DeathstrokeSW

Titans!

Though at the moment Thomas is in Ontario tracking down Dave Cain. Don't judge. #ifellinlovewithCassandraCain'sBatgirlseries

Titans!

Gowi, you never responded to mah pm. Yoshi, remember, There are more of us than just hillian. PM me for another collab, be it Slade Wilson or Thomas (Wayne Junior)

Titans!

In response to the forced writing, I will portray Slade in to way that I hope doesn't seem forced. He will tangle with the Titans, although I don't think he'll go 'stroke-god. I just want him to hold his own, that's all. Hold his own.

With that being said, I'm actually interested in seeing he interaction between Jtodd and Rose. #DeathstrokevsRedHood...eventually.

Titans!

I feel exactly what you're going through, Nightrunner; no worries.

Titans!

But I effectively shut down super girl before.

Titans!

It was New Jersey. Also, if a contract for the Titans ever comes up, ill take it in a heartbeat.

Titans!

Jason Todd! You raped my daughter & taught her to smoke?! Are you TRYING to make it easier for Slade to hate the titans? A year ago she was 15! You were 18! That's statutory right there!

Titans!

As the door slams shut, my eye twitches, cringing. I have been tortured by men who knew the craft, fought men, broken bones, but by far the scariest thing I have ever seen is an upset teenage girl. Walking from the training room, I stop at her door, rapping my knuckles against it. "Rose! Listen, I know you're upset, you probably think I'm upset with you, but I'm not. I was scared, Rose…You don't know what the serum does to you…I nearly died from it. I just don't want that for you." No response comes from behind the titanium door, layered with wood for the illusion of normality. I run a hand across my face, sighing. Rose has been upset like this before. When this happens, the best I can do is leave her be.

Walking back to the training room, I close the false wall, and face the armor. Its orange-and-black countenance stares back at me through its one eyehole. My target may be in hiding, but he is not my only open contract, or my only target. When I took my current assignment, I agreed to kill seven men. Five are currently in their graves. Tonight, the sixth dies. A small time mobster from Metropolis, his name is Bobby Gazzo. When he joined my objective's organization, Bobby rose through the ranks, eventually becoming sixth in line for succession. After the last five assassinations, he's become second in command , holing himself up in a compound five miles outside of Gotham. Gazzo himself isn't very bright, but his employer is. That fact alone is enough to decide to do this now, instead of bringing Rose along.

I don the armor, holstering weapons as I go along. The guns on my hips, the sword on my back. As I always do, I save the mask for last, staring into its one eye again. In many ways, the mask is my true face. It is my rage, my ability, my soul incarnate. Donning the mask, I lock the false wall, and take the private elevator to the garage hidden two buildings over. The motorcycle sits, blazing orange fading into midnight black. Beside it is the car I use when I bring Rose along. Tonight, however, I straddle the motorcycle, kick starting it to life and racing into the murky night beset by the never ending lights of the city.

Titans!

As the door slams shut, my eye twitches, cringing. I have been tortured by men who knew the craft, fought men, broken bones, but by far the scariest thing I have ever seen is an upset teenage girl. Walking from the training room, I stop at her door, rapping my knuckles against it. "Rose! Listen, I know you're upset, you probably think I'm upset with you, but I'm not. I was scared, Rose…You don't know what the serum does to you…I nearly died from it. I just don't want that for you." No response comes from behind the titanium door, layered with wood for the illusion of normality. I run a hand across my face, sighing. Rose has been upset like this before. When this happens, the best I can do is leave her be.

Walking back to the training room, I close the false wall, and face the armor. Its orange-and-black countenance stares back at me through its one eyehole. My target may be in hiding, but he is not my only open contract, or my only target. When I took my current assignment, I agreed to kill seven men. Five are currently in their graves. Tonight, the sixth dies. A small time mobster from Metropolis, his name is Bobby Gazzo. When he joined my objective's organization, Bobby rose through the ranks, eventually becoming sixth in line for succession. After the last five assassinations, he's become second in command , holing himself up in a compound five miles outside of Gotham. Gazzo himself isn't very bright, but his employer is. That fact alone is enough to decide to do this now, instead of bringing Rose along.

I don the armor, holstering weapons as I go along. The guns on my hips, the sword on my back. As I always do, I save the mask for last, staring into its one eye again. In many ways, the mask is my true face. It is my rage, my ability, my soul incarnate. Donning the mask, I lock the false wall, and take the private elevator to the garage hidden two buildings over. The motorcycle sits, blazing orange fading into midnight black. Beside it is the car I use when I bring Rose along. Tonight, however, I straddle the motorcycle, kick starting it to life and racing into the murky night beset by the never ending lights of the city.

Titans!

YoshiSkittlez said
I think the point here is that all of our characters' abilities are supposed ti be practically on the same level. Hiwevrr each has their own skills and abilities there shouldnt be anyone able to 'easily defeat' another. There should be an even balance between victories for both sides, the villains shouldnt always have to lose and the heroes certainly shouldnt always have to win. Keep it balanced yo!

Never have I been more proud of my daughter (sniffle)