it was rare, anyway.
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The gambling den was feet from his eyes and ears as he heard it through swinging doors of white and silver. The sun never set on this place.
A few changes had been made from the last hit he'd taken. The bar was remodeled since. Time for a few eyes to be dropping his way….
Including….
He saw her too. It didn't mean much but, here blue eyes followed. Her red hair was a bit lopsided but still as vibrant while she seemed, interested to know more about this newcomer. Slade lowered his glasses as soon as he sat down to put them away. She was coming over.
"One, sparkling."
She raised a brow until he said something else to pique her attention. "I have a reputation to keep and I've not the cards yet. That is when I can ask for more, I think." She giggled by how he didn't mind saying the whys involved. "Your understanding isn't rusty, I take?"
Australia? Maybe no.
"It's gotten better since I quit the harder types. Too much of a turn off. Won't change my luck either way." He turned to her, the black dress she wore being very…. curvaceous.
"You look like a big softie anyway behind my eyes. How about you take that "cider" and pull me away for a bit, eh?"
"I could." Slade tipped his hat to the others watching them, including the bartend. "But I've cone on business over pleasure I'm afraid. Time is something I'm never sure I have enough of."
"Wanna see, then?" She leaned in to pull his hand. Right on cue. "I could change your mind, if only briefly."
"Hmm…" He looked at her, understanding that he had to be careful. "What did the lil' lady have in mind then? A walk by the pool?"
"A dip…" Slade saw his glass fog as she took a sip. "If you have the stamina to keep up."
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"So, the resort is under new ownership?"
"Will be. Did a report on it a while back about some pudding cake incident."
"A child's prank made the papers overseas?"
"I live here."
Slade blinked as they kept walking. "Are..are you from out of town or local."
"Star, for the time being."
"City. With the Robin Hood in Tights?" Slade clarified. "Yes, well. He'd make for a better story than some pudding cake or poodles contaminating the kitchen."
She laughed a sweet laugh as Slade waited on the time to start asking the really tough questions. Like...was sleeping on the job not enough, Grayson?? He was supposed to be figuring out the next time Rose was willing to strike!
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A ding from not his cell but his communicator sounded the alarm for a less than bushy – tailed Dick Grayson. ~ Richie! Hey! What time is it in Reno? ~
Dick looked at the clock with one eye opened. " Three…. Holy Christmas, Batman!!"
~ Wrong show, sleeping beauty. I jus' thought I'd tell you. ~
"Yeah? What is it, Cy?" Dick got up with a flip and fixed his outfit, digging for his weapons in his recovered suitcase as he realized it too soon. "Did Slade go off to gamble, without me??"