Two days later, around three in the morning, Councilor Lawrence suddenly opened his eyes.
At the foot of his bed stood Deadshot, fully armed, the crimson electronic eye on his mask glowing faintly in the dark.
"Ah?!"
Councilor Lawrence jolted upright, then scrambled off the bed and rolled toward the window. He hit the floor hard, then quickly knelt, trembling as he looked up at Deadshot.
"Did Wraith send you? Damn it! I've heard the rumors, Wraith is hunting Gotham's elite. I didn't think I would be a target too!"
Panic overtook him. He clasped his hands together and begged desperately.
"Please, I shouldn't be on the list. I'm not Wraith's enemy! Wraith even slept with my daughter. It was all over the news, they looked perfect together. Wraith and I are not enemies!"
As he spoke, he crawled forward on his knees.
Deadshot watched him in silence for a moment, then sighed softly.
"I don't know what to do with you. Everything you said is true. Even if Axel has forgotten about you and your daughter, what happens if he remembers one day? I don't like leaving loose ends."
He gently swayed the gun mounted on his gauntlet, and Lawrence's eyes followed every movement.
After a brief pause, Deadshot spoke again.
"How about this. I still have plenty of names left on my list. I can move you to the end. But you need to make Axel pay attention to you before I come back."
His tone turned colder.
"How you do that is your problem. If you fail, then death is all that waits for you. And don't even think about leaving Gotham. No one escapes my bullets."
He reached out and patted Lawrence's face lightly.
Lawrence nodded frantically.
Without warning, Deadshot knocked him unconscious and placed him back on the bed. He pulled the blanket over him with casual indifference, then left the house.
As he stepped outside, the screen on his gauntlet suddenly flashed red.
Deadshot snorted and tapped a few buttons.
Surveillance footage appeared. One of his targets had just arrived near the Kane Memorial Bridge.
A grin spread across his face.
"If they stay hidden in fortified bunkers, they're a problem. But the moment they try to run, they think the road is safe?"
He pressed another button.
On the screen, the car speeding across the bridge exploded instantly, reduced to burning debris.
Deadshot exhaled, satisfied.
Working for Wraith had its benefits. Equipment and ammunition were never an issue. The man in that car, a well-known Gotham TV host, owned several vehicles. Deadshot had planted explosives in every single one.
With enough resources, assassination stopped being a matter of chance. It became inevitable.
He smirked. Being forced into the Dead Souls Gang had not turned out so badly.
Wraith was ruthless, but he took care of his own. His promises meant something. Deadshot's daughter had already been transferred to a prestigious childcare institution in Gotham to begin preschool.
Everything he did, every kill, was for her future.
At least in Gotham, she would have a chance to live without fear.
As for the rest of the United States, no one would bother with a minor assassin like him while Axel remained at large.
Axel's teleportation ability alone was enough to terrify anyone. Even the President would think twice, hiding behind layers of security.
"Hmm?"
Deadshot suddenly moved to the side.
A throwing knife sliced through the air, passing exactly where he had stood a moment before.
He turned toward its source.
Seven figures stood atop nearby lampposts. Their posture was rigid, their attire old-fashioned. Their armor gleamed faintly under the streetlights, and the silver claws on their hands hung at their sides.
Deadshot narrowed his eyes.
Talons. And owl masks.
A cold laugh escaped him.
"I've been clearing the list for two days straight. Finally dragged you legends out."
He pulled out an AR-15 and began moving, firing in controlled bursts.
Even while hip-firing, every shot was precise.
The bullets struck each Talon with deadly accuracy.
Some blocked with their claws, others sliced the bullets midair with their blades. But Deadshot's rounds were anything but ordinary. They ricocheted, collided, and scattered unpredictably, creating angles that were impossible to anticipate.
Several bullets slipped through their defenses and pierced vital points.
Yet it made no difference.
After running over sixty steps and emptying four magazines, Deadshot glanced back.
The seven Talons were still coming, blood staining their armor, their movements completely unaffected.
"Fuck."
He tossed two grenades behind him and opened his comms.
"I'm being hunted by Talons. Seven targets. No vital points. They keep moving even with their brains destroyed. If you fight them, go for decapitation."
A voice came through instantly.
"What about you?"
It was Victor.
"Floyd, you didn't bring a blade, did you?"
"I've got a dagger. Worst case, I blow their heads off."
As he spoke, Deadshot spun and raised his rifle.
Clang!
A Talon's claw sliced clean through the weapon.
Deadshot let out an impressed chuckle.
"You're tough."
He continued speaking into the comms.
"Their weapons cut through metal like nothing. Be careful. I've got to take my daughter to school tomorrow. I don't have time to attend your funeral."
Victor laughed on the other end.
"Get lost. I'm not dying to Talons. Damn it, they've found me too. But why are there only three? The Court must think I'm not worth the effort."
Somewhere else in Gotham, Victor drew his katana.
If even Deadshot thought blades worked better, then he was not about to ignore that advice.
Back on the street, Deadshot dropped his damaged rifle. He switched to his dagger and gauntlet gun, engaging the Talons at close range.
As he fought, he spoke again.
"The more I fight them, the more they remind me of Deathstroke."
"Don't ask me...!"
Victor barely blocked a strike and crashed to the ground.
His right hand, recently reattached, was still unusable. With only his left, he could not even handle one Talon properly, let alone three.
The Court had clearly judged him based on his prime.
"Damn it!"
He raised his blade again, barely stopping a strike aimed at his head.
The impact shattered his weapon.
At the same time, Deadshot's voice came through again.
"Victor, you sound terrible. You about to die?"
"Not a chance. Axel will deal with the devil for me. I trust him."
Victor rolled across the ground, narrowly dodging a series of slashes.
But even so, he was steadily forced backward, until his back hit the entrance of a bicycle shop.
===
Sorry for the late update.
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