[ Not a fan of that stuff, kid. Burgers tend to get sloppy. Messy.
Deathstroke's body tightens its grip around Nightwing's, winning the war of attrition to dislocate his shoulder. He doesn't even so much as look at D.Va while responding to her, seeming to make the mistake of dismissing her as beneath him.
I prefer the kind of food that yields to a cleaner slice. Fish fillets... augh!
But before he can follow through, Deathstroke stomachs several hits from D.Va's gun, every blast scorching his armor, heat piercing through gaps enough to inflict discomfort. Deathstroke might heal quicker than most, but he still feels pain-- can still be stunned. He groans at the collective gunfire raining down on him from D.Va's pistol, and Nightwing laughs. Taking advantage of Deathstroke's brief disorientation, he breaks out of the armbar to pull a reversal, holding Deathstroke in side control. ]
Look what she's made you do, Slade. Monologuing about food!
Now I'm damn hungry and want this over with. Keep it coming, D.Va!
[ And that's when she descends upon Deathstroke with Nightwing's eskrima sticks, beating him while he's being held down by Nightwing's weight. In side control, Nightwing kneels as his arms embrace Deathstroke's neck in a chokehold, maintaining constant pressure with his chest and shoulders. His knees, meanwhile, remain bent against Deathstroke's armpit and side. It's while the two are in this state that D.Va steps in to take a few swings at the mercenary, careful despite her fury to miss Nightwing in the process.
But yes. Deathstroke wrenches an arm free to bat D.Va away with a palm strike from below, nearly breaking Nightwing's control in the process. He's brought down again by his opponent's weight, though, and watches as one of the eskrima sticks - charge turned on - is sent hurtling towards his helmeted face. Nightwing breaks away from side control to roll backwards just before Deathstroke's face catches the shock. D.Va's seen this thing carry a charge targeted at multiple attackers, discombobulating them all. So what happens when that same charge only targets one?
Deathstroke had reached to catch it, to see if he could intercept, but the stick misses his hand to fly directly into his face. The shock not only travels across his body, but shatters his helmet upon impact-- and Nightwing and D.Va get to enjoy the subsequent light show. A pained scream comes out of Deathstroke as he succumbs to a powerful electric blast-- the kind of thing that would kill an unenhanced human, if targeted alone.
But here, he falls unconscious, joining Croc as another body splayed motionless on the sand. ]
Seems we're taking in more prisoners than expected.
[ That's Nightwing still bleeding from the tricep as he stumbles towards D.Va, collecting his sticks along the way. He stops mere inches from her to clamp a hand on her shoulder, looking down at her in admiration. ]
You did good. More than good. I really needed you, and you came through.
[ He turns, though, to give Deathstroke and Killer Croc another look. ]
Before I rose to pick up the sword, I triggered a signal for reinforcements to arrive.
They're still en route, but we can leave it to them to take these two to the nearest drop zone.
So for now... we wait. Then I think it's back to HQ for us.
[ He had let go of D.Va's shoulder while speaking, however, to reach inside his gauntlet for a bandage to wrap around his wound. A placeholder for better equipment back in Arkham. ]
no subject
Deathstroke's body tightens its grip around Nightwing's, winning the war of attrition to dislocate his shoulder. He doesn't even so much as look at D.Va while responding to her, seeming to make the mistake of dismissing her as beneath him.
I prefer the kind of food that yields to a cleaner slice. Fish fillets... augh!
But before he can follow through, Deathstroke stomachs several hits from D.Va's gun, every blast scorching his armor, heat piercing through gaps enough to inflict discomfort. Deathstroke might heal quicker than most, but he still feels pain-- can still be stunned. He groans at the collective gunfire raining down on him from D.Va's pistol, and Nightwing laughs. Taking advantage of Deathstroke's brief disorientation, he breaks out of the armbar to pull a reversal, holding Deathstroke in side control. ]
Look what she's made you do, Slade. Monologuing about food!
Now I'm damn hungry and want this over with. Keep it coming, D.Va!
[ And that's when she descends upon Deathstroke with Nightwing's eskrima sticks, beating him while he's being held down by Nightwing's weight. In side control, Nightwing kneels as his arms embrace Deathstroke's neck in a chokehold, maintaining constant pressure with his chest and shoulders. His knees, meanwhile, remain bent against Deathstroke's armpit and side. It's while the two are in this state that D.Va steps in to take a few swings at the mercenary, careful despite her fury to miss Nightwing in the process.
But yes. Deathstroke wrenches an arm free to bat D.Va away with a palm strike from below, nearly breaking Nightwing's control in the process. He's brought down again by his opponent's weight, though, and watches as one of the eskrima sticks - charge turned on - is sent hurtling towards his helmeted face. Nightwing breaks away from side control to roll backwards just before Deathstroke's face catches the shock. D.Va's seen this thing carry a charge targeted at multiple attackers, discombobulating them all. So what happens when that same charge only targets one?
Deathstroke had reached to catch it, to see if he could intercept, but the stick misses his hand to fly directly into his face. The shock not only travels across his body, but shatters his helmet upon impact-- and Nightwing and D.Va get to enjoy the subsequent light show. A pained scream comes out of Deathstroke as he succumbs to a powerful electric blast-- the kind of thing that would kill an unenhanced human, if targeted alone.
But here, he falls unconscious, joining Croc as another body splayed motionless on the sand. ]
Seems we're taking in more prisoners than expected.
[ That's Nightwing still bleeding from the tricep as he stumbles towards D.Va, collecting his sticks along the way. He stops mere inches from her to clamp a hand on her shoulder, looking down at her in admiration. ]
You did good. More than good. I really needed you, and you came through.
[ He turns, though, to give Deathstroke and Killer Croc another look. ]
Before I rose to pick up the sword, I triggered a signal for reinforcements to arrive.
They're still en route, but we can leave it to them to take these two to the nearest drop zone.
So for now... we wait. Then I think it's back to HQ for us.
[ He had let go of D.Va's shoulder while speaking, however, to reach inside his gauntlet for a bandage to wrap around his wound. A placeholder for better equipment back in Arkham. ]