2014.01.16 - Eye for an Eye

Roy's phone doesn't ring. It simply turns on and from it (or the vicinity of Roy's pocket) comes a gravely, angry, and 'this is not my joking tone' voice. "HARPER!" and that seals the deal on who it could be, "Get y-... -rl a-... -un. NOW!" In the distance, somewhere a block, maybe two away, comes the sudden and unsettling sound of heavy weapons grade automatic fire. The sort of gun that doesn't 'pewpew' or 'poppop' so much as 'whumpwhump'. "D- ... -copy!?" it's hard to hear because the source of the call is significantly closer to the gunfire then Roy. Close enough the phones mic cuts out with every shot. And today was supposed to be his day off!!
He'd been minding his own business, enjoying the company of his daughter. The sound of gunfire, however, causes him jolt upright from the sofa where he'd been dozing off while 'Tangled' was playing for the ... what was it, 999th time? 
"What is it, Daddy?" Lian asked, eyes wide. 
"Bad guys, princess," Roy says as he grabs ahold of his gun belt, strapping it on and then nabbing the crossbow holster and strapping it on. "Stay put, don't leave the apartment. Call... uh... call 911 and let them know there's gunfire, then stay here, and don't let anyone in but me or one of your babysitters." 
And once Lian has affirmed her understanding, Roy is out the door, checking the lock with a click. And then he was out on the street, heading towards the gunfire. 
There's only so far Ravager will go for someone, and we're about to see how far that is considering the ones she is pursuing are headed in the direction of the taunt they had made, a threat in her own mindset that is very worthy of a death sentence. One she would take her time on. Every ticking second... 
 
Bit by bit 
 
Slowly... 
 
Blurring lines pass on either side of the vehicle that she rides in beside Deathstroke, her black and red suit donned beneath the trench coat she is peeling from her shoulders so as not to have movement hindered. The dual holster at the small of her back bore two pistols, butts aimed out at her hips, barrels aimed downward towards the seat of the vehicle, lower and crossed are two blades, all in one pretty package to which the sound comes of the pistols being drawn as she shifts to a kneel, her knee hitting the button to roll the window down. 
 
"Approve?" She says tilting the Glocks towards Deathstroke as the opening window whips her hair out past her face.
Deathstroke's mask's snaps back from his face, "NOW IS NOT THE TIME!" he bellows at Rose, his expression something she's never seen before. Emotional. He's angry, and hurt, and ... well, if she didn't know better, she'd say scared. But it's her dad. And scared isn't a thing with him. ... ... ... right? "Run him off the road, kill a bus of nuns if you have to, but you /do not/ let him reach Harper's!" not playing around Slade Wilson turns in the seat and with an armored boot simply kicks the entire door of the side of the racing stolen car, a wrenching metal sound and the clatter of it bouncing away over the asphalt is drowned out by his leaning out the now wide open hole with an M240 held in the crook of one arm. His face screws up into a grimace as the back end of the chased vehicle begins to simply shred away under the deafening roar of the machine gun's no nonsense whumping fire. Casings and disintegrating belt bits fly through the air in a hail of brass plastic and steel every bit as fast as bullets chew into the SUV ahead of them. Short controlled bursts are for those not possessed of super human strength, which is why Slade pours it on. He bellows into his comms agian, "DO YOU COPY ROY!?" Roy. He just called him Roy. That's a really bad sign. The pair of vehicles, traveling much faster then poor Roy, come into view in epic fashion, which is to say, one of them is on fire and the other has a pair of white haired people firing guns into it manically as they both barrel down on Roy.
"I COPY! I COPY!" From the sounds of it, Roy was running. "Just give me a... WHAT THE F---" 
And judging by the cursing that followed, Roy'd discovered just what was heading his way. 
Since he generally didn't keep heavy grade weapons around the apartment with Lian around, Roy didn't have much to fend off -that- SUV, not without a lot of work. Which meant... 
Spinning around, looking for the fire hydrant as the SUV approaches, Roy aims his pistols. 
Gunfire explodes, aiming to shoot out a tire so that it would spin towards the direction of the blown out tire, and towards the hydrant. And while follow-up shots might not be enough to set the hydrant off, it might give a certain tactician or his white-haired daughter some ideas... 
 
Knew damn well it wasn't time to show off toys, but it was in that flourishing moment before she is twining her other leg in the seat belt of the stolen vehicle as an anchor due to the careening and break-neck speed that they were swerving through the streets. As Deathstroke kicks the door out Ravager's eyes narrow and she nods, his gunfire of rapidity echoed by the slower pulse in which her rounds omit, a turn around a corner push her further out of the window of the car, from waist up she is leaning out now, taking precise aim through squinting into the wind, her hair a long flag of white behind her and not a hindrance to the sight and precision in which she is firing. No aims for metal, tires, or obstacles, she is aiming for the shadows that are visible heads, ducked lower in the vehicle in front of them at first until she zeroes in on an intersection ahead, their light red, the dissecting lane green and a bus is crossing it, empty save the driver but none the less Rose has a clear shot of it and is now firing more rapidly, aiming for the engine and to blow it just as Roy is unloading on a hydrant. If one does not make a stopping point, the other hopefully will...
Deathstroke keeps what would disingenuously be called a 'suppressing' fire on the SUV, chewing it's entire back end to ribbons while Roy's shot cleanly takes out the tire, sending it into a careening mad spin. Perhaps to effective, and likely helped by Rose's attempts at the driver, the SUV misses the hydrant completely. Because it turned sideways in the middle of the road and now flip rolls like a burrito of glass and steel across the lawns of 3 of Roy's neighbors and finally coming to a halt a smoking flaming ruin one house past Roy's own. Slade doesn't even wait for the car to stop, he simply tosses the now empty M240 aside and leaps from the moving vehicle, rolling twice before popping up in a sprint that puts him at a solid 30 miles an hour, "DON'T LET UP!" he bellows as he whiffs past Roy. Roy's heard this tone of voice before, even though Rose hasn't. He's seen this level of intensity, this side of Slade that's 9 parts will and 1 part pure desperation. The last time he saw it, Roy was first hand witness to a mushroom cloud. He leaps and his shoulder hits the car, the impact hard enough to send it rolling twice more even as Slade himself ricochets off and to the side, wincing with the impact. Still, he's not fast enough. Much as he did, the door of the SUV flies up into the air as if shot from a cannon and a man leaps through the hole just as Slade knocks the Jeep for another tumble. While still in the air, the man spins, the toe of his boot catching the flying door on it's edge, flipping it perpendicular to himself, and then snap kicking it directly at Roy, making it the worlds largest throwing star. With his feet. And good aim. "/Now/ we have a party!" the man says as he comes down from his nearly twenty foot leap, landing in a graceful three point stance, "The gang's all here..." he's tall and lean, but his armor has a distinctly familiar quality about it. Very familiar to Rose.
That there was -something- that made Slade Wilson sound like Qurac all over again has to cause Roy to be very nervous, as he spins around, his guns turning towards the... oh -crap-. 
Diving behind a car, getting out of the way and covering up as metal shears through metal and sends glass and shards flying, Roy curses. "What the hell, Wilson? If this is your idea of a Christmas present, I hope you saved the receipt!"
 
Simultaneously with Slade, as he leaps from their stolen vehicle she is reaching back, holstering the glocks and drawing one of those blades at her back, cutting the seatbelt that held her in place, or at least into the vehicle without being thrown. Now, she is jumping from the open window with a kick off the rest to send her upward into the air before out, moving much like she is in the midst of a swan dive, but her landing is one trained to brace from impact and absorb it all at once, even as she tucks and rolls, coming up to her feet with both hands behind her back, their vehicle slamming into the smoking bus and making a plume of flames shoot upward like a backdrop to Grant's own exit. Drawing the pistols once again she is walking across the lawn with an eased calm, staring down the barrels with narrowed blue gaze, at first aiming for his head, but the sight... Throws her and she is partially lowering that pistol as it fires off towards Grant - lips moving but nothing coming out as she glances towards Deathstroke. Something akin to /what the fuck?/ forming.
The man turns with an almost casual motion and a pair of knives fly through the air at Roy with a speed to nearly match his arrows, both aimed for his legs, "Stay out of this Arrowette or whatever you call yourself, this does not concern you." He reaches up to removes his helm with a hand and toss it aside, "This is a family matter." If Slade was in his mid to late 20's, clean shaven, and clean of lines or facial scars... he'd look exactly like this guy. Strong jaw, blue eyes, blond hair, he's the spitting image of the 'before' picture one wishes they could see in Slade's face. Rose would know he's older then he looks, much like his father, but not by much. The boyish exterior however is almost as much a weapon as his uh... well his weapons. "Hello Dad. Miss me?" he quips lightly Slade's direction. 
Slade is coming to his feet slowly, his eye narrowed into a slit, "My son is dead." he says in a tone that very plainly gives his opinion on this guys continued survival. Quarac was bad. Really bad. But it wasn't personal, it was business. No one's seen Slade get personal with his work, not one but Grant. Grant's grin falters sightly, "No thanks to you." he points out, "Do you know what twelve kilos of symtex does to the human body if you're less then twenty feet away from it?" he asks, "Because I do. It hurts." There's a soft waver in the air, a blurring motion, and Rose's bullet misses Grant by an inch as he just sort of... leans away from it. They've seen Slade dodge bullets, but his is more about knowing where they'll be and then not being there. This guy just, literally, dodged a bullet. "Wow. Okay. I admit I didn't expect /you/ to shoot me Rose, but I can see he's gotten to you too. It's okay, after I kill the girl Dad here will get the message and then we can all put this behind us." he then glances at Roy almost curiously, "Speaking of my cute little object lesson, where is your daughter? Still in the house I presume?"
Oh... oh holy shit. They'd cloned Slade. Or something. 
Keeping on the move, tumbling and diving and coming up with a car hood, Roy gulps as the knives penetrates through the metal. Holy... how -hard- had he thrown those knives, and how close was he to being kneecapped -anyway-? 
"Oh hell, lovely family you have here, Wilson! At least your daughter's -cute-, but this one... you got to take behind the woodshed!" 
Blood runs cold at the mention of Lian. "What the hell... why? You stay away from Lian!" 
Bringing up his pistols again, Roy fires, aiming for Grant's shoulders. 
Rose's eyes widen slightly as he just...Matrix's out of the way, also his addressing her, the face, who he is, what he says... The hands holding the pistols shake in their clutch on the handles, knuckles whitening and something gives, a sound came with that groaning snap. Glocks drop to the ground and she is reaching behind her, lunging forward in a speed embraced by survival alone. 
 
"Over my dead body...." Ravager growls out in a belted tone of both rage and steadiness, swords flashing as they are drawn from the hilts at her back. He may be able to dodge bullets, but her swords are more up close and... 
 
Personal.
Grant turns in place, one of the bullets missing him by less then an inch, the other scoring a line along his armor plate and peeling away into the air. "Oh he's good. I see why you choose him to replace me Dad. Still, he's slow on the uptake isn't he?" And then a G-18 blurs into his hand from his thigh and with the buzz saw sound of the machine pistol pours nearly twenty rounds in Roy's direction while his other hand pulls the long sword from his back. His blade is the halfway meeting point between the one Slade prefers and the pair his daughter carries, heavier then hers, but not the bastard sword his father is known for. As if it were easier then breathing he rolls his wrist so that sunlight flashes off of the steel of the blade directly into Rose's eyes just as she swings and with a continuing roll he pushes her swords wide and extends a leg to clip her ankle as he spins out of the way of her charge, intending to trip her to the ground. "You left me!" he bellows, fluctuating between a sort of amused grin and rage he's obviously not entirely all there upstairs, "The explosion liquefied half my internal organs, bits of brick severed my spine near my legs, I felt my bones shatter like glass inside me!" he says as he drops the gun and reaches out to grip Rose by her hair, intending to reverse her direction and fling her sidelong at Roy, "And because of /you/ I could. not. die! I lay there in /agony/! Buried alive under tons of rubble!" his face twists in rage and his likeness to his father becomes painfully evident. "I felt thirst and hunger you can't describe. Six weeks I lay there, healing, hurting, until I could start digging. Six more weeks until I saw light again... Three months Dad. Three months in hell. AND YOU LEFT ME THERE!!" Grant becomes still, his breathing forcibly restrained. "But it's okay. Because you were waiting for me when I got out right? It's not like you spent a week hunting in Africa and then instantly moved on to-" his gaze darts Roy's way, "new partners, different jobs. Because that would have been cruel." 
Slade says nothing, he remains still, staring at his son. Every word causes his eye to twitch as if he'd been struck and he takes a step back as if needing to support himself. His lips move, but no one hears the words. Except Grant. His gaze snaps back to his father, "You were wrong. I didn't die, I lived, and you just moved on to bigger, better things." his gaze flicks back towards Roy, "To you. To your friends. I found them first by the way, to see what he saw in them. I left the little birdies broken, found wanting. I wonder Roy Harper, are you better then the Robin's? Did you learn anything from my Dad that your mentor couldn't teach you? Are /you/ good enough?" and he begins to advance on Roy, sword drawn.
Continuing to try and circle around so that they could form a triangle of sorts around Grant, Roy risks another shot, before cutting off gunfire as Rose comes flying towards him. "Yadda yadda..." Rose might have had lost her swords in the process, but Roy catches her, stepping backwards both to reduce the impact, and swing her around in a brief tango. Rose's white hair swirls about briefly, as Roy lowers her just enough to press his guns into her hands... 
Unexpected, Ravager is aware what her father is capable of, but the pure extent amplified? He had managed more training where she had not from Slade, instead she parted ways, other venues, and when that light hit her eyes it did not stop her from moving, recalling where Grant had stood, how he had been positioned to sweep at him with those blades. His retort of strength in which he interrupted threw her rage induced balance, sending her akimbo like a ragdoll towards Roy, both her blades falling like stiff ribbons, one to embed into the lawn, the other to its side and rolling off. 
 
What she did not expect is to be caught, righted and spun. Her world is still moving though a single blink has her nearly cheek to cheek with him until she is bent back and her hands free of him to accept the guns, only rising with Roy in a synchronized step of a deadly dance; both of them armed, him with his crossbow and firing those bolts at Grant as she follows up with bullets, her arms spread, and hands on either side of Roy's shoulders.
Grant moves perfectly. It's more then grace, more then speed, it's like he can see the future, see ahead of them, and every bolt that's fired he's not there to meet it, every bullet pings from his blade or misses him entirely, his motions a completely efficient flow of avoidance. "And what of you Dad? Going to just stand there and watch me kill your replacement kids?" he quips lightly, "I will take them from you, everything you hold dear I will turn to ash and when there is nothing left of you, no honor, no one to love you, no one for you to disappoint, I will kill you. As only a worthy heir could." he stops the dance in a single moment and the sword whiffs through the air, Grant's concentration clear on his face. Apparently he's done showing off. There's a soft ping sound as he cuts a bullet in half with the edge of his blade while his other hand simply snags a bolt from the air as if it were standing still. "I expected better of you Little Sister, you were always the rebel in the family, I never thought he would corrupt you too." he leaps at her in a charge and Slade is startled out of his paralysis, seeing what's coming before it comes, "NO!!" he reaches for his daughter, his son, knowing he's not fast enough. Rose can see it coming too, time skips for her, just a second ahead, just a moment, she can see the blade's upward swing, watching it cut her nearly in half, splitting her head neatly, "But what is corrupt must be cut out. I learned that in the darkness too." Grant whispers, madness in his eyes.
Replacement kid? Was that what -all- Slade's movements had been about? Roy's eyes narrow. And when he threatens -everyone-, for just that one minute, the SHIELD agent looks into the eyes of Grant Wilson... 
And the crossbow comes up, quickly, swiftly, aiming unerringly for Grant. Was he aiming for his heart? Shoulder? One thing was certain... he had to save Lian. And as the sword cleaves up into Rose, Roy screams, firing. 
"WILSONNNN!" 
From firing to being charged, every movement that comes closer to Rose has her unwavering, even her feet brace as she rights from the bent position of a masochistic tango to dipping further back, bending from beneath Roy to step to the side, attempting to clear him of this one wave of rage, perhaps even be a distraction, one that would last enough for someone to get Lian to safety, for this to end. 
 
Shit like this tends to go in slow motion before your very eyes, it does before her own, the guns emptying clips and nothing even so much as winging Grant, watching his deft movements and /knowing/ them, how it feels to be just /that/ lucky... 
And it hits her, that flashing instead of what is about to happen and the guns are gripped in her hands, flipped so the hot barrels are searing into her pals as she sidesteps and crosses them, knocking his blade to the side from its hard and true aim. His strength outdoes her own, so fully escaping a blow meant to split her evenly in two is misguided with that upward thrust, one that does not stop the tip of the sword from stabbing into her eye socket and ripping upward. 
 
White light, that is all that is seen in both eyes due to the searing pain that has her screaming, one hand curling fingers over her face as blood runs between them, seeping down her wrist as one of the pistols falls to the ground before her knee that hits the ground with her moment of pause.
"GRAAAAAAAANT!!" comes a bellow and nearly three hundred pounds of Deathstroke slams into his son from behind. Grant rolls with the impact lightly and comes up facing his father a grin on his face, "She did so wish to be like you father. Now she's your mirror image. You should be proud." Slade stares at Grant for a second, and then his eye narrows and his expression stills, calms. With a soft clank, his face plate falls directly back into place, hiding his features away. Slade is done. Deathstroke is tagged in. He comes at Grant in a flurry of blows to fast to count or see, the blade a whirl, his feet and fists a blurring continuous motion, one met at every turn by his playfully grinning son. "To old, so slow." he teases Slade as their noise of their confrontation becomes one long metallic ringing cacophony. "And ultimately, to stupid." Grant says as he leans back /just/ enough to allow Slade's own larger blade to slice close enough to cut free a lock of blond hair only so that an opening is presented. Grant's blade reverses in a whipcrack motion and there's a grind of metal on metal and a wet sound as two feet of shining enhanced steel blade explodes from Slade's back. Time seems to stop there for just a moment, Slade's sword slipping from his fingers and sinking into the ground behind him. The faceplate snaps up once more as Slade reaches out towards his son, blood foam on his lips, "I loved you." he says softly, "But you never could learn a lesson. It was never about strength, speed, not even tactics. Not really." his fingers close on Grant's wrist and he yanks, pulling himself down the blade until it's cross piece is pressed against the armored breastplate, "It's always been about the code Grant. We don't compromi-" he coughs and pink spittle splatters over his son's cheek, "compromise." his armored gauntlet creaks softly as he grips his son's wrist tighter, "We do the job." his eye narrows and blazes, "And we /don't/ kill kids. Ever. You shouldn't have threatened her... you shou... shouldn't..." he shudders and keeping his gaze locked on his sons says softly, "Do it."
Rose bleeds, and for a moment Roy is distracted. But it's not for long. And the maniacal glint in Grant's eyes fixates Roy for a moment, as Deathstroke is run through with blade. 
Transfixed, Roy watches Slade drag himself deeper and deeper through the blade until he's pressed up against Grant. And when he says do it, Roy suddenly understands. The crossbow comes up, but the quarrel... he knows, it wouldn't penetrate deeply enough through Slade... 
"ROSE! SHOOT HIM!" Roy screams. "Shoot through SLADE!" 
 
Rose is already standing, her hand has fallen from the wound that seeps a viscous liquid down her cheek, the other eye wide open and watching as the two grapple, the one pistol that she did not drop aimed, waiting for the opening that came..
 
*Click click clickclickclick* "FUCK." 
 
She is already trying to shoot, a numbness there, and emptiness that shows something in these past moments snapped, and she doesn't even appear to flinch or register that her father is sliding down a blade held by another like a new wave form of seppuku. 
 
Slow steps, one after another as she approaches the melee like a marionette without strings, her limbs limp and the gun slipping from fingertips. Words are whispers, screaming from Roy is an echo in deaf ears. Standing behind Slade, enough to see Grant's face pressed so close to his she suddenly moves, her knowing that is to happen just as her Father grips her Brother is to come and she has a split second.... 
 
Slade's sword is grabbed by a blood slicked hand and swept high and then low, a momentum gaining motion as she drops to a knee and thrusts the immense sword upward... 
 
//his armored gauntlet creaks softly as he grips his son's wrist tighter,// 
 
And just beside Grant's sword that bastard blade appears, a mirrored image but far larger, sliding upward through Slade's chest and into Grant's as Rose leans in from behind her father. 
 
"I love you both."
Deathstroke is staring into his sons eyes as he feels the shove of the blade at his back, feels it pass through his ribs, his lung, more ribs, and then explode out of his chest. He watches as it enters Grant's body, watches still as the victory on his son's face becomes shock "Dad..?", then the light of life go out. Slade's sword is larger, and while it cost Slade a lung, it lined up cleanly with Grant's heart. Slade falls to his knees with a heavy thud, and his arms go out, this time around his boy as pinned together they fall to the grassy lawn, "Sleep." he says softly, blood flowing through his lips freely now, his every breath a wet caustic thing. Tears stream from Slade's eyes, even from beneath the patch and his face screws up in pain that has nothing to do with the swords cut through him. He would scream his anger and his hurt to the world, but there is no air, he would rage but for the first time in decades he lacks the strength and even the will to move. So instead he takes his own advice, and with his son, he closes his eyes and sleeps, his breath hissing out in a crimson bubbling foam.
Blood trickles down the sword, slowly, life ebbing from one Wilson, and consciousness from the other, as Roy closes the gap in a run, moving to try and catch father and son. 
Fingers press against the carotid artery on both men. One is disregarded, but the other... 
"Slade..." Roy murmurs, as he shifts to glance at Rose. And what he sees... 
"Oh, Rose..." Roy whispers, as he moves, trying to gather the family in an embrace, to lower them to the ground slowly so that they could... rest, at the least, before he has to call for assistance. 
 
So much blood, three lines of Wilson blood stain her hands and Rose steps back, letting Grant and Slade fall to the ground in front of her and Roy. Her eye closes and a single tear runs down her cheek, swept away by the back of her hand in a motion so harsh it is almost like a self-reminding slap. Snapping to just as Roy comes in and embraces the two men, reaching for her. 
 
Instinct, gun-shy, and somewhere in there a grief stricken terror waits to rear its head, her gaze falling on him, stating in a manner akin to her father. "Lian is safe, we have to go.... Now." Stepping back and away she gathers up her swords, slowly sliding them into their sheaths, pausing for only a moment to look back and see if Roy is joining her.
For a moment, Roy seems ready to argue, but there's -something- about Rose that tells him that she might need company for a short time, if only so that someone is there when she crashes from all the adrenaline flowing through her. 
And Roy runs, quickly, taking Rose's hand before the sirens and the authorities arrive. 
Deathstroke remains where he should have been all along. With his son in his arms, trapped in a prison in his mind far worse then the real one of concrete and bars he'll eventually awake to.
Category:Log