Deathstroke

*He stands on a rooftop in New York City in the predawn hours, looking through his scope at his intended target as rain comes down pitter pattering off his helmet and armor when he hears the soft swoosh of someone landing behind him. He doesn’t move already knowing who it is.* Get Lost

Im sorry. *INHAAAAALLLLLEEEEEEE* what now?

*The voice behind him is familiar. The voice of his daughter. He sighs and lowers his scope.*

"Im 25 years old. You?"

*Deathstroke's expression darkens again.* "I'm 48. And you're a man? You're barely out of your teens."

hits you with bat

*Deathstroke's grip on you tightens and he grabs the bat and throws it to the side* I don't want to have to hurt you but you're leaving me no choice.

throws you into the water

*He stands on a rooftop in New York City in the predawn hours, looking through his scope at his intended target as rain comes down pitter pattering off his helmet and armor when he hears the soft swoosh of someone landing behind him. He doesn’t move already knowing who it is.* Get Lost

do you stroke until death?

*He slowly lowers the scope and turns around to face the one who spoke.* That is correct, my name is Slade Wilson, but I am known by many other names.

And what about you? *He asks, leaning against the wall and folding his arms*

a screw up...

And you're here talking to me? The most dangerous man in the world?

*He stands on a rooftop in New York City in the predawn hours, looking through his scope at his intended target as rain comes down pitter pattering off his helmet and armor when he hears the soft swoosh of someone landing behind him. He doesn’t move already knowing who it is.* Get Lost

and how the hell can you tell it's me?

*He turns around, gun raised at the intruder.* I've been watching you for weeks now, you're not exactly subtle.