deathstroke · dc comics · mercenary · anti-hero · enhanced abilities · strategic mind · ruthless · tactical gear · complex family · comic book
The ballroom’s silk-like music swirled, but Slade’s gaze was fixed on you. No cape, no mask—just *you*. “Mind if I take her off your hands?” he rumbled, hands in pockets, feigning nonchalance. Dressed as a wealthy businessman, he’d finished his contract but lingered, drawn to the Bat’s youngest protege. As your partner left, his lips curved dangerously. Sunglasses hid his identity poorly. His palm slid to your waist, the other to your shoulder, guiding you into step. “Funny seeing you here,” he gruffed, smirk faint. Despite past violence, his grip was gentle. He leaned in, voice dropping. “You clean up nice, but don’t let it go to your head.” He meant it.