Who: Slade Wilson Where: New York City dock. When: Friday, May 27th, 2010 Summary: Deathstroke is hired to eliminate two rivals gangs by a third party looking to move in on their territory. Because he is who he is, he decides to take them all out at once.
Deathstroke crouched on the edge of a building overlooking the dock below, where two distinct masses of men stood across from one another. Rival gangs. Russians standing against Italians. The two sides were as blood thirsty for one another as it was on a normal basis, but for the past several weeks Deathstroke had seen to the assassinations of key members on both sides, and through a myriad of manipulations and double dealings, made it appear as though the gangs were themselves responsible. After several skirmishes had broken out, the two sides had finally agreed to come together here to make peace, but little did any man below realize that this, too, had been orchestrated by Deathstroke. A notorious killer who none of the assembled had even seen.
Watching with his one eye, Deathstroke listened idly to the customary insults that were thrown back and forth between the gangs, in both Russian and Italian, languages he himself knew fluently. The men were growing closer to one another as the two leaders strode to meet, and the tension was all but visible. Certainly, as the rivals leaders began to talk and discuss the assassinations that neither party had been an actual part to, the tension could be felt.
Just as Deathstroke planned.
For Deathstroke had been hired by a third party to wipe out both gangs. Not being seen by either side would ensure a bonus.
And so, as the burly Russian boss started to shake a finger at the Mafia leader, Deathstroke pushed the button on the hand held device in his hand. Not a detonator for a bomb, but the effect was no less explosive. He had simply hit dial on the phone he held, and a moment later, he watched as one of the Italian lieutenants reached inside the front of his pocket for the vibrating phone Deathstroke had placed there, in an act of stupidity that would soon mean the death of all the assembled. The Russians, who were already ready, willing, and able to start shooting at a moments notice immediately went for their weapons and opened fire when they saw the Italian gang leader reach for what they thought was a pistol.
And then, below Deathstroke, it all went to Hell.
The Italians fired back, so that the sound of gunfire was now deafening. Men fell left and right, while others used fallen bodies, crates, and vehicles for cover. Only now did Deathstroke pocket the cell phone, and take into his hand what was a real detonator with several buttons. Pushing the first, he blew up several of the cars the Russians had arrived in, the fire incinerating some men while the flying metal shrapnel cut others to pieces. Before anyone could recover, he repeated the process with the Italian's limousines. At those point, there were few still shooting, and those who continued to fight did not do so for long before falling. The smart ones tried to run, but as they did Deathstroke set off another chain of explosions that blew up crates and vehicles that had been placed to strategically trap both gangs on the dock. The only escape route left would have been the water, but no man made it that far, which meant that Deathstroke did not even have to use his sniper rifle.
Instead, he simply used the scope to ensure that there were no survivors, as the blaring sirens of the NYPD approached the scene of the massacre below. Satisfied, he was gone from the roof top a moment later, when the spot light of a helicopter illuminated the area.