- 3,321
- 1,833
Narration (Skip down for the battle itself!)
Acting in darkness to serve light. That was the creed of an anient order of assassins that was born on the far east, and instantly familiar to those whose lives were tied to the secret services. In order to guarantee that the unaware, ignorant masses of mankind would live to see another day, those in the know, those who were willing to sacrifice their desires and future, toiled in an eternal war for the safety of all.
It was no different for A.R.G.U.S., and in the designated meeting point of a condemned building in the suburbs of Detroit, the analogy gained life. Blades of light scythed through gaps in concrete roofing, illuminating dusty sheaths of paper and wrinkled, bronzed hands of a woman old beyond their time, aged by effort and stress, black strands of hair that turned to albedo in protest of the constant work she put herself through. Yet, her eyes carried the same determination as always, penning documents, her gaze flickering between an unchanging phone screen and the parchments she so concisely wrote in, when she suddenly stopped. At first glance, one would mistake her stopping as abrupt, with no cause. But that was the perspective of the uninformed observer, one who lacked the vision and experience to see things as they truly were, and she was different.
- Deathstroke.
She called, and from the dark beige darkness that stuck behind old mobilia and cracked wood, came a shade of black and vivid orange - colors that went wholly against the concept of stealth, and yet, akin to a ghost, he managed to hide. A powerfully-built man, tall, clad in the attire of a warlord of a future time, mixing the ceramic, kevlar and fabric plates of modern-era armors with chainmail and rigid metal plating, opaque in their ebony coloring.
- Your eyes are still sharp, Rhonda. - Deathstroke mused, his voice deep and scratching before the vocalizers of his mask. - I presume this is about the task you decided to pass onto me.
- Indeed it is. - Rhonda affirmed. - We have an important assignment to you.
- Well, go on, then. - he crossed his arms, awaiting for her input. After the briefest of pauses in which she gauged his responses, she started:
- As you may very well know, operations important to the larger commercial interests of the United States of America and, indeed, of most other nations are severely compromised by crime. Trafficking rings all subvert the natural order of negotiations, and they allow unscrupulous men and women to gain money from the suffering of others. However, as sad as that may be, their presence is necessary. They fulfill their place in society, and the resources needed to properly wipe out such criminal organizations is far beyond practicality. It is not worth to deal with them, except when an easy opportunity presents itself or when they start to grow too big and ambitious for their own good. However, this time, it is different. We are dealing not with the normal kind of criminal and black market dealer. - she paused briefly, as if she was considering her thoughts as her eyes turned to the light that breached the cracks of concrete. - Have you ever heard of Castle?
- The criminal syndicate of Korea? - Deathstroke asked, and she nodded.
- Indeed, just so - they are a truly powerful group. Even a government can't hope to tackle on them without causing significant upheveal to other countries. We can say that they are one of the biggest criminal factions on earth, and one of the few that are truly powerful. As such, we tend to leave them be. But this time, things are getting too far. One of their members has started to create what amounts to a truly particular army, fully capable of dealing a coup into a country. We have gotten clues that indicate that he has expanded his interests, with a drug operation that deals directly with the mexican cartels, assassination plots that engage with actual, important politicians and millionaires all over the world, and his ambition only seems to grow. We are, of course, talking about Python.
- Python, eh? - Deathstroke cupped his masked chin into his left hand, nodding ever so slightly in admiration. - That sly old snake. I never thought he'd attempt to make it big.
- Indeed he has attempted, and all indicates he has suceeded. - Rhonda nodded gravely. - He apparently plans to take over, even if only partially, Castle itself and move into actual political power plays. The scary thing is that it isn't an empty threat - everything indicates he has the resources, capabilities and planning to do so. You know his fame. It isn't for nothing that he is considered the world's most famous assassin. In a job that lacks glamour and grandeur, he is one of the few that has managed to get fame out of it. He has grown too much. He needs to be stopped.
- So, do you want me to kill him? - Deathstroke asked, genuinely intrigued.
- If possible, but I don't expect that to be possible. Chairman Baek isn't so easily caught, nor do I expect that killing him will be entirely beneficial. Rather, I want you to cripple his operations. If you do manage to get his hands on him, feel free to make him disappear, but keep in mind that we need to just knock him down a peg or two. Once his power is sufficiently crippled, a proper task team can be sent to deal with him.
- You got it. I presume you do have a target for me already, don't you? - Deathstroke uncrossed his arms, cracking his neck.
- Indeed. - she pushed ahead a small sheet, a document detailing a warehouse, with an entire inner map of it. - This warehouse - we have managed to get the information from a rival faction of Castle that many men of Baek's faction are offloading important, high-grade cargo into and out of it this night. Apparently, they are moving quickly because they intend to do something big soon. There are rumours that Baek himself will be present. In any case, we are sending an armed team there to auxiliate you, but I put it in your hands to cripple the operation. Apprehend the cargo or destroy it, gather information if possible, kill or capture any high-profile targets you find. You meet Baek, do not hesitate to kill him. Capturing him would be ideal, but I doubt it will be possible. In any case, shut the whole thing down.
- You can count me on it. - Deathstroke nodded, grabbing the sheet of paper.
(...)
The shores of Korea. The boom of firearms and the agonized screams of dying or wounded men and women echoed through the cacophony of destruction. A.R.G.U.S. armed teams engaged with Baek's thugs, and despite expecting resistance, they didn't expect that to the degree they were facing. Baek's men weren't mere criminals, as hardened as they would be - they were properly trained, experienced in both gunfights and brawls. A.R.G.U.S. response's team was smaller, better armed and trained, but not so much that they would be able to easily overwhelm the enemies. Losses were mounting in both sides.
Deathstroke tossed aside an unloaded G6, having just emptied it into three goons armed with low-caliber revolvers and blades. His flanking attack cut a swath through an undefended side of Baek's men, and already he found himself inside the warehouse. So far, everything was going smoothly. So smoothly, in fact, that he-
- I expected someone to come here, but not you.
And there he was. Deathstroke turned his gaze towards the opposite end of where they were standing. To both of them, the scenery was ironically cinematic. For both of them it seemed that the moon, standing by the several windows of the warehouse, cast a beam of pale light on their figures, giving them a sinister afterglow. Deahtstroke cast an amber and ebony reflection on the ground, the edge of his katana malignantly gleaming in the pallid glow of night. Baek stood relaxed, his hands into his suit's coat's pockets, the frame of which only seemed to vaguely suggest the concealed pistols and blades he held at his ribs. His glasses seemed to glow, hiding the true color of his eyes.
- Python. I expected you to stay back and not get into trouble. - Deathstroke mused. - To not take unnecessary risks. It seems I was wrong.
- On the contrary, I was expecting someone to come here. This is what they call a bait, you see. - Baek sighed. - But I didn't expect it to be you. I suppose the powers outside of Korea finally started to pay attention to me.
- Indeed. It is sad that it has come to this, a legend such as yourself to be put down so soon. - Deathstroke chuckled to himself. - I must admit that I always wished to test myself against you.
- It honors me to see that I am held in such a high regard by you. - Baek raised his head, and for once, one of his lenses seemed to lose their white glow as the light stopped to glint upon the lenses, and his brown eyes seemed to almost gleam red as his face grew severe. - But as for me, I'll say that this is as impersonal as crushing an ant.
And, with no more words, their hands leaped into action...
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Deathstroke (Arrowverse)
V.S.
Baek Do-Chan (Castle)
This fight shall take place on a modern-day warehouse, 50m apart and with direct view of each other, but with plenty of opportunity to immediately leap into cover.
RULES:
1. Base Deathstroke, and both have their standard weaponry; Deahtstroke has a handgun, knife, katana and a few throwing knives, Baek carries two handguns, a dagger and a few throwing knives.
2. Equalized speed.
Acting in darkness to serve light. That was the creed of an anient order of assassins that was born on the far east, and instantly familiar to those whose lives were tied to the secret services. In order to guarantee that the unaware, ignorant masses of mankind would live to see another day, those in the know, those who were willing to sacrifice their desires and future, toiled in an eternal war for the safety of all.
It was no different for A.R.G.U.S., and in the designated meeting point of a condemned building in the suburbs of Detroit, the analogy gained life. Blades of light scythed through gaps in concrete roofing, illuminating dusty sheaths of paper and wrinkled, bronzed hands of a woman old beyond their time, aged by effort and stress, black strands of hair that turned to albedo in protest of the constant work she put herself through. Yet, her eyes carried the same determination as always, penning documents, her gaze flickering between an unchanging phone screen and the parchments she so concisely wrote in, when she suddenly stopped. At first glance, one would mistake her stopping as abrupt, with no cause. But that was the perspective of the uninformed observer, one who lacked the vision and experience to see things as they truly were, and she was different.
- Deathstroke.
She called, and from the dark beige darkness that stuck behind old mobilia and cracked wood, came a shade of black and vivid orange - colors that went wholly against the concept of stealth, and yet, akin to a ghost, he managed to hide. A powerfully-built man, tall, clad in the attire of a warlord of a future time, mixing the ceramic, kevlar and fabric plates of modern-era armors with chainmail and rigid metal plating, opaque in their ebony coloring.
- Your eyes are still sharp, Rhonda. - Deathstroke mused, his voice deep and scratching before the vocalizers of his mask. - I presume this is about the task you decided to pass onto me.
- Indeed it is. - Rhonda affirmed. - We have an important assignment to you.
- Well, go on, then. - he crossed his arms, awaiting for her input. After the briefest of pauses in which she gauged his responses, she started:
- As you may very well know, operations important to the larger commercial interests of the United States of America and, indeed, of most other nations are severely compromised by crime. Trafficking rings all subvert the natural order of negotiations, and they allow unscrupulous men and women to gain money from the suffering of others. However, as sad as that may be, their presence is necessary. They fulfill their place in society, and the resources needed to properly wipe out such criminal organizations is far beyond practicality. It is not worth to deal with them, except when an easy opportunity presents itself or when they start to grow too big and ambitious for their own good. However, this time, it is different. We are dealing not with the normal kind of criminal and black market dealer. - she paused briefly, as if she was considering her thoughts as her eyes turned to the light that breached the cracks of concrete. - Have you ever heard of Castle?
- The criminal syndicate of Korea? - Deathstroke asked, and she nodded.
- Indeed, just so - they are a truly powerful group. Even a government can't hope to tackle on them without causing significant upheveal to other countries. We can say that they are one of the biggest criminal factions on earth, and one of the few that are truly powerful. As such, we tend to leave them be. But this time, things are getting too far. One of their members has started to create what amounts to a truly particular army, fully capable of dealing a coup into a country. We have gotten clues that indicate that he has expanded his interests, with a drug operation that deals directly with the mexican cartels, assassination plots that engage with actual, important politicians and millionaires all over the world, and his ambition only seems to grow. We are, of course, talking about Python.
- Python, eh? - Deathstroke cupped his masked chin into his left hand, nodding ever so slightly in admiration. - That sly old snake. I never thought he'd attempt to make it big.
- Indeed he has attempted, and all indicates he has suceeded. - Rhonda nodded gravely. - He apparently plans to take over, even if only partially, Castle itself and move into actual political power plays. The scary thing is that it isn't an empty threat - everything indicates he has the resources, capabilities and planning to do so. You know his fame. It isn't for nothing that he is considered the world's most famous assassin. In a job that lacks glamour and grandeur, he is one of the few that has managed to get fame out of it. He has grown too much. He needs to be stopped.
- So, do you want me to kill him? - Deathstroke asked, genuinely intrigued.
- If possible, but I don't expect that to be possible. Chairman Baek isn't so easily caught, nor do I expect that killing him will be entirely beneficial. Rather, I want you to cripple his operations. If you do manage to get his hands on him, feel free to make him disappear, but keep in mind that we need to just knock him down a peg or two. Once his power is sufficiently crippled, a proper task team can be sent to deal with him.
- You got it. I presume you do have a target for me already, don't you? - Deathstroke uncrossed his arms, cracking his neck.
- Indeed. - she pushed ahead a small sheet, a document detailing a warehouse, with an entire inner map of it. - This warehouse - we have managed to get the information from a rival faction of Castle that many men of Baek's faction are offloading important, high-grade cargo into and out of it this night. Apparently, they are moving quickly because they intend to do something big soon. There are rumours that Baek himself will be present. In any case, we are sending an armed team there to auxiliate you, but I put it in your hands to cripple the operation. Apprehend the cargo or destroy it, gather information if possible, kill or capture any high-profile targets you find. You meet Baek, do not hesitate to kill him. Capturing him would be ideal, but I doubt it will be possible. In any case, shut the whole thing down.
- You can count me on it. - Deathstroke nodded, grabbing the sheet of paper.
(...)
The shores of Korea. The boom of firearms and the agonized screams of dying or wounded men and women echoed through the cacophony of destruction. A.R.G.U.S. armed teams engaged with Baek's thugs, and despite expecting resistance, they didn't expect that to the degree they were facing. Baek's men weren't mere criminals, as hardened as they would be - they were properly trained, experienced in both gunfights and brawls. A.R.G.U.S. response's team was smaller, better armed and trained, but not so much that they would be able to easily overwhelm the enemies. Losses were mounting in both sides.
Deathstroke tossed aside an unloaded G6, having just emptied it into three goons armed with low-caliber revolvers and blades. His flanking attack cut a swath through an undefended side of Baek's men, and already he found himself inside the warehouse. So far, everything was going smoothly. So smoothly, in fact, that he-
- I expected someone to come here, but not you.
And there he was. Deathstroke turned his gaze towards the opposite end of where they were standing. To both of them, the scenery was ironically cinematic. For both of them it seemed that the moon, standing by the several windows of the warehouse, cast a beam of pale light on their figures, giving them a sinister afterglow. Deahtstroke cast an amber and ebony reflection on the ground, the edge of his katana malignantly gleaming in the pallid glow of night. Baek stood relaxed, his hands into his suit's coat's pockets, the frame of which only seemed to vaguely suggest the concealed pistols and blades he held at his ribs. His glasses seemed to glow, hiding the true color of his eyes.
- Python. I expected you to stay back and not get into trouble. - Deathstroke mused. - To not take unnecessary risks. It seems I was wrong.
- On the contrary, I was expecting someone to come here. This is what they call a bait, you see. - Baek sighed. - But I didn't expect it to be you. I suppose the powers outside of Korea finally started to pay attention to me.
- Indeed. It is sad that it has come to this, a legend such as yourself to be put down so soon. - Deathstroke chuckled to himself. - I must admit that I always wished to test myself against you.
- It honors me to see that I am held in such a high regard by you. - Baek raised his head, and for once, one of his lenses seemed to lose their white glow as the light stopped to glint upon the lenses, and his brown eyes seemed to almost gleam red as his face grew severe. - But as for me, I'll say that this is as impersonal as crushing an ant.
And, with no more words, their hands leaped into action...
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Deathstroke (Arrowverse)
V.S.
Baek Do-Chan (Castle)
This fight shall take place on a modern-day warehouse, 50m apart and with direct view of each other, but with plenty of opportunity to immediately leap into cover.
RULES:
1. Base Deathstroke, and both have their standard weaponry; Deahtstroke has a handgun, knife, katana and a few throwing knives, Baek carries two handguns, a dagger and a few throwing knives.
2. Equalized speed.
