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SM/DC Chapter 20 : Arthur vs Deathstroke
🕑 Added 2025-02-04 20:26:52 +0000 UTCArthur’s gaze locked onto Deathstroke, unreadable and unwavering. The assassin stood above them, poised like a predator assessing its prey. The moonlight cast jagged shadows across the rooftop, making his half-black, half-orange mask look even more menacing.
Arthur didn’t react not with words, not with a shift in stance. He simply looked.
That silence was enough.
From the darkness at his feet, shadows writhed and twisted unnaturally, stretching like living tendrils. Then they took form.
One by one, figures emerged. Five, Each clad in abyssal black, their bodies shifting like smoke yet unnervingly solid. Their glowing eyes flickered like dying embers, jagged horns crowning their heads. They stood still, awaiting their master’s command, their clawed hands twitching in anticipation.
Deathstroke tilted his head slightly, lowering his rifle completely now. His single eye gleamed with something between amusement and intrigue.
"How strange," he mused. His tone remained unreadable, but there was no denying it he was watching, analyzing.
Deathstroke remained still, perched on the rooftop like a specter of war. The mechanical hum of the port faded into the background as he observed the scene before him. Arthur Blackwynd, standing amidst his nightmarish shadows, was an anomaly—one that piqued his interest.
The assassin let out a low chuckle, adjusting his grip on his rifle. "You must be Arthur Blackwynd. What a strange fellow indeed." His voice was calm, measured, but laced with amusement. "And here I thought your family was nothing but a bunch of lackeys, playing at science and politics."
He tilted his head slightly, his single eye narrowing behind the mask. "But there’s always a black sheep, isn’t there?" His words were deliberate, probing, testing for a reaction. "Still… it doesn’t make sense why you’d be running with these idiots." He gestured vaguely toward the Titans, his disdain evident.
Arthur, still as stone, met his gaze. The greatsword resting at his back shifted as he reached for it, his fingers wrapping around the hilt. In one smooth motion, he drew it free, the massive blade gleaming under the moonlight as he raised it with one hand and pointed it directly at Deathstroke.
"You’ll have to answer a few things for me," Arthur said, his voice cool, unwavering. "Right after I kick your ass."
Deathstroke’s gaze flickered from Arthur to Robin, the flicker of amusement never leaving his cold expression. He adjusted his stance slightly, a smirk pulling at the edge of his mask. "You really think you’re going to stop me?" he mused, his tone dripping with mocking superiority. “Robin, the boy wonder turned wannabe leader. and you little master Arthur."
"I can't let you interfere here, you see," he said, his voice cold and calculating “i’ve already been paid.”
The tense air around the docks seemed to crackle with energy as Arthur stood ready, his greatsword in hand, shadow soldiers arrayed behind him, prepared for the chaos that was about to unfold. The Titans formed up, on alert, eyes scanning for any new threats.
Deathstroke’s voice rang out from across the way. “And by the way, I never mentioned that I was alone.”
Before the Titans could react, the ground trembled beneath their feet. In an instant, the earth cracked, and massive boulders shot up from the ground, shattering the silence. A towering figure emerged from the rubble Mammoth, his massive frame blocking out the moonlight as he bellowed in a low, gravelly voice. "Time to crash this little party."
Without warning, the ground cracked again, and from beneath, Terra appeared, her hands raised as she manipulated the earth with effortless control. Giant stone slabs shot out from the ground, hurling toward the Titans with terrifying speed. “You can’t run from me,” she sneered, a wicked grin playing at the corner of her lips.
Arthur’s expression hardened as the battle broke out. But before he could make a move, a swirl of pink magic erupted in the air. Jinx, standing nearby, grinned mischievously as she released a bolt of pure chaos energy. “Can you handle bad luck boy ?”
Beast Boy’s eyes widened in shock. “Wait, aren’t these guys supposed to be locked up in prison?” He turned to Robin, who was already formulating a plan.
Deathstroke, now casually leaning against a nearby crate, simply smirked. “I set them free, of course.”
Arthur, eyeing the chaos around him, let out a deep sigh. “Yeah, imprison a supervillain… great idea.” His voice dripped with sarcasm, but there was no time for complaints. With a swift motion, he drew his greatsword, his shadow soldiers charging into the fray to engage the incoming threats.
As Arthur turned to charge toward Deathstroke, Robin’s voice rang out, sharp and firm. “Arthur, wait! You can’t just—”
But Arthur didn’t stop. In the midst of the chaos, he dodged a boulder thrown by Terra and narrowly avoided a chaotic bolt from Jinx. His eyes never left Deathstroke, the assassin calmly observing the battlefield.
“Arthur!” Robin shouted again, but this time it was drowned out by the roar of battle.
Without sparing a single glance, Arthur muttered to himself, “I’m done with plans for now.” His voice was steady, unshaken by the madness around him. His shadow soldiers continued to clash with Terra’s stone constructs and Mammoth’s brute force as he made his way toward Deathstroke. Robin’s eyes narrowed, realizing there was no stopping him now. He turned his attention back to the battlefield.
Deathstroke, noticing the shifting tide, began to retreat, a calculated move. His half-black, half-orange mask gleamed as he turned on his heel, disappearing into the night like a shadow vanishing into the dark.
Arthur’s voice rang out filled with deadly intent. “You’re not escaping me, Slade!”
Deathstroke didn’t break his stride. With the same cold precision he always had, he turned slightly, drawing his gun in one swift motion. The sound of gunfire rang out, a series of bullets streaking toward Arthur. But without hesitation, Arthur used his greatsword as a shield with a practiced ease, deflecting the rounds . The bullets ricocheted off his blade, sparking in all directions, but none found their mark.
“Impressive,” Deathstroke muttered, not missing a beat. He accelerated, heading toward the shadows of an industrial warehouse up ahead, slipping inside like a ghost.
Without a moment's hesitation, Arthur followed The entrance to the warehouse loomed large before him as the sounds of the battle slowly faded into the distance.
Arthur’s eyes scanned the room, but there was no sign of Deathstroke. Just the echo of his own footsteps and the rhythmic sound of his breathing.
“You’re predictable, Arthur Blackwynd,” Deathstroke’s voice called from the darkness, calm and steady, like he had been waiting for this very moment. “Always rushing in without considering the consequences.”
Arthur’s grip tightened on the hilt of his greatsword. “I’ve already considered the consequences. You’re not leaving here until I’ve got answers.”
A low chuckle echoed from the shadows. “Answers? You’re just like your family. All of you, sheep rushing in without understanding the bigger picture, playing a game that is too much for you to handle.” Then, in an instant, Deathstroke appeared. A blur of motion his body a flash of half-black, half-orange as he lunged forward, his blades coming at Arthur with a deadly arc.
Arthur easily managed to raise his greatsword in time, deflecting the blows with a metallic clang that reverberated through the empty warehouse. The force of the strike sent a shockwave up Deathstroke's arms, but his feet stayed firm. “You talk too much,” Arthur growled, eyes narrowing.
Deathstroke didn’t waste a second. His movements were precise, fluid, as if he were dancing with death itself. “Better than talking too little, Blackwynd,” he retorted, his voice still steady but filled with that cold, confident edge. “I’m giving you a chance to learn.”
The two clashed again, their weapons meeting with a deafening crash. Arthur's greatsword swung in a massive arc, meeting Deathstroke’s blades in a shower of sparks. The assassin's movements were fluid, precise a lethal dance honed by years of training. He was more experienced, his strikes a blur of deadly accuracy.
But Arthur was no slouch. Even under the weight of the greatsword, he stood his ground, using his raw power to force Deathstroke back. Each blow Arthur delivered wasn’t about finesse it was about overwhelming force. When Deathstroke’s blades flashed toward his chest, Arthur blocked with the flat of his greatsword, the impact sending shockwaves up his arms.
Deathstroke's mask gleamed with cold amusement, his voice smooth but laced with that deadly edge. "You’re strong, Blackwynd, but you lack control." He pivoted, his blades coming down at Arthur’s exposed shoulder with lightning speed.
“I don’t need finesse,” Arthur growled, his voice low and dangerous. “I’ve got too much strength stats you see.”
Arthur surged forward, pushing his body forward with a grunt, and slammed his shoulder into Deathstroke's chest. The force sent Deathstroke skidding back, barely managing to keep his balance. The assassin’s eyes flashed with recognition, but before he could react, Arthur pressed the advantage.
He grabbed the front of Deathstroke’s armor with one hand, lifting him off his feet. Deathstroke’s eyes widened slightly, the only hint of surprise visible beneath his mask. Arthur didn’t give him a moment to recover. He slammed his fist into Deathstroke’s midsection, a brutal strike that sent shockwaves through the assassin’s body.
searing pain shot through his ribs. A wet, guttural cough tore from his throat, and a splatter of blood dripped onto the ground. He wiped his mouth with the back of his glove, his single eye narrowing in cold fury. "Tch... all that power, and not an ounce of skill, no class!" Deathstroke sneered, His single eye locked onto Arthur, sharp with disdain.
Arthur smirked, blood dripping from a cut on his lip. From his shadow, a shadow soldier slithered quietly, slipping toward Deathstroke’s own shadow. Arthur smirked “It’s over for you, Slade.”
