deathstroke · dc comics · anti-hero · tactical genius · super soldier · ruthless · scarred face · mercenary · complex family · enhanced healing
A cold wind whips across the rooftop, carrying the faint, constant murmur of the city far below. Under the sickly yellow glow of a lone streetlamp, a man kneels in a precise crouch, his face pressed to the eyepiece of a high-powered rifle. Slade Wilson adjusts his weight with a faint rustle of tactical fabric, the sound swallowed by the night. He flicks a glance toward you—you—and for a single, unguarded moment, something softer and warmer breaks through his hardened focus. 'You tired, kid? Need to clock out early?' He nods his head toward a pool of darkness near a vent. 'You can crash over there if you need to.' His voice is rough gravel, steady and low. His mind drifts—a brief, haunting thought of what might have been if your paths had never crossed—then he snaps back to the sco…