<strong>Name:</strong>Slade Wilson<br/><strong>Nome De Guerre:</strong>Deathstroke<br/><strong>Location:</strong>Gothcorp, Audience<br/><strong>Tagging:</strong>Zatanna<br/><hr/><br/>It was, all told, quite a grand entrance. Very impressive.<br/><br/>The cold was a nice touch, terribly thematic.<br/><br/>Moving to his feet, so as to not seem odd, being the only one in the room to remain calmly seated, he began to assess his options, as the model-of-mental-health in the power suit started to monologue.<br/><br/>Slade could feel the one short carbon-fiber dagger at his ankle, and knew that one knife wouldn't be enough to take down the madman. It would probably be well within his capabilities to slip out, and fight through those outer guards and drones he could not avoid completely. Escape was going to be an option at any time however, and for now, there was a larger concern. While many of these people were doubtless guilty of something or other, many others were not. So Slade stayed where he was, hidden as best as he could be in the crowd. He watched as the man with the curious gun approached Ferris Boyle, and did not yet act. Being so poorly armed himself, he was not in a position to save the man. So for now he would stay while others were let go, making sure that the most that could be saved were. He was going to make a poor captive, he just wanted to wait until there was only a few hostages left before acting. Then again, an opportunity might just present itself...<br/><br/>This was Gotham after all, the city where a Bat could cast a long shadow.