The Hunt Begins[Catwoman]

[Deathstroke]

Players: Deathstroke and Catwoman
Location(s): The Rooftops of Gotham City
Plot Summary: Deathstroke's search for the man who killed the mayor begins, and a certain costumed character runs into him!

Cold. It was so cold out at night. Even through the insulated armor Slade always wore, he could feel how unforgivably cold it was. He supposed that he should expect no less from Gotham. Everything bad about the city was taken to its extreme. Why should the weather be any different?

Of course, the weather wasn't Slade's problem right now. He could search for ways to fight the cold at a later time. Right now, he had a job to do. He had no idea what the mayor of Gotham had done to make someone angry enough to kill him, and Deathstroke didn't care at this point. They wanted this man dead, and Slade wouldn't let God Himself stop him from doing the deed.

The plan was sickeningly simple. All it took was a man with a gun and a lot of patience. Slade briefly wondered why he was asked to kill such an easy target. For a mayor who lived in one of the most dangerous cities on the planet, his security was severely lacking. He was making a speech on the steps of city hall that day. It was even during the day-time. Bat problems were hard to come by during the day.

Slade stood atop a building adjacent to city hall, a building brought to you by Wayne Enterprises. The building didn't have any sensors on the roof, something that surprised Deathstroke given the pragmatism both versions of Batman exercised in terms of protection. He had been dropped down from a helicopter and left to his own devices. Within the hour, he had his equipment set up, a silenced Dakota T-76 Longbow on a bi-pod at the edge of the building. A set of radars and sensors in case one of Gotham's many creatures decided to sneak up on him. Everything was easy to pack up and dispose of.

Then came the awaited hour. The mayor and his procession rode up in their comfortable limousines, the press hungrily awaited their chance at questioning the elected official, and the Gotham City Police Department was on-hand to guard the mayor. The only thing missing was a cape around to defend the mayor, but this wasn't Metropolis. The mayor didn't have Batman on speed dial. Deathstroke laid down and gripped the rifle, his gloved finger lightly touching the trigger.
"Showtime."

The mayor stood at his podium with a nervous look on his face. He was afraid of something. Of course, this was Gotham City. The only people not living in fear of something were dressed up like bats or birds. Oh, and there was the Joker, but that maniac was a category all his own. The mayor began giving his speech. Deathstroke's eye narrowed. He just needed a few more seconds...

Suddenly, the mayor's chest ran red with blood, a bullet hole puncturing the heart. The politician slumped onto the podium before falling over. Deathstroke raised an eyebrow. He didn't do that. Who else was here? Deathstroke checked his sensors and radars. Nothing. No one. The assassin quietly packed up his things, putting all the sensors and radars in a small backpack and putting all the sniper rifle parts in its case.

With a quick hop, he landed on a shorter building before jumping down to an alley with nothing but a set of trash cans in it. He opened the trash cans to find his clothes and a suitcase, a black leather jacket, a black sweater, and a pair of blue jeans. Deathstroke quickly changed clothes and placed his Deathstroke suit in the suitcase. His weapons were at the safe-house his employers had designated for him. He would need them. He wasn't leaving Gotham just yet. He wanted to know who it was that stole his kill from him, and to do that, he needed to track the Batman. Once more, Slade was on the hunt.

After a quick trip to the safe-house, the assassin was ready to begin his hunt. His load-out was simple and minimalist, just a pair of Beretta Px4 Storms and his ever-present Promethium sword and battle staff to arm him along with three flash bombs in case someone he couldn't kill got in his way(however unlikely). His first trip was to GCPD headquarters. He stood crouched on a building near the GCPD, casing the place out. He didn't mind simply breaking in and slaughtering anyone who stood in his way, but he didn't want to tip Batman off to his presence. Not yet anyway.

[Catwoman]

How curious. Catwoman was pressed against the architecture on a lower tier of one of Gotham's countless sky-scrapers. The most prominent clock tower that the city boasted shone, rising from the labyrinth of other spires, at her back. Selina was a long way from the East End, and she would have liked to have been able to brandish a reason that warranted her excursion, but the truth was slightly juvenile: she'd been bored. The feline felon was theoretically playing on the side of the angels now. Never thought I'd do so much for a man, of all things, she thought for the millionth time that month.

The East End might have been her turf, but she now felt a little more obligation to the city beyond it. Sure. She could justify her decision to go prowling on that reason. Why not? Better than boredom, anyway. Catwoman had made her way leisurely over the rooftops. For speed alone, had that been her goal, Selina would have used one of her bikes, or hitched a ride on top of a car (or inside a hot-wired one). As it was, the mostly reformed thief had been progressing through the city at a much more enjoyable pace.

Flipping over whatever obstacle looked like a challenge and going out of her way just for a particularly enjoyable jump. Catwoman was nearing the more southern region of the city when something caught the corner of her goggles. Selina abandoned what was going to be a relatively complicated series of acrobatics and instead rolled to the side, and the nearest cover. Coming out of the motion, Catwoman pressed immediately against the carved stone to see if she could glean anything more.

Activating the heat sensor capabilities in her goggles didn't do anything. Selina ended up closing the mode and trusting her own gaze through the tinted lenses instead. Catwoman nearly missed the subtle motion again, and only noted it because of her shrewd mind. Her astonishing abilities at stealth. Because this unknown motion was moving in a way that Selina related to quite well. The figure that she caught sight of was conducting itself with utmost prestigious subtlety.

Whoever it is is good, Catwoman admitted to herself, impressed. Her lips twitched. Trying to spread into a playful smirk, but remaining in a line out of sheer focus. Selina was genuinely worried that if she took her eyes off of the small shape visible several blocks away, she'd lose it. Catwoman tried to discern the purpose that that sneaky smudge had. Wasn't very hard, really. The G.C.P.D. Headquarters was simply too close for it to be anything else. From Selina's distance she couldn't see who the stranger was with certainty.

The feline felon knew that it wasn't Dick, Tim, Damian or one of the other vigilantes of Gotham. Gut instinct? Not particularly. Selina just would have been able to notice them easier, and not been at such a loss. And this as-yet-unidentified sneak was conducting itself in a way that Batman wouldn't, and pretty much any other hero or villain of Gotham was incapable of. I should probably let Oracle know, Catwoman thought, trying to be reasonable. Maybe later. And the smile actually bloomed then.

With that, the princess of plunder put all of her prowess in stealth to the test, and began moving in to get a closer look at what, exactly, was happening. Who would need to be casing the G.C.P.D.'s little hovel?

[Deathstroke]

It was still cold out. Slade briefly wondered how the various crazies of Gotham ran around in this weather in tights. Of course, that wasn't the question that he needed answered. He could deal with why it was so bloody cold after he found who killed the mayor. He watched the Commissioner shuffle through his office, reading files and answering the ever-ringing phone. What a pathetic old man he was. Years of service to this wretched hive, and he had nothing to show for it except for health problems and dead wives. Poor fool.

Deathstroke's eye narrowed when the Commissioner opened a file on his computer. The assassin took out a small telescope and tried to steal a look at whatever it was that the Commissioner was looking at. This was when having enhanced vision paid off. It was specs of the bullet that killed the mayor. Deathstroke immediately committed the specs to memory. .338 Lapua Magnum hollow point. Why would someone use a bullet that could take down an elephant in one shot on a five-foot eleven-inch, out of shape bureaucrat? To Deathstroke, that was a ludicrous amount of overkill. He wondered...

Then, his ears caught the sound of footsteps coming toward him. Slade gave himself three guesses as to who it was. He couldn't do anything with that information yet. He had to wait for the person to get closer. So, he remained crouched, acting unaware of his surroundings while reading the specs of the rifle. At the same time, his mind began running through the list of rifles that could use such a bullet. The .338 was a fairly versatile bullet. He'd need more time to think about it. Right now, he had an intruder to deal with.

As the footsteps drew closer, Deathstroke stood up and put the small telescope in a pouch on his belt and looked up. It was a full moon out. How cliche. The assassin looked around for a moment. He couldn't see the intruder. Well, at least he or she was smart enough to stay out of his sight. For now.
"I can hear you, you know."

[Catwoman]

Catwoman was within two rooftops when the dots of the identity of the squatter knit together. Damn. Selina didn't keep up with what heroes and villains were out gallivanting around. On one hand, it was a pretty large waste of time, considering how often a new one popped up, or another disappeared - usually in some gruesome way for a foolish error they'd made. On the other, Catwoman could really have cared less. The only heroes, villains or otherwise that the feline felon could match name to face with was for good reason.

Past experiences or relationships, however slight, with them and then there was her knowledge of another due to sheer reputation. Deathstroke the Terminator fit the bill for the latter. Selina couldn't remember if he was considered the 'world's greatest assassin', beings that there was a whole crap-load of capes who called themselves, or were called that. All that aside, Catwoman still knew enough about Deathstroke to pause mid-step in her sneaking when she registered that that was who she was approaching.

The wisest option that came to mind was pretty simple, actually. Bolt. Run off and leave the mercenary to do whatever it was that he was intending to. Catwoman quickly, if a touch regretfully, dismissed this strategy. Firstly, because she was sort of expected to do a little digging and make sure Deathstroke's agenda didn't get in the way of the goody-goodies. You're one of those now, remember, Selina, she noted to herself. That was, again, what she could use as justification to ease her mind. Really? She was just too damned curious.

Cliche as hell, Catwoman knew, but there you have it. She had the same little feline nerve that the species she derived her name from possessed. A nerve that was tickled at the slightest indicator of mischief, or the unknown, and that persisted until Selina gave in. There were exceptions, surly. Had Catwoman truly feared for her well-being, she would have forced the intrigue aside. Should I be? The reformed thief pondered this. Then she decided: at least not at once.

Deathstroke was a mercenary, but Selina knew from her sources that he was fairly honorable, especially for his line of work. Unless he was forced to, the assassin wouldn't harm anyone other than those that he was hired to hit. Catwoman knew that he wasn't there to kill her because he would have found her, or been waiting in the East End. Not staring through some telescope at the G.C.P.D. Headquarters. She was safe. At least for the moment, and with that put to rest, she could indulge her inner cat.

Catwoman knew that Deathstroke sensed her the moment his ears caught her velvet tread. She was on the same rooftop at the time, lithely stretched out behind a grumbling kiosk of ventilation caps, but she was impressed nevertheless. Even Bruce would have had trouble marking her approach. Selina had her doubts that Dick would have even managed that - if only due to lack of experience anticipating her appearance. The Cat smirked playfully when the mercenary spoke.

Damn, his voice is a turn-on, Catwoman observed offhandedly. That was the simple truth. Silky and authoritative while still maintaining a frosting of apathetic indifference. You're taken, and he'd probably shank you in your sleep. Selina stepped out from her hiding place, concealed until she was poised nonchalantly several feet away from the kiosk by a curtail of smoke that issued from them. Deathstroke would know she was drifting behind the distraction, but she didn't care. "Oh, I knew," Catwoman said, and not untruthfully, her voice a low purr. "Color me impressed."

[Deathstroke]

Deathstroke continued running through the list of guns that could have fired the bullet while his intruder continued sneaking. He would have been running through the list of people that could sneak as quietly as that, but he wasn't worried about it all that much. If push came to shove, Slade always kept bullets for those brave enough to attack him. It was a little morbid, but the assassin DID have a lot of enemies. Pragmatism beat morbidity.

Deathstroke crossed his arms. He was behind those damn ventilation caps. As silent as he was, he wouldn't have known he was there if he didn't pick up on his footsteps earlier. Even enhanced senses can't account for loud noises masking smaller noises. No matter, he'd be out of her hiding spot soon enough. Either she would do it herself, or those kiosks would mysteriously be filled with bullet-holes.

It was a woman. Of course, the light tread meant either a child or a woman. Given how many birds Batman had in his flock, he wasn't sure which one was which. It could even have been both. That voice wasn't one of a child though, too seductive. Too experienced at seduction. The master assassin turned around to find one of the few foes of the Bat that wasn't mentally unstable. That didn't mean she was predictable however. Deathstroke knew of her by reputation. Catwoman.

Now, Deathstroke was faced with a dilemma. He was never one to attack those that weren't targets or already attacking him. At the same time, those giggling maniacs Batman called villains spoke to him at times. Catwoman didn't always play villain. Deathstroke didn't need her tipping off Batman to his presence there. Again, it wasn't the time to be doing that.
"What do you want?"

[Catwoman]

Ooh, he was playing hard to get. Catwoman wasn't unaccustomed to having her presence be met with less than she might have hoped. Dick was particularly good at trying to pretend that she didn't get to him. But Selina liked to be desired, single or no, and she could tell when a man was interested, even if they tried to hide it. Deathstroke didn't fit that category. Catwoman could tell by his tone and more that he honestly was indifferent to her. Wanted her to leave so that he could focus on the task that had brought him to this particular rooftop.

That's no fun, Selina thought, more affronted than she intended to be. The Cat was as in control of her outward demeanor as ever, thankfully. Even though she was slightly offended, Catwoman maintained that seductive air that was always hers to don. As if she was alluring without trying. A fruit that was forbidden by nature, not by effort. Deathstroke's question wasn't without merit. Indeed, Selina was caught momentarily unawares. Why was she there again? To keep an eye on the assassin, maybe, but that answer wouldn't satisfy him.

Catwoman wasn't stupid. Her identity as a sometimes villain still hadn't been permeated with her more recent strike on the 'good' path. Had it been, she supposed Deathstroke might have attacked her without any other provocation. Selina was well aware of heroes' overbearing reputation for ruining a good-to-do villain's fun. Or, more importantly, their score. The Cat let one corner of her lips rise higher than the other in vaguely intrigued amusement. "Would you believe for company?"

Selina strutted several steps closer, but stopped still keeping her distance. Wouldn't want to get in close enough to allow Deathstroke to get hold of her. Even if he had heightened speed, Catwoman could still bolt if he went on the offensive. Unless he pulled out a gun, but she would cross that bridge when she came to it. "You looked lonely, up here all by yourself." Selina gave a teasing edge to her voice, but kept her tone low and serious. She was the master of this game. She could deliver lines that no other woman could, and still maintain her reputation as a dangerous individual.

[Deathstroke]

This was taking too long. Slade didn't need to deal with a curious cat. Not right now. He had too much to do at the moment. Besides, he knew of Catwoman's reputation. Deathstroke wasn't one for teases. They bored him. They always tried to make the assassin desire something he didn't even want in the first place. Well, that wasn't totally true. He WAS human after all. He just found all the posturing and the blatant attempts at seduction annoying to a high degree.

Then, another though crossed Deathstroke's mind. What if she was working with Batman? What if everything they were saying was being recorded. Bruce Wayne, the original, no longer wore the cowl. His protege, a man Slade had had many a tangle with, wore it now. If Slade remembered correctly, he leveled Nightwing's city once. Great, not only did he have to deal with a Bat if he was found; he would have to deal with a Bat with a grudge.

Slade raised an eyebrow at her answer to his question. Company? Please, cats were solitary creatures, curious as they may be. While Catwoman was certainly not an actual cat, those that donned animal motifs typically acted like what they represented. Batman brooded in the dark, the terrorist Kobra actually tried to become a snake, and Catwoman worked alone most of the time. Regardless of what side she was playing on, some things never changed. Wait, was this the same Catwoman he tracked down and shot to death? Did it really matter? Slade guessed not. Regardless of who it was, Slade needed her to leave.

Slade rolled his eye at her posturing. He wasn't amused by this. Slade would have just left, but he needed to figure out a way to make sure she didn't tell Batman anything about his presence in Gotham. Killing her was always an option, but Slade had a feeling that would just bring a whole ton of stuff down on his head that he didn't want or need to deal with. As much fun as it would be to take down the entire Justice League again, he still had a hunt to complete.
"I don't have time for this. Besides, that isn't why you're here; is it? You're trying to see what I'm up to; so you can tell the Bat or one of his thousands of allies. I'd advise against that, Catwoman. I really would."

[Catwoman]

Beyond all else, Selina Kyle did not like to feel helpless. In the face of Deathstroke, that was exactly what she experienced. Perhaps not entire ignorance in regard to assault - she wouldn't just stand there and take a whooping - but Catwoman knew her limits. Had the mercenary taken the offensive, the Cat would have had to flee. Fur raised and claws out, but flee nonetheless. Selina heard the rumors that went around. Usually it took a whole bus-load of heroes to make this guy blink. Or was it 'wink', with the one eye and all?

So she hadn't come into this with a plan in mind, so what? In her defense, she hadn't known the identity of the prowler until it was too late, in her opinion. What more, Deathstroke seemed to regard her as a pest. Something insignificant that was doing nothing but wasting his time and needed to be gone. Catwoman's pride had already stung a little that evening, and now it was quite sore. All that aside, though, the feline felon maintained her level head. She was no fool.

Then what happened? What topped the crap cake? The asshole put two and two together and realized exactly why the Cat had decided to intrude on his little operation. Selina's eyes flashed dangerously for a moment behind her yellow-tinted goggles. Catwoman had lost interest in this exchange just as much as the Terminator had. "All the rumors say you're smart," she said blandly. "Guess they were wrong." Selina's eyes flicked to the facade of the G.C.P.D. Headquarters.

Now that she thought of it, it was pretty obvious who Deathstroke was casing. "I don't answer to Batman." Not the dark knight that was frequenting the streets at present, in any case, but Selina didn't have to put that tidbit of information in. Catwoman wanted to leave well enough alone. This is what she got for snooping around outside of her neighborhood. However, she had to make sure that Deathstroke wasn't targeting Gordon. The facts stated otherwise - why hadn't he shot the Commissioner already? He was a sitting duck - and so did Selina's gut.

Not like the assassin was going to give her a full report on his current objectives. Richard and Bruce had a clever little web wrought around individuals like Gordon that usually tipped them off to whether or not they were in danger. This was Deathstroke that Selina was facing, though. Would he be caught up in that web? Or would he put a bullet between the Police Commissioner's eyes? Catwoman turned, as if to make her leave, walking with slow nonchalance towards the rooftop's edge. "A pity, too. Not much happens in this city that I don't know about. We might have been able to strike a deal."

Selina was making a risky move, true, but if she could get a read on who Deathstroke was after, she would feel better. She'd know if she either needed to alert Richard of Gordon's safety being at risk, or she could put it out of her mind. Deathstroke didn't discriminate with contracts. What if he was there to take out someone less virtuous? Odds were the mercenary would give her a curse-filled farewell. Maybe he'd not say anything? That was fine with Selina. She could scuttle off, stay near the Commissioner until she was sure Deathstroke wasn't after him, then go back to the East End.

[Deathstroke]

The signs were there. They were so minute that only the most trained eye(s) could find them. She was nervous. Her words had no effect on the decades-old assassin, and that wasn't something she was comfortable with. He had half-expected her to turn tail after that thinly-veiled threat about not telling Batman. Not out of fear, no. She wasn't afraid of Slade, not in the traditional sense. It was sort of like when one ran away from Superman. You had to give the devil his due sometimes.

Slade raised an eyebrow at the insult. That seemed a little out of character considering her last couple of sentences. Then, she said she didn't answer to Batman. No, maybe not Grayson. Wayne was more her type it seemed. Still, that didn't mean she couldn't tip him off for one reason or another. Maybe, she didn't like Deathstroke. Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned.
"That may be, but would YOU take that chance if you didn't want to be found?"

Then, Slade's interests were piqued. Cats DID have a tendency to get around; didn't they? Perhaps, there WAS a reason for him to talk to her. Now, he needed to think about how much to tell her. Maybe, she didn't need to know anything at all. Decisions, decisions. Slade thought for a moment.
"Hm... maybe you CAN help me... I need information."

[Catwoman]

Catwoman knew that it was a long shot, even when the idea first popped in her mind. Deathstroke surveyed her, and even though he was entirely covered from head to toe, she had the feeling that he was aware of much more than Selina wanted him to be of. Her skin crawled beneath the leather plains of her outfit. She refused to let her fingers twitch closer to the handle of the whip that curled around her hips. Damn it, girl, she scolded, more angry with herself than Deahstroke, suck it up.

There came the 'what would you do if you were me' angle. Catwoman knew exactly what she would have done had things been reversed. Had she been doing something of a sensitive nature and Deathstroke wandered by, expecting to threaten or charm the nature of it out of her. She'd have either bolted, refused to speak, or talked her way around the subject without actually addressing it. Selina knew that Deathstroke shouldn't trust her with anything. Her track record meant that 'trust' wasn't something she was used to being able to garner.

She didn't give a damn about it usually. Or, at least, until very recently. Now Selina found herself trying despite herself to earn it from Bruce's little bird. That was fine. The sooner Catwoman got away from Deathstroke, the less complicated her evening would become. So what if she couldn't get legitimate information from him? She'd drop a line to Richard, making him aware of the mercenary's presence in Gotham, and shadow Gordon until he sent one of the other vigilantes to take over for her. That wasn't so bad.

The feline felon was about to drop off of the rooftop and effectively disappear when Deathstroke decided to be compliant for the first time during their encounter. Of all the times for him to actually play along. Catwoman paused with one foot on the risen edge of the rooftop, then looked over her shoulder with a cunning smirk tilting her full lips. "What kind of information?" she questioned playfully. "I can't help if I don't know what I'm looking for."

Selina gave feigned innocence to the last statement, puckering her lips slightly to show that she was obviously teasing. This was a dangerous game she was playing. Catwoman was usually addicted to this kind of gambling. It just wasn't the same without Bruce involved.

[Deathstroke]

Deathstroke was impressed at how composed Catwoman was staying around him. Most people liked to keep their hands as close to their weapons as possible. Either that, or they ran. It impressed Slade even more, considering Catwoman wasn't exactly known for up-front fights. If he had been in her position, he would have stayed hidden or at least tried to get the jump on Slade. Her courage was commendable.

Slade raised an eyebrow as his words seemed to have an effect on her. Well, at least they could find common ground on that. If what she said was true, that was a good thing. Slade needed information. Sure, he could find out who fired the shot from the gun idea, but it would take months. The person who did the deed, if he had any sense or experience, would be long gone by then. Obviously, the faster Slade could find him, the better.

Slade wondered what she thought he was doing here. Slade looked over at the GCPD and Gordon's office. Right, he briefly forgot about the Commissioner. Looking at things now, they'd look pretty bad for the assassin if any hero had happened upon him. Good thing, Catwoman wasn't a hero. Or so she said.

Slade rubbed his chin for a moment when she started being intrigued. Good, he could finally get some information. Now, he just needed to figure out how much to tell her. Granted, he wasn't a fan of lying to someone who was trying to help him out. Maybe, he SHOULD tell her everything. Within reason of course. He didn't need to let an employer's name slip. That wouldn't be right. Of course, that didn't mean Deathstroke didn't roll his eye at her innocence play. Even the dumbest man in the world could see what a load of bull that was.
"If we're going to be working together, you can drop the playful act. I'm not Batman. Anyway, I was hired to kill the mayor. Don't ask who hired me. It's irrelevant. Someone beat me to the punch. I want to know who, I want to find out why, and I want to make them pay. I don't like leaving contracts unfulfilled."

[Catwoman]

There was a moment, after her offer, where the two stood there sizing one another up. Selina recognized her own limits, and because of that she was painfully aware of how outgunned she was against Deathstroke - pun slightly intended. Honestly, if it came to a scuffle between the two of them, Catwoman knew that the only feasible option was to retreat. Quickly, before he could get in too close or aim too surly. Yet, the mercenary seemed to be leaning toward using her assets. She couldn't blame him.

There were times when Selina had ended up in foreign cities and been forced through necessity to rely on a resident villain therein. Catwoman briefly reminisced to a time in Central City where she'd worked with Captain Cold for a few hours, each being forced into the other's company to ensure that neither were caught. Memories could wait until later, though. When the Cat wasn't being watched by the eye of arguably the world's greatest killer. Selina felt as if she might have gotten a little in over her head.

Catwoman's smirk became a little less sweet at the first few words that Deathstroke finally chose to say to her. "Work, work, work," she tutted, "though, you do remind me of him. Just without the needless grunting, and a little more lethal around the edges." A lot more lethal, Selina added quietly to herself. She wasn't going to stop the 'playful act' as Deathstroke phrased it, if only to get beneath his skin now. She'd be a little more serious, sure, but not as monotone as the mercenary.

The Cat crossed her arms over her chest and gave Deathstroke a look that was less than enthused. "Did I ask?" she questioned irritably. This assassin was underestimating the feline felon by a long shot. Good news for her, but still annoying. Selina knew enough to not question Deathstroke's employer. The thought that he believed otherwise of her was a little insulting, actually. Catwoman maintained focus on the Terminator, even so.

The mayor's death had been all over the media. Selina thought that it was a bit of a shame - the city's most recent mayor had been fairly less corrupted than his predecessors - but any elected official took that risk when they lived in Gotham. Catwoman would have done her bit of digging regarding the killer if it was her job. Neither Richard nor Oracle had asked that of her - so far - though, so Selina was content with allowing the more openly virtuous of Gotham's vigilantes handle this case.

Until now, the Cat supposed. When her damn curiosity screwed her over, yet again. You'd think that Selina would have learned. Her conscience was slightly lightened when Catwoman realized that it wasn't some innocent bureaucratic or bloated kingpin that she was claiming to help Deathstroke find, but another murderer. Momentarily, Selina wondered what was so wrong with letting sleeping dogs lie. The mercenary's contract was fulfilled, and he didn't even have to do the work. That seemed like an easy out to the feline felon.

Catwoman knew that that wasn't the case, though. Not when it came to someone who took his job as seriously as Deathstroke the Terminator did his. Honestly, it was just like if Selina had been bribed by someone to burn a certain file from a billionaire's safe, only to find that someone had beat her to the goods. Catwoman could have slunk back to her employer claiming - truthfully - that the deed was done, and leave it at that. Only Selina knew that she wouldn't have been able to rest until she'd taught the person responsible for taking her job a lesson.

"So it's business-related, and personal?" The Cat unfolded her arms and strutted slowly to the nearest corner of the building's top. "Let me confer with my informants, and I'll let you know." Selina stood facing the city and looked back at Deathstroke. "I'll meet you at the north entrance to East City Park in one hour." Catwoman smirked for the last time during that meeting, but it wasn't kind in the slightest. "Don't be late, patchy."

And the Cat lunged from the rooftop, curling into a forward flip and then unfurling in a ready pose as she disappeared into the night. There was a distant crack of a whip being employed, but other than that Selina simply disappeared.

[CATWOMAN EXIT]

[Deathstroke]

Slade's eye narrowed at her comparison of him to Batman. While he would admit that Batman took his... whatever you'd want to call being a superhero just as seriously as Deathstroke took his job, everything else about them was totally different. For one, she was correct in saying that Deathstroke was more lethal than the Bat ever would be. For two, Slade didn't let his emotional baggage carry into his work. Most of the time.
"Don't tell him you said that. He may take offense."

Slade's eye narrowed again when she became...catty. He wasn't trying to insult her, but he had dealt with many a scumbag that asked who wanted the mayor dead. That wasn't his information to divulge. Unlike some mercenaries and assassins, he didn't work like that. No matter what situation he was in, he did not give out that sort of information. It was bad for business and bad for Slade's conscience(yes he has one).
"No, and I made sure you understood not to."

Slade growled slightly at her calling him patchy. She was a mouthy one. If she had been any younger, it would be... amusing. Given her age and experience, he had expected her to learn when and when not to snap at men. Still, she had her uses. Slade trusted her about as far as he could throw a building. Slade shrugged and did his own disappearing act into the night. Perhaps, he could do some digging of his own...[EXIT DEATHSTROKE]