The Lead [Deathstroke]

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The skies are shrouded in darkness, a full moon in the sky being a massive source of light shining down onto the city of Bludhaven, which is in as much chaos as you would expect. Every hour or two a gunshot can be heard ringing out; cars can be heard skidding across the roads, sometimes crashing. For Malcolm, all these sounds of despair and chaos have become rather calming. They used to keep him awake at night, worrying about those in pain, but he found people to blame…corrupt law enforcers. None of this would be happening if it wasn’t for them, of course…he feels like he needs to stop them. But not yet.

Around a mile away from his now former base of operations, which was an old storage warehouse, a group of hired henchmen can be seen heavily armed outside the doors of a large red shipping container. One of those men, who seems to be leading the pack, is a large and hulking mass of muscle and flesh wielding a large, terrifying gattling gun. Behind the doors of the cargo container, sounds of muffled yelling can be heard, not a word of it can really be made out unless you press your ear up against it or go inside.

The sounds of the muffled yelling come to a stop, the sounds are quickly replaced by metallic noises – as if something is being moved. The group of henchmen and common lowlife thugs turn their attention to the doors as they begin to open with an headache inducing creek, haven not been oiled in quite some time it seems. Out from the container, Malcolm Fontaine, the son of the recently deceased Richard Fontaine steps out, shutting the large metal doors behind him. He digs his hand into his front jacket pocket, pulling out a small white piece of cloth, which he dabs on his forehead a few times, giving it a small wipe to get rid of some of the sweat that coats his skin, slipping it back into his pocket.

The first action he takes is walking towards the horrifyingly huge henchman, taking a glance at his gun before up to his face with an eyebrow raised. “Try not to look too suspicious…” a smug grin spread across his lips with his delivery of that line, Fontaine lifts his pack of cigarettes out of the pocket of his dress pants, popping it open and slipping one between his lips. One of the hired men quickly pull out a lighter, moving it up to his face and lighting it for him before moving it back into the pocket of his jeans.

Malcolm pulls the cigarette out of his lips, letting out a short sigh “You’re part of my organization, but that doesn’t make you my servant. I appreciate the gesture, but I can light my own.” Slipping it back into his mouth, he takes a quick puff of it, he listens as the man almost stumbles over his words “Sorry boss, won’t happen again…” Malcolm pulls the white stick from his mouth, allowing him to blow out some smoke from his lungs. “Eh, don’t worry about it. Any sign of Slade?”

“Nope, not a single sightin'…you sure he’s gonna turn up, boss?” Malcolm chuckles a little bit in response, simply giving a single nod of the head, placing the cigarette back where it was, leaning against the cargo container and pulling out his cellphone, casually trading a few text messages with some of his new fellow rich friends. Mingling has always been something he’s good at, but it’s not really something he enjoys doing, but alas, it comes with the occupation.

[Deleted]

"I'm already here."

The thud of Deathstroke's boots hitting the concrete resonates throughout the area as the assassin drops from the top of the shipping container. Decked out in his usual garb, including his half-orange, half-black mask, Slade steps toward the front of the container where his employer, Malcolm Fontaine, awaits. 

"If I wasn't on your side, these men would've just cost you your life. You should look into hiring some new blood. Competent men won't get you killed."

The assassin tilts his head when he hears shuffling from inside the container. He smirks behind his mask. Although he didn't much care about 'gang warfare', he was being paid by Fontaine to do a job. Behind the doors of this shipping container was something that'd help him make some progress and finally move onto something else. Slade had no stake in the personal life of Malcolm Fontaine, but this was better than the usual contract where he'd be hired to kill a powerful businessman or a corrupt politician. A man had to get his hands dirty once in a while.

"I trust you haven't hurt him too badly. He's going to need a little left in the tank for what happens next."

Slade could hear the pathetic sound of the person groaning in pain from inside. Perhaps if he was an innocent man, the assassin might feel slight remorse for what he had to do. This man wasn't innocent though. He deserved everything he was about to get, and Deathstroke would enjoy every moment of it.

[Deleted]

The sound of Slade’s voice followed by the sudden thud of him making impact with the ground are enough to alert both Malcolm and his guards of Slade’s presence. Fontaine makes his way over to the shipping container doors, placing his hand on the large steel handles of it, just as he’s about to open them to allow both him and Slade inside, one of the hired men catch their attention. “Yo! Who the hell do you think you are, anyway!?” Turning his head to see where the ruckus is coming from, the billionaire son of the deceased Richard Fontaine lets out a sigh. “Not now, Frank.”

“Sorry boss, but I’m not taking this crap.” Malcolm strokes at his forehead, giving his head a shake left-to-right as he watches Frank approach Slade, getting right up close and in his face. “You say we ain’t competent? Look at you! You haven’t even found the bosses killer yet! It’s been what? Months, right? What the hell kinda professional assassin are you, anywa-“ Malcolm cuts him off with a much more stern voice. “Not. Now. Frank.” Shooting the henchman an intimidating glare, showing that it’s Frank’s last chance.

“Alright, alright…you got it boss…” letting out a sigh due to the mix of embarrassment and relief, Malcolm prepares to open the door before he hears something that brings him to a halt yet again. “What an asshole, right gu-?” before Frank could finish his sentence, the ruthless billionaire pulled out his nine millimeter pistol, aiming it towards him, pulling the trigger without a hint of hesitation. The bullet collides with the skull of the henchman, making him immediately fall to the ground as the shot rings out, echoing due to the silence of shock from the henchman.

As the small amount of smoke from the opening of the pistol fades away, the other henchmen just stare down at the lifeless body of Frank, mouths gaped and eyes widened. Slipping the gun into his back pocket, Malcolm brushes off his suit and shakes his head with a short sigh. “Real sick of your shit, Frank…” with a small lick of his lips, he looks to the other henchmen. “Well, go on. Clean it up.” The hired men quickly get to work with cleaning the body, making their attempt to get rid of it without a trace.

Hesitating no longer, the ambitious crime lord grasps the steel handles of the container, pulling with all his strength and opening the doors to reveal what’s inside. An unfamiliar man is seated on a chair, rope wrapped around his torso and legs, a look of pure terror on his face and tape over his lips, sealing them shut. Muffled yelling comes from behind the tape, but not a word of it can be made out. “Sorry about the delay…but Slade, meet Jackie. Underling of The United Front. Not much, but it’s a start…and he’ll know more than we do, so that’s reason enough for me.”

[Deleted]

Slade stepped over the body of Frank, eyeing the other henchman as he made his way toward the entrance to the container. Inside, a man was bound and gagged. Like a lamb being offered up to the slaughter, this was the individual that Deathstroke would force to talk. He stepped inside with Malcolm following close behind, then leaned over in front of his would-be victim.

"You know who I am. Don't you?"

The man let out a muffled scream from behind the tape over his mouth, causing Slade to crack a smile under his mask. He was pathetic. A stooge. The perfect man to spill his guts about the organisation he was affiliated with. It was only a matter of time before both Malcolm and Slade would discover what they needed to know about The United Front. Of course he wouldn't be able to tell them everything, but he'd have enough to start them on a trail. Slade stood back up and turned to Fontaine.

"I hope you have the stomach for this."

The assassin reached down to his belt and pulled out a long bowie knife. He tossed the razor sharp blade up in his hand a few times, letting out a sadistic chuckle. Slade's form of negotiation wasn't very friendly, especially not with some entry-level thug. He'd skip the formalities and get the information fast. He reached forward with his free hand and ripped the tape from Jackie's mouth.

"Jesus, man! What the hell i-"

Slade plunged the knife into the upper portion of Jackie's leg, prompting the thug to let out a scream before Deathstroke slammed his palm over the man's mouth, muffling his cries of pain.

"You're going to tell me everything you know about The United Front... Or this'll get much, much worse."

[Deleted]

Watching the events unfold before him, Malcolm realizes that any sane person would normally find this whole thing hard to watch or even feel sorry for the unfortunate United Front member. Although calling Malcolm “insane” would be a stretch, he’s certainly not like any ordinary individual; he takes joy in watching this entire thing. This man belongs to an organization that is responsible for his father’s untimely demise, that’s all he cares about and that’s all he thinks about as Slade plunges the knife into the thigh of Jackie. His scream is like music to Malcolm’s ears as a sick grin forms on his face ear-to-ear, almost turning into a frown as Slade covers the mouth and muffles them.

Malcolm takes a final puff of the cigarette in his mouth as it’s shortened to the beyond its use, he spits it down to the floor of the container, pressing his expensive shoe down on top of it and twisting his ankle to extinguish it. “It’s a simple request, Jackie.” Leaning forward to the terrified face of the captive United Front member, Malcolm speaks in a much lower and intimidating tone. “Give us information. Anything you know about the United Front…even the slightest bit of information.” The billionaire’s eyes dart toward Deathstroke as Jackie’s screaming quiets down. “Uncover his mouth.”

As Slade complies, Jackie breathes heavily like an obese man that just ran a marathon. “I…I don’t…” Jackie grits his teeth and yells out, looking directly at Fontaine. “WHO THE HELL ARE YOU GUYS!? Are you cops!?”

Letting out a little bit of a chuckle, shaking his head left-to-right, Malcolm is clearly amused by the question. “Jackie, my friend…you have a knife buried several inches inside your leg…and you’re asking us if we’re cops?”

“Y-Yeah…you know how the cops in this city are…”

Nodding with a more serious expression on his face, folding his arms across his chest as he looks away slightly. “All too well…” Shaking his head, Fontaine grabs hold of the knife by the handle, glaring directly into the eyes of Jackie as he does. “But we’re not here to talk about us; we’re here to talk about you…” Without a blink, the billionaire becomes more blunt. “Information. Now.”

“I can’t tell you anything! They’ll kill m-” Before he can even finish the sentence, Malcolm twists the knife in his leg, causing him to let out another scream, Malcolm standing between Slade and Jackie to prevent him from covering his mouth again – taking pleasure in the sound of his agony. “ALRIGHT, ALRIGHT, PLEASE. STOP. I do know something…” Pulling the knife out of Jackie’s leg, Malcolm throws it to the side as he grabs at the shirt of Jackie. “Then start talking!”

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"... Did I just say that? W-what I meant to say was... I'm just a middle man! I swear to god, guys... I-I'm small time!"

Slade turns to Malcolm as Jackie sputters out his pleas for mercy. The assassin shrugs and then turns to the captive, lifting his leg and driving his foot into the shin of the restrained man. Jackie screams in pain as Slade's boot connects with his leg. A little more force and he could've broken it, but there was no need to go that far. Not yet, anyway.

"You're important enough to know something, Jackie, you just said it yourself. That's why we pulled you off the street instead of some other unlucky putz."

Slade trusted Malcolm enough to get the right guy and even though Malcolm's thugs were incompetent, this wasn't a matter he'd take lightly. Fontaine wanted to get to the bottom of his father's death, and he was doing everything in his power thus far to ensure they were on the right trail. It was a sure thing. Jackie was apart of The United Front and was doing his best to withhold information.

"We know you're linked to The United Front. The fact that you're keeping your mouth shut despite the wound in your leg... That shows me you're loyal."

Slade pulls another knife from his belt, this one is larger with a serrated blade. 

"Stupid. But loyal."

He turns to face Jackie, who is now white-faced with panic.

"I appreciate loyalty, Jackie... But is this really worth losing your life over?"

Deathstroke steps forward, pressing the tip of the blade into Jackie's stomach.

"Last chance. Spill it... Or I spill you."

[Deleted]

“Alright, ALRIGHT! Look, I wasn’t kidding, I’m just a middle man…I really don’t have all the info you’re probably looking for!” Stuttering over his last few words, his chest heaving up and down quickly in a crazed panic, he’s clearing thinking as hard as possible to figure out which words he can spew out to get himself out of this deadly situation. “We’ve done business with some of the biggest crime families around, but none of them ever knew they were doin’ business with The United Front…even you, man.” He looks directly at Malcolm with the last statement, causing the billionaire to raise his eyebrows in surprise before lowering them in anger.

“You’re lying.” Malcolm places another cigarette between his lips, raising his zippo and inhaling as he lights it.

“I’m not! Why would I lie about that!? We do business with most people! Our entire system goes deep. We’ve got guys in every crew there is! The whole thing is essentially done completely undercover. It’s impossible to find anyone who’ll even admit to being part of The United Front!”

“Yet here you are.” Malcolm takes a draw of his cigarette, blowing out the smoke as he looks at the underling with a shake of the head and a look of disapproval.

“Yeah. Here I am. Dumbass Jackie getting himself into stuff he shouldn’t be…like always. I’m always looked down on by the rest of the guys! Nobody there likes me!”

“Do I look like I care, Jackie? This whole group is the reason you’re here. You’re just as to blame as the guys who do the hits.” Malcolm pulls the cigarette from his lips, approaching Jackie with a few steps.

“Hits? I’ve got no idea what you’re talking about; we just do a few drug dea-AAAAAARRRRRGHHHHHHHH”

Malcolm had cut his plea short as he pulled the cigarette from his lips and pressed the burning end of it against Jackie’s eye, making him scream in agony. Malcolm quickly covers Jackie’s mouth, muffling the yells as he throws the cigarette down on the ground. “You’re. Lying. I’m losing my patience with you.” After around twenty seconds of muffled screams, they begin to come to an end, Fontaine uncovers his mouth as he stops.

“OKAY, YOU’RE RIGHT. WE DO HITS, SHIT.” Tears start to run down the cheeks of Jackie as he seems unable to open his burnt eye.

Progress. A sick smirk spreads across the lips of Fontaine as he takes a step back. “Was that so hard, Jackie?”

“I…I don’t do them though…I’ve never pulled the trigger of a gun in my life…I’ve never stabbed anyone. I don’t have it in me…maybe that’s the reason they don’t like me, I dunno man…can…can you take me to a hospital or something? I don’t wanna be half blind for the rest of my life…”

“You should have thought about that before you sat there lying straight to our faces. Now, next enquiry…who performs the hits? Who do they hire? You better start talking or I’ll take the other eye.” Malcolm lights another cigarette to show he isn’t bluffing, folding his arms across his chest as he glances over to Slade.

“I…I don’t know…r-really, I don't...I don't really see the higher ranked guys...”

[Deleted]

"I'm done playing games."

Slade steps forward before delivering a kick to the chest of Jackie. The henchman sputters an obscenity and the audible crack of his ribs is heard as the chair falls backwards, hitting the floor of the shipping container with a thud. 

"WHAT THE HELL, MAN? I THINK YOU JUST BROKE SOMETHI- UGH!"

Deathstroke's heavily armoured boot stomps down hard onto Jackie's chest. The assassin leans down, his masked face terrifying the unfortunate victim. Slade twists his boot, causing Jackie to cry out in pain once again.

"Losing an eye should be the least of your worries, kid. My associate stopped me from killing you last time, but he won't stop me again. You've just run out of rope, my friend." Slade twists his boot in the other direction as Jackie continues to groan in agony. What he'd said to Jackie earlier was true. Loyal men were hard to come by in this part of the world, so Jackie either had great respect for his employers, or he was deathly afraid of them. Most likely the latter.

"You're going to give us a name..." Slade removes the pistol from his belt, cocks it, and points it down at Jackie's head. "Or you're dead."

"Okay! OKAY! I don't see the higher ranked guys, I swear! This guy in town... Dario... He's my contact. He owns the D&C Pawn Shop. See, he runs it like a normal business but he's got all kinds of shady dealings goin' on behind the scenes! I go to him and he gives me and the guys the jobs! I swear, man... That's all I know... Just PLEASE don't kill me! I got a wife, man.... I got a kid on the way for christ's sake! I'll leave town and you'll never hear from me again! Just for the love of GOD don't shoot-"

BANG.

There was no point in keeping him alive in that state. Death was merciful. Jackie wasn't lying. The look in his eye. His tone of voice. The way the colour drained from his face when he saw the gun. His story. The pleading. All of it was real. Slade turns back to Malcolm as blood begins to pool around the corpse on the floor.

"Dario Fabrizio. He does own a pawn shop in town. He brokers contracts between assassins and the employers who want to protect their identities and keep their hands clean. I've met him before. It comes as no surprise that he's working with The United Front, although that was none of my business before this job." Slade holsters his pistol. "Next course of action is up to you."

[Deleted]

Looking down at the corpse lying at his feet, Malcolm shakes his head as his body language shows a slight hint of disappointment. Part of him wanted to try and get more information out of him, but deep down he knew they got everything they could have – they had a new target, but Malcolm has the unfortunate position of not wanting to kill this one considering he actually does some business through Dario. This isn’t going to be easy…or maybe his already existing connection to him will make it easier to get the information they need, that much remains to be seen.

Stepping over the body of the now deceased Jackie without a bit of remorse for the unfortunate lower ranking United Front member. “I know him, too…seems like Dario gets around.” Taking a drag from the cigarette before pulling it from his lips, blowing out the smoke, Malcolm ponders what action they could possibly take. “We can pay him a visit, I guess. It’s harder to get the identity of clients than it is to get the names of the hitmen he does business with…which doesn’t make things easy considering the client is the one I want dead.”

With a few puffs of the cigarette, the chairman of Fontaine Enterprises thinks of all the moves they could make – giving Dario an interrogation much like Jackie received is an option, but it’s not one Malcolm would be too keen on taking. They could simply talk to him, pay him off and see what he’s willing to say, but they might not get all the information they’re searching for. If there are any other moves, Fontaine isn’t aware of them yet. “I say we just talk to him. Guys like Dario can be paid off…and hopefully I’ve done enough business with him that he’d trust me with more information than the ordinary client.” Pausing for a moment, he gives Slade a quick glare. “Unless of course you have any better ideas…?”

[Deleted]

Slade turns once more and looks at the dead body of Jackie, yet another casualty while working under Fontaine. He wasn't bothered by the bloodshed, but it didn't seem like Fontaine was either. People like him were very dangerous in this line of work, working their way up and burning bright until they go out with a bang. If Fontaine didn't tread carefully, those circumstances find themselves to him sooner rather than later. Deathstroke holsters his pistol and turns to his employer.

"Pay him off if you want. I can make him talk otherwise."

He turns and heads towards the entrance of the shipping container.

"When you're ready to make the next move, contact me. I've other business to take care of for now."

Slade steps outside of the container, making eye contact with another of Malcolm's men along the way.

"There's something in there for you to clean up. I'd make it quick if I were you. You don't want to end up like Frank."

With a chuckle, Slade slips off into the night once more, leaving Fontaine and his men to dispose of two corpses.