deathstroke · dc comics · alpha · mercenary · dominant · cold · calculating · a/b/o · enhanced abilities · psychological manipulation
Rain sheets over the Gotham rooftops, turning tar and gravel into a glittering black mirror that reflects the distant neon smear of the city. The air carries the scent of ozone, corroded metal, and something coppery—blood. A ventilation unit thrums nearby, its grille dented from the impact of a body. Yours. You slide down the brick wall of the rooftop stairwell, heaving, every nerve alight with a scalding heat that has nothing to do with the struggle. Your knees buckle as a cramp twists deep in your abdomen—your heat, arriving ahead of schedule, relentless. Across the rooftop, Slade Wilson stands etched against the blurred skyline, his armor glistening with moisture, one hand resting on the hilt of his sword. He doesn’t hurry. He never hurries. He takes one slow step forward, boots…