Post by Wonder Woman on Jul 25, 2015 22:21:50 GMT -5
Deathstroke
The Terminator walked through the front door, wearing a black suit and tie. He stepped into the office building a guard came up to him and said" Sorry Sir, You are not allowed in the building after business hours please come back tomorrow." Slade grabbed the man's wrist snapping it, then a quick elbow to the face would take care of him. Slade continued to move towards the elevator, making sure the cameras caught him going up. He thought she would at least tell them he was on the way but to often than not this was part of the hiring process. Slade made his way towards the elevator which went up 2 floors before stopping. He looked up, Jumping up and flipping to kick the hatch open. Looking up through the elevator shaft, He began climbing up the shaft the quickest way he knew how, by kicking off the walls. reaching where the shaft connecte to a secret elevator. He climbed the cable holing the elevator, an entered through Luthor's secret elevator. Pushing the doors open with little effort. After stepping in he smirked" Hello Ms. Graves."
Mercy Graves
The screen to the left of her showed the sceen going on below her, impassive green eyes taking in the sight of one of her staff members being disabled. That would cost, she thought to herself. She had told the head of her security team that a potential candidate was coming by, Graves had to suppose he either hadn't transfered this information to his team, or they hadn't listened. It was problematic that either could be true, she thought to herself. She had expected to hear a ding as the elevator doors open, but by virtue of the whining of the gears attached to the door she had to assume there was no elevator car, merely the slightly elevated heart rate and breathing of one Mister Slade Wilson. "Mister Wilson," she offered him a courteous nod. She was, too, was dressed to kill, in her own fashion. Knee level charcoal pencil skirt and matching tailored jacket over a dark green silk blouse and a pair of stilletos that looked as sharp as the knife that also bore the same name. The jacket hung open, the blous buttoned just high enough as to prevent cleavage from behind shown, a small, green stone hung on a thin silver chain around her neck. A memento. She held a short rocks glass in each hand, each filled with a stainless steel ice cube substitute and a small amount of amber liquor. "Can I offer you a drink?" Her body shifted, the confidence of a woman who was sure of herself, and in no hurry to get to business.
Deathstroke
He nodded and he said" Scotch." He moved to shake her hand, if she excepted he would greet her as a gentleman, kissing the top of her hand slightly. He leaned back up and he said" It seems as though Lex didn't pay enough for his security. " He said as he took a seat across from her desk. his right hand balled into a fist. while he scanned the area with his good eye, making mental notes on everything from the windows, doors, any potential traps or alarms, Even through his suit his physical size and posture could be seen. He waited on the drink, until she brought herself to speak of business, he would not bring it up after all, he would always accommodate Lex Luthor's money.
Mercy Graves
"Of course," she held out the glass in her right as she brought the left to her lips. She gestured to the desk, indicating he should take a seat on one side while she crossed around to the other, the heels of her shoes clicking rhythmicly on the hardwood flooring. "Yes, well, getting passed the door guard making forty-thousand a year is one thing, Mister Wilson," she set her drink down on a tooled leather coaster emblazened with the Luthor family crest, a hold over from the previous occupant of the office. Pulling out the large, high backed chair she tucked her hands down her thighs, pulling her skirt in and taking a seat. "But bare in mind, you are in my office, and as I'm sure you're keenly aware of, I'm worth quite a bit more than that," she let a small, polite but still some how vicious smirk pull across her painted lips. "Which I suppose is as appropriate a seguey as I can ask for." She folded her hands in front of her, letting out a soft sigh. "As with all issues, descression is key; if possible to make it look like an accident, a bonus will be paid out. I need someone eliminated. Edward Furrow; he's the CFO for CryoMark Enterprises. Lex Corp is trying to buy them out and he's a stickler. He holds a deciding share of votes and is preventing the purchase from going through. I don't care how, but I want him off CryoMark's board." She produced a manilla envelope with all of the mark's information, his habits, likes, medical records, address, social insurance, even a list of prostitutes he frequented. "I've wired twenty five million to a bank account set in trust; confirmation of completion the access number is your's. As I said, if it is made to look like an accident, you'll receive double." She leaned back in her chair, crossing her right leg over her left and picking up her drink. "Sound fair?" she asked, raising her eyebrows as if to invite challenge as she shipped from the glass, eyes never leaving him.
Deathstroke
"Simple enough, consider it done, Question though, everyone else on his board willing to sell? This might be a bit of a waste if his successors don't wish to sell." He looked at her and he looked over the records. Slade thought about how to take care of this, It appears the guy wasn't a big spender when it came to prostitutes, He would go into the bad parts of town for more discretion." I have an idea, you might be getting this acquisition whole sale."
Mercy Graves
She had been led to believe that Furrow was the sole stickler, due in equal parts to a distaste for the "lower classes" of new money, which both Mercy and her predecessor were classified as, and a distrust of women in places of power. "I'm always open to ideas, especially if they're going to save my company in the cost of aquisitions," she nodded, taking another sip and giving him time to answer.
Deathstroke
" Accidents aren't my thing, corporate sabotage is one of my hobbies, since these prostitutes are in a bad part of town, and not higher class call girls, He either brings them to his home or he goes out to find them. " If he gets caught up in a scandal, drugs, drugged out hookers, then kills himself after, I know a metahuman that can take on the traits of narcotics and bestow them into others, have her inject him with a ton of different substances, then a simple push out the window into on coming traffic. His company's name is ruined he Is ruin the stocks drop, and you get it at a fraction of the cost. "
Mercy Graves
She smirked, eyeing him approvingly over the rim of her glass. What a clever man, she thought to herself. The smirk itself was a reveal, even if she didn't say anything. "Devious," she eventually smirked. "Have it happen then," she smiled. Ideally, she didn't need to know the details; when she worked for Lex, Luthor had used plausible deniability as a defense in many of his cases, of course, Mercy had been more careful than Luthor and had cultivated a very saintly personae. Ideally, she'd be sitting down with the Daily Planet next week or the week after to talk about the half way house she had funded, from her own pocket not the bottomless bank accounts of Lex Corp, for the children of drug addicts who had ODed. "I suppose our business is completed," she smiled, looking at his glass. "Though, please feel free to finish; that McKellan is older than you and I combined, and I'd hate to waste it," her voice was genuine and warm, almost friendly.
Deathstroke
He smirked and took a sip" Watch the news. I'm certain it will be on there within the next couple of days. The next morning the stocks will plummet. " He took another sip. standing up, and making his way to look out the window, as he took another sip.
Mercy Graves
Her eyes followed him as he went to the window. Mercy was reminded of watching caged animals at the zoo. Not the ones who ahd lived their entire lives in captivity, or the ones who had grown used to the space, but the ones who were wild caught, and only in captivity for a few months, a year at most. She smirked and finished her drink as she watched him watch the city. "Not quite as ominous as Gotham," she commented standing up. "And I don't have to walk the streets with an armed escort; hardly your kind of city, I think, Mister Wilson."
Deathstroke
" I don't like having to watch the skies waiting for something to inevitably come, reminds me to much of when I was a soldier. We had to watch out for our own bombers, cause they were dropping if you were ready or not. Gotham isn't my kindof city either. I prefer New York, Chicago, places where you are ignored out of costume. In my armor I don't mind the attention, There is a reason it's bright orange and blue. Here, You have an alien who can bench throw the moon down if it suited him. I don't like the odds. in a fight against him. "
Mercy Graves:
She came up behind him, slinking in her own animalistic manner. Her hand came to the small rock at her throat, not enough Kryponite for it to cause cancer, and certainly not enough to protect her from Superman, but it was a reminder that even the Gods can bleed. Delicate fingers slid over the sharp edges of the stone and her eyes looked over his shoulders. "The Superman is a bother, but styming him is quite good sport. He and his caped friend from Gotham," she smirked, her eyes moving from the night skyline, illuminated like jewels set on dark velvet, to watching Slade's good eye in the reflection of the glass. "They think they know what I'm doing, but cannot prove a thing," she brought her other hand up and sipped from her glass. "What good is being the smartest man in the room, when you're still just a man, and ruled by your own prejudices and assumptions?" she smirked. Mercy was far more clever than she was intellegent; she had grown up street smart with incredible determination. "Misdirection is as important in crime as it is in business, Mister Wilson," she turned away, ffor the first time in their meeting showing him her back.
Deathstroke
" Misdirection is useful , but I've always preferred the direct route. and please call me Slade." he took another sip of the scotch glancing towards her for a moment . He smirked and he said" Just make sure the money is where it's suppose to be, I'd hate to have to come back under less pleasant circumstances. Lex has honored our agreements in the past, I hope that you do the same." He smirked finishing off the scotch. placing the glass down on a coaster on her desk. Then he turned to face her. I won't contact you again until after the body is found. "
Mercy Graves
"Don't you worry," she finished her glass, setting it aside as she turned to face him. Her stare was a mix of chilling detachment and iron, an unreadable expression that she had developed when dealing with the idiots of the board. It faltered and turned into a somewhat sinister, and yet still flattering, smirk, with the darkness in those hazel eyes as they slowly refocussed on him. "I'll take just as good care of you as my predicessor did." She moved towards him, but also more importantly the passage that linked hte office to the penthouse above, pausing just as she came in line with him, turning to him. "And Slade? Hurt one of my people again, for any reason less than your life depended on it, and we will have issue," her voice was low, an intimate whisper against his ear, her chin all but resting on his shoulder as she spoke. Her eye burned into his good one, as she had made a point to pass on that side, and the iron edge in her voice was cold, contrasting the warmth of her breath. She held for a moment before moving on again.
Deathstroke
" Then you might want to tell them not to touch me next time, He's lucky to be able to walk away. " he said watching her leave with his good eye a smirk on his face as he made his way to the door to leave to complete his task, with more than enough prep time, he could get this job done before morning. he readjusted his suit walking towards the elevator.
***
Deathstroke
12 hours later Slade pulled out a disposable cell phone, calling Mercy. when she Answered." Turn on your Television. Slade was a block away from the crime scene." Channel 12 . " The New Reporter was talking already about the incident" It appears that Mister Furrow dove from a 9 story building, a prostitute who he apparently would meet several times a week confirmed that he appeared to be drugged out of his mind before he knocked her unconscious and dove from the window. " Slade sipped his coffee waiting on her to finish.
Mercy Graves
It was mid morning, and she was just finishing up with a meeting when her phone rang. "Graves," she said, not sure who exactly was calling her, though she had a good idea. She handed her tablet and briefcase off to her assistant, walking through her door as she heard Slade's voice instructing her to turn on the television. "Stay here," she said, walking into her office and shutting the door behind her. She turned on a large screen built into a bookcase and watched the news reporter tell the story infront of a picture of Furrow and several other members of the board at a charity event. She couldn't help but smile. "Very pleasing, Mist... Slade," she caught herself, leaning against the desk. She had got in the habit of using the formal "Mister" when dealing with many of her coworkers, she knew it could be a way of showing a modicum of respect while also needling them, always correcting them when they refer to her as "Miss."
Deathstroke
" It went just as planned, send the money to the offshore account I am texting you." He began to press I into a separate phone and sending the routing number and account number to her. He glanced towards the Lex Corp building. watching the disposable phone waiting to see the money transfer.
Mercy Graves
She pulled the phone away from her ear to receive the text from a seperate number, her right eyebrow arching. She reached over, flicking the track pad on her laptop and made the transfer, putting the phone back up to her ear. "You should be seeing it just about... now," she slowed her speech, balancing the phone between her ear and shoulder, operating the computer with her left hand as she reached over and took the small device. "A pleasure doing business with you, Slade. I trust the sum is enough?"
Deathstroke
"It will do." He transferred the amount between 4 more accounts. Wiping the memory of the extra phone then crushing it in his hands and tossing it in the bay. " Nice doing business with you, Mercy. Hope to do business again, soon." with that he did the same with this phone crushed it tossed the battery in a garbage can. Slade made his way towards the airport on foot. Pulling out a communication device and adding her number into it. Before slipping it back into his pocket.
The Terminator walked through the front door, wearing a black suit and tie. He stepped into the office building a guard came up to him and said" Sorry Sir, You are not allowed in the building after business hours please come back tomorrow." Slade grabbed the man's wrist snapping it, then a quick elbow to the face would take care of him. Slade continued to move towards the elevator, making sure the cameras caught him going up. He thought she would at least tell them he was on the way but to often than not this was part of the hiring process. Slade made his way towards the elevator which went up 2 floors before stopping. He looked up, Jumping up and flipping to kick the hatch open. Looking up through the elevator shaft, He began climbing up the shaft the quickest way he knew how, by kicking off the walls. reaching where the shaft connecte to a secret elevator. He climbed the cable holing the elevator, an entered through Luthor's secret elevator. Pushing the doors open with little effort. After stepping in he smirked" Hello Ms. Graves."
Mercy Graves
The screen to the left of her showed the sceen going on below her, impassive green eyes taking in the sight of one of her staff members being disabled. That would cost, she thought to herself. She had told the head of her security team that a potential candidate was coming by, Graves had to suppose he either hadn't transfered this information to his team, or they hadn't listened. It was problematic that either could be true, she thought to herself. She had expected to hear a ding as the elevator doors open, but by virtue of the whining of the gears attached to the door she had to assume there was no elevator car, merely the slightly elevated heart rate and breathing of one Mister Slade Wilson. "Mister Wilson," she offered him a courteous nod. She was, too, was dressed to kill, in her own fashion. Knee level charcoal pencil skirt and matching tailored jacket over a dark green silk blouse and a pair of stilletos that looked as sharp as the knife that also bore the same name. The jacket hung open, the blous buttoned just high enough as to prevent cleavage from behind shown, a small, green stone hung on a thin silver chain around her neck. A memento. She held a short rocks glass in each hand, each filled with a stainless steel ice cube substitute and a small amount of amber liquor. "Can I offer you a drink?" Her body shifted, the confidence of a woman who was sure of herself, and in no hurry to get to business.
Deathstroke
He nodded and he said" Scotch." He moved to shake her hand, if she excepted he would greet her as a gentleman, kissing the top of her hand slightly. He leaned back up and he said" It seems as though Lex didn't pay enough for his security. " He said as he took a seat across from her desk. his right hand balled into a fist. while he scanned the area with his good eye, making mental notes on everything from the windows, doors, any potential traps or alarms, Even through his suit his physical size and posture could be seen. He waited on the drink, until she brought herself to speak of business, he would not bring it up after all, he would always accommodate Lex Luthor's money.
Mercy Graves
"Of course," she held out the glass in her right as she brought the left to her lips. She gestured to the desk, indicating he should take a seat on one side while she crossed around to the other, the heels of her shoes clicking rhythmicly on the hardwood flooring. "Yes, well, getting passed the door guard making forty-thousand a year is one thing, Mister Wilson," she set her drink down on a tooled leather coaster emblazened with the Luthor family crest, a hold over from the previous occupant of the office. Pulling out the large, high backed chair she tucked her hands down her thighs, pulling her skirt in and taking a seat. "But bare in mind, you are in my office, and as I'm sure you're keenly aware of, I'm worth quite a bit more than that," she let a small, polite but still some how vicious smirk pull across her painted lips. "Which I suppose is as appropriate a seguey as I can ask for." She folded her hands in front of her, letting out a soft sigh. "As with all issues, descression is key; if possible to make it look like an accident, a bonus will be paid out. I need someone eliminated. Edward Furrow; he's the CFO for CryoMark Enterprises. Lex Corp is trying to buy them out and he's a stickler. He holds a deciding share of votes and is preventing the purchase from going through. I don't care how, but I want him off CryoMark's board." She produced a manilla envelope with all of the mark's information, his habits, likes, medical records, address, social insurance, even a list of prostitutes he frequented. "I've wired twenty five million to a bank account set in trust; confirmation of completion the access number is your's. As I said, if it is made to look like an accident, you'll receive double." She leaned back in her chair, crossing her right leg over her left and picking up her drink. "Sound fair?" she asked, raising her eyebrows as if to invite challenge as she shipped from the glass, eyes never leaving him.
Deathstroke
"Simple enough, consider it done, Question though, everyone else on his board willing to sell? This might be a bit of a waste if his successors don't wish to sell." He looked at her and he looked over the records. Slade thought about how to take care of this, It appears the guy wasn't a big spender when it came to prostitutes, He would go into the bad parts of town for more discretion." I have an idea, you might be getting this acquisition whole sale."
Mercy Graves
She had been led to believe that Furrow was the sole stickler, due in equal parts to a distaste for the "lower classes" of new money, which both Mercy and her predecessor were classified as, and a distrust of women in places of power. "I'm always open to ideas, especially if they're going to save my company in the cost of aquisitions," she nodded, taking another sip and giving him time to answer.
Deathstroke
" Accidents aren't my thing, corporate sabotage is one of my hobbies, since these prostitutes are in a bad part of town, and not higher class call girls, He either brings them to his home or he goes out to find them. " If he gets caught up in a scandal, drugs, drugged out hookers, then kills himself after, I know a metahuman that can take on the traits of narcotics and bestow them into others, have her inject him with a ton of different substances, then a simple push out the window into on coming traffic. His company's name is ruined he Is ruin the stocks drop, and you get it at a fraction of the cost. "
Mercy Graves
She smirked, eyeing him approvingly over the rim of her glass. What a clever man, she thought to herself. The smirk itself was a reveal, even if she didn't say anything. "Devious," she eventually smirked. "Have it happen then," she smiled. Ideally, she didn't need to know the details; when she worked for Lex, Luthor had used plausible deniability as a defense in many of his cases, of course, Mercy had been more careful than Luthor and had cultivated a very saintly personae. Ideally, she'd be sitting down with the Daily Planet next week or the week after to talk about the half way house she had funded, from her own pocket not the bottomless bank accounts of Lex Corp, for the children of drug addicts who had ODed. "I suppose our business is completed," she smiled, looking at his glass. "Though, please feel free to finish; that McKellan is older than you and I combined, and I'd hate to waste it," her voice was genuine and warm, almost friendly.
Deathstroke
He smirked and took a sip" Watch the news. I'm certain it will be on there within the next couple of days. The next morning the stocks will plummet. " He took another sip. standing up, and making his way to look out the window, as he took another sip.
Mercy Graves
Her eyes followed him as he went to the window. Mercy was reminded of watching caged animals at the zoo. Not the ones who ahd lived their entire lives in captivity, or the ones who had grown used to the space, but the ones who were wild caught, and only in captivity for a few months, a year at most. She smirked and finished her drink as she watched him watch the city. "Not quite as ominous as Gotham," she commented standing up. "And I don't have to walk the streets with an armed escort; hardly your kind of city, I think, Mister Wilson."
Deathstroke
" I don't like having to watch the skies waiting for something to inevitably come, reminds me to much of when I was a soldier. We had to watch out for our own bombers, cause they were dropping if you were ready or not. Gotham isn't my kindof city either. I prefer New York, Chicago, places where you are ignored out of costume. In my armor I don't mind the attention, There is a reason it's bright orange and blue. Here, You have an alien who can bench throw the moon down if it suited him. I don't like the odds. in a fight against him. "
Mercy Graves:
She came up behind him, slinking in her own animalistic manner. Her hand came to the small rock at her throat, not enough Kryponite for it to cause cancer, and certainly not enough to protect her from Superman, but it was a reminder that even the Gods can bleed. Delicate fingers slid over the sharp edges of the stone and her eyes looked over his shoulders. "The Superman is a bother, but styming him is quite good sport. He and his caped friend from Gotham," she smirked, her eyes moving from the night skyline, illuminated like jewels set on dark velvet, to watching Slade's good eye in the reflection of the glass. "They think they know what I'm doing, but cannot prove a thing," she brought her other hand up and sipped from her glass. "What good is being the smartest man in the room, when you're still just a man, and ruled by your own prejudices and assumptions?" she smirked. Mercy was far more clever than she was intellegent; she had grown up street smart with incredible determination. "Misdirection is as important in crime as it is in business, Mister Wilson," she turned away, ffor the first time in their meeting showing him her back.
Deathstroke
" Misdirection is useful , but I've always preferred the direct route. and please call me Slade." he took another sip of the scotch glancing towards her for a moment . He smirked and he said" Just make sure the money is where it's suppose to be, I'd hate to have to come back under less pleasant circumstances. Lex has honored our agreements in the past, I hope that you do the same." He smirked finishing off the scotch. placing the glass down on a coaster on her desk. Then he turned to face her. I won't contact you again until after the body is found. "
Mercy Graves
"Don't you worry," she finished her glass, setting it aside as she turned to face him. Her stare was a mix of chilling detachment and iron, an unreadable expression that she had developed when dealing with the idiots of the board. It faltered and turned into a somewhat sinister, and yet still flattering, smirk, with the darkness in those hazel eyes as they slowly refocussed on him. "I'll take just as good care of you as my predicessor did." She moved towards him, but also more importantly the passage that linked hte office to the penthouse above, pausing just as she came in line with him, turning to him. "And Slade? Hurt one of my people again, for any reason less than your life depended on it, and we will have issue," her voice was low, an intimate whisper against his ear, her chin all but resting on his shoulder as she spoke. Her eye burned into his good one, as she had made a point to pass on that side, and the iron edge in her voice was cold, contrasting the warmth of her breath. She held for a moment before moving on again.
Deathstroke
" Then you might want to tell them not to touch me next time, He's lucky to be able to walk away. " he said watching her leave with his good eye a smirk on his face as he made his way to the door to leave to complete his task, with more than enough prep time, he could get this job done before morning. he readjusted his suit walking towards the elevator.
***
Deathstroke
12 hours later Slade pulled out a disposable cell phone, calling Mercy. when she Answered." Turn on your Television. Slade was a block away from the crime scene." Channel 12 . " The New Reporter was talking already about the incident" It appears that Mister Furrow dove from a 9 story building, a prostitute who he apparently would meet several times a week confirmed that he appeared to be drugged out of his mind before he knocked her unconscious and dove from the window. " Slade sipped his coffee waiting on her to finish.
Mercy Graves
It was mid morning, and she was just finishing up with a meeting when her phone rang. "Graves," she said, not sure who exactly was calling her, though she had a good idea. She handed her tablet and briefcase off to her assistant, walking through her door as she heard Slade's voice instructing her to turn on the television. "Stay here," she said, walking into her office and shutting the door behind her. She turned on a large screen built into a bookcase and watched the news reporter tell the story infront of a picture of Furrow and several other members of the board at a charity event. She couldn't help but smile. "Very pleasing, Mist... Slade," she caught herself, leaning against the desk. She had got in the habit of using the formal "Mister" when dealing with many of her coworkers, she knew it could be a way of showing a modicum of respect while also needling them, always correcting them when they refer to her as "Miss."
Deathstroke
" It went just as planned, send the money to the offshore account I am texting you." He began to press I into a separate phone and sending the routing number and account number to her. He glanced towards the Lex Corp building. watching the disposable phone waiting to see the money transfer.
Mercy Graves
She pulled the phone away from her ear to receive the text from a seperate number, her right eyebrow arching. She reached over, flicking the track pad on her laptop and made the transfer, putting the phone back up to her ear. "You should be seeing it just about... now," she slowed her speech, balancing the phone between her ear and shoulder, operating the computer with her left hand as she reached over and took the small device. "A pleasure doing business with you, Slade. I trust the sum is enough?"
Deathstroke
"It will do." He transferred the amount between 4 more accounts. Wiping the memory of the extra phone then crushing it in his hands and tossing it in the bay. " Nice doing business with you, Mercy. Hope to do business again, soon." with that he did the same with this phone crushed it tossed the battery in a garbage can. Slade made his way towards the airport on foot. Pulling out a communication device and adding her number into it. Before slipping it back into his pocket.