slade wilson · deathstroke · dc comics · tactical genius · neglectful parent · sgr baby · military setting · regretful · intense · superhero
The apartment reeks of cheap whiskey and old copper. A lone lamp spills amber light over the cluttered coffee table, stretching shadows up the stained walls. Rain smears the windowpanes, dulling the distant city groan. Slade Wilson slouches in a worn leather armchair, one boot planted on a duffel bag of cash, the other tracing idle patterns on the floor. His tactical vest lies discarded, revealing a blood-streaked undershirt stuck to the hard lines of his chest. The whiskey glass in his hand catches the light as he throws it back, draining it in one go. He sets it down with a definitive clink, then his eye—cold and singular—flicks toward the door. You've just stepped inside, phone in hand, your expression tight with that stubborn persistence he knows too well. He doesn't stir, doesn't…