[b]Collab between DSW and Teal[/b]

Deathstroke was pretty much aware of Waller's vast influence, but even he couldn't believe (or didn't want to) that she had the capacity and the balls to take under her mantle a ragtag team of extremely superpowered humans and non-humans who could give the Justice League a run for their money. The very moment she finished her speech, a vein bulged out of Slade's head, a rare sight for anyone who got used to seeing the mercenary on the field. He was suddenly filled with anger, like if Waller's remarks touched his dignity or something of the like - but that was not the case. He was more or less agitated at her demand that he and his team reveal their real faces, a demand he found ironic due to her earning her living by manipulating criminals behind a speaker. He was about to unleash every verbal atrocity at her, but Ultraman's death stare kept him down, and at the same time, triggered his 'fight or flight' response. With a swift move to his holster, he pulled out one of his FN Five-Sevens and pointed it at the man, shooting a stern gaze that couldn't match his heat vision, but was intimidating enough.

"You go first!", he responded, his gruff voice more present than ever.Ultraman levelled the gaze at the gun, and laughed, just under his breath. He let the heat vision go, and watched as it slowly melted the gun. He walked closer to the mercenary and lifted him with one hand, almost effortlessly. "Do you know who I am?" he said, his deep voice bouncing off of the walls, and his eyes, which were blue for a moment, filled slowly with red heat for dramatic effect. Owlman, on the other hand, sat calmly in his seat, and pulled his helm/cowl back. 

In spite of gaining prowess and being hailed as one of the world's deadliest assassins, Slade was after all fallible and knew that, hence why he always avoided fights with the likes of Reverse-Flash; villains with unstable psyches and enough muscle power to drill you down to China. However, at that moment, as he felt Ultraman's mighty force, as he felt his feet departing from the ground, he didn't even flinch. At that rate, he couldn't break his gaze, even if he wanted to.

"I don't know who you are, but I've met your good counterpart, Superman, and I gotta say I learned his weakness in an instant.", Slade uttered calmly, struggling to reach for one of the pouches positioned near his ribs. When he finally unlocked the pouch, he pulled a grenade, a kryptonite grenade which he'd salvaged in case he'd ever fight Supes, but somewhat altered as in instead of it's green glow, it actually had a yellow, light one. "I call this a solar grenade. Turns out you and the Man of Steel look the same, but are genetically different", the Mercenary seemingly finished his speech, before adding once more. "Drop me down and then we'll do the introduction."

Ultraman flinched his face away from it, but threw Slade away from him. Not hard enough to go through the wall, but hard enough to crack ribs. When he managed to regain his senses, he glared at Slade and uttered "Clark Kent." 

Thanks to the exosuit, what could have been a punctured lung, seven broken ribs and, in the worst case scenario, permanent handicap actually subsided to a slight pain down his spine, enough to make the One-Eyed Merc. let out a grunt. As he looked back at the fissure the impact had made, he realized Ultraman's power was not one to underestimate. Then again, he was somewhat aware of that from the beginning, judging by the special equipment he'd got.

Putting his solar grenade back to it's pouch with the right hand, Slade gently removed his steel mask from his moderately wrinkled face with his left one, ultimately introducing himself. "Slade Wilson."

Ultraman sneered, and sighed. Owlman, on the other hand, with his slicked back black hair, blue eyes, and square jaw, spoke up next. "Thomas Wayne, Junior. Deathstorm opposite me is Professor Martin Stein, and Grid is just Grid. The others we don't know, but the rest of our team remains imprisoned. I'm sure you all remember the events dubbed "Forever Evil?"

Slade let a brief chuckle, his voice coming out crystal clear now that the mask had been removed. "How do you think I got these countermeasures?", the man remarked, veering his sight at Ravager who was next to him. "Ravager here is Rose Wilson, my", he paused for a moment before continuing "daughter. As for the rest, they can account for themselves.", he said, looking at the speaker and expecting Amanda to chime in any second.

Owlman frowned, and stood up, cracking his neck and knuckles, before suddenly throwing an owlrang, as horrible as it was named, it was still useful. Even if it merely served as target practice for the other man, Owlman knew it would just be a prelude. He had fought his good counterpart, and won. He was far more skilled than Batman, and he knew he could, and in most cases, would, use lethal force. Using the table as a launchpad, he leapt into the air, and slammed a fist in the direction of Slade's face, not even stopping to see if it was a hit before assuming his ready position. This would be interesting, to say the least. 

It took one bullet round for the projectile, or what was left of it, to scatter down on the floor. What Slade didn't anticipate was Owlman getting physically involved in the fight. At first, he thought they were nothing but empty threats and dick measuring, but now it seemed as if the remnants of the Crime Syndicate were really trying to cause harm to him. However, unlike Ultraman, which could defy gravity, Owlman, even though trained to the limit of human abilities, was still a mere human and a formidable adversary at best. His attack prompted Slade to rapidly put his mask back, realizing he missed the opportunity to dodge his attack, causing Wayne Jr.'s hand to collide with the rough steel. Immediately after, he pointed his only gun at the villain, now that Ultraman had turned his first one to clay.

"You know, the name Thomas Wayne is of great sentimental value to me. You best not dirty it", Deathstroke remarked, repositioning the gun at Owlman's family jewels.