I ship you and Nightwing.
"Is that an eye patch!? Hah! I have a pirate friend except he’s not in pirate clothes!" Snapping his finger down while shaking his head. "Me a good kid? Death, you’re a good man. Now we’re even." Knowing what he said as it was part of him being silly. "I can do that, hope you wouldn’t mind of the spot being crushed with meat and bones, I attend to eat a lot now." Still making up jokes as he does eat people but not that much only if the Symbiote desire that. "That’ early too!? Jeez, I usually get up a midnight." He leaned in to whisper. "You heard? I’m a vampire." Not Cletus; mostly his symbiote being vampiric, as hearing his briefing about the target from Deathstroke.
Blinking at him without a guise of emotion across his expression, Slade let him speak before he crossed his arms and thumbed the knife’s hilt strapped to his belt. “I don’t care what you do to the body,” he started, “You can eat his organs and I’ll take pictures if you’d like to frame it. Just get stop his heart.” As for the vampire and pirate comments, Slade ignored them, noting that the kid probably lived in his own head that was probably plagued with childish and demonic fantasies. If he were one to feel sadness, maybe it’d thrum through him then.
Dinah had become confident about their interactions. Perhaps this time, she confused it with an arrogant assumption that she understood anything at all in his mind. In reflex her jaw set as soon as she felt his glove on her skin. The voice, the tone, nor the loudness shook her composure. That sort of fight she was all too versed in.
In a swift motion, only someone like Slade could process she struck his wrist away from her face. Her brows came together as she looked at him like with displeasure.
"When you agree I’m right." Her initial condition was impossible- at best. "We can do it my way, and you’ll be compensated. Might not be your bounty but you picked the wrong day to play Judge Dredd. He owes me first, I know you can honour that, ‘Stroke."
Dinah didn’t want to admit the specifics about Braun and herself, but it was clear she wanted her share of the man.
So there she was, putting him up against the option: honour or money. It wasn’t often he cared the least on her personal escapades, but lately the two had developed something between the line of partnership and something else ridiculous. It was all silent, obviously. She was one of the few he wouldn’t dare eliminate for less than a good fifty million.
Everyone was worth an amount someone could fit into American dollars. Even family. Crossing his arms, Slade narrowed his eye at her behind his mask, not that she could see it. Hand falling to the hilt of his sword, he unsheathed it in the same motion, pressing the tip of it into the snow. Taking some time to consider her words, his final reply was: “You lead me to the information I need. I’ll gather it, and then we get to Braun. You can do all you can against him, until he’s toeing the line of alive and dead. But he dies by my sword.” Whether it’s me or you who is holding it.
Flexing his fingers that had grown slightly stiff due to the cold, he spoke again. “You do this, and I’ll give you a portion of my reward. If you go solo, I’ll make sure to find him first, and kill him first.”
The ice pack made his hand feel like they were being burned off. He threw the pack into the sink, nodding before taking a seat on one of the island chairs.
"Yeah. You do. Doesn’t seem like you’re going to die anymore. All that lovely color—" He starts but doesn’t follow through. He doesn’t feel like teasing the man right now. A hand covering his mouth stifles a yawn as he opens his box of food.
Slade figured it odd that Dick took the time to pull out an ice pack just to trash it moments later. He didn’t dwell on it, though, and took some time to consider stabbing his fork into the skin of Dick’s hand at his badgering. Lovely color? He was much easier to mess with when he was a bit delirious from blood loss, it seemed. Instead of doing something he regretted, Slade rose an eyebrow and swallowed before speaking.
"The Learjet will be here soon," he said, "I appreciate your hospitality. And… your phone," he muttered, reaching into one of the compartments of his belt to grab the phone he’d been using to text him with. Sliding it across the bar, he tried to wipe the thought of his own horrid writing from earlier.
Selina blinked at his brief answer and felt a surge of annoyance. Bullshit! she thought, Who else would know she was tangling with Bone?
“Wait on a sec! You can’t just-” She was halted by the thundering sounds of a Learjet, closing in on them. The force of the winds nearly forced her to back up some and shield her face with her arm. It got low enough for Slade to get in there.
She found herself a little astonished by his last minute offer. But it only lasted a heartbeat before she rushed in and got inside. “Fine, but no more half-ass answers!”
The debris that hit his face was becoming more and more irritating, and the moment of hesitation had him grinding his teeth. Still, it lasted shorter than he’d thought it would. As the helicopter lifted, he’d watched the city become smaller and smaller beneath him. A layer of soupy fog diminished the higher they lifted. Turning to Selina, who was still standing despite the options of seating, he lifted his mask. “I don’t have to do shit for you.”
Stepping closer, he tilted his head down at her, scanning her own gritted jaw. “You’re lucky that I’m bringing you to take him down at all.” Despite his hostile words, his voice carried little emotion, and he shut his replaced his helmet like it was nothing.
Slade was a man of action. Anyone who had the chance to observe his destruction, public or private, of an area, person or creature knew that. If he had the chance to slaughter, he would. It was fun. Of course, it was all about the power. It was a shame that his power was only an illusion, but while it lasted, he’d sit upon its pinnacle and let it boost through his system and ego until he felt good enough to ignore the fact it was but a chimera. His justification? If he had the sword to give or take the most important thing on this earth, that being life, it meant he had control. If he did take those lives, he had money. The two factors both gave him one of the things he craved most: dominance, command, supremacy. And yes, it was sick, of course it was, but he’d dropped any of the norm’s morals and adopted his own.
So upon the initial rejection on working with him to find this head, Slade had told Black Canary to fuck herself over twice. It wasn’t like he often asked for help on a mission. Despite this, Peabody and Christoph and himself had no idea where he was. They had been attempting to track Braun for a month. His client was offering twenty-million on the dude. It struck Slade as odd that someone in such a high position in a well-respected organization was paying a villain to gather information on stolen satellites and/or kill another villain, but he didn’t dwell on it long. But after those long thirty days, that same contractor became impatient and threatened to down the price if he didn’t go into action in the next few days. In which Slade responded with a knife to the center of the man’s gullet, a sneer on his face. Peabody had yanked him off of the dude, and assured him that they’d be travelling to whatever remote location the criminal was on soon.
Barrow, Alaska was finally their answer as to his whereabouts. That was fun, Slade had stated sarcastically. Had it been the winter, he might’ve been angrier, but it was only summer, so no -24 degree temperature for him. Despite this, he thanked whatever high deity there was that the material on the inner part of his armor adjusted to temperature easily.
And, as always, he’d bumped into Dinah. It wasn’t all that surprising, but he did find it odd that she didn’t even look up at the Learjet upon it’s descent. Her brows were pulled in a line of determination, and Slade had realized she was there for the exact reason he was. It occurred to him that he would be doing business the minute he stepped on the ground. Gun strapped to his back, as well as his sword, (apparently the man was a master martial artist with metahuman powers. He’d laughed at that and decided to that he was just the same) he’d jumped out of the helicopter at thirty feet and landed in a crouch in front of her. She took the time to kick some snow up onto the front of his mask. He’d growled and resisted the urge to kick her to the ground.
In all actuality, they were really only three-year-old’s.
He had discussed with her, the chopper landing somewhere nearby, told Dinah about his mission and recovered some information from her as well. Upon explaining to her that he was there to kill Braun, she’d retorted that he better not. She wanted to rough him up herself, it seemed, and with that, Slade lifted his middle finger and replied with: “I’ll get my information and the blood I need too without you.”
Which brought us back to the revelation that Slade, even if it wasn’t needed, had the craving to annihilate. It was all part of the name. He would not settle for less.
But now, trudging through the snow with the pretty blonde at his side running his mouth, he was becoming wary of his decision. Turning on his heel and stopping in his tracks, Slade took note of a single truck drive on the icy road before he gripped Dinah’s jaw in his gloved hand and sneered: “Stop talking.” All he wanted to do was get indoors so he could shed his armor and find this asshole’s location so he could act upon it the next day, but with Black Canary tight on his heels, he was limited to that. And… she probably knew where he was.
There was the conflict, Slade decided. Keep up the reputation or give in to her hippie ass to get the job done? “Stop. Talking.”
Captain Murphy (Feat. Viktor Vaughn, Earl Sweatshirt & Thundercat) - Between Villains
Catwoman didn’t answer right away. She felt complete and utter conflict tear her up inside. By all accounts she should be happy about this news; Bones was finally going to answer for what he did to her and Lola (for real this time) and she was going to get paid for it. It’s a win-win situation. Only the bad guy dies.
But as the one-eyed mercenary was about to leave, something occurred to her.
"Wait!" She suddenly said and took a step forward. "How did you know? That I knew where he was?"
Turning around once more, Slade held her question in the air tensely before answering honestly with: “I didn’t.” How he knew that she was involved with him in the first place was an entirely different inquiry, one that he would answer just as vaguely. Maybe ‘an assumption’ or ‘I have my sources.’ But that wasn’t her question and he wouldn’t stick around to wait for her to ask it. He had Peabody on the way, anyway. There were more important matters to attend to.
His head turned up and he looked behind him once more. The charted Learjet he’d invested in screamed and roared like a military fighter as it lowered enough so that Slade could climb in. Before he did, however, he looked over his shoulder once more. “…Selina,” he called over the roar, the distortion his mask provided altering his voice even more than it would have. “Hop in.” Last minute decisions, alright.