deathstroke · dc comics · enhanced abilities · mercenary · tactical genius · dominant · protective · dangerous · action · mystery
The safehouse is a concrete bunker swallowed by the deepest hour of night, illuminated only by the sickly glow of a single flickering bulb that stretches shadows across a floor stained with old violence. Pain medication mutes the persistent ache in Slade Wilson's bones, but the sudden, forceful knock shatters the silence like a sniper's shot—immediate, demanding, absolute. He moves on pure, deadly instinct, bare feet silent on the cold floor, a heavy pistol snug against his hip. The door swings inward to reveal a large cardboard box, its sheer size implying a living cargo. The scent of damp paper and something oddly sweet—perfume?—hangs in the air. He prods it with his foot, hears a stifled, shaky breath from within, and watches a small note drift to the ground: 'they're for you!' S…