All is Lost and Justice Ends

The sun was slowly sinking towards the horizon. The oranges and reds of the sky seemed to paint the whole of Jump City, yet it was a silent picture. Traffic was unusually low, the people were keeping to their homes until they felt brave enough to venture out.

The police were still keeping the area of the attack cordoned off. Evidence was still being collected as the massive crime scene was processed. Time was of the essence; the elements had a nasty way of destroying evidence. But not all of it was to be found on the streets.

There had been people arrested. Many were going through interviews, the nice way to say interrogation. Anything they could get out of them would be vital. There had been some worry about tight lips, but surprisingly…

Confessions. Confessions after confessions. Stories about being forced into service, payment their very lives, and completing tasks such as small robberies and the like, obtaining rare materials, though there was little they could find out about that. Descriptions of a man with a dual-color, orange and black mask were frequent, perhaps the one commonality with every confession.

It was something to go on. Now they only needed to identify such an individual like that. Databases would be scoured, looking for a name and the person attached to it. Once they had that, then predicting the next moves would be easier.

Superman found himself in a familiar position. He hovered in the air, the city all around him. It was…different.

There were times when he would do this, marveling at the beauty of Metropolis while he listened. With hearing like his, it took an effort to try and ignore them all. With practice, it became a dull hum. With time, an ignorable headache. A scream, a cry for help, anything that suggested panic, that would always get his attention. Speed and flight would follow and he would be on his way to help those in trouble.

The voices were different here. That western California accent was way too different from the East Coast and Metropolis. The conversations, though, were still the same. Worries about bills, idle gossip, ribbing and insults, yelling in some, celebrations in others, the smacking of lips while people ate, swears with laughter, self-talk whether to try to boost the spirit or to insult the self, it was all the same with the same lyrics but a different accent.

Concentrate, sort through the voices, and look for those that were talking about what had happened today. There was a lot of talk about the attack, most of it was speculation. That wasn't what he was looking for. Someone who had a better idea of what went on behind the scenes or knew more than what should have been possible. There had been multiple people arrested, so it stood to reason that there could be more.

Whoever they were, they were keeping quiet. It was frustrating, but the Kryptonian was patient. The rest of the League could handle the rest. A few minutes ago, he noted how Flash came running across the bay—it was hard to ignore the fading red streak in the middle to opposing twin arcs of water. The speedster was in the city proper now, and telling by the few blips of red he caught, Flash was on the hunt.

The speedster wasn't responding to any calls. That was unusual. Had something happened? The only thing he could think of was perhaps in Titans Tower. Maybe the stress of this was starting to get to them. If it could get to Flash so quickly…

I've heard that you can hear voices from distances. That's a useful talent.

Superman perked up. That was…different. No noticeable accent so it stood out from the rest. It seemed more like a comment yet he had the feeling it was directed towards him. Could it be coincidence?

I hope you are listening carefully. I am the one responsible for the death of that Titan.

This had his attention. Was…was this another confession? It wasn't coming from any of JCPD precincts.

I am the one destroying your legacy. I know you are looking for me. You're looking for answers.

And now he was trying to zero in. South he was feeling, but how far? It felt like he was getting close, but not yet. Keep talking, just a little longer, just a little more…

You'll find me cliffside. It has a nice view of the ocean, and of that ridiculous tower. I'm not going anywhere. With you lot involved, where could I hide? I'm approximately two miles south of Jump City. I know you want this over as much as I do.

Got him.

It felt silly talking out loud and into the air. Taking advantage of a man with superhearing felt like it required so much more. Well, they would be learning if he was making a fool of himself soon enough.

It hadn't been a lie about the view. How the setting sun was turning the blue of the ocean into a near solid orange and if it continued to intensify, that orange might become a shade of red. A man like him tended to ignore such sights, but right now he could appreciate it.

Look to the north and there was a noticeable T. Titans Tower where his prey was currently holed up. So predictable but it worked in the assassin's favor. All in due time.

Right now, Deathstroke had bigger fish to fry.

The T.I.T.A.N. Initiative was the Justice League's brainchild. It was inevitable that they would get involved at some point. Cancun had been a deliberate distraction. The time bought with ambushes wouldn't have lasted forever. The lack of any activity in Toronto and Steel City would have attracted attention eventually. It was better to do it on his own terms, control the narrative, and give himself the opening here.

In retrospect, it had been the right choice. The Titans he had faced here, the first ones, they were different from the other three—

The Flash skidded to a halt, dirt kicking up ahead of him. Almost orange, crackling bolts danced around the red-costumed man's body. That was new. He hadn't been aware of that. However, whatever that was, it seemed to die off and he was left with a man with superspeed who was glaring him down.

Deathstroke tossed aside the squeeze bottle he held in his hand and turned to fully face the new arrival. Looks like time was up.

"I suppose if you're here, the rest…?" the assassin prodded.

Flash didn't answer even though his body flickered. There were reports that the man could vibrate himself so fast that he was able to move through walls. It was almost fascinating to see. The fact that the speedster hadn't tried to go after his head yet indicated that there was a high level of control there. That there were even those odd bolts and the flickering meant that that control was tenuous and with the right kind of provocation would break.

Someone else landed nearby. Wonder Woman. Stern, also glaring him down, but it was more obvious that she was in control. Next came the Man of Steel himself, dropping down from the skies and landing with barely a whisper on the grass. One by one, the rest arrived, flight their usual method of transport.

Soon enough, they circled around him, leaving only the cliff behind him. This part of the coastline really jutted upwards so no beaches to be found. Below was only the ocean and whatever rocks that might be peeking out through the tide. This coastline, if you will, curved further down and you could see some of the land reaching out into the Pacific, a sheer wall of rock that was visible.

The dual-colored killer was surrounded and all exits blocked. Oh, jumping off the cliff was an option, and all but one could fly so catching him was something these folk could do.

There was no fear to be found in any of their eyes. Anger, yes, stern stoicism, yes, the blank look on the Martian was difficult to interpret. None of them were happy with him. Why would they be?

"I suppose this is the part where you take me in," Deathstroke remarked. Deliberately, he turned his head while using his single eye to stare them all down. "Let's face the facts, you have the numbers and powers to do so. Under these circumstances, I can't quite put up a fight."

"And you're the one who gave himself away," Hawkgirl cut in, and she was holding that famous mace of hers with a death grip. Smart to not take any chances there. "I doubt you had a sudden pang of conscience."

He turned his attention on the winged woman. "You would be right. I don't feel sorry for what I did. I'd do it again in a heartbeat."

Another, singular, orange-colored bolt crackled around Flash.

"Why did you do it?" Green Lantern demanded, still hovering in the air himself. Both arms were bent, the muscles in his upper arms flexing while the ring on his right hand brilliantly glowed. Deathstroke was wearing a ring himself, but not one that could create virtually anything. "Why did you cut those kids down?"

"That is private," he quipped back. "My reasons are my own. If it is all the same to you, let's get this over with."

The Martian was holding back, watching him with those inhuman eyes. What could an alien lifeform like that be thinking? Wonder Woman was reaching to her side where a coil of golden rope was secured. Did they intend to use the Lasso of Truth to bind him? Superman was taking a confident step forward, expressing that he would make sure the impending apprehension would go smoothly.

All in control. All determined to bring him. Let's get this party started in truth.

"I am curious, if you allow me. I know I gave those kids, those Titans, some serious injuries. The one in the hood, a girl, she took a hit from a streetlight. Is she still breathing?"

Tightening of jaws, none were going to indulge him. A failed taunt there.

"No answer? Pity. I suppose I will have to make do with the fast one, what was the name he used?" Flash was tensing even more. "Kid Flash? Did I get that right? I don't normally memorize the names of the people I kill. I may not have killed him, but I did leave my mark."

Deathstroke was fully facing Flash now, staring the speedster down. The tenseness of that body gave away so much. He might be a big mouth, but his body spoke virtual novels. It wouldn't take too much to push him over the edge.

"A kneecap is nasty business. I doubt he'll ever walk again." He kept the tone of his voice casual as if he was remarking on the weather. "Would you like to know something else?"

"That's enough out of you," Green Lantern snapped, raising his ring arm up and holding it like it was a rifle. "Don't listen to him, Flash. He's trying to get into your head."

Too late for that. The next words he spoke were the proverbial knife into the chest, each one calculated to cut deeper than the last.

"He screamed like a little bitch."

The assassin was already twisting his body, angling himself to shrink how much of him could be targeted. It was as simple to do as taking a step back with his right leg, his body turning so that the left shoulder was out in front. He had but a fraction of a second to do so and it was over just as it had started.

The only real noticeable difference was that the Flash was nowhere to be seen. The cliff that stretched out into the ocean scenically had an explosion of dirt and debris. Next to it was a large rising of water, a splash some would call it.

Unnoticed by all was the blue-colored substance that stained the grass in front of the assassin. It covered quite the patch of it, and outside of its hue it would be ignored. If you knew what it was, then you would understand that this is one of the reasons why he took the better part of a year before making his strike.

H.I.V.E. had developed a substance that was completely frictionless and it worked. As soon as you stepped on it, you were slipping, no ifs, ands, or buts. Combine that with how fast a speedster could go, and they just learned how far one could fly after they slipped. Face first into a cliff wall and taking a good drink in the Pacific.

A clash with the Justice League had been inevitable. So he had prepared.

Green lit up the area, and a look confirmed that Green Lantern was acting. Deathstroke turned to face the forming green hand that was reaching for him. He did not try to escape it, instead bringing both of his hands together while the construct grabbed him and held him up in the air.

Everything from his shoulders to his knees were in the grip of this hand. Effectively, he was trapped.

"I don't know what you did, but you're not going to get a second chance," Green Lantern declared

There wasn't much room to move. There was enough with his hands. Remember the ring mentioned earlier? Not an ordinary one. Another little gadget he had forced out of H.I.V.E.'s corpse; what it did was that it emitted focused vibrations. It may not seem like much, but it had been tested on some of the toughest bulletproof surfaces out there. Shattered nearly every one of them.

What would it do to one of these constructs? Fingers pressed along the ring and twisted.

"I got him. Someone see to Flash," Green Lantern continued, heedless to what had just been triggered. "Keep an eye on him. J'onn, you might…might…"

Interesting reaction there, that trailing off. Countless vibrations were clashing into the hand-shaped construct. There was no sign of anything wrong, but then Deathstroke was starting to feel the vibrations running through his armor. Sweat was starting to bead on the Lantern's forehead and he gripped the arm wielding his ring with his ringless hand.

The hand around him began to lose a little of its solidity. Static fuzz began to have more in common with its form. Deathstroke allowed this to continue for another few seconds, then he exerted his own strength to break free.

The green construct shattered and none looked more flummoxed than the Lantern himself. That shock was something he took advantage of the second his feet touched the ground. He leapt over the frictionless substance and dashed for the dark-skinned man in black and green. The Lantern was muscular up close and you could see from the stance and the way he held himself that he had been through Marine training. A fellow army brat, eh?

Marine training had nothing on black ops, special forces training. The various hits the assassin delivered onto the man were quick and brutal, each blow having a purpose and nothing wasted. A punch to the stomach, blows to the ears on either side of the head, his surgically placed on the pectorals to weaken the sternum followed with some jabs to the ribs, one throat strike, and lastly a knee to the face.

Down went one of Earth's greatest heroes. Who was next?

A loud warcry answered him. Hawkgirl. Her wings were spread, her mace held aloft, and she was incoming. Deathstroke stood there next to the prone body of Green Lantern, waiting until that mace began swinging. He was curious how his sword might hold up against it, but he wasn't able to do that kind of experimentation now. Maybe another time.

As the head of the mace drew closer, the dual-colored killer began to lean, balancing primarily on his lower legs while his knees bent and slanted the upper legs. The spike heads on the mace were millimeters away from his mask, yet he kept his one eye on the winged alien. Back came the mace as she reversed the swing and dodge again did he. He took a step back, leaving the unconscious Green Lantern's side as he allowed Hawkgirl to push him away.

An opening became apparent, and like the sharp-eyed man he was, he took advantage of it. A downward swing of the mace had him reach out, an orange-gloved hand gripping the weapon's handle on top of the alien's hand. It didn't take too much effort to push and force the mace head to hit the ground.

With his free hand, Deathstroke landed a punch to the winged woman's face. He had no qualms with hitting women; they were just another target with a price tag. Spittle spat out of her mouth, and while she was dealing with that, he released his grip on her mace-wielding hand and brought this newly freed hand up in an uppercut to her stomach. There was an "oof!" coming from her, her body nearly jackknifing.

Up came a leg, and he swung it into her side, and to her credit, Hawkgirl remained on her feet even as they dug shallow trenches into the soil. She was dazed, so taking her down now needed to happen before—

"That is enough!"

To his right, a shadow fell over him. Whipping his head in that direction, his single eye widened as the Martian loomed over him. The lower body of this green-skinned alien had lengthened and gained a serpentine look to it. Now how the hell had he not found out about this before? Did this alien also have shapeshifting abilities?

Surprise was not enough to keep him stunned. Quickly a hand went to his belt as that snake-like lower half began wrapping around his legs. Powerful hands clamped down on his shoulders by the time his upper legs were pinned together. Orange eyes were glowing as they glared down at him. From his belt, Deathstroke removed a hexagon-shaped object, getting it clear just as a long, green body reached his waist.

As his waist was starting to be wrapped around, the assassin rammed his hand forward and slammed the hexagon-shaped object onto the Martian's chest. A jelly-like substance splattered all over the Martian torso and simultaneously acted as an adhesive, holding the container it had spilled out of. As Deathstroke removed his hand, a small counter could be seen on the hexagon-shaped canister's top, one that read 0:03.

Then it counted down to 0:02. Then 0:01.

A single spark spat out of the emptied canister and it set alight the flammable jelly which spread very rapidly. An inhuman shriek, one that the assassin had never heard before in his life ripped out of an alien throat as the Martian Manhunter reared back. This also took the raging inferno away from the masked killer, something he appreciated but wouldn't voice.

Green arms stretched as they were whipped about, hands desperately tried to wipe off the jelly-like substance only to spread it further. The lower half of the alien unwound itself, freeing the assassin while the Martian fell further and further into panic.

Failing to put out the flames, Martian Manhunter stumbled and scrambled away, running until it went over the cliff and fell to the cold waters below. Deathstroke could hear the other heroes calling out for the alien, Wonder Woman even finding herself being knocked away by a flailing arm.

Generously, he gave them a moment to capture their wits. However, if they thought the worst was past them, they were sadly mistaken.

"You bastard," Hawkgirl growled from where she crouched, taking a knee while using her mace to prop herself up.

"I would be more worried about him." He gave a jerk of his head to the cliff. "If he thinks that water will save him, he's about to get the surprise of a lifetime. That was napalm, and it continues burning even under water."

From the three standing Leaguers, he could see their eyes widening as understanding dawned on them. In an instant, there was a blue and red blur as Superman raced after the Martian, though what he could do to help was anyone's guess.

But it left two remaining, and both would need to be dealt with before that particular alien returned.

The first volunteer was predictable both from observed temperament and proximity. Hawkgirl could not keep herself quiet as she let out a "RAAAHHHH!" while swinging away. As if he would be that distracted that he would not be able to dodge. The hits from early had slowed her down, so it was simple, almost too simple, to evade everything she dished out.

Time was of the essence, and when she once more made the mistake of a downward swing, the assassin stretched out his arms and stopped the hit from landing by grasping onto the mace's handle. His arms trembled; the Thanagarian had a lot more strength in her than her body implied.

That strength did not matter as he twisted and tore the mace out of her hands and followed that up by jabbing the butt end of the alien weapon right into the space between her eyes. A noticeable crack formed in the bird-designed helmet, and Hawkgirl's eyes crossed as her body became unstable, balance slipping as she weaved from side to side.

He ended it after giving a heft to the mace, testing its weight, and then reversing his grip so he gave a swing with it, striking Hawkgirl to the side of her head and letting her crumple to the ground below.

His next movements could only be described as flowing, from a relaxing state to putting up a guard, Deathstroke held his stolen mace up and used its handle to block the fist that came at him from the last Leaguer standing, Wonder Woman.

Hawkgirl was strong, but the woman from an island of Amazons was stronger still. Deathstroke slid backwards but retained his balance. The mace handle withstood the force of the blow, surprisingly. Wonder Woman was starting to press the advantage, but he intercepted by lunging back at her. With Hawkgirl's mace, he attacked with swing after swing, the mace head glancing off one of the Amazon's bracers and making a very peculiar ringing sound.

That had been unexpected, and he flinched from the sound. Something he had trained himself not to do had been overridden by that strange sound.

Wonder Woman recovered faster and when she lashed out, it was not to him, but the weapon itself. Her fist struck in a spot between the small spikes, and out of his hands did the mace go. That punch then reversed, becoming a backhand that almost took his head off had he not leaned back. It seemed she had left herself wide open, and his second mistake of the fight took place when he threw a punch back only for the Amazon to catch it with the palm of her other hand.

Already knowing the danger there, the masked killer kicked out with a leg, his foot impacting her lower torso which she endured. Pushing with his leg, Deathstroke went into a flip, pulling his captured hand out of her hand while he was at it. As he landed on the ground in a crouch, he quickly went into a roll as another powerful blow came from him and earth itself crumbled under her strength.

As he stood back up, the Amazon showed just how much of a warrior she was, her head turned with her eyes laser focused on him. Her fist was withdrawing from the ground but she was already on the move. No movement was wasted and so the barrage of punches and kicks being met with parries and blocks commenced.

Combined with enhanced strength, this woman was no slouch. The patterns in her technique showed, though and the longer this went on, the easier it became to evade. In his head, he counted down the seconds, knew he was running out of time, and so he had to force it. As a missed punch jerked back into an elbow jab, his gloved hands smacked against the lower arm and pushed, throwing himself back while using that great strength to his advantage.

There were several yards now between the two of them, enough that one could try and make a run for it if they chose to. Taking a step back, he noted how Wonder Woman's eyes narrowed and her right arm twitched. She had taken note. As he put weight on the rearmost foot, he began to lift the one at the fore. For all intents and purposes, he was making it look like he was about to flee.

The arms snaked towards the left and the waist, and from there the golden Lasso of Truth was pulled out. A third step was taken and the lasso's loop whipped out with impressive speed. Deathstroke raised up an arm defensively and watched out the gold-glowing rope seemed to zero in and fall around his hand. The loop closed until it latched onto his wrist and Wonder Woman did not hold back and she gave a great pull to the rope.

His arm stretched away from him and then the rest of his body followed. He was aerial now, but that wasn't a problem. In full control, his wrist flicked down and his hand grabbed onto the restraining rope and with it, he pulled while flipping his body. Now he was heading straight for the Amazon feet first, one leg bent back.

Rushing forth, he could tell from her posture that she hadn't expected the maneuver and as he lashed out with his bent leg, Wonder Woman crossed her arms in front of her, bracer in front of bracer which took the hit. He could feel his leg tremble from the immovable object that was this warrior.

Yet she had done exactly what he had wanted.

Still gripping the coil of glowing rope, Deathstroke pulled so that he was perpendicular with his outstretched leg and had a clear sight of the crossed arms. Reaching out, he grabbed further along the mystical rope and gained some slack around his wrist. His arm then jerked down where he began looping the rope around the crossed arms, watching as the rope touched the bracers Wonder Woman wore.

His arm pulled back, the rope tightened, and the bracers clanged together with finality. Instantly, Wonder Woman fell to a knee as if strings that had been unknowingly attached to her were cut. Hard muscles softened and a gasp escaped from the Amazon's mouth. It would get worse for her as Deathstroke seized this chance to turn coiling into a knot, securing his latest victim.

And then it was over. One of the strongest beings on Earth was kneeling before him.

"What…?" came out weakly. Incomprehension clouded those blue eyes.

"Spent a lot of time thinking about how to deal with you. The princess of an obsolete race with predictable techniques. Could have fought until you exhausted yourself, but I don't have the time for that," he told her. "I looked real, real back, and found something in those myths. Maybe you heard the one about Hercules and how he bound…what was her name again? Oh right, Hippolyta."

Despite the fatigue, those blue eyes flashed in rage, but nothing more from that,

"This is a changing world and you have to deal with it one way or another," Deathstroke continued. "Sometimes the old ways are…"

Finely tuned instincts were all the warning he needed. Once more he backed away, practically leaping as something blue nearly shoved its way between him and the bound Amazon. Superman had returned, and not alone.

Though, seeing as how the Martian was curled up, front facing the cliffside, who knew how much help that would be. Nearby was a knocked out Flash, soaked with water and unmoving. The Man of Steel over there had taken the time to save both of them.

Nevertheless, here was perhaps the biggest obstacle of them all. The biggest gun the Justice League had to offer. The sight of all his little buddies here could only lead to one conclusion, that the Blue Angel of Metropolis was going to settle things very quickly.

As powerful as he was, the plan to take Superman on was simple.

From a holster, Deathstroke pulled out a revolver. Six bullets were in the chamber, and it had to be loaded one at a time. Practically an antique compared to your modern day handguns and the like. His arm was straight and steady, Superman was in his sight, and his finger pulled down on the trigger.

The gunshot rang out and Superman's eyes widened. Against that broad chest, an inch away from the red S was a small circle, neon green in color. Slowly, that green circle peeled away and fell off, revealing it to be a crumpled-up bullet. It landed in the grass, barely blending in.

The widened eyes narrowed, and Superman stared the killer down. Deathstroke remained where he was standing, arm still raised and steady. With his single eye, he challenged the strongest man on Earth and his trigger finger tensed.

Superman took a step forward, unhurried, fearless. Another gunshot rang out and another flattened green bullet fell off. Another few feet closer, another gunshot, and one more bullet that had no effect.

This seemed to be a favorite tactic of the man from another world. How many others had used guns and firearms on this alien and how many times would this alien walk through the gunfire? It was a psychological ploy, one to tell the aggressors that their weapons were not effective. A power play that gave the chance to surrender on a ticking clock, one that finished counting down once he reached you. It was a very effective ploy against those who found power in a gun.

Another gunshot, another bullet falling.

Superman thought it would be the same here. Deathstroke had to admit that he was starting to feel a slight panic. He was too much in control to give it away, but it was there all the same. He kept pulling the trigger, already down four bullets with two left to go. It would take only a few more steps, and then it would all be over.

One more shot fired.

THUNK!

Superman slowed down and came to a stop. The alien's head tilted down, eye focusing on the small, circular, and widening stain in the right pectoral. Skin that had been tanned and healthy was starting to pale.

"I painted them all green," Deathstroke remarked. "All the better to hide the one tipped in Kryptonite. It was harder finding paint without lead in it and in the right hue."

The last of them fell and it was with a whimper that a god experienced defeat. The only one left standing was him, the hired gun who was not hired for this job. He took an uncharacteristic moment to look over his work, then he holstered the revolver and began to make his way to the only one still conscious.

Wonder Woman was staring at Superman's prone body, powerless and unmoving. She did possess enough energy to force her head up and glare defiantly at the assassin.

"Call whoever you need to, sooner the better," Deathstroke said, not even giving her the respect of looking down at her. "They're all still alive. Maimed, but still alive. I can't say the same for the man in blue over there, so you might want to hurry."

He then continued to stroll away, passing the restrained Amazon without a look. He did not get far when her voice forcefully said, "Why…are you…doing this?"

A pause, a second to collect his thoughts. "I'm not stupid enough to kill the Justice League. There are big and bad menaces out there that only you can handle. Killing you would be the same as committing a long suicide. No, this worthless rock of a planet still needs you, and I need you out of my way. In the amount of time it will take for you to recover, I'll have finished my business with the Teen Titans."

Dead ahead was that ridiculous looking Tower. Dead ahead would be his final destination. To his left, the sun was beginning to sink into the ocean itself, and the waters of the ocean looked almost blood red.

There would be another red flowing before this night was over.

Author's Note: Quite a few references in this chapter. Starting off, the line Deathstroke spoke right before Flash charged him is a direct quote from another DC baddies we've seen before. That baddie was Inertia, but unlike Deathstroke, things didn't go Inertia's way after he said them. The next reference, allow me to introduce you to Wonder Woman's original weakness. That's right, having her arms bound together with rope by a man. I did not make that up. Seriously. The creator of Wonder Woman, William Marston, was an odd guy. Lastly, yes, Superman did confront Deathstroke once, and the Terminator fired a bullet at him painted green like Kryptonite; as I recall, it had caused Superman to freeze up before he realized the deception.

I was tempted to use an alternative strategy for Green Lantern, but ultimately decided against it. Considering the circumstances of the fight, I don't think it would have been practical, but if you're curious, feel free to message me. Yes, Deathstroke has fought and beaten a Green Lantern before, and I believe it was Kyle Rayner, but then again the assassin has fought a lot of DC heroes.