The Arkham Redemption- Enter the Terminator
===Over 20 Years Ago===
Norbert- Please... Stop.
*The assassin grimaced beneath his orange mask. He pulled Norbert up by his arm, then he hurled him over his shoulder, straight through a brick wall*
"Do you think your enemies will stop? Do you want them to? To take pity on you, to treat you like a weakling, so that you're just another nobody? So that you're just a waste of my time? Because I don't. Get. Up."
*They called him Deathstroke, even back then. He had still had two eyes, and his mask reflected that in it's design. The Injustice Society reached out to him almost as soon as he was out of the military. Slade Wilson was a war hero, and there was value in that. His own enhancements made the ideal handler and trainer for their newest weapon, The Killer Wasp*
Slade- The JSA will keep winning, I will keep winning, boy, if you don't get yourself a backbone! Understand?
*Through a tight and brutal training regime- a never ending barrage of insults and injuries, Wilson crafted the young, tender hearted Walker into the monster the Society needed. The Wasp rose to his feet, and nodded. The assassin, now unmasked to reveal his blonde hair and chiseled jaw, smirked, and handed him a file.*
Slade- Good. Your target is Richard Sionis, entrepreneur, business man, and arms dealer, currently staying in the Opal City Arms, room 237A. Recently, he found himself a new mask for his collection. The Mask of Sorrows. He doesn't understand it's true power. We do. Bring it back for us, as part of your... Initiation.
Wasp- Yes, sir.
====Now====
*20 years on, and master and pupil are reunited.*
Slade- Krill can be erratic. Moronic at times. But when he's in his element... Well, I'd almost call him brilliant. Why, he brought you both here without fail. To me.
Norbert- Where... Are the others?
Slade- The task force? On standby. They served their purpose, separated you from the herd. Your friends are just distractions. I've seen it in action- you two, you are the real trouble makers.
Drury- Oh, come on Slade, how much, how much are they paying you?
Slade- Don't insult me Walker. You could never pay my fee, not when you're working in... a fudge factory, was it?
*Drury looks at the ground, and scuffs his shoes on the concrete*
...
Drury- I'm trying my best.
Slade- Well, heh, we'll see about that.
*With a swift strike to the throat, Drury's coughing up blood on the floor. As he goes in for the kill Norbert reaches out, and catches Slade's sword in his hands*
Norbert- Leave... Leave him alone. It's me you want.
Slade- No, boy, it's really not. It's Strange who's really interested in you. Don't know why, I don't ask questions, but... I heard your last reunion didn't go so well. Heh. Me, on the other hand, I'm over you. You may've gotten your soul back, but, at the end of the day you're just another weak, insignificant speck.
*Norbert looked at his brother, still a stranger to him in many ways, and then back to Deathstroke*
Norbert- Drury....
Slade- Go on boy, show me what you've got.
====GCPD====
Miranda- Selina! You ok?
Selina- Well, was almost swallowed whole, but aside from that? Dandy. Where'd they even go?
*Selina brushes the grime and snake venom off of her catsuit, then stretches her back out, purring while doing so. "Do they all have to act like damn cats?" thought Miranda, thinking of Blake, and King of Cats*
Miranda- Krill took them. Norbert went after him, but... We don't even know where *he's* gone.
*Chancer looked into the distance, looking mature, for the first time in a while. "So, uh, what now?" he asked his companions, who simply shrugged, only for his question to be answered by a familiar voice. "Well, if you're not too busy, I was hoping you could catch us up," Ten said, him and Rigger ambling towards them, armed and weary.*
Chancer- Rigger! What're you doing here?
Ten- We saw the signal, wanted to check things out. Charles sends his regards.
*Miranda laughs relieved, pausing upon seeing the bone pertruding from Rigger's leg, and the sparks flicking around Ten's bionics*
Miranda- *Ahem* Looking a little worse for there, there fellas.
Rigger- Ah, it's just splintered. You, still look pretty as anything.
*But Rigger wasn't really paying all that attention to Miranda, having stared, unsure about the woman by her side, he'd concluded that she was not a mirage, and he would not waste this chance. There was a lump stuck in his throat as he hobbled past Tiger Moth, and towards Selina*
Rigger- You're Catwoman.
Selina- I am. And you're Firebug, right?
Rigger- Yeah, yeah. That's me. (She knows who I am.)
Ten- Congratulations.
=====Gar's House=====
*Gar came home laden with shopping, baby Josie tied to his back. He placed her in her crib, and opened his bags, just the essentials- bread, milk, cheese, and... a packet of firelighters. He held them in his charred hands, no recollection of having bought them. They called out to him, urging him to use them, and... He threw them in the bin, and collapsed onto the kitchen floor. The urges had become less frequent since his daughter entered his life, but every now and then, he'd wake up from a day dream holding something- A lit match, a tank of gas, a carton of fireworks. If there was a single doctor who *hadn't* gone crazy in Gotham, maybe he could have gotten therapy. Another bloody Monday, he sighed, rising to his feet, and picking his bags up. He opened the fridge, and- *
Gar- What the hell-?
*There was a tin-foiled package in there, and he was certain he hadn't put it there. Something, was wrong. He opened the living room door, the foil package under one arm, his revolver in the other, and pointed it at the gaunt, skinny figure sat in his chair, playing "Bop-It" of all things
Joker- Heh. Hello there. Decided to pop in to see you- you weren't in, but I thought I'd stick around.
Gar- What the hell are you doing here?
Joker- Simple! Heard you hated Mondays, so I brought you something to cheer you up.
*He points a long white finger at the foil tray and cackles. Making sure he isn't playing some kind of game, Gar takes a peak under the wrapper*
Gar- This is lasagna.
Joker- Yep. Made it myself Garfield! Well, technically Jon did.
Gar- Who the hell is Jon?
Joker- Heha. Honestly! When you read the paper, you don't read the funny pages? Ha! That's *all* I read! And the odd murder hoohoohahaha.
Gar- Get out of my house.
*Joker rises from the seat, and places a gloved hand over Gar's gun, brushing it aside*
"If the lasagna isn't doing it, how about a joke?"
The Arkham Redemption- Enter the Terminator
===Over 20 Years Ago===
Norbert- Please... Stop.
*The assassin grimaced beneath his orange mask. He pulled Norbert up by his arm, then he hurled him over his shoulder, straight through a brick wall*
"Do you think your enemies will stop? Do you want them to? To take pity on you, to treat you like a weakling, so that you're just another nobody? So that you're just a waste of my time? Because I don't. Get. Up."
*They called him Deathstroke, even back then. He had still had two eyes, and his mask reflected that in it's design. The Injustice Society reached out to him almost as soon as he was out of the military. Slade Wilson was a war hero, and there was value in that. His own enhancements made the ideal handler and trainer for their newest weapon, The Killer Wasp*
Slade- The JSA will keep winning, I will keep winning, boy, if you don't get yourself a backbone! Understand?
*Through a tight and brutal training regime- a never ending barrage of insults and injuries, Wilson crafted the young, tender hearted Walker into the monster the Society needed. The Wasp rose to his feet, and nodded. The assassin, now unmasked to reveal his blonde hair and chiseled jaw, smirked, and handed him a file.*
Slade- Good. Your target is Richard Sionis, entrepreneur, business man, and arms dealer, currently staying in the Opal City Arms, room 237A. Recently, he found himself a new mask for his collection. The Mask of Sorrows. He doesn't understand it's true power. We do. Bring it back for us, as part of your... Initiation.
Wasp- Yes, sir.
====Now====
*20 years on, and master and pupil are reunited.*
Slade- Krill can be erratic. Moronic at times. But when he's in his element... Well, I'd almost call him brilliant. Why, he brought you both here without fail. To me.
Norbert- Where... Are the others?
Slade- The task force? On standby. They served their purpose, separated you from the herd. Your friends are just distractions. I've seen it in action- you two, you are the real trouble makers.
Drury- Oh, come on Slade, how much, how much are they paying you?
Slade- Don't insult me Walker. You could never pay my fee, not when you're working in... a fudge factory, was it?
*Drury looks at the ground, and scuffs his shoes on the concrete*
...
Drury- I'm trying my best.
Slade- Well, heh, we'll see about that.
*With a swift strike to the throat, Drury's coughing up blood on the floor. As he goes in for the kill Norbert reaches out, and catches Slade's sword in his hands*
Norbert- Leave... Leave him alone. It's me you want.
Slade- No, boy, it's really not. It's Strange who's really interested in you. Don't know why, I don't ask questions, but... I heard your last reunion didn't go so well. Heh. Me, on the other hand, I'm over you. You may've gotten your soul back, but, at the end of the day you're just another weak, insignificant speck.
*Norbert looked at his brother, still a stranger to him in many ways, and then back to Deathstroke*
Norbert- Drury....
Slade- Go on boy, show me what you've got.
====GCPD====
Miranda- Selina! You ok?
Selina- Well, was almost swallowed whole, but aside from that? Dandy. Where'd they even go?
*Selina brushes the grime and snake venom off of her catsuit, then stretches her back out, purring while doing so. "Do they all have to act like damn cats?" thought Miranda, thinking of Blake, and King of Cats*
Miranda- Krill took them. Norbert went after him, but... We don't even know where *he's* gone.
*Chancer looked into the distance, looking mature, for the first time in a while. "So, uh, what now?" he asked his companions, who simply shrugged, only for his question to be answered by a familiar voice. "Well, if you're not too busy, I was hoping you could catch us up," Ten said, him and Rigger ambling towards them, armed and weary.*
Chancer- Rigger! What're you doing here?
Ten- We saw the signal, wanted to check things out. Charles sends his regards.
*Miranda laughs relieved, pausing upon seeing the bone pertruding from Rigger's leg, and the sparks flicking around Ten's bionics*
Miranda- *Ahem* Looking a little worse for there, there fellas.
Rigger- Ah, it's just splintered. You, still look pretty as anything.
*But Rigger wasn't really paying all that attention to Miranda, having stared, unsure about the woman by her side, he'd concluded that she was not a mirage, and he would not waste this chance. There was a lump stuck in his throat as he hobbled past Tiger Moth, and towards Selina*
Rigger- You're Catwoman.
Selina- I am. And you're Firebug, right?
Rigger- Yeah, yeah. That's me. (She knows who I am.)
Ten- Congratulations.
=====Gar's House=====
*Gar came home laden with shopping, baby Josie tied to his back. He placed her in her crib, and opened his bags, just the essentials- bread, milk, cheese, and... a packet of firelighters. He held them in his charred hands, no recollection of having bought them. They called out to him, urging him to use them, and... He threw them in the bin, and collapsed onto the kitchen floor. The urges had become less frequent since his daughter entered his life, but every now and then, he'd wake up from a day dream holding something- A lit match, a tank of gas, a carton of fireworks. If there was a single doctor who *hadn't* gone crazy in Gotham, maybe he could have gotten therapy. Another bloody Monday, he sighed, rising to his feet, and picking his bags up. He opened the fridge, and- *
Gar- What the hell-?
*There was a tin-foiled package in there, and he was certain he hadn't put it there. Something, was wrong. He opened the living room door, the foil package under one arm, his revolver in the other, and pointed it at the gaunt, skinny figure sat in his chair, playing "Bop-It" of all things
Joker- Heh. Hello there. Decided to pop in to see you- you weren't in, but I thought I'd stick around.
Gar- What the hell are you doing here?
Joker- Simple! Heard you hated Mondays, so I brought you something to cheer you up.
*He points a long white finger at the foil tray and cackles. Making sure he isn't playing some kind of game, Gar takes a peak under the wrapper*
Gar- This is lasagna.
Joker- Yep. Made it myself Garfield! Well, technically Jon did.
Gar- Who the hell is Jon?
Joker- Heha. Honestly! When you read the paper, you don't read the funny pages? Ha! That's *all* I read! And the odd murder hoohoohahaha.
Gar- Get out of my house.
*Joker rises from the seat, and places a gloved hand over Gar's gun, brushing it aside*
"If the lasagna isn't doing it, how about a joke?"