Who: Deathstroke Where: New York City. High rise building. When: March 24th, 2012. Late night. What: Deathstroke takes out a New York mob boss as only he can-by going through the front door and killing everyone who stands in his way first. Rating: R for blood and mention of gore.
"...They.. they were my best men.. they were all.. my... my best men...", Antonio Marinello said in a weak voice that was almost a sob. But it was not for his losses that he nearly wept, but for the inevitable fate he saw before him. Because despite putting on a hard act of defiance to begin with when his adversary was on the ground floor of his headquarters, he now recognized that death had truly come for him and that there really was no escaping his killer to be. Especially since he had managed to piss him off a little in the process.
"That's what you get for paying for quantity over quality", Deathstroke said as he stepped over a variety of crippled and mutilated bodies that were once living, breathing men. Fresh blood and gore still dripped from the sword in his hand as he walked methodically toward the mob boss who had backed himself up against a full size glass window with an impeccable view of the city below. For Deathstroke, it made for quite the contrasting visual. The shrunken, ashen features of the portly Marinello set against the bright flashing lights of the vibrant city. Even a man of his demeanor and reputation could appreciate the comparison, but not enough to give him much in the way of pause as he stepped forward to grab the collar of Marinello.
"I've got money! Lots of money.. and women... lots of women, please, I'll give you-", Marinello began, but was cut short when Deathstroke lifted him off his feet and shook him roughly.
"I did not kill forty three of your men to be bribed", replied Deathstroke, in something close to a growl. He was used to men begging for their lives, but the implication that this was about money never sat well with him.
"...And my family?", Marinello asked weakly, as he began to accept what was about to happen.
For a moment, Deathstroke just stood there, his face as blank as the mask he wore. Not because he was thinking about his answer to the question, but because he wanted Marinello to worry about one last thing before he met his end. It was cruel, of course. And largely unnecessary. But then this was a mob boss who had had the gall to taunt him over the loud speaker as he made his way up to this floor from the very bottom, killing everyone who stood in his way in the process. Marinello had not thought anyone could run the gauntlet of his private army, but had gambled poorly. And though he would have died either way, Deathstroke now saw fit to make him squirm just a little more first.
"I have not been paid to kill them", he finally said. Marinello started to say something else, but whatever words he may have spoken were drowned out by the sound of shattering glass and his own scream as he was pushed backward through the window. By the time his falling body destroyed a taxi cab more than thirty stories below, Deathstroke had vacated the building, leaving his destruction behind.