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Red-Tipped Wings (Young Justice SI-OC)
- Thread starter LizOST
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Chapter 2
LizOST
Your first time is always over so quickly, isn't it?
- Joined
- Nov 16, 2020
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Star City, WA
May 5th, 2008
11:03 PM
Slade Wilson is in the middle of a job. His target is the family head of a business conglomerate. The man's son hired Deathstroke to kill him before he had the chance to change his will. Making it so the old man's bastard children benefit, leaving nothing for the contract holder's side of the family. Slade lines his sights on his target. His post is at the window of a neighboring office building on the tenth floor. As a result, his line of sight is parallel to the target's office window. He centers his scope on the target's forehead.
– (BANG!) –
When the old man's grey matter splatters the back wall, Slade's work is done. He disassembles his rifle, places the parts in their case, and stands to leave.
"That was quick."
He gives no hint of any surprise, only reacting by turning his head. A cloaked stranger kneels next to the spot he just vacated. They turn to meet his gaze.
"So… care to do business? I mean, you did just finish up your assignment."
Deathstroke turns bodily to watch the cloaked figure rise. His enhanced senses telling him they had not been there a moment ago. He unsheathes his knife. "Unless you here to tell me you've wired several millions to the designated account, then you're about to become collateral."
Damn, that's intense… and kind of hot. But no – not the time. {sigh} He's probably going to gut me.
"Not even if I told that I could give you the one thing no one else can?"
Slade gives a mild snort. "There's very little I can't get my hands on of my own accord. What could you possibly have that I'd be willing to work for?"
"I can bring back Grant."
– (SHEENK!) –
The unknown figure looks down at their chest and the knife embedded there.
"That was fast – and highly unnecessary. You realize that if I'd actually died, you would've lost the one chance you'll ever have of getting your son back." They grip the knife and pull it out. It's bloodless.
If you took the time to grieve, you wouldn't lose control this badly.
Anyone else would run at the sight before them. A livid Deathstroke whose eye promised unbearable agony was not something easily dismissed. The figure flips the knife in their hand and offers it back.
"DON'T. YOU. DAR-"
They wave their hand and Slade is immobilized. A screen shimmers into existence, directly in front of him.
I wish you were easier to convince.
In his paralysis, Slade witnesses another life, one similar to his own. He sees as he fails his children. As his son undergoes experiments to mimic his idol and he dies mid-battle because of a faulty heart. Then he watches as his alternate self disables a young speedster, clad in purple and bearing the mark of the Flash. Taking the youth's power and traveling through time, yet failing again and again and again. Ultimately admitting defeat and hugging his son, resigned to his fate.
Slade Wilson is practically stone as the vision fades. Were it not for the clenched fists, you'd think him unaffected.
"WHY."
It's not a question, it's a demand.
Would you have listened for less?
Seeing as how the man has no intention of taking back his knife, they tuck it away in their bag.
"To prove a point. Countless iterations and you still lose them. Sometimes Grant, sometimes Joseph, and sometimes all of them. At your core, Slade, you're not ready to be a parent…
At least, not until you're forced. Not until you're taught to yield. You won't bend, so you have to break. To be defeated with no chance of winning. Deathstroke has to fall, before he can learn to be humble."
"So all this, to teach a lesson?!" Slade's voice reached a rumble, holding back a growl.
"Only in part. Remember, I came for business. I aim to make a deal. Providing proof of how this could benefit you and get me what I want, will only make this easier." They weren't gloating just noting the impact of their words. They spoke in a flat tone, like one does when stating fact.
I can see you grit your teeth… you're right to. I know you're hurting and I'm manipulating you to get what I want. I'm sorry, but not enough to stop…
Slade stalls and wars with himself. "What's the price? What guarantee do I have that'll you keep your side of the bargain?", Slade interrogated. He was not to be fooled, any hint of a trick and he would find a way to end the life of the probable meta.
They tilted their head, considering. Hands in pockets and nodding to something only they knew, they looked up to meet Slade's eye.
"A guarantee? Well, then allow me to explain, the closest thing to what I am in this world would be a reality warper. More accurately, my abilities are centered around the idea of 'Contracts'. The benefit of it is that any contract made is a concept in and of itself. Wording is important, yes. But, any loop-hole or clause will be there by my will alone.
Intent is what influences it more than anything else. If I don't want to give you an out due to phrasing or a word-for-word interpretation, then you won't get any. It's not a monkey's paw or a demon-at-the-crossroads scenario, that's not the point. The point is that as much as you can't screw me over, I can't screw you over. And I don't mean that in a roundabout way either. I literally cannot suddenly decide to renege on a contract and willingly suffer the consequences. A contract is binding.
As for the price, all I want from you is one simple thing… your loyalty."
Slade narrows his eye. "What exactly do you mean by my 'loyalty'?"
"It means: You. Are. Mine.
Allow me to elucidate...
You work for me. You side with me. No back-stabs or double-crosses. No betrayals. I won't control what jobs you take or how you choose to do them. What I will do is set boundaries. Anything and everything outside them is up to you. Your money is yours, I'm not touching it. This isn't a sexual arrangement either. I'm not pimping you out or staking my claim on your dick. If anything happens between us, then we'll deal with that bridge when we get to it.
Your family is not collateral, I won't use them to threaten you. They are not indebted to me through you. I'm not using you as a lab rat, you want to test something out? Fine. All I need is your willful and well-informed consent. Unless it breaks one of my rules or involves someone I care about, whatever involves your interpersonal relationships is not my concern.
Now… what's in it for you? Besides your son, which is the obvious. You get ME. You get someone on your side who is a literal incarnation of the meaning of the word, 'BULLSHIT'. You get protection under my banner. That protection extends to your loved ones. Anyone tries anything and they get to deal with one of the rare individuals capable of flipping the metaphysical rule book on its head and getting away with it. Anything else is up to the individual. Only the person in question can sign a contract specifically about them. You can't take a contract on their name or without their say.
By the way, in case you were wondering, contracts can include anything. The specifics will, of course, depend on a case-by-case basis. BUT, if the price can be paid, then… well~ there's really no limit to what we can do is there?"
They can see Slade Wilson, Deathstroke the Terminator, thinking; contemplating the implications of what was said. They could even tell when the thought of contingency plans sparks in his brain, analyzing a way to worm his way out of the deal and still get Grant back.
Oh, how I wish it was that simple, to hand out miracles without strings… to see smiles that reflect pure joy and wonder…
They extend their hand, twiddling their fingers. "Remember, the contract is ABSOLUTE. There's no do-overs or take-backsies."
Slade steps closer.
"AND – keep in mind that despite every single bit of you screaming not to accept, you still can't shake the gut instinct telling you that I can give you exactly what you want. You can't sense me. You can't hear my heartbeat, you can't smell my scent. You can't even feel the wind current change when I move or hear the rustle of my clothes. None of it screams power, but it sure as hell isn't average. So I may be a fake, but that just means you can find a way to end me, painfully too. Or I'm legit and I can make your family whole again. So what's it gonna be?"
His hand moves.
… I wish you'd walked away.
May 5th, 2008
11:03 PM
Slade Wilson is in the middle of a job. His target is the family head of a business conglomerate. The man's son hired Deathstroke to kill him before he had the chance to change his will. Making it so the old man's bastard children benefit, leaving nothing for the contract holder's side of the family. Slade lines his sights on his target. His post is at the window of a neighboring office building on the tenth floor. As a result, his line of sight is parallel to the target's office window. He centers his scope on the target's forehead.
– (BANG!) –
When the old man's grey matter splatters the back wall, Slade's work is done. He disassembles his rifle, places the parts in their case, and stands to leave.
"That was quick."
He gives no hint of any surprise, only reacting by turning his head. A cloaked stranger kneels next to the spot he just vacated. They turn to meet his gaze.
"So… care to do business? I mean, you did just finish up your assignment."
Deathstroke turns bodily to watch the cloaked figure rise. His enhanced senses telling him they had not been there a moment ago. He unsheathes his knife. "Unless you here to tell me you've wired several millions to the designated account, then you're about to become collateral."
Damn, that's intense… and kind of hot. But no – not the time. {sigh} He's probably going to gut me.
"Not even if I told that I could give you the one thing no one else can?"
Slade gives a mild snort. "There's very little I can't get my hands on of my own accord. What could you possibly have that I'd be willing to work for?"
"I can bring back Grant."
– (SHEENK!) –
The unknown figure looks down at their chest and the knife embedded there.
"That was fast – and highly unnecessary. You realize that if I'd actually died, you would've lost the one chance you'll ever have of getting your son back." They grip the knife and pull it out. It's bloodless.
If you took the time to grieve, you wouldn't lose control this badly.
Anyone else would run at the sight before them. A livid Deathstroke whose eye promised unbearable agony was not something easily dismissed. The figure flips the knife in their hand and offers it back.
"DON'T. YOU. DAR-"
They wave their hand and Slade is immobilized. A screen shimmers into existence, directly in front of him.
I wish you were easier to convince.
In his paralysis, Slade witnesses another life, one similar to his own. He sees as he fails his children. As his son undergoes experiments to mimic his idol and he dies mid-battle because of a faulty heart. Then he watches as his alternate self disables a young speedster, clad in purple and bearing the mark of the Flash. Taking the youth's power and traveling through time, yet failing again and again and again. Ultimately admitting defeat and hugging his son, resigned to his fate.
Slade Wilson is practically stone as the vision fades. Were it not for the clenched fists, you'd think him unaffected.
"WHY."
It's not a question, it's a demand.
Would you have listened for less?
Seeing as how the man has no intention of taking back his knife, they tuck it away in their bag.
"To prove a point. Countless iterations and you still lose them. Sometimes Grant, sometimes Joseph, and sometimes all of them. At your core, Slade, you're not ready to be a parent…
At least, not until you're forced. Not until you're taught to yield. You won't bend, so you have to break. To be defeated with no chance of winning. Deathstroke has to fall, before he can learn to be humble."
"So all this, to teach a lesson?!" Slade's voice reached a rumble, holding back a growl.
"Only in part. Remember, I came for business. I aim to make a deal. Providing proof of how this could benefit you and get me what I want, will only make this easier." They weren't gloating just noting the impact of their words. They spoke in a flat tone, like one does when stating fact.
I can see you grit your teeth… you're right to. I know you're hurting and I'm manipulating you to get what I want. I'm sorry, but not enough to stop…
Slade stalls and wars with himself. "What's the price? What guarantee do I have that'll you keep your side of the bargain?", Slade interrogated. He was not to be fooled, any hint of a trick and he would find a way to end the life of the probable meta.
They tilted their head, considering. Hands in pockets and nodding to something only they knew, they looked up to meet Slade's eye.
"A guarantee? Well, then allow me to explain, the closest thing to what I am in this world would be a reality warper. More accurately, my abilities are centered around the idea of 'Contracts'. The benefit of it is that any contract made is a concept in and of itself. Wording is important, yes. But, any loop-hole or clause will be there by my will alone.
Intent is what influences it more than anything else. If I don't want to give you an out due to phrasing or a word-for-word interpretation, then you won't get any. It's not a monkey's paw or a demon-at-the-crossroads scenario, that's not the point. The point is that as much as you can't screw me over, I can't screw you over. And I don't mean that in a roundabout way either. I literally cannot suddenly decide to renege on a contract and willingly suffer the consequences. A contract is binding.
As for the price, all I want from you is one simple thing… your loyalty."
Slade narrows his eye. "What exactly do you mean by my 'loyalty'?"
"It means: You. Are. Mine.
Allow me to elucidate...
You work for me. You side with me. No back-stabs or double-crosses. No betrayals. I won't control what jobs you take or how you choose to do them. What I will do is set boundaries. Anything and everything outside them is up to you. Your money is yours, I'm not touching it. This isn't a sexual arrangement either. I'm not pimping you out or staking my claim on your dick. If anything happens between us, then we'll deal with that bridge when we get to it.
Your family is not collateral, I won't use them to threaten you. They are not indebted to me through you. I'm not using you as a lab rat, you want to test something out? Fine. All I need is your willful and well-informed consent. Unless it breaks one of my rules or involves someone I care about, whatever involves your interpersonal relationships is not my concern.
Now… what's in it for you? Besides your son, which is the obvious. You get ME. You get someone on your side who is a literal incarnation of the meaning of the word, 'BULLSHIT'. You get protection under my banner. That protection extends to your loved ones. Anyone tries anything and they get to deal with one of the rare individuals capable of flipping the metaphysical rule book on its head and getting away with it. Anything else is up to the individual. Only the person in question can sign a contract specifically about them. You can't take a contract on their name or without their say.
By the way, in case you were wondering, contracts can include anything. The specifics will, of course, depend on a case-by-case basis. BUT, if the price can be paid, then… well~ there's really no limit to what we can do is there?"
They can see Slade Wilson, Deathstroke the Terminator, thinking; contemplating the implications of what was said. They could even tell when the thought of contingency plans sparks in his brain, analyzing a way to worm his way out of the deal and still get Grant back.
Oh, how I wish it was that simple, to hand out miracles without strings… to see smiles that reflect pure joy and wonder…
They extend their hand, twiddling their fingers. "Remember, the contract is ABSOLUTE. There's no do-overs or take-backsies."
Slade steps closer.
"AND – keep in mind that despite every single bit of you screaming not to accept, you still can't shake the gut instinct telling you that I can give you exactly what you want. You can't sense me. You can't hear my heartbeat, you can't smell my scent. You can't even feel the wind current change when I move or hear the rustle of my clothes. None of it screams power, but it sure as hell isn't average. So I may be a fake, but that just means you can find a way to end me, painfully too. Or I'm legit and I can make your family whole again. So what's it gonna be?"
His hand moves.
… I wish you'd walked away.
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