<div class="floatleft">(http://static.comicvine.com/uploads/original/14/147508/4593900-1.jpg)</div><hr/><strong>Name:</strong>? ? ?<br/><strong>Nom de Guerre:</strong>Deathstroke "The Terminator."<br/><strong>Affiliation:</strong>The Highest Bidder.<br/><strong>Time:</strong>Saturday the 17th of October 2015, 20:18 - 20:25<br/><strong>Location:</strong>S.T.A.R Labs, Gotham East.<br/><strong>Tagging:</strong>Superboy, Nightwing, Batwoman, Spoiler.<br/><hr/><br/>As much as he would have loved to investigate the possibility of a cloaked individual further, it turned out that Deathstroke had slightly more pressing concerns; Whilst Captain Tightpants had yet to fully recover from his counterattack, it looked like his kick had failed to down the SuperMask - though it had drawn blood, something that the SuperMask actually appeared<em>surprised</em>at; how powerful was he normally that he didn't expect to bleed even after taking a roundhouse kick to the face? Something that he would have to investigate, almost certainly; he wouldn't want to run into that individual without having some way of neutralising him, or things could go very badly in future - and he even heard the approaching footsteps of Fem-Bat running ever closer to the foyer, perhaps only a half dozen seconds or so away from bursting into the room and making it three - possibly four - on one. Odds that he liked, considering what he had seen thus far, but the longer he stayed here the more he risked the police showing up and, after they saw what they were dealing with, probably more Masks...and he was in no mood or state to be fighting an army of heroes. Even he could be overwhelmed, and considering that his suit wasn't even fully finished yet...well. He shouldn't have even been there that night, but with Ivy causing so much anarchy in the square, it seemed like a perfect opportunity to take a shot at the job. A mistake, as it turned out - it wasn't the quick in/out job he had anticipated - but there was no sense worrying about that now. Take the possibility of there being an invisible combatant in there - a certainty, he decided after a moment, as his sensitive ears picked up the tell-tale sharp breaths of somebody trying their hardest to make their breathing silent but failing, along with their footsteps occasionally scuffing across some uneven section of the floor - with them...had that robbery taken place early next week, as it had supposed to, his helmet would have had Thermal Imaging Filters (among other things) that would help identify if there was a Mask there. Right then, however? He had to go on his instincts and senses. He could do it - he doubted that they were a match for him even when invisible - but it made it a lot harder.<br/><br/>Of course, that was part of the fun...see how high the odds against you could be stacked and still not be enough to take you down. See how much effort it took them to force him into a retreat or, alternatively, how much punishment they took before deciding to "Bug out," as it were. It was thrilling...who was going to back down and retreat first? Who was going to be the first member of their little party to go down and not get up? Who was going to be the first one to break a bone, or snap some piece of equipment, or break a wall, or draw first blood? More importantly...how good were these Batman Wannabe's, and could they - even all together - pose a credible threat to him with that little box of wonders evening the playing field? He didn't know...and he was about to find out, if those rapid footsteps meant anything at all. Soon enough, Fem-Bat burst through the doors he had entered through not several minutes ago, paused - he recognised that look; the look of somebody who was trained and practised at taking in massive amounts of information quickly and sorting through it by habit rather than by conscious thought...the look of a professional, should she decide to make her skills marketable - and seemed to decide on a course of action almost instantly. So...she was probably the leader. How progressive. Regardless, she was evidently the biggest threat martially. Captain Tightpants' strategy of monkey-climbing him was pitiful at best, SuperMask seemed to be used to relying solely on his strength and very little actual technique and the Invisible Wonder seemed too cowardly to even engage directly...it was only Fem-Bat who instantly took the pose of a predator and an attacker. He was impressed; perhaps he had found a worthy opponent after all, even after her non-starter earlier. Of course, he wasn't about to let her know that; why would you give your opponents an ego boost before a fight? He needed to get into her head...make her angry, upset or distract her somehow. Make her make a mistake.<br/><br/>She spoke first as she closed the distance, obviously attempting to goad him with her taunt, possibly trying the same thing that he attempted with his taunting; that was, distracting and forcing him to devote brain capacity to formulating and speaking a coherent response....unfortunately for her, his brain capacity and his speed was nine times that of a normal human and superior even to most superhumans. "I have no issue hitting women, especially those who can prove a challenge and are therefore worth my time. But after that pitiful display in the hall? I'm not sure that you deserve to be called by either label." He even allowed himself to snicker for effect. The effort it took him to talk was negligible and normally didn't take any of his concentration, which obviously, she had no way of knowing. As she approached, he watched her posture carefully, his gaze occasionally flicking to the other two combatants, his ears pricked for signs of the fourth presence in the room, his brain keeping track of all the sensory information easily and in a fraction of the time it would take a normal human. Every vector of her attack was plotted in his head with an accurate and effective counterattack planned out...if she leapt forwards in an attack, he would simply need to catch her chosen method and use that as leverage. If she continued to close the distance slowly, he would simply need to close the last little distance himself and go on the offensive, forcing her to defend. If she tried to get behind him, he would need to use either his extendable staff or his firearms to counter her agility...and if her friends attacked as well, he would need to use their momentum against them...and swing freely, since he was guaranteed to hit a hostile. He watched her approach to the edge of striking distance, just outside what a normal human would be able to cover quickly enough to make reacting a pure reflex action, then stop. She coiled slightly...and sprung into action with a speed and grace that only Deathstroke himself could surpass. She truly was impressive...it was a shame that she was only human.<br/><br/>An ordinary person would flinch from reflex at the daggers thrown at him, but Deathstroke was no ordinary human. His eye analysed the daggers as they sailed towards him, and instantly dismissed them as threats; for one, they weren't nearly strong, sharp or travelling fast enough to even scratch his armour - both his plate and his mail were infused with volatile Promethium, which - though radioactive and therefore potentially deadly to humans (which Deathstroke didn't have to worry about thanks to his enhanced healing factor) - was almost indestructible. No puny throwing knives were about to get through what could take a punch from Superman himself and not break from the impact...and even if they did, they weren't big enough to cause him any serious harm. He would need to simply pull them out and the wounds would be reduced to mere scars in a matter of minutes, especially since their current trajectory took them straight towards his chest; his most solid and difficult to penetrate part. Perhaps other mercenaries who had that equipment wouldn't show any reaction, to show just how above it all they were...but Deathstroke wasn't like the others. He was tactical, and so - evidently - was Fem-Bat. He knew what she wanted; she wanted him to break and move first, so she had an opening to attack. It was a solid strategy, if your opponent was in any way doubtful as to the efficacy of his defences. But he knew something she didn't, and that gave him the advantage...he could fake the flinch, give her the opening she wanted, and in so doing create his own opening. The problem with attacking from any stance - especially over long distances - was that as soon as you did it, you opened up to a counterattack of some kind, if your opponent was fast enough to exploit it. And if you overcommitted or weren't able to react in time...you were done. So, he did exactly that; he flinched, as if from reflex - though keeping his eye on her despite his little spasm - and, sure enough, she leapt to the attack.<br/><br/>She flung herself forwards, her hand extending towards him, and it took him only a moment - thanks to the enhanced speed of his brain - that she was attacking with an extendible staff just like his. It likely wasn't made of volatile promethium - otherwise she would be dying of radiation poisoning right then rather than flipping and jumping and kicking - so would lack a lot of the extra punch of his weapons, but due to its forward momentum both from the leap and the extension, it would still pack a hefty punch. Thankfully, the flinch was only a fake; even as the knives clattered harmlessly off of his armour and fell to the floor with several loud clanging noises, Deathstroke stepped back and to the left, his right foot moving backwards behind his left as he half-span and stepped, the extending staff whistling past his chest. His hands snapped up instantly to catch it in midflight, holding it fast for a moment. "My point exactly." He chuckled again condescendingly even as he gave the staff a sharp tug, using as much of his strength as he could without sending her clattering into him...whether she was pulled along with the staff or she let go as he pulled, she was inevitably going to be yanked forwards by the power of her sheer momentum and the sudden tug on her weapon by a super-strong individual, and that's what he was counting on. He span again, turning to the left around his back, his right foot spinning on the floor, slipping under one of the discarded throwing knives and flicking it up into the air. It sailed straight up...and into his right hand, which span round with the rest of his upper body and snatched it out of the air as he stepped forwards, testing it in his hand briefly. He knew instantly the weight and the angle and the force required to throw it...it was of a decent weight and well crafted, so with his strength, it was going to fast and true. He grinned beneath his mask and, as he turned, he threw it underarm with as much force as he could manage straight at the nearest visible threat besides Fem-Bat; SuperMask. He didn't know how much damage the throwing knife would do, even travelling at the speed it was - as it left his hand, he estimated its speed to be about 100mph and he knew himself well enough to know that the throw would most likely be on target, if nothing else - but it would serve as a handy distraction. As far as he could tell, the knife wasn't even that sharp...but with any luck, it might draw some blood or leave a nasty bruise, given the speed it was travelling. Either way; it would delay him getting involved for a second or so, at least.<br/><br/>Meanwhile, he turned, span and stepped closer to Fem-Bat, his right hand moving to protect his body against a counterattack and hopefully disguise what his left hand was doing...as he jabbed quickly and viciously towards her side with his left fist as he attempted to get behind and beneath her guard, hopefully using her brief moment of being off-balance - at least, he assumed that she had been off balance - to attempt to end the fight quickly. He wanted to have fun, yes...but he had a job to do. And playing with these heroes was not part of it. Oh, the jab wasn't nearly hard enough to kill her if it connected; even he wasn't strong enough to kill somebody just by punching them in the side, and besides. The last thing he needed was the international attention on the robbery that came with the death of a Mask. He had been paid to keep it relatively quiet, and killing one of Gotham's biggest heroes was<em>not</em>staying subtle and quiet. If the punch connected, she would definitely live, but she might be out of the fight, if nothing else, nursing hopefully a broken rib or three. No matter how good you were, after all, a broken rib was a broken rib. And even if she twisted or blocked it, there was always an extremely good chance that it would scrape or bruise her anyway...and any wound he inflicted would be one more thing sapping her stamina and endurance. And if it came down to attrition? He didn't doubt he would win. At least two of the four combatants against him were only human...and his limits far surpassed what a normal human could keep up with, no matter how highly trained they were. Of course, even as he counterattacked, he kept his senses open for sounds of movement behind him...if either Captain Tightpants, The Invisible Wonder or SuperMask attacked, he wanted to be warned of it. Even he would suffer from an attack from behind if it took him by surprise. So...best to avoid that. He had a reputation to uphold, after all.