(Untitled)

[laughing_mage]

Scattered tools of his nights work can be seen around the room in the abandoned building he has been using as a workshop. In one corner are a pick and shovel covered with fresh earth with gloves and boots saturated with liquid and mud flung beside them. On the table where he's been working are several newspaper clippings and lists. Special ink and

Comments

[one_eyed_merc]

Double-steel-barred. Getting serious.

Shape charges, I guess. Hope those unconscious guards are heavy sleepers.

Four quick, small explosions, and Harley Quinn's door falls forward.

Hope you weren't too close to the door, Ms. Quinzel... actually, I really don't care that much.

Victor Zsasz. This is pushing it, even for Slade...

[_harley_quinn_]

"That door had sentimental value!" she fumes.

[one_eyed_merc]

Solid brick door on titanium hinges. Impregnable by any basic means. Luckily, applied acid sponges aren't basic.

And...

Zsasz is within, hanging from his tethers.

Yeah, I would've done the same. Guess I have to cut you down.

He grabs Zsasz by the collar and pulls him forward.

But just you remember, freak - try anything and I'll put you down more permanently than the bat ever would. For free.

Two slashes with the sword, and Zsasz is down.

Two-Face. Right...

[jla_extras]

Zsasz says nothing, but he grins, and runs quickly out of the cell.

[one_eyed_merc]

Two layers of bulletproof glass separated by steel doors. This is getting expensive.

Dent. You want out, you got out.

He doesn't even look in the cell. He's been at this for twelve minutes now. Another three and some Bat-whatevers will be here, and Slade isn't in the mood. Time for Dr. Destiny.

[one_eyed_merc]

Relatively light after Zsasz and Dent. One silenced shape charge does it.

No conversations with Destiny. As far as Slade's concerned, he doesn't want that lunatic even knowing he was here.

One left.

[doctor_destiny]

Dee....Dee...Dee...thank you. You will have pleasent dreams. We must bring the Red Hood. He's special.

[one_eyed_merc]

He just looks at the cell. No real name, not even an "identity unknown" - looks like they finally gave up on calling him anything else.

Tighter security than anywhere else. Slade has the equipment to get through, though.

But...

He presses the button for the mike into the cell.

Hey, Joker. Dunno if you're in there, but hey, this gets recorded anyway, and sooner or later they'll play it for you.

It's Deathstroke. I was going to set you free, but, you know, screw it. I got limits. Look me up sometime. I'd love to have an excuse to ice you. But, lucky for you, I gotta run.

And now - time to leave, before Batman shows up.