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🕑 Added 2025-07-08 16:49:07 +0000 UTCChapter 195: Two Schemers
Deathstroke's blade was faster than expected. A flash of cold, white light from the incoming blade was so bright it made it hard for Deadshot to keep his eyes open.
Instinctively, he parried with the two mini-submachine guns he held. The alloy blade struck the steel gun bodies, sending off brilliant sparks and a crisp metallic clang that reached Cody's ears as he was rushing to the scene.
In a normal fight, nobody would use a sword to hack at hard steel. This kind of move is completely abusive to the blade – the edge could chip, the body could crack, maybe even snap clean off right then and there.
But this wasn't a fight between normal folks, and Deathstroke's blade wasn't a normal blade. In fact, the moment he sliced through bullets with it, Deadshot realized that the dual swords in the other guy's hands must be made of a special alloy.
Massive force transferred from the submachine guns, like a heavy hammer slamming down, numbing Deadshot's hands. Two shots went off accidentally, shattering the LCD screen displaying the departure countdown.
When the blade slid down the gun body toward Deadshot's fingers, he decisively chose to ditch the guns.
Deathstroke had already closed the distance, and submachine guns just weren't agile enough. Deadshot pulled two handguns from his waist, bullets spitting rapidly from the barrels. At the same time, he moved in close, penetrating the long blades' reach – Deadshot's hand-to-hand skills weren't much worse than his shooting, and his dual pistols were his close-quarters weapons.
Off to the side, Cody secretly used his "I didn't kill anyone" skill on the two guys duking it out. He did a quick sniff test and found there was no smell of blood, meaning no civilians had been caught in the crossfire yet. So, he immediately hit the ground and went back to playing dead.
"Slade, get out of my way."
Deadshot spun his dual pistols, using two bullets to precisely knock Deathstroke's long blades aside, then drove a knee toward Deathstroke's gut.
Deathstroke instantly changed tactics to counter Deadshot's attack. Stepping back, he pulled his dual swords back. The hilt of one sword blocked Deadshot's attack downwards, while the other hand slashed towards his head.
Deadshot's dual pistols fired again, using the recoil to speed up his retreat. The tip of the blade just grazed his cheek as it swept past – and then the upward swing of the other blade followed right up.
Deadshot didn't have time to dodge and could only rotate to absorb the force. This strike was powerful, cutting straight through his chest armor. Drops of crimson blood scattered in mid-air; Deadshot was losing ground.
The moment Deadshot turned his back to him, Slade followed up with a thrust. The flexibility of his dual swords combined with his superhuman physique was overwhelming Deadshot at this point.
Bang!
A dumdum round flew from under Deadshot's armpit. It was the best angle he could find. Deathstroke couldn't see his blind shot from under his right armpit at all. His reaction was clearly a half-beat slow this time. Even as he sidestepped, the bullet still tore through the muscle in his left shoulder and burrowed into the bone.
"Is that what you call precision, Floyd?"
Even with a wounded shoulder, Deathstroke's voice remained steady amidst the rain of bullets. The electronic voice changer inside his mask sounded incredibly imposing: "You're slipping."
Deadshot, who had turned around, raised his guns again, just in time to see Deathstroke kick the vending machine next to him, sending large amounts of carbonated drinks, fizzing with foam, spraying out like a colorful waterfall.
Suddenly blinded by the soda barrage, Deadshot barely hesitated. His astonishing eyesight instantly caught the abnormal light and shadow change at the ten o'clock direction.
Bang!
Both guns fired simultaneously, two bullets spinning out with almost blind confidence, meeting the two sharp blades slicing through the watery curtain.
They deflected the blades.
Clang!
A ricocheting bullet flew behind a support pillar. An old man wearing a knitted hat was curled up there, clutching his ticket and shivering.
That bullet hit him squarely. He only had time to let out a cry of pain before slowly collapsing.
Blood spread from behind the marble pillar onto the surrounding ground. The two fighters, beneath their masks, both frowned simultaneously, yet their movements didn't pause for a second. Mercenaries are born to eliminate targets and won't be swayed by anything.
"Enough!"
Batman's angry voice echoed from the station entrance. Two Batarangs sliced through the air in dark arcs, flying towards the clashing Deadshot and Deathstroke.
Bang!
Clang!
Deadshot raised a hand and fired a shot, Deathstroke casually parried with a chop, and the Batarangs were knocked away. Neither paid any attention to Batman's warning and continued their brawl.
"I said, enough!"
—
Blinding white light suddenly erupted from the Batarangs on the ground, forcing the two fighters to close their eyes. Taking advantage of this moment, Batman immediately launched himself towards them.
However, sensing the situation was about to change, Deathstroke immediately pulled a smoke bomb from his belt and threw it at the feet of the three of them.
The hissing sound of spreading gas was constant. The white smoke filled the small space in just a few seconds. For a moment, all three were lost in the haze.
Should I blow it away? The thought flashed through Cody's mind, then he immediately dismissed it.
He moved swiftly and silently on the ground, like a ghost, reaching the support pillar. He fed the old man a fruit candy, then lay back down – with the smoke bomb covering him, this series of actions wouldn't be noticed by those guys for now.
Meanwhile, the sound of gunfire and the whoosh of dual swords resumed within the smoke.
Floyd reversed his grip on his pistols, using them for blocking, exposing his shooting gauntlets. His special right eye scope activated. In infrared thermal vision, the outlines of Deathstroke and Batman in the smoke appeared crystal clear.
So he aimed both arms and fired at both of them simultaneously.
Ding, ding, ding?
Deathstroke's senses were equally extraordinary. Once the mist obscured all vision, he immediately closed his eyes, abandoning sight, and relied on hearing. As Deadshot's bullets left the barrels, he tilted his head slightly and immediately heard the sound of objects cutting through the air at high speed.
He swung his dual swords, accurately deflecting the bullets one by one, and locked onto Deadshot's position via the gunshots. He immediately turned and pressed forward, using both weapons for close-quarters suppression.
At this point, Deadshot was retreating step by step again. Deathstroke's healing factor was taking effect; the shoulder wounded by the bullet earlier had recovered partially, and he once again held the advantage in close combat.
Batman also activated his tactical goggles at this time. His cowl naturally had infrared vision as well, so he immediately joined the fray.
The situation instantly became chaotic. Deadshot shot Deathstroke, Deathstroke sliced at Batman, Batman punched Deadshot.
The three of them wrestled in a tangled mess within the smoke.
"Forty-seven steps from that support pillar."
Deathstroke suddenly spoke: "You were waiting for this moment, weren't you?"
Deadshot was silent for a moment, then let out a cold laugh: "Weren't you too?"
Batman was a little confused, but then, he took another step in the smoke, and his boot landed on a railway sleeper. This caused him to lose his balance for a moment and also made him understand the meaning behind their words.
But it was too late now. The tiny mistake seemed so fatal at this point. The roar of a train sounded in the station. The beast-like train charged towards Batman on the tracks, and Deathstroke and Deadshot's combined attack arrived simultaneously.
Batman leaned back to dodge the bullets and dual swords, and at the same time finally escaped from the vision-obscuring smoke.
However, when he glanced to the side, he saw the blinding glare of the train's headlights.
Chapter 196: A Fight with Zero Interaction (please votes)
Rumble!
The sound of a train pulling into the station roared, and Batman felt a terrifying gust of air hit him. The train's headlight grew larger and larger in front of his eyes.
If he didn't react now, he was going to be smashed to pieces by this steel behemoth.
In that instant, his vision quickly took in the surrounding environment, and one survival plan after another was proposed, only to be rejected just as fast, while the train got closer and closer.
"Use the grapple gun to yank myself to the tunnel ceiling? Too little time, won't make it."
"Jump back onto the platform? Enough time, but impossible. Deadshot and Deathstroke are up there, they know I can do that—they won't let me."
"Cody—he can ensure Deadshot and Slade's attacks aren't lethal, but it's highly unlikely the train-induced crushing will count as 'their' attack...sigh"
"Intentionally jump back into the smoke and let Deadshot and Deathstroke's attacks hit me?"
"Or, if Cody cooperates with me right now... Wait, no need."
Lost in thought, time finally ran out. The kneeling Batman still fell onto the railway tracks. At the same time, a strong gust of wind blew from behind the three of them, directly scattering the white mist.
After falling, Batman quickly rolled over, lying flat between the rails, tucking his body in and pressing himself completely against the bottom of the track, turning his head to the side.
With a rumbling roar, the train finally entered the station. In the small space between the train's underside and the ties, Batman's face was expressionless, but his heart was pounding like crazy. The train's undercarriage passed almost pressed against his cheek and body. Surging airflow and vibrations surrounded him.
He was grateful the trains at Central Station had high enough chassis. Otherwise, he wouldn't have just fallen into the tracks; he would have spread his cape and hoped Cody could instinctively follow up, using his abilities (clover?) to blow him away.
But he ultimately didn't do that. Entrusting his life to someone else's hands wasn't his style.
Half a minute later, the train slowly decelerated and finally came to a complete stop. Batman crawled out from under the train but couldn't see Deathstroke, Deadshot, or Cody anymore.
Those three either found a different spot to fight or called it a day.
Batman then searched the scene and found a total of four people who had been caught in the crossfire. Their injuries weren't severe. Without a doubt, Cody had secretly healed them while the three were fighting.
On the other side, Deathstroke and Cody were driving a stolen car towards the East End, where the Riddler was.
"Tomorrow? We're fighting again?!"
Cody's eyes went wide. "Seriously? Can't we just not fight? I faked my death today, that trick is definitely not gonna work again."
"Then you'd better find a way to keep yourself alive," Deathstroke replied calmly. "Soldiers on a mission are only allowed two outcomes: success, or death."
"What about facing Batman?"
"He's the exception."
"...Alright."
Speaking of which, Cody took out a signal jammer—he'd done this before when rescuing Chuck: "I kinda wanted to ask you something."
Deathstroke glanced at the jammer in his hand and asked, "What is it?"
"If someone paid you to follow the Riddler's orders conditionally, without betraying him, would you agree?"
"Hmm?"
Deathstroke looked at Cody and replied, "Depends if the price is high enough."
"Okay, let's rephrase. What if someone paid you, would you cut short the Riddler's contract?"
Deathstroke's answer was still the same: "Depends if the price is high enough."
"Five times?"
"At least ten times, and whether I take it depends on my mood."
"Man, that's expensive... Deadshot probably has similar terms, right?"
Hearing his comment, Deathstroke instead asked, "He might be cheaper—Now, how much are you planning to pay to shut me up?"
Cody replied, "It's a bit steep for me, but in the eyes of some rich folks, that's probably a super sweet deal—I'll connect you, can I get a cut? You decide how much."
"One thousandth."
"No problem."
Crap, Deathstroke rarely cursed in his head, he'd given too much of a cut just now. This kid was totally operating on a "get whatever I can" mindset.
The next day.
Bang!
Bang!
"Holy crap..."
Cody ducked behind cover, scratching his pumpkin head. He was holding a large ballistic shield riddled with bullet holes.
He had specifically asked Deathstroke to get it for him after they went back. Turns out, it was a very smart move.
"Do you have to have a sniper duel with him?!" he yelled to Deathstroke over the comms. "He's just zeroing in on me!"
"If we ran in like yesterday, we'd just walk right into his prepared zone."
Deathstroke responded calmly, "An entire night's time is enough for him to cover an entire block nearby with countermeasures and traps. You want to go sample his bombs?"
Cody sighed, "Then why isn't he shooting you...?"
"I can heal myself, you can't—and you're challenging his professionalism."
"Crap, how is this guy so petty?"
Meanwhile, Deadshot was watching Cody through his infrared scope. This was a special scope he'd prepared to see through that black robe.
Crap, how is this guy so squirrely?
Yesterday, he'd shot at this perverted bike guy over ten times and still couldn't take him down. He even got fooled by the fake death. So, seeing Cody walk away alive and kicking with Deathstroke had caused a slight shift in his mindset.
He, Deadshot, a top marksman one with his gun, one of the world's most lethal mercenaries, a supervillain who could go toe-to-toe with Deathstroke as a mere human, a seasoned warrior with iron will—yet he couldn't kill a third-rate villain with over ten shots and got tricked by a fake death.
Floyd couldn't swallow that kind of humiliation. That's why today he was specifically targeting Cody, to see if he was actually bulletproof. If he was a metahuman like Deathstroke, then Deadshot could actually feel better about it.
It started with an intelligence disadvantage, so being tricked was understandable. After all, bullets only work on flesh and blood. Against zombies with no vital points like Solomon Grundy, or opponents like Killer Croc whose skin is basically bulletproof, you naturally need specially made bullets to have an effect.
"You two ceasefire!"
Batman arrived on the battlefield again. Deadshot immediately put away his rifle and moved. He originally wanted to lure Deathstroke into mid-range for a shootout with assault rifles, but Batman inexplicably kept chasing him, messing up his plan.
The third day.
Bang!
Deadshot pulled the trigger. The bullet ricocheted three times again, hitting Cody behind cover... on the shield in his hands.
Floyd sighed, finally giving up on targeting the guy, and on torturing himself.
What was the point? This guy was only insulting, not actually harmful. Wouldn't it be better to snipe Deathstroke standing next to him? At least that guy would maybe slash back with a sword or shoot back a couple of times, showing some respect, giving him some interaction.
Shooting at a wooden dummy that couldn't be damaged all day long... he was starting to feel a little sick.
"Floyd, stop it!"
"Are you ever gonna quit?!"
Deadshot rolled, just dodging Deathstroke's bullet, only to be met with a Batarang from Batman. Annoyed, he fired two bursts backhand: "Why the hell do you only ever come after me?! Why not Slade?"
Batman's response was a flashbang.
Chapter 197: Boss, Slade Got Netted by Batman Too
Day Four.
Cody was hugging his shield, turtling in a corner, just chilling.
"Slade, why can't Batman catch Deadshot?"
Deathstroke watched the two fight through his sniper scope, answering calmly, "Because he's too green."
"His body's strong, but his training's still lacking. His gear's top-notch, but his tactical thinking hasn't become instinct yet. And he relies too much on his grapple gun; his opponents are way more skilled at climbing and vaulting in complex terrain."
"Floyd and I are the same. We're both mercenaries, and we've spent a ton of time training for long-distance runs and short sprints. Coming up with tactics and scoping out the environment is practically subconscious. We've also trained on how to move fast in complicated places and how to shake off opponents."
"Oh, right, I get it completely now."
Deathstroke couldn't help but turn his head and glance at Cody's clear but clueless eyes. He shook his head.
"Taking out a target and taking one alive are two different ballgames. Beating a tough guy who's like a rookie is one thing; beating a pro who knows how to weave in and out is another. The latter usually requires way more skill than the opponent has, and Batman isn't there yet."
Rumble!
A huge explosion roared from a distance. Cody couldn't help but poke his head out for a look. He saw a blast of fire erupt from the fifth floor of a building, then raised his hand to check the time on his watch – he'd refreshed Deadshot's "I didn't kill anyone" skill yesterday afternoon. The time wasn't up yet, so even if someone was accidentally hurt by this explosion, it wouldn't be fatal – though he knew there shouldn't be anyone in that building anyway.
"Like I said, Floyd had plenty of time to set up his home turf, and Batman is inexperienced," Deathstroke immediately lowered his rifle. "Let's go check out the situation over there."
Cody immediately slung his shield and followed.
After the explosion, a green figure rode the wind to the top of that building – Chuck had heard the explosion from afar and seen the fire. He got to the scene immediately.
"Hope there's nobody in the building."
The green kite drifted down, and Chuck flew in through the opening.
"Let's see, this place is empty."
Seeing that this spot seemed clear, Chuck breathed a sigh of relief. He used his jetpack to fly up to the next floor.
"Nobody on this floor either."
A moment later, Chuck finally confirmed that this was an empty building.
"Deathstroke and Floyd seem to have been controlling the damage to civilians from the fighting since the day before yesterday, fighting in uninhabited zones..." he thought. Why was that?
"Floyd, you don't have to risk your neck for the Joker."
"Sorry, he paid."
On the tenth floor above Chuck's head, Batman was throwing punches at Deadshot. Deadshot blocked with his dual pistols, using the force to retreat and jump straight out the window.
Batman chased him down in a few steps, leaped out, and in mid-air, covered his face with his cape, blocking the two streams of bullets Deadshot fired at his face in mid-air. When the cape came away, Deadshot was gone from his sight again.
As the two fought, they also saw the green figure in the sky.
"Kite-Man?"
Cody and Deathstroke, who were hurrying towards the fight, also spotted the figure. Cody felt a little relieved: "He's probably here to save people. He was the first one on the scene yesterday and the day before too."
"He's not the target," Deathstroke said. "No need to worry about him. If we attack him, or any other civilians, Batman will start coming after us."
"Floyd thinks that way too?"
"Don't know. Maybe it's because Floyd knows Kite-Man. Heard those two have a bit of history – Batman chased him to another street that wasn't very populated. That's good, we don't have to worry about traps."
"Chased?"
"Chased."
After Chuck finished searching the affected rooms in that building, he flew directly away from the scene. Ever since he became Kite-Man that day, he'd gotten really busy. Batman had found him, hoping to work together. Batman would provide intel and protection, while he'd rescue people in the conflict zones.
At this time, the flight suit he was wearing had been remade by Batman, providing bulletproof and impact protection, a tactical belt for easily carrying candy, and a communicator to contact Batman.
Batman had originally offered to upgrade his backpack, but he refused. He wanted to upgrade his backpack himself; it was his stubbornness as an aerodynamicist.
Although the suit didn't have many features, it was enough for Chuck. For him, who often flew in the sky, the biggest threat was bullets, and this suit's bulletproof performance was excellent. These past few days, wearing the suit, he had rescued around several hundred people, men and women, kids and seniors. The citizens' approval of this hero with not much combat power was growing higher and higher.
"Looks like the fight's getting pretty intense..."
He flew through the sky and saw Batman, Deadshot, and Deathstroke all tangled up, seemingly exhausted after four days of high-intensity fighting.
Pow!
Batman landed a heavy, powerful punch on Deathstroke, sending him stumbling backward. Blood seeped from the gaps in his mask.
Thud!
Deadshot kicked Batman in the unprotected chin, tearing off a piece of flesh.
Wham!
Batman immediately returned an elbow strike, making blood gush from his nose and mouth, staining the white mask red.
The three of them were fighting toe-to-toe, trading blows. As Batman slowly got a feel for their attacks, he started swinging both fists, gradually gaining the upper hand. He found an opportunity and knocked out the two bloodied fighters.
Dusk.
"Boss, the weird biker dude is back."
Hearing that familiar report, the Riddler waved his hand, indicating he knew.
Two minutes later, in the main hall where they were meeting.
The Riddler looked at Cody standing in the center of the hall. He seemed mostly unharmed. Besides some dust on his black robe, there was no blood, and no extra bullet holes.
The day before yesterday, his robe at least had a few bullet holes. Now, all the bullets had gone into the shield.
"I'm glad to see you back, but where's Slade?"
"Got nabbed by Batman."
Watching Cody make his report with a straight face, all the supervillains present felt like this scene was strangely familiar.
The Riddler spoke, "Saul."
"Here."
"I'm curious," he said. "Batman beat Deathstroke, but what about little Floyd?"
"Batman took him too."
"You three couldn't handle one Batman?"
"Nah, it was just them who couldn't handle him."
"What do you mean, 'them'?"
"Because I wasn't fighting."
"So, what were you doing while those three were fighting?"
"Why do you think I got out without a scratch?"
The Riddler took deep breaths, silently repeating to himself can't kill, can't kill. He held back last time, he couldn't break his streak now.
"Weren't you guys teammates?"
"Yeah, and that's why if he got caught, only I could come back and report it."
(End of Chapter)
