Flatline [open]

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Deathstroke crept along through the Arkham grounds, a silenced pistol drawn. It was a dark, stormy night, and the only reason Deathstroke could see more than thirty feet in front of him was because he had his thermals on. He saw a guard coming towards him, and quickly rolled and lept into the fountain. When the guard came to investigate the noise, Deathstroke pulled him in and after the sound of splashing two silenced gunshots rang out. Deathstroke left the guard in the fountain and kept going.

After five more minutes of sneaking and murdering, Deathstroke finally found himelf on the third floor of the Arkham medical building, rewiring the card lock on the third floor balcony so he could get in. His client wanted a very special patient dead, someone who had seen too much. Unfortunately for his client, this person had gone mind-shatteringly insane in the process, and had been admitted to the Arkham medical ward for diagnosis. Deathstroke needed to get in, kill the target, and get out as quickly as possible, and get out. But first, he needed to get past this stubborn card-lock.

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The air in the room was cold, the faint sound of a heart monitor beeping as Cassidy woke up. Her head was pounding and she was dizzy, unsure of where she was or what was going on. She tried to sit up but was met with leather straps, she was tied down and covered with a light white blanket.

Glancing around she realized she was in a medical facility, a rather eerie medical facility. She struggled with her straps, her heart beginning to race, the monitor beeping louder and louder. Cassidy wriggled and managed to free an arm, but she was still bound to the long, metal table. Wires running along either side of her, a faint light looming over her as she continued to struggle, screaming for someone to help her.

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Deathstroke fiddled with the wires until they sparked, and the red light on the card reader changed to green. He lifted his wrist computer up, and extended a cable from it to the card reader. After a minute of rewriting the codes to the lock, the locks on the door clicked open, and it creaked open. Deathstroke stepped through the door, thermal optics switching over to ocular. The first thing he noticed as soon as he placed a wet boot against the sterile tile floor was that someone was screaming, so horridly loud. He looked around, and his gaze locked onto one of the hospital assistants as they came running from one room down the hallway to another in response to the screamings, a needle full of sedative in his hands.

Deathstroke followed the hospital assistant, and peeked through the door. "Shut up!" the hospital assistant yelled to Cassidy, and approached her with the needle. He got far enough to grab her flailing arm before someone put three bullets through his chest and one through his head, the only sound accompanying it being the 'pfft' the silencer makes when it fires. The assistant fell over Cassidy, lying facedown on her midsection as he bled on her. Deathstroke walked into her view, the end of the silencer smoking in the dim hospital light. He leveled the pistol at her head.

"I'm looking for a very special person." He said, and uttered the phrase his employer gave him that would help him identify the target. "Ia, Yog-Sothoth fghtagn." Deathstroke uttered. If Cassidy was the person he was looking for, she'd start screaming her head off oven louder when she heard the words.

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His eyes opened slowly, as a groan was issued from pale lips into the air. Pupils had a moment to flit about before the eyes shut tightly again, unable to adjust to the lighting, no matter how dim. How long had he been asleep? Probably a few hours, at most. The cot beneath him was uncomfortable, and the thin blanket thrown over him did little against the chill of the eerie structure he resided in. Still, neither had seemed to bother him much during his drug induced sleep, which had been much deeper than his normal light naps. Maybe the doctors should give him the drug every night, and perhaps then the dark circles under his eyes would fade.

Robert willed himself to sit up, throwing the blanket aside and forcing his eyes open to squint at his surroundings. But it was still difficult to focus, so he moved to examine his arm. Stitches were visible along a ragged, once open wound, and dried blood smeared his skin. A scowl dropped over his face. This place was full of lunatics. He'd been simply walking down the hall with a few guards at his side, as always, and from the opposite side of the hall the crazy man had attacked, jerking away from his own companions to thrust himself onto Robert in a frenzy. Took a nice chunk out of his arm with his teeth before deciding it would be easier to strangle Robert.

His hand reached up towards his neck, with fingers lightly trailing across the bruises there. It was obvious the bruised skin was sensitive, when his delicate touch caused a dull ache to form. The sound of a heart monitor drew Robert's attention toward the struggling woman in another room nearby, as it grew more erratic. Why was the door open? A doctor had probably been there recently, and planned to return quickly, or there was one in there now. The person was strapped down, he knew by her being cut off from the rest of the infirmary, indicating that she was not a very trustworthy patient, whereas he was free to move as he pleased. Slipping out of the bed, Robert stretched his legs, testing their strength. When he was satisfied, he sat back down and looked about with his now more cooperative eyes.

There was normally staff moving about, so he assumed there was a doctor or guard nearby. They'd be rushing to the aid of the woman in a few minutes, he was sure. And then he'd be approached by a doctor, that would decide if he should stay or return to his cell. They probably hadn't expected him up yet, so perhaps that was the reason for his lack of supervision. Giving a yawn and another stretch of his limbs, Robert waited boredly, with little care for exploring. He'd probably get in trouble for that, and Robert wasn't looking for trouble. If anything, he was looking for peace.

However, the continued silence put him on edge, and he moved to investigate his only known companion in the building. Moving toward the room, he noticed the assistant enter, and cautiously followed. Robert noticed the girl was badly hurt, and flailing against the assistant as he tried to help. Perhaps that was another reason she had been seperated. Crazy for sure. There were several rooms about the place for badly injured patients to rest with more surveillance than the rest recieved. Deciding he shouldn't bother the woman, Robert turned to leave, though the sound of gun shots startled him back into the room, as he ducked behind the wall to eye the door from the side. Some crazy inmate trying to escape? Or something else? Robert didn't recognize the man as he entered, but he did his best to remain hidden. He dared not view the bloody scene behind him, and flattened himself to the wall. He should have stayed in his cot.

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Her eyes went wide as she felt the body bleed against her, gazing up at the figure looming by her like the grim reaper.Cassidy hear his chillimg voice and the words he spoke rang in her ears, a chill running through her as she sreamed even more so," Help! Someone please.... Heeeelp!"

Cassidy strugggled, heart monitor now blinking a red warning sign as she sreamed continually. Suddenly her eyes caught somethimg gleamimg just out of the corner of her eyes, it was the gun... It was reflecting the light from the lamp above them, so shiny...

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Deathstroke, having heard Cassidy's screaming intensify after speaking the intended phrase, raised the pistol, a small red dot appearing on Cassidy's forehead as she thrashed about. "My employer was not keen on giving me a description of the target, but..." He trailed off, his visor completing personal readouts of Cassidy, who she was and why she was in Arkham being displayed in his helmet. He took a second to read this info, before his eye focused back down on her. He noticed the look she was giving the laser sight, that being the only part of the gun that wasn't sprayed black, and put two and two together. "Shit..." He said as he began to back out of the room. "Sorry, m'am. No witnesses." He said, as he drew his other silenced pistol, shot out the camera in the room, and took aim with the other at Cassidy's forehead.