Batman and Penguin climbed out of the Batmobile in front of Penguin’s house.
“Let’s see if that bastard is still here,” Penguin said, marching through the front door. They both headed into the basement, and saw a puddle on the floor. But no Deathstroke.
“I guess it’s no surprise that he’s not here,” Batman said, “I’m fairly certain his suit has thermal capabilities. He melted out of your last popsicle quickly.”
“So where did he leave to?” Penguin asked.
“He could’ve gone to find Sionis. He’ll want his pay,” Batman pointed out.
“But he didn’t kill me. He didn’t do the job.”
“And you think Deathstroke is a man of honor?” Batman asked, “He’ll kill Sionis before he walks away unpaid.”
“I don’t know,” Penguin shrugged, “Sometimes murderers adhere to some strange moral code.”
“We need to check the station regardless,” Batman stated, “If there is any chance at all that Deathstroke is there, we need to stop him.”
“You’re right,” Penguin nodded.
Batman and Penguin headed back outside to the Batmobile, and sped towards the police station.
Suddenly, Batman heard Alfred’s voice in his ear.
“Bruce, something has happened at the police station,” Alfred said, worriedly.
“What? What happened?” Batman asked.
“I- I’m not sure,” Alfred admitted, “But it doesn’t look good. It’s on the news. I’ll transfer it to the Batmobile.”
Then, on the screen between Batman and Penguin’s seat lit up. On it there was an image of the Gotham police station. Cops were fleeing. Those who didn’t flee were being flung out the windows.
“Deathstroke?” Penguin asked.
Batman nodded.
“We’re already headed there, Al. Thanks for the heads up.”
“Here goes,” Penguin said, not excited to go up against the assassin who had tried to kill him on three different occasions.
“Red Robin, can you get a look inside the station?” Batman asked over comms.
“No. The cameras have been destroyed,” Red Robin informed them, regretfully.
“Is there any other way that you can see inside?”
“‘Fraid not,” Red Robin sighed.
“That’s alright,” Batman said, “We can handle whatever Deathstroke has waiting for us.”
When Batman and Penguin arrived at the station, they observed the area. Available cops had lined up around the front of the station, guns aimed at the door.
Batman and Penguin grappled over the cops, and rushed inside the building. When they got inside, they did not see Deathstroke waiting for them. Instead…
“How the hell did you get out?” Penguin groaned, leveling his cold gun.
“I’m more powerful than ever before,” Black Mask growled, with smoke rolling out of his eye sockets, “Roman Sionis will no longer hold me back.”
“And how did you get Roman Sionis to go away?” Penguin asked, not moving the cold gun.
“He hasn’t gone away,” Black Mask chuckled, softly, “We have become one. He killed an officer. He killed. Not me. He gave in to the Black Mask!”
“You’re out of your mind,” Batman said, crouching into a fighting stance.
Black Mask lunged at Batman, easily knocking his arms out of the way with a spinning kick. Batman stumbled back, amazed with the amount of sheer power Black Mask possessed. Penguin ducked under a barrage of punches, and pulled the trigger on the cold gun. No ice came out.
“The gun’s dry!” Penguin cried out, “I have to reload!”
“Go get the cylinders from the Batmobile!” Batman ordered, while kicking Black Mask in the thigh. He used his grapple gun to swing around, and come down hard with his heel slamming into Black Mask’s skull.
Penguin rushed outside to the Batmobile, leaving Batman to deal with Black Mask. Batman used the sharp points on his cuffs to strike at Black Mask, cutting into his bony arms. Black Mask let out a guttural roar, and struck Batman in the chest. Batman slammed into the floor, and Black Mask knelt down next to him.
“You have lost, Batman,” Black Mask growled, wrapping his fingers of bone around Batman’s neck.
“Not so fast, skelly,” Penguin called. Black Mask whipped around just in time to see the blast of ice flying at him. He moved to the right, but not far enough. The ice hit his shoulder, and spread through his arm. He slammed his frozen arm against the wall, and the ice shattered right off. He sprinted at Penguin, and yanked the cold gun out of his hands.
“What do I do?” Penguin yelled, terrified.
Batman shot upwards, and plummeted back down, landing a punch on top of Black Mask’s head. The cold gun flew out of Black Mask’s hands, and slid across the floor. Penguin snatched it up, and froze Black Mask’s skull. Penguin poked it, and it fractured into tiny pieces.
“Shit!” Penguin gasped, “I didn’t mean to kill him! I mean it! I really didn’t!”
Batman scooped up a handful of the ice shards, and let them fall through his fingers. He didn’t say a word to Penguin.
“Are we still good?” Penguin asked, “Because we still have to catch Deathstroke.”
“We’re going home first. We need to prepare.”
Batman stood up, and left the building. Penguin jogged after him.
Deathstroke sat in the Batcave, brandishing his swords. Alfred was tied to a chair, helpless.
“Don’t worry,” Deathstroke said, pulling Alfred’s chin up with his sword, “I’m sure they’ll be here soon.”
“They will defeat you,” Alfred growled, struggling against the binds that restrained him.
“They will try,” Deathstroke nodded, “But I always come out victorious.”
As soon as Deathstroke finished saying that, the Batmobile pulled into the cave. Batman and Penguin sprang out, and were shocked to see Deathstroke.
“Here we are again,” Deathstroke said, “I must admit, you’ve given me some trouble. But this time, you’re benched, Bruce.”
“And why’s that?” Batman asked.
“Because you love your butler,” Deathstroke said, tapping Alfred’s throat with a sword.
“Get away from him,” Batman ordered.
“Then you sit out this time,” Deathstroke said, “It’s simple.”
“Do it, Bruce,” Penguin nodded, “I’ve got this.”
Batman reluctantly walked over to Deathstroke. Deathstroke commanded him to take off the suit. So Batman deactivated his suit’s safety protocol, and opened it. The mask raised off of Bruce’s head, and the back extended, allowing Bruce to slip out the side. Then, Deathstroke tied him to the backside of the chair that Alfred was being held captive in.
“Now we begin our final battle, Mister Cobblepot,” Deathstroke said, walking towards Penguin.
“I just killed a man. I’m more than ready to beat you. Let’s do this,” Penguin responded, aiming at Deathstroke.
“I’m afraid this time you won’t fare as well as before,” Deathstroke said, “You don’t have Batman to back you up.”
“I’m perfectly capable on my own,” Penguin shot back, blasting ice at Deathstroke. Deathstroke somersaulted to the side, and rushed at Penguin. Penguin fired repeatedly at Deathstroke, but Deathstroke managed to dodge every shot. Finally, Penguin charged right back at Deathstroke. At point blank range, Penguin shot Deathstroke in the abdomen with frost. He then pushed Deathstroke to the ground, and yanked off the assassin’s mask. He pressed the cold gun to Deathstroke’s forehead, and charged a blast.
“Looks like you win,” Deathstroke sighed.
“That’s right, asshole,” Penguin nodded, pridefully.
Then, Deathstroke’s arm shot up with a knife in his hand. He rolled over on top of Penguin, and slashed the cold gun open. The blast that had been charging exploded, flinging Deathstroke back. But Penguin got the worst of it. He had been frozen through. His skin was even changing a sickly blue color.
“Oz!” Bruce shrieked. He tore out of his bonds, and rushed over to his friend.
“Did I do it?” Penguin asked, chattering.
Bruce took Penguin’s mask off, and nodded, “Yes. You beat Deathstroke.”
“At least if I die I won’t have to work with Firefly when I finish working with you,” Oswald grinned with purple lips.
“You’re not going to die,” Bruce said, with a tear escaping his eye.
“Your tears say otherwise,” Oswald pointed out.
Bruce choked out a laugh, and wiped the tear away.
“Do you forgive me? For what happened with Black Mask?” Oswald asked, now somber.
“Absolutely,” Bruce nodded, “Absolutely. You saved lives. You just went a little overboard.”
“Well, you know me,” Oswald said, “Always-”
Oswald’s eyes paled, and he let out his final breath.
“Oswald?” Bruce asked, cradling his face, “Oz? You there?”
Oswald Cobblepot was dead.
“Deathstroke!” Bruce screamed, turning to where Deathstroke had been laying. But he was gone.
Bruce Wayne met with Amanda Waller at a local coffee shop.
“I’m very sorry about what happened to your friend,” Waller said, sipping a latte.
“Thank you for your sympathies,” Bruce said, not really paying attention.
“I feel partially responsible,” Waller admitted.
“It was Deathstroke’s fault, not yours,” Bruce said, snapping back to reality.
“That’s the thing,” Waller sighed, “We made Deathstroke.”
“Let’s see if that bastard is still here,” Penguin said, marching through the front door. They both headed into the basement, and saw a puddle on the floor. But no Deathstroke.
“I guess it’s no surprise that he’s not here,” Batman said, “I’m fairly certain his suit has thermal capabilities. He melted out of your last popsicle quickly.”
“So where did he leave to?” Penguin asked.
“He could’ve gone to find Sionis. He’ll want his pay,” Batman pointed out.
“But he didn’t kill me. He didn’t do the job.”
“And you think Deathstroke is a man of honor?” Batman asked, “He’ll kill Sionis before he walks away unpaid.”
“I don’t know,” Penguin shrugged, “Sometimes murderers adhere to some strange moral code.”
“We need to check the station regardless,” Batman stated, “If there is any chance at all that Deathstroke is there, we need to stop him.”
“You’re right,” Penguin nodded.
Batman and Penguin headed back outside to the Batmobile, and sped towards the police station.
Suddenly, Batman heard Alfred’s voice in his ear.
“Bruce, something has happened at the police station,” Alfred said, worriedly.
“What? What happened?” Batman asked.
“I- I’m not sure,” Alfred admitted, “But it doesn’t look good. It’s on the news. I’ll transfer it to the Batmobile.”
Then, on the screen between Batman and Penguin’s seat lit up. On it there was an image of the Gotham police station. Cops were fleeing. Those who didn’t flee were being flung out the windows.
“Deathstroke?” Penguin asked.
Batman nodded.
“We’re already headed there, Al. Thanks for the heads up.”
“Here goes,” Penguin said, not excited to go up against the assassin who had tried to kill him on three different occasions.
“Red Robin, can you get a look inside the station?” Batman asked over comms.
“No. The cameras have been destroyed,” Red Robin informed them, regretfully.
“Is there any other way that you can see inside?”
“‘Fraid not,” Red Robin sighed.
“That’s alright,” Batman said, “We can handle whatever Deathstroke has waiting for us.”
When Batman and Penguin arrived at the station, they observed the area. Available cops had lined up around the front of the station, guns aimed at the door.
Batman and Penguin grappled over the cops, and rushed inside the building. When they got inside, they did not see Deathstroke waiting for them. Instead…
“How the hell did you get out?” Penguin groaned, leveling his cold gun.
“I’m more powerful than ever before,” Black Mask growled, with smoke rolling out of his eye sockets, “Roman Sionis will no longer hold me back.”
“And how did you get Roman Sionis to go away?” Penguin asked, not moving the cold gun.
“He hasn’t gone away,” Black Mask chuckled, softly, “We have become one. He killed an officer. He killed. Not me. He gave in to the Black Mask!”
“You’re out of your mind,” Batman said, crouching into a fighting stance.
Black Mask lunged at Batman, easily knocking his arms out of the way with a spinning kick. Batman stumbled back, amazed with the amount of sheer power Black Mask possessed. Penguin ducked under a barrage of punches, and pulled the trigger on the cold gun. No ice came out.
“The gun’s dry!” Penguin cried out, “I have to reload!”
“Go get the cylinders from the Batmobile!” Batman ordered, while kicking Black Mask in the thigh. He used his grapple gun to swing around, and come down hard with his heel slamming into Black Mask’s skull.
Penguin rushed outside to the Batmobile, leaving Batman to deal with Black Mask. Batman used the sharp points on his cuffs to strike at Black Mask, cutting into his bony arms. Black Mask let out a guttural roar, and struck Batman in the chest. Batman slammed into the floor, and Black Mask knelt down next to him.
“You have lost, Batman,” Black Mask growled, wrapping his fingers of bone around Batman’s neck.
“Not so fast, skelly,” Penguin called. Black Mask whipped around just in time to see the blast of ice flying at him. He moved to the right, but not far enough. The ice hit his shoulder, and spread through his arm. He slammed his frozen arm against the wall, and the ice shattered right off. He sprinted at Penguin, and yanked the cold gun out of his hands.
“What do I do?” Penguin yelled, terrified.
Batman shot upwards, and plummeted back down, landing a punch on top of Black Mask’s head. The cold gun flew out of Black Mask’s hands, and slid across the floor. Penguin snatched it up, and froze Black Mask’s skull. Penguin poked it, and it fractured into tiny pieces.
“Shit!” Penguin gasped, “I didn’t mean to kill him! I mean it! I really didn’t!”
Batman scooped up a handful of the ice shards, and let them fall through his fingers. He didn’t say a word to Penguin.
“Are we still good?” Penguin asked, “Because we still have to catch Deathstroke.”
“We’re going home first. We need to prepare.”
Batman stood up, and left the building. Penguin jogged after him.
Deathstroke sat in the Batcave, brandishing his swords. Alfred was tied to a chair, helpless.
“Don’t worry,” Deathstroke said, pulling Alfred’s chin up with his sword, “I’m sure they’ll be here soon.”
“They will defeat you,” Alfred growled, struggling against the binds that restrained him.
“They will try,” Deathstroke nodded, “But I always come out victorious.”
As soon as Deathstroke finished saying that, the Batmobile pulled into the cave. Batman and Penguin sprang out, and were shocked to see Deathstroke.
“Here we are again,” Deathstroke said, “I must admit, you’ve given me some trouble. But this time, you’re benched, Bruce.”
“And why’s that?” Batman asked.
“Because you love your butler,” Deathstroke said, tapping Alfred’s throat with a sword.
“Get away from him,” Batman ordered.
“Then you sit out this time,” Deathstroke said, “It’s simple.”
“Do it, Bruce,” Penguin nodded, “I’ve got this.”
Batman reluctantly walked over to Deathstroke. Deathstroke commanded him to take off the suit. So Batman deactivated his suit’s safety protocol, and opened it. The mask raised off of Bruce’s head, and the back extended, allowing Bruce to slip out the side. Then, Deathstroke tied him to the backside of the chair that Alfred was being held captive in.
“Now we begin our final battle, Mister Cobblepot,” Deathstroke said, walking towards Penguin.
“I just killed a man. I’m more than ready to beat you. Let’s do this,” Penguin responded, aiming at Deathstroke.
“I’m afraid this time you won’t fare as well as before,” Deathstroke said, “You don’t have Batman to back you up.”
“I’m perfectly capable on my own,” Penguin shot back, blasting ice at Deathstroke. Deathstroke somersaulted to the side, and rushed at Penguin. Penguin fired repeatedly at Deathstroke, but Deathstroke managed to dodge every shot. Finally, Penguin charged right back at Deathstroke. At point blank range, Penguin shot Deathstroke in the abdomen with frost. He then pushed Deathstroke to the ground, and yanked off the assassin’s mask. He pressed the cold gun to Deathstroke’s forehead, and charged a blast.
“Looks like you win,” Deathstroke sighed.
“That’s right, asshole,” Penguin nodded, pridefully.
Then, Deathstroke’s arm shot up with a knife in his hand. He rolled over on top of Penguin, and slashed the cold gun open. The blast that had been charging exploded, flinging Deathstroke back. But Penguin got the worst of it. He had been frozen through. His skin was even changing a sickly blue color.
“Oz!” Bruce shrieked. He tore out of his bonds, and rushed over to his friend.
“Did I do it?” Penguin asked, chattering.
Bruce took Penguin’s mask off, and nodded, “Yes. You beat Deathstroke.”
“At least if I die I won’t have to work with Firefly when I finish working with you,” Oswald grinned with purple lips.
“You’re not going to die,” Bruce said, with a tear escaping his eye.
“Your tears say otherwise,” Oswald pointed out.
Bruce choked out a laugh, and wiped the tear away.
“Do you forgive me? For what happened with Black Mask?” Oswald asked, now somber.
“Absolutely,” Bruce nodded, “Absolutely. You saved lives. You just went a little overboard.”
“Well, you know me,” Oswald said, “Always-”
Oswald’s eyes paled, and he let out his final breath.
“Oswald?” Bruce asked, cradling his face, “Oz? You there?”
Oswald Cobblepot was dead.
“Deathstroke!” Bruce screamed, turning to where Deathstroke had been laying. But he was gone.
Bruce Wayne met with Amanda Waller at a local coffee shop.
“I’m very sorry about what happened to your friend,” Waller said, sipping a latte.
“Thank you for your sympathies,” Bruce said, not really paying attention.
“I feel partially responsible,” Waller admitted.
“It was Deathstroke’s fault, not yours,” Bruce said, snapping back to reality.
“That’s the thing,” Waller sighed, “We made Deathstroke.”
