Following Trails. [deathstroke]

[Catwoman]

Players: Catwoman, Deathstroke.
Location(s): Gotham's East End.
Plot Summary: After encountering Deathstroke searching for intel on the culprit behind the recent assassination of Gotham's mayor, Selina offers her assistance as a ploy to ensure she's aware of the mercenary is up to. Only, Catwoman would have never guessed at who appears to be behind this, and has so incurred the wrath of the Terminator...

Selina still had a chill between her shoulder blades. She'd been around powerful, heartless men before. She'd used them, seduced them, strutted around them without a care in the world before. Then why did Deathstroke spook the Cat so much, she wondered? There was the small issue of him having riddled Selina with bullets a handful of years prior, leaving her to fall five stories to her supposed 'death'. That wasn't what bothered Catwoman the most, though. In her line of business, if you kept grudges about little things like almost being murdered, you wouldn't get very far.

Besides, when the Cat had encountered Deathstroke on the roof of the building adjacent to G.C.P.D. Headquarters, she hadn't come in knowing his identity. Damn curiosity. Why did she always play along with that slanderous cliche? The problem had been that though revenge might have been a nice idea to entertain, in that scenario, under those circumstances, Catwoman was as good as skinned. She was good. The best at what she did, and capable of more astonishing stealth than Batman and Deathstroke combined. However light on her feet she was, Selina didn't like her odds of dodging a bullet from an assassin at ten yards.

'Revenge' had died quickly in Catwoman's mind in any case, once she put two and two together, realizing that Deathstroke's presence in Gotham could only mean one thing: someone was getting 'terminated'. Given what Selina traipsed into on that rooftop, she thought that the man's target might have been Commissioner Gordon. That was all fine and well, except for one teensy little detail that had been nothing but a pain in Catwoman's ass since it had come into being. She was a 'hero' now, and Selina knew how much Gordon meant to Bruce. Ignoring the possibility was strangely at odds with her nature.

Selina had talked and wiggled her way into an imaginary alliance with Deathstroke, promising to tell him what she knew about the target he was seeking out if only so she would know who that was. Turned out, Deathstroke's assignment was a little more sticky than Catwoman had thought it would be. Apparently, the Terminator had been about to pull the trigger to assassinate the mayor when another sniper beat him to the punch. Deathstroke was looking for the person responsible for stealing his kill to even the scales.

With that knowledge, the Cat had slunk off to the East End to consort with her most useful contacts and see what she could find. Theoretically Selina was going to meet Deathstroke in a half hour outside of one of Gotham's parks...

"Thanks for meeting me, Sticks." Catwoman stood in a patch of moonlight filtering between the buildings that made up the alley. Before the feline felon was an individual whose entire appearance was up for debate. They were wrapped in a worn trench coat complete with boots, gloves, hood and scarf concealing every feature. Selina only would have been able to make out his or her eyes, but they were eclipsed in shadow. Sticks was one of her most paranoid contacts, which is partly what made him the most reliable. He didn't spill intel unless he was sure it was right.

Sticks gave one brief nod. "You know I don't like social calls," he said, voice not only muffled by the scarf, but altered by a device that must have been concealed beneath it. "It'll be quick, and it was an emergency." Catwoman's tone was as velvety smooth as always, but her demeanor showed otherwise. She knew the gravity of the situation, and realized that their encounter had to be kept short. Sticks looked around cautiously and glanced back at her. "What did you want to know?" The Cat smirked, but there was no emotion in the quirk of her lips. "Who killed the mayor?"

Sticks glanced around again, as if entertaining an annoying tick. He leaned forward and Selina did the same. "That's not too heavily guarded info," his technologically-manipulated voice warbled. "Guy who done it has sorta been braggin'." Catwoman's eyes narrowed. So it was a male. Not entirely shocking. She gave a flick of her fingers, egging Sticks on. For someone who didn't want to be there in the first place, he was sure sacrificing a lot of time just for theatrics. "Surprised you don't already know. He's one of your crowd."

Catwoman's eyes narrowed. Damn. It wasn't another assassin like Deathstroke. She supposed things would've been too simple had that been the case. Fate was such a malicious bastard sometimes. "The gun guy," Sticks said, "that Red Hood character." Selina's eyes widened. No. Jason wouldn't off the mayor. That didn't make sense. Red Hood wasn't shy about killing people, but he usually only popped a cap in scumbags. Going after elected officials was never his mo. Beyond that, the Cat was floored by the reality of it all. What had she gotten herself into?

Deathstroke was after the mayor's killer. Deathstroke was after the Red Hood. He was after Jason, who Selina couldn't let get killed because of her sorry, incurably curious ass. I can't let Deathstroke know that Jason's behind it. That would've been nice. Save one important detail. That being that the one-eyed mercenary himself was standing on the rooftop at her back. Selina wouldn't have noticed except that Sticks's gaze flicked up, and he bolted. Catwoman turned around, eyes wide, face lax.

She had to stop him.

[Deathstroke]

Despite her history as a line-walking thief with a tendency to hold grudges(well sometimes), Slade trusted Catwoman to hold up her end of the bargain. In a way, they were very much alike. They both had a certain... pride in their line of work. They both took up contracts for the challenge, not always for the money. Of course, Catwoman had a tendency to let her emotions get in the way, but Slade doubted Wayne or Grayson would convince her to betray him.

For now. For now, he was on the side of the heroes, the do-gooders, the "capes," the knights in shining armor. It was a side he didn't want to make too much of a habit of stepping onto. He was the world's greatest assassin, and working with the likes of Batman and his assorted bag of dark vigilantes with animal motifs was bad for business. Slade wasn't necessarily AGAINST SOME of the heroes. He had worked with the Titans on numerous occasions. However, he had a career, and he wasn't letting his associations with the men in tights get in the way of that. Ever.

While Deathstroke trusted Catwoman, that didn't mean he would just let her do what she wanted. After his own extensive searches proved fruitless, Slade had tracked Catwoman to the East End, where she had apparently set up a meeting with a contact. Slade kept himself in the shadows as best as a man in an orange-and-black suit armed to the teeth with guns, ammunition, and sword(and one battle staff) could.

Then, Slade's ears picked up on the information he was looking for. Jason Todd. The Red Hood. Deathstroke actually hadn't seen much of Todd. He was one of the few Robins he hadn't fought. Actually, he may have been the only Robin to not actually fight the Terminator, a jarring statement given how often Slade and the Bat-Family crossed paths as well as blades.

Then, he was spotted. The contact spotted him. He mentally berated himself for being so careless. How did he let a regular street punk spot him before a world-class thief did? That didn't matter at the moment however. What mattered now is that Catwoman didn't stop him. While he was sure that he could defeat Catwoman in a fight, it was a fight he wished to avoid. He needed the energy for Todd. So, Slade Wilson did something he had never done before. He ran from a lone woman.
"Don't even think about it, Cat. I'll gut you without a second thought. Do what you always do. Save your own skin."

[Catwoman]

Somewhere in the recesses of Selina's mind, she pondered. How very strange a sensation it was to go against one's nature. Or, rather, shouldn't it have been? Bolting after one of the world's best mercenaries, armed to the teeth with guns perfectly suited for ending a certain Cat, and all for the sake of Red Hood - a definitely not-so-innocent vigilante - and his safety. Catwoman's senses screamed at her: idiot, idiot, idiot! Since when had she become so damn reckless?! Logically, this was a rookie move, condemned to failure.

Then why did every other fiber of her being go for it?

Deathstroke might have sent a hail of bullets down into that alleyway. He could have unsheathed his sword and been waiting for the feline felon on higher ground. Selina wouldn't have been surprised if he had pulled a rocket launcher out of nowhere and tried to blow her to Bludhaven. So, typically, the Terminator did the only thing that Catwoman had not been ready to address. And yet, it was the very thing that was the most beneficial to her.

He ran.

Selina had kicked off of the alley walls, one after another to gain a bit of height. Then she lunged with impressive agility to the wall of the building that Deathstroke had been mounted on, and ascended with two upward leaps broken by her nails digging into the porous surfaces of brick and mortar. Catwoman was flipping up and over the edge of the rooftop within moments, and Deathstroke hadn't even made it to another building yet. Fight? He would cream her. Marksmanship? She was dead.

For some reason, Deathstroke was going toe-to-toe with Selina in her realm, where she was superior. No matter how powerful the mercenary was, Catwoman knew that she was faster physically. Similarly, despite Deathstroke's strategic, analytical mind, she knew the East End like the back of her paw. There was no way he could out-maneuver her here. The Cat heard Deathstroke's words as she pressed on, hot on his heels. "Wouldn't that be so much simpler?" Catwoman spoke with an almost bittersweet longing.

She couldn't let Jason be attacked, possibly killed, because of her. Had things gone a different course, the Cat would have been perfectly happy to let the Red Hood clean up his own mess. Except, Selina had made a great deal of the mess herself this time. Catwoman would sleep better without a former Robin's death on her conscience. Besides, Bruce would be hell to live with if that happened. Catwoman watched Deathstroke efficiently pass onto another building. She pounced into the open air, pulling her whip expertly from where it lay, coiled about her hips like a belt.

Selina had been intending on finding purchase with her whip on an adjacent gargoyle and sling-shotting herself at Deathstroke. The plan would've worked, too, except Catwoman was a little too sound in the belief that just because the mercenary hadn't pulled a gun previously, that he would keep up that record. There was a bang that rang out through the alleys, and Selina's arm felt tension leave it. The bullet had shred through Catwoman's whip at precisely the wrong moment. "Aw, hell."

Selina might have been able to recover, too, except when her eyes flicked toward Deathstroke, she saw only the barrel of his gun. Catwoman stopped trying to right her momentum and instead rolled midair to make a more difficult target. Not that it would help. If the Terminator could clip her whip at such a distance, she would make a huge target. The Cat was working on instinct, though, and instinct meant that she crashed against an AC unit sticking out of a window. All the air was driven from Selina's lungs and she slid off. Her hands tried to grasp a pole that ran across the alley, but her grip fumbled and she dropped again, falling five stories and crash-landing in an open dumpster.

Ironically, Catwoman's landing disrupted a handful of stray cats, who hissed or wailed in protest. Selina did not stir.

CATWOMAN.EXIT

[OOC: I hope my power-playing was alright! I figured, the sooner we get this leg of the race out of the way, the sooner you can move onto the thread where he tracks down Red Hood!]

[Deathstroke]

[OOC: oh no I would have done most of the stuff you had me do it's fine I understand not having time to wait it's all good]

Well, that was easy. Slade had honestly expected her to put up a better fight. As skilled and renowned as the Cat was, he had expected her to at least be able to dodge some of his shots. All it took was one shot. Granted, he was aiming at her whip, not her. He could have just shot her in the head, maybe missing a few times, but he WAS marginally grateful for the information. As such, she only got a concussions, maybe a broken rib, and a broken whip. However, that was the extent of his gratitude. If she interfered again, he would end her. Slade stared at the motionless figure that had landed in the very conveniently-placed dumpster for a few seconds before resuming his hunt.
"It's your turn, Todd..."
[EXIT DEATHSTROKE]