(Untitled)

[wrist_magnum]

"I'm getting tired of shooting your dealers. What do I have to do to work my way up the food chain, Marcus? Do I have to turn your head into a canoe?"

The barrels of the guns at Floyd's wrists whir, cartridges of armor-peircing bullets snapping into place."What, you don't think I will, is that it? Has word gotten around that I've gotten soft,

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[jla_extras]

"Floyd, man...d-don't."

Marcus recoils as Deadshot steps closer, turning his head away in blind panic, eyes squeezing tightly shut.

[wrist_magnum]

"Then how about you start making some sense, Marcus?"

Deadshot drops onto the flatbed next to him, pulling the mask up far enough to reveal his mouth, and sticks a cigarette between his lips.

"Oh, and my name's Deadshot when I'm in the suit."

Deadshot turns the other barrel, slotting in a clip of normal .44 bullets, and points that gun at Marcus's tennis-shoe clad foot.

"Call me Floyd again, and you'll spend months in physical therapy, trying to learn how to walk without toes."

[jla_extras]

"L-look, man...all I know is, word's come down that Penguin's looking to hire outside talent to take you out, because you're disruptin' business...that's all I know, really!!"

[wrist_magnum]

"I'm not hearing names, kid..."

Floyd pulls a kitchen match from the belt of his costume, and scratches it to life against Marcus's stubbly cheek.

"Don't make me send you home to your ma in a box, Marcus. I don't wanna do that."

[jla_extras]

"I don't got no names, Fl--Deadshot! I meant Deadshot!!"

Marcus twists his head violently, shaking it, sending droplets of terrified sweat flying.

"All I know is he was talkin' about hiring out of Keystone, I swear!!"

[wrist_magnum]

"Keystone. He said Keystone?"

Deadshot sighs, mouth pressing into an angry line beneath the mask.

"You're sure?"

[jla_extras]

Marcus nods violently, hoping that the information may have saved his life, or at least his foot.

[wrist_magnum]

Deadshot stands, barrels whirring again as the suit's ammo selection system powers down, and ejects the bullets back into their clips. He pulls a greasy rag from the ground, and jams it into Marcus's mouth with brutal quickness, picking up the roll of duct tape he'd used to bind the man to the back of the truck. Marcus's eyes bug out in terror.

"Relax, kid. The watchman will find you and let you out before you starve. Worst you gotta worry about is pissing yourself before that happens..."

Floyd turns to leave, and turns back after a moment's thought.

"Might be a good idea for you to leave town for a while, though. Head to Hub City or something. Pengy's not to keen on snitches. Seeya around, Marcus. Looks like I gotta go look up an old friend. Hope I remember Lenny's number."