[h1][center][img]http://i33.photobucket.com/albums/d94/Malfoys_one_and_only_girl/rose.gif[/img][img]http://i33.photobucket.com/albums/d94/Malfoys_one_and_only_girl/slade.gif[/img]

16 Hours Ago - A.R.G.U.S Plane - Destination: Bialya[/center][/h1]

Furrowing her eyebrows together underneath the split colored mask, Rose stared down the nearly-melted ice in the small tumbler of what used to be scotch just a few moments ago, provided of course, complimentary, by the plane's rather large stock of alcoholic beverages. Twisting her wrist around in a circular motion, causing the small ice chunks to [i]clink[/i] together and against the glass, Rose kept her bright blue orbs on them, unable to remember when it was that she had actually finished off her drink. Shooting over a sideways glance to Captain Boomerang, Catman and the Reverse Flash, all seemingly too busy to coerce into refilling it for her, Rose huffed out an agitated sigh and pushed herself up from the lavish couch she had been reclining in to do it herself.

Pouring herself a second drink (or was it her third?), Rose stumbled upon the realization that there was someone missing from the open space; but not just [i]someone[/i], the only person she gave a rats ass about on the entire planet anymore. Turning back around and surveying the room again, her thought process had been proven correct. The one-eyed merc was no where in sight. Pursing her lips together in a firm line, Rose looked to the right, and then the left. Both had quite a few choices of different doors on each end, but going by her gut instinct, there was only one place she knew where he might be.

Keeping a firm hold on her glass, she headed left, following the small placard on the wall showing her to the ship's armory. He said that he wanted to have a talk with her later after all... and she had finally gotten her drink. No sense in putting it off another minute.

Forever Evil. Those were the two words drifting around Slade's thought train. Dubbed by the media as a horrifying event of global scale. A villain uprising - heck, even described as the closest thing to an Armageddon. The media was keen to exaggerating for the sake of publicity, but the Mercenary had fact-checked the story and it was spot on. The villains caught in the aftermath were all dumped in containment units, back at A.R.G.U.S, further helping Slade's suspicion that Amanda might just try to get leverage of the whole situation. He was, after all, adjusted to working for bureaucrats and was familiar with their mindset.

With the thought train departing from the station, the One-Eyed Mercenary made a return to the real world. To the left of the armory's table, there were two handguns, his trusted FN Five-Sevens, loaded with magazines and ready to rumble. On the right, there was a small device, resembling a grenade but equipped with a solar panel and enough energy to blow up an entire block. That was probably designed for use by A.R.G.U.S Mercenaries, in case they ever ran into an enemy such as Ultraman; the Reverse-Superman of this tale. Grabbing the small, round grenade and holding it up, like an aging pawnbroker holds a diamond ring, Slade's ears picked up footsteps coming his way accompanied by the sound of clinking. He casually tossed the grenade near his utility belt, where his mask resided nearby, before proceeding to work on his two lovely guns.

Halting her steps for half a moment to allow the pressurized, motion-censored doors to open to her, Rose stepped inside, poking in her head in first, followed by the rest of her body after her bright blue orbs found the orange and blue suit she had become all too familiar with over the last year; thus of course was where Deathstroke himself was also. Taking a quick sip of her drink as she entered, she lowered the glass back down, realizing for the first time that he was without his mask. She stood there for just a couple moments, examining his older facial features and greying hair but beyond that, what Rose found most interesting, was the scar running underneath the black eye patch and halfway down his cheek. After a complete year of following up on everything she could get her hands on in relation to Deathstroke the Mercenary, there hadn't been a single thing that would have prepared her for what sort of man lay behind the mask physically, but pleasantly enough she wasn't disappointed. He was older, sure. Considerably so in relation to her own youth, but age was just a number, not to mention... older guys were more fun anyway.

Clearing her head, pushing aside the flickering 'fan-girl' butterflies that had started to breed in her stomach, Rose continued in and hopped up on one of the stacked crates right next to where he had laid his mask and belt. Taking another drink first, she set the glass down beside her and picked up Deathstroke's mask, examining the shell, that no longer had the man behind it, with genuine curiosity.

"So. I got my drink. You get your talk." Rose said casually before setting his mask back down carefully, not wanting to damage or scratch it in any way. Turning her head around on a swivel, quite obviously looking around at their surroundings, she eventually looked back to him. "Or we could just make use of this alone time, big guy." She threw out there, though the tone in which she used indicated that she already knew he wasn't about to bite.

The girl's emergence from the motion censored doors reminded Slade of the little chit-chat they had back at the prison, and how he eagerly needed to clear up the circumstances that led to her adapting his style. Suddenly, he could almost feel that obnoxious sensation that ran through his spine when she deliberately mistook his statement for an invitation of sexual nature. It was at this point that he came to the realization there was no mask to cover his face, but chose to not make a big fuss about it upon recalling how loyal she appeared to be.

Her constant flirtatious remarks were quickly ignored by Slade, who by now had developed an immunity against them. Sure, she had a toned body and a pretty face and was an overall fine specimen, but if he was going to prison, it was not gonna be for something as petty as having an affair with a minor. Even if she had magically advanced ten years, a workaholic like the legendary Deathstroke would still not budge, considering himself in a permanent relationship with his work. 

Finally opting to initiate the talk, Slade shoved his pistols aside and rolled himself around as much as the rotating chair allowed him to, now facing his number one fan girl. "Who are you?", he queried, his tone as quiet as his vocal chords could allow, but still maintaining the distinct feel to it and the efficient pauses in between words. Not even waiting for her to answer, he boosted himself up, taking a few small but confident steps towards the girl and reaching for his belt and mask, before further proceeding;

"I could guess as much; gone through severe trauma at which point your brain began an intense overload. When you woke up, you learned you'd been rewired and then started idolizing all the wrong people, like me.",he spoke bluntly, unfazed by the fact that there might be a possibility of his casual remarks serving as an incentive for their undeveloped relationship to cripple. "I'd slap you across your smug face and tell you to get back to school, but I don't think that's something you can do at this point.", he continued. "So tell me; why me?"

Rose kept her soft pink lips together as Deathstroke began to make observations and guesses about her; who she was, why she was the way she was. She wasn't exactly an open book, but it didn't take a genius to figure out that her life had been messed up somewhere along the way to be the way she was now. Waiting for him to finish, she reached back to her glass and raised it to her lips, finishing off the drink and set the glass back down. She waited for a few moments, ensuring that he was, indeed finished before the front she had been putting up for as long as she could remember spoke for her.

"Not above hitting a girl, hmm? Good. I like to get rough every once in a while." Pausing for a moment to pull up her legs a bit, she crossed them underneath her and rested her hands down into her lap, looking very much like a child waiting for story time. Looking over his face again, now able to take in the details even better from their closer distance, she gave him a sort of sad, soft, genuine smile that only lasted half a moment before it was replaced by a slight smirk. She raised her hand up, waving it in the air dismissively before resting it back in her lap. "Don't worry. I was fucked up [i]years[/i] before Luthor decided to make me his guinea pig. You just happened to be skipping on by when I was looking for my next adventure to fill." She let her eyes settle on his one, her facial expression turning a mite-bit more serious. "One year ago. Christmas Eve." She stated, as though that was all she needed to say to have him understand when and where it was that she had seen him 'skipping on by.'

Old man Wilson slightly lifted himself up from the wheeled chair, spinning it around then placing his hands on top of the headrest. The mention of Christmas Eve took him back, back at that snowy night in which his first scuffle with the new and improved Batman took place. They were both on even grounds in the duration of the battle, which was abandoned halfway as soon as Batman got wind of another one of Joker's overly complicated schemes. At that moment, Slade let out a nostalgic smirk, conscious of the fact that what was considered just another engagement with Gotham's finest was, in fact, a life changing event for a kid who was observing from up the hills. 

"Then, you hatched this plan. To get yourself imprisoned into Belle Reeve and extract me out. What went wrong is that your little plan provoked a chain reaction which led to you being branded with an X-shaped bomb in your neck.", Slade resumed the story, relieved that a huge chunk of the puzzle finally came together. Darting his sight at her in a slightly inquisitive manner, he repeated his initial question which had passed unanswered. "You still didn't answer my first question. Why me? Why not The Bat?"

Chuckling a bit to herself, though lacking any amusement behind it, Rose pulled her legs out from under her and one leg after the other, swung it over the top of the chair back until both of her boots were planted on the chair's seat between his hands. Hunching her back over a bit, she wrapped her arms around her knees, holding her chest to them slightly as she thought over the best way to answer his question. She hadn't exactly talked about it before, none of the Teen Titans understood... Dick wouldn't even understand. She was just... different from all of them; never really belonged. She just didn't know why until she happened upon Deathstroke that cold, December night.

"Bats couldn't handle me. Besides, I couldn't rock the green tights." She started, unable to help throwing in a quick jape at Dick before he had become Nightwing, though Deathstroke wouldn't have known that, so she let go with the implied meaning of the boy wonder 'Robin' that Batman helped shape; it was sort of an inside joke with herself, making her feel all the more lonely for half a moment. Lifting her chin up for a moment, looking up at him as he was now standing, her smirky-smile returned. Lifting her hand back up a bit, she tentatively moved her fingers to the collar of his metal suit that was otherwise hidden by the bottom of the mask he wore, tracing the edge and letting her eyes watch her fingers move across the cool metal. "I guess you could say, I just like the way you move. Similar enough already to the way I like to take care of things. Got me in a lot of trouble with people who were supposed to be my friends."

His cold gauntlet, a perfect match to his personality, got a hold of Ravager's hand as she tried to get him in the mood, shoving her small but most lethal hand away like it was capable of transmitting some kind of disease. He was in a dilemma; in one hand, she could be easily manipulated, molded to do his bidding. In the other, she was more than likely to get him in more trouble. He needed to come to a mutual agreement with her so as to avoid the chances of her erratic behavior causing turmoil. Neither of the options truly benefited him, so he decided to find something in the middle.

"Captain Boomerang believes you're my child, and so do the rest.", Slade uttered in a suggestive manner, tapping his mask to his armored chest as he sneaked his solar grenade on the right side pouch, located near his ribs. "We're gonna go along with their assumptions. Whatever your name is, you're a Wilson now, Slade Wilson's child. Don't blow it", the One-Eyed Mercenary finished, ending his statement with a warning. With the rumors that the Deathstroke female look-a-like is actually proven to be his child, she would become the target of numerous attacks with the motive to gain leverage over her 'father', which would provide Slade a strategic advantage and the chance to cherish the surprised looks on their faces when they would discover it was all a ploy.

"Needless to say you gotta put a stop to your flirtatious remarks, at least in public.", the Mercenary continued, holstering his loaded guns in the dual slots running down his waist. Pushing the revolving seat back to the desk, he eventually placed the mask on his face, fully embracing the Deathstroke persona. 

Retreating her hand back as he so callously brushed it away, she folded it back around her bent knees over the chair. Her soft pink lips parted slightly as she listened to his proposal, staring back at him with her blue eyes filled with piqued curiosity. She lifted up her legs a bit as, who she know new as Slade Wilson, pulled the chair away and returned it to the desk, having already committed his name to memory. She liked it. It was fitting for him. A hardened name for a hardened man. It made sense, really. Having her as 'his daughter' would be a hell of a lot easier to explain than his 'avid fan he knew nothing about until today.'

"Rose." She said softly, before repeating her name once again, eager to try out her 'new last name.' "Rose Wilson." A slight tingle rolled down her spine at the use of his last name, an overwhelming pulse of both pride and desire filling up her chest and lower abdomen forcing her shoulders to hunch together a bit more, her back bending a little with it. "Yeah, sure, I guess it works. Though I thought I'd be calling you 'daddy' under more... pleasurable circumstances, but this will do for now."

Using her arms, she pushed herself off of the crate, letting her boots hit the floor and standing at her full five feet, two inches forcing her to crane her head up to look at him as he re-adorned his mask, in which she saw in a slightly different light now. Raising her hand, she extended out her pointer finger and jabbed him a bit roughly on his chest plate.

"Alright look, if this is gonna work, we at least have to know some pretty basic shit about one another. Favorite food, favorite color, favorite way to kill a man, favorite sex position..." She stopped and shrugged her shoulders, pulling her hand back. "And I suppose I'll have to work on my American accent a bit, unless my hypothetical mother is Aussie and you can prove you spent a good amount of time in my home country."

"Good point.", Slade said, slightly lifting his head up to the ceiling where a light bulb should have been. Instead, the only source of light in the otherwise small room was a lamp set up in one of the crates which was switched off at that moment. There was also a pocket-sized window in the wall to the villains' left which, besides enabling a good view of the clouds, also dragged some light inside. After a brief moment of staring at the ceiling, his head reverted back at the previous position. He was no ladies man, but he did have a few flings in the past, short lasting, but of enough importance to occupy a place in his crowded mind. He used them as a basis for the fake backstory.

"As you said, your mother is Australian. She raised you during my hiatus and, half-way through got help from your step-father, a nice, timid IT consultant whom you loathed because you're an ungrateful little brat. You inherited your powers and your blonde hair from me, while you got everything else from your mother, who killed herself after seven months of living under anti-depressants.", Slade stated, quickly and without bothering to catch his breath. He was wondering how much truth was there in that fake story. He had already deduced that the girl, Rose, was lacking a proper father figure, otherwise how would one explain her unhealthy infatuation with him. Hints of negligence by her mother could also be seen, although to a lesser effect.

"Did you catch my drift, or do you want me to repeat myself?", he shot a glance at the girl, only then realizing that she'd probably replace the statement's context with some cheesy joke of sexual nature.

Keeping unnaturally quiet for once, Rose pursed her lips as she listened to the fabricated story Slade pulled out of his ass, nodding slightly once he was finished. A slight exhale of relief came from her as she then realized that she wouldn't have to go to great lengths to try to cover up her accent, but his story had her also thinking back to her mother and what had really happened. Her bright blue eyes seemed to lose a little life, but just as quick as it came, it was gone and she gave Slade an arrant smirk.

"I can deal with that, much better than my real-life story anyway." She said truthfully. At least in this story, she had a father-figure of some sort. The origin to her real father was unknown, not even her own mother could tell her who he was, but that life was left behind in Australia when her mother decided it was high-time they move to America for a new and better life. Well, that didn't exactly work out... for either of them. "So long as we don't run into Nightwing or any of the Teen Titans, that story is good to go." She added on after a bit, realizing that Dick was fully aware as to how she came by her powers, which meant the entire tower probably knew by now. That was the only hiccup, however, as not even Dick could prove that Slade wasn't her father. Not without a full-on blood test, which, realistically having been trained by the Bat, wasn't all that far-fetched.

"Teen Titans?", Slade questioned, a sudden increase of interest shown in the change of his tone. That was something he couldn't deduce at first. Her volatile behavior, her unhealthy obsessions with a long list of things that are plain wrong - those were not qualities of a hero/heroine, at least not your conventional heroine, so she couldn't have worked alongside the Teen Titans. Wiping his surprised look off his face, that was covered by his steely mask anyway, he queried once again. "Were you affiliated with them?"

Taking half a step closer to Slade, feeling somewhat more confident in her movements as she had detected the slight change in his voice, she ran her hand over the chest plate where she had jabbed him earlier, watching her hand move across the cool metal before looking back up at him, still holding fast to her smirk.

"Keep me alive during this suicide mission and I'll owe you a story." She replied rather cheekily before raising up to the balls of her feet and planted a soft kiss on the cold metal of where his cheek would be under the mask. Returning back to flat feet, Rose turned her back to him at the same time and picked up her empty tumbler. "But right now, I need a refill." She half-heartedly explained and headed towards the exit, her hips swinging in her naturally alluring way. Turning her head to look over her shoulder at him as the doors hissed back open, she flashed him a white smile, raising her free hand to issue a half-assed salute in mockery before heading outside to the hall. "See ya 'round, daddy!"

Eying her playful motions as she made her way back to the hall, Slade took a few steps towards one of the crates, the one which was positioned adjacent to the lamp. He sat on top of it, grunting as he did, wiping traces of Rose's lips from his mask and then looking at his gauntlet, apathetically. He threw a glance at the motion-censored door from where Rose waltzed by before darting his gaze towards one corner of the room, where his blade and sword were located.

The Mercenary's head had become a dark, crowded place at this point. In addition to the risk of having his head blown off by a stuck-up government pencil neck, he also had to take care of his 'daughter' now. As his eyes lingered at his feet for a minute or two, he lifted himself up, exclaiming almost inaudibly "I'm gonna need to learn some prayers", before adding his melee weapons to his arsenal and making his way out of the dimly lit room.

[h1][center][img]https://31.media.tumblr.com/26d9c06c3ab02e88b04de45724acd9c2/tumblr_inline_nebx9fPqpY1t3u8k2.gif[/img]

Presently - Bialya Safehouse[/center][/h1]

Stepping into the dimly lit room that was to be their safe house for the time being, Rose made a point to keep her tiny frame behind Slade and Reverse Flash, with Catman and Captain Boomerang behind her. If the years of tactical training with Nightwing had taught her anything, it was to not venture into unknown territory out front, and always watch your back. This way, being in the middle as she was, the others in a sense were doing the work for her. Though of the two, she would have rather put her faith in Captain Boomerang than Catman to watch her back. Catman could just be used as cannon fodder for all she cared. Every 'team' needed an expendable pawn. Just as the door closed behind them, and just as Rose was starting to adjust her masked eyes to her surroundings, the door behind them closed and the intercom took over her attention.

[i]"My name is Amanda Waller. And what I've done is brought you all here to  do a task for me. You, as a team, are going to assassinate this woman-"[/i] As the image of their target came up on the screen that Rose just realized was there, she leaned her head back forward towards Slade so that he could hear her hushed whisper.

"Didn't she already give us her name?"

[i]"-Who goes by the name of Queen Bee. Her real name isn't known, but we  do know that she has superhuman lieutenants she keeps on her. Your job  is to capture or kill these lieutenants, shut down her nuclear weaponry,  and assassinate Queen Bee. Your first step is to identify those  lieutenants at a ball in your civilian Identities, so I suggest you  start revealing yourselves to each other."[/i]

Folding her arms across her chest, Rose couldn't help the slight snort at the mention of the woman's alias.

"And they think [i]I'm[/i] full of myself." She muttered to no one in particular. At the prospect of needing to start revealing their identities to one another, Rose couldn't help but to quirk an eyebrow, looking around the room and noticing for the first time that their small little group of 'misfits' were not alone. Blue eyes hopping from one new body to the next, she came across all figures that were not at all familiar to her, save for the man who at first she thought was Superman himself and was halfway to pulling out her katanas when upon further investigation appeared only to be a look-alike. Strange. Looking down at her own outfit, and then the matching plated armor of the one-eyed merc in front of her, she shrugged her narrow shoulders and relaxed her hand back to her side. Okay, maybe not [i]that[/i] strange.

Slade withdrawing a weapon had her thoughts snapping immediately back to the present, her blue eyes looking the Superman-man over, as though trying to size him up. Her soft pink lips parted slightly, watching the weapon being literally melted in Slade's hands and couldn't help the protective half-step forward closer to Slade but Superman-man already had Slade lifting off the ground. Blue eyes narrowing something fierce under her mask, feeling helpless as all she could do was watch the banter between the two men. Just as it seemed that Slade had taken over the situation, using a glowing grenade as assurance, the juiced-up Superman sent Slade flying back into the wall. Before she even knew what she was doing, her reflexes took over. Both hands shot back and withdrew her katanas, holding her body in a defensive position with the blades wielded in front of her. Even in the dim lighting the edge's caught the reflection, a clear indication that what she was holding was no ordinary metal.

Before she could do anything she would later regret, however, Slade was talking again, and giving up their names after one of the men she didn't at all recognize spoke up, offering their own names as well. Names that didn't mean anything to her aside from Clark Kent, who, everyone in the Titans Tower knew as one of the bigger names in Metropolis. So did that make this guy a clone? Or furthermore, did that make the [i]real[/i] Clark Kent the [i]real[/i] Superman?

There was a quick movement, and before Rose even realized what was going on, the man who had introduced himself as Thomas Wayne Junior was up in the air and on Slade. She barely had time to react before the man's face came into contact with Slade's mask, which he at least had time to place back over his face before contact. A flood of adrenaline spiked through her blood stream, her eyes glossing over for half a second seeing Captain Boomerang, more or less, deescalating the situation. Coming out of her trance, her body physically relaxed, her swords dropping just a bit as she watched Captain Boomerang step forward, repeating just what it was that she had seen not even seconds ago. But at least knowing that he would catch the attention of other gave her a few seconds head-start.

Quietly, Rose slipped over to the man dressed as an Owl, hearing Slade's spare gun clicking as the safety had been removed. Coming up behind Thomas, she stood to her full height and made an 'X' with the twin blades, pressing them lightly against the man's neck over his suit listening to the metal of the twin katanas 'sing' at their close proximity to one another. Pulling away one hand quickly, practically ripping off her mask and tossing it to the floor at Slade's side (no longer seeing a need for it here) she returned the blade to where it was before hand and replied,

"Can I remind everyone what complete crap this is?" She pressed the blades into his suit just a fraction more. "Turn down the testosterone, back the fuck off, and lets all at least pretend to be normal ants under the magnifying glass here."