Member
Gotham City, United States
"Hey boss! We're here!"
"Perfect. Grab yer gear and get ready 'ta rock."
"Uhhh. Sir, we have a problem."
"What is it?"
"There's nowhere to park."
Ted Carson slapped the back of his driver's head. "Just stop the car, ya moron! We don't have to actually park!" Ted pushed open the passenger side door of the beat up old van and stepped onto the black asphalt below. The rain still fell like a torrent, muddling Ted's vision through his full face gas mask. "Fuckin' Gotham." He muttered. "Never thought I'd miss Star City." Ted made his way to the back of the van and pulled open the double doors, revealing the rest of the Firefly Club. One of the goons tossed Carson a pair of propane tanks strapped together and attached to a hose. Ted slid the makeshift device over his shoulder and strapped it to his chest. "I think I'm likin' that mercenary more n' more." He said while admiring the weapon. The rest of the crew filed out of the van and followed their leader toward the municipal side entrance of Blackgate Penitentiary.
Three Gotham PD officers stood next to a pair of squad cars, blocking off the road leading to the front gate. One of the cops casually approached the band of miscreants. "Rest o' Gotham Fire's on the opposite wing. This side's clear." He informed them, mistaking the gangsters for members of the Fire Department. Ted couldn't blame the guy; they'd taken the Nomex uniforms off of Engine co. 34 less than an hour ago. "Don't worry. It won't be for long." Carson raised the hose toward the cop and pulled the trigger. A burst of propane shot out of the nozzle and the moment it connected with the ignition flame, the cop was ablaze. Ted turned the weapon of the other two officers before they could so much as gape. "Aight, boys! Lez go! We have a bat to kill." The group of thugs marched past the charred corpses of Gotham's Finest, torching the cruisers as they went.
"Sanchez. I want this gate open, pronto!" Ted ordered. Sanchez approached the side gate of the correctional facility and began to cut through the automated locks with a welder. Ten minutes later, the crew was able to force open the doors and enter Blackgate without any more trouble. According to Deathstroke's intel, the guards were all either dead or captured. The police were hard at work trying to contain the convicts and seemed to be stretched thin, busy dealing with outbreaks of crime throughout Gotham. It would seem everyone was trying their damnedest to get the Bat's attention tonight. Ted pulled out a scrunched up old map out of his back pocket. He motioned for his team to surround him, and they did so. "So here's the play, for all ya's who missed it when the Big Boss went over it. Sanchez, Jenkins, Marvin n' me will be locking up all of the secondary and tertiary entrances to Blackgate. 'Stroke wants to funnel Batman through this door, so we're going to block out all of the vents, sewer grates n' laundry shoots we can. He wants zero loose ends, got it?!"
One of the criminals tentatively raised his hand upward to get Ted's attention. "What are ya, one of my student's? Spit it out. We ain't got time for this." Carson growled. He was used to that kind of bullshit working for the public school system; not from his boys during the night shift. "Sorry. Uhh, what's going to stop the Batman from coming in the front door?" Ted shook his head. "And risk gettin' caught out by the Commish? No way. The police 'ave it put for 'im too. 'Specially tonight. Any other stupid questions?" When no one spoke up, Ted gave them all a nod. "Then get to it!"
Slade Wilson drove his Wakizashi short sword into the back of the prisoner's throat. He tossed the man's lifeless body aside and took his position in front of the security consoles. The Firefly Club were hard at working setting up Deathstroke's trap. Meanwhile, the prison riot was in full swing, threatening to spill out into Gotham proper at any time. The vigilante would be there soon. He'd have to be. This was the largest crisis in the city, bar none. Slade briefly wondered if this was someone else's attempt to capture Batman. It made sense, tactically speaking. A non-powered human could use the sheer manpower of the prison to overwhelm the seemingly superhuman Batman. Slade needed no such army; even the Club was only there as a distraction. Deathstroke had made sure to leave no trace of his being in the prison. Even the master detective, for all of his gadgets and skill, would see that all signs pointed toward the Firefly Club. Slade couldn't be completely sure, of course. This was the Batman he was dealing with, not that white rip off over in New York. If anyone could fool the Terminator, it'd be Gotham's Dark Knight.
Deathstroke glanced at the unmoving corpse of the prisoner he had dethroned. Slade felt no pity for him. Strange, considering the whirlpool of emotions that had conflicted the mercenary when he massacred those police officers. Perhaps it was the convict's anonymity that made his death so very...pointless. Or maybe it was his conviction as a criminal. But then, were the police any better? Gotham was notorious for its deep seated corruption. He was still a human being. He probably had a family. Friends, at the very least, who would mourn his passing. Slade mulled. If I could be caught, I'd be in the same position. A convicted criminal. A felon. We are very similar, he and I. Yet I'd drag him like a lamb onto the slaughter without a feeling of guilt or remorse. Why is he any different? What makes him worth less than that cop, or myself? Slade quietly chuckled to himself. "Oh the duality of man." He muttered.
Enough philosophy. There was work to be done.