9348/What's a nice girl like you...

What's a nice girl like you...
Date of Scene:	29 December 2021
Location:	Central Business District - Starling City
Synopsis:	When is Slade a knight in shining armor? Not sure if stranger things have happened, but it's a thing!
Cast of Characters:	Felicity Smoak, Slade Wilson

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Felicity Smoak has posed:
Daytime in areas of Starling City is very much like the night hours, only for the ball of fire in the sky. In some areas, it doesn't matter if the light of day shines on operations. The police presence is a little slimmer than could be; morale is low, crime is a little higher and it doesn't look as if it's going to change anytime soon. Other than Gotham?

This is where some come to play.

Still, day is a little better than night, and a taxi comes to a stop in front of the entrance to the Orchid Bay Boardwalk. There's a moment where nothing happens, then the reardoor of the yellow cab opens, revealing a blonde in winter fare, holding her cellphone in her right hand. With payment passed within the warm confines of the car, booted feet and wool coat with a fashionable (to her!) knit hat on her head to keep her ears warm, Felicity is out on the sidewalk, searching directions, checking the phone, and looking up again, very much like a prairie dog checking its surroundings.

There is a decision obviously made, and as the car pulls away, she's checking the little phone, blue eyes flickering from the display to the large business building; back and forth.

Slade Wilson has posed:
That comes with having a few less heroes than other major cities. Starling was a shining gem to be certain, but when you let corruption and other nastier business enter the premises and let it fester and marinate in the filth of crime? It becomes a less likely place to live because it feels like nobody is going to be there to stop it. But maybe...just maybe this Felicity Smoak has a guardian angel she's not paying attention to.

A stroke of death that stalks her in the night.

See, the thing about Black Markets is that they keep tabs on everyone who enters. Anyone who looks like a snitch or a loose end or someone who - just by and by - seems a little suspicious? They're going to get trailed. So Slade was there, dressed in his Ikon suit and frankly ready to outright murder people.

Consider the first one free of charge.

Not safe to be staring at the phone as they walk either, so Slade is sticking to the shadows. Somehow, despite being in somewhat thicker armored gear, he's moving as if nothing was weighing him down at all - and barely making any noise as he does.

Felicity Smoak has posed:
Felicity's steps, while not hesitant, are definitely distracted, working on remote as she checks the phone again. It's not just a GPS, it's a tracker, it's an entire display of the rap sheet of one, two guys in the building. The business isn't anything obvious, like international sales, or even 'antiques'. Nope. It's a lower class sort of 'pay day loans', with 'check cashing' written in neon lights in the window.

Nothing screams 'money laundering', right?

The blonde takes a quick look around before pushing on the door, the little cowbells on the door going *dingdingding* in that classic 1970s sound, echoing through the room. There are at least three in the office, one up front, two seated at desks in the back area, behind a half wall. Easily seen.

Her entrance certainly does get the attention of the man in front, a middle aged gent with a button down shirt, sleeves rolled up, even in winter. He's the sort that is hot in winter and sweats like a pig in summer. Not good for his health! However, he does evince a little surprise to see someone as put together as Felicity walking into the shop. As do the others in the back.

Felicity had talked to herself all morning as to how she was going to handle this. She can do it, right? Immediately, she offers a bright smile, and starts in, "I need a loan."

Brows rise on the men, the pair in the back exchanging glances.

Felicity seems to notice this with a glance and it's back to the main, "No.. I really do." There's a pause before she finishes, "Gambling."

The laughs in the back burst as the man in the front leans on the counter, his voice low, "No."

Slade Wilson has posed:
Slade's one eye narrows as he sees what she's doing.

What in the actual hell is she thinking? Money Laundering? Even if she was trying to bust these guys, showing up looking as innocent as a flower probably wasn't going to get her anywhere in the first place. She doesn't look like she has a gambling issue. Believe me, those issues are -very- noticeable just in how somebody acts.

Or so Slade believes. Helps when you meet them all, you can identify them all based on their vices. Fun stuff, really.

Though he notices the middle aged man who most likely noticed the woman's beauty and likely has...different intentions than giving her money. So Slade moved quickly. Strangely enough...the two men in back seem to reach for their necks a moment, then suddenly both start yawning...and they lower their heads from the half-wall, falling immediately to sleep.

Either they were hit with some kind of powerful tranquilizer drug, or they generally were so tired with this in addition to the long day that they decided to pass out.

..even if a shadow had already arrived.

Felicity Smoak has posed:
The laughs take Felicity aback, and she straightens, looking a little insulted in the moment as her brow creases, and she pushes her glasses up on her nose. "It's not-"

Funny?

The short, curt answer from the man in front brings the tech geek's attention around, and there's just something in the way that he uttered that single syllable that makes her roll her shoulders and lift hands to pull her jacket around her a little tighter. "But-"

"No. But, with a little body like yours under that thing, you'd be able to make some money.. feed any addiction you want to try." It's a hoarse whisper, one meant to keep the words between them, keeping the other two out of it all. Unbeknownst, however, they are now out.. cold.

Felicity makes to take that step back, to put a little distance between them, and the man is a little faster than perhaps originally realized. He seizes her wrist, and squeezes, the pull starting to get her close.

Heads on desk.. the pair are //out//, and there's a blink as Felicity notices it, and expressions battle for primacy; confusion, fear, anger. No ideas as to who her savior may be, because they can't have both decided to go to sleep at this juncture. And, at least she's good enough to //not// mention it, just in case...

Slade Wilson has posed:
So it begins.

They go for Felicity's wrist. Their grappling is for shit. If she knew how to get out, she could get out of it pretty easily...but Slade doesn't get that feel from Felicity. He gets more of a 'lover than a fighter' feel from her. Tech knowhow, a scholar rather than someone who could put these guys through tables. Thankfully, Slade is here to make sure nothing bad happens to her tonight, especially before the holidays.

Its better to make friends than to make enemies.

Slade is careful not to tip the man in front off before its time. So, with a leap, the man in the black and orange outfit moves like lightning., and suddenly, a metallic sword - much like a Katana - is offered to the middle-aged man's throat before he can get too close to Felicity. She would recognize the voice as the 'nice' gentleman she had met at the coffee place just a few days earlier.

"I'd let the lady go if I were you, unless you want to lose a voice box. Medical insurance is a bitch these days."

Slade Wilson has posed:
So it begins.

They go for Felicity's wrist. Their grappling is for shit. If she knew how to get out, she could get out of it pretty easily...but Slade doesn't get that feel from Felicity. He gets more of a 'lover than a fighter' feel from her. Tech knowhow, a scholar rather than someone who could put these guys through tables. Thankfully, Slade is here to make sure nothing bad happens to her tonight, especially before the holidays.

Its better to make friends than to make enemies.

Slade is careful not to tip the man in front off before its time. So, with a leap, the man in the black and orange outfit moves like lightning., and suddenly, a metallic sword - much like a Katana - is offered to the middle-aged man's throat before he can get too close to Felicity. She would recognize the voice as the 'nice' gentleman she had met at the coffee place just a few days earlier.

"I'd let the lady go if I were you, unless you want to lose a voice box. Medical insurance is a bitch these days." On his mask, there's only a slot for one eye. Likely missing the other, much like the man wearing the eyepatch at the shop a few days ago as well.

It must have been Mr. Wilson.

"Funny thing about loan sharks...there's other sharks in the water too."

Felicity Smoak has posed:
It's true... Felicity is the presence behind the computer. She's the voice of 'Overwatch' (pretty catchy, huh?), and she can take control of virtually anything and everything that is attached to any wifi or tower.

In person, however? She can only boast of being able to do 20 sit-ups at a time, and forget push-ups.

While anyone with training could get away, the blonde graduate of MIT simply isn't one of them.

A squeak escapes her, and she twists as the fingers dig into the bottom of her wrist. She can feel the bones squishing together, but not quite breaking.

"Ow!" She can't even kick him, thanks to the counter between them.

In that next moment, the newly arrived startles the living bejeebers out of her. The sleeping thing, silly her that she thought it could be Ollie, or even Roy. That's in their book too, right?

But this-

Another squeak, and she manages to pull her hand out and away as the man is taken completely by surprise, and is currently locked into place with a nasty looking, very sharp looking sword sitting just at the flesh of a frozen adam's apple. Neither up nor down, the man doesn't dare even swallow.

Felicity takes a stumbled step back, and one more as she tries to place the voice, the..

"Oh.." and it's the single utterance that gives away her surprise and shock, and.. all viewed easily upon an expressive face. "Oh god.. oh god.."

"Walters.." comes out as a croak, the man's eyes locked onto the one in the mask. There's no answer. "Gates?" Still no response.

Slade Wilson has posed:
Even as the man starts to hurt her, when someone his own size walks up, its like he's frozen.

Coward.

Too weak to defend himself, lords his power over others...yeah, Slade knows the type. Though typically they are wealthy diplomats or tyrants or corprorate CEOs and other positions of power that are heavily desired and rarely achieved. Even still....Slade keeps his blade firmly pressed against the man's neck, which is now starting to bleed.

"We'll call it a favor."

Deathstroke replies on the question of who hired him. His eye turns to Felicity as she seems to have stumbled back and regaining her composure. "You alright?" He questions her with a touch of concern to his voice, but its not a weakness. Slade is firmly in control of this situation. "Only thing is...you live or die based on her preference...and it'd be a shame if this nice floor got a new paintjob."

Felicity Smoak has posed:
It's men like these that prey on the weak, that find their sense of power when their targets are pliable, and simply can't fight back effectively. The pair of men that are taking the snooze are of the same caliber, though they do look to the 'leadership' of the man who now finds himself under the blade. Literally.

Felicity does get to take the steps back, rubbing at her wrist where she knows little bruises are going to form. Eyes are wider behind thick glass frames, and she bobs her head quickly in prelude to a whispered response, "Yes," that may not have come out quite as convincingly as it could. She tries again, a little louder for the guys in 'the back', "Yes."

Another step is taken back and Felicity is able to turn her face away from the tableau before her as if she doesn't quite believe that something 'untoward' won't happen regardless.

"Don't.. please."

Slade Wilson has posed:
Slade watches Felicity seem to recover a moment, but the majority of his attention is on the poor soul thats under his blade. "The first thing you are going to do is apologize to the lady for even suggesting something...unchivalrous." Slade presses the blade a little bit deeper. Its threatening to pierce skin and slice the throat, leaving some sparkling red vitae all over the floor if the man doesn't do exactly what he's asked.

Though Felicity's reaction to this whole scene has Slade softening a little bit, and he removes the man from his blade only -after- he apologizes. "Make a move, and all of you are dead." says Deathstroke the Terminator, among the most dangerous individuals on the planet. Maybe in the history of the planet.

Though he begins to approach Felicity, as if to check on her, offering a hand to see her wrist. Inspect the damage.

Felicity Smoak has posed:
Beady eyes glance at the woman who appears to have his very life in his hand. The deeds of his time on this earth do rush before him, pointing out the moments where he both succeeded and failed. Whether or not this is a 'come to Jesus' moment to him, it certainly is something of a pivotal one in that he hasn't actually peed his pants since he was 5. Until now.

"I'm sorry," is croaked, and the fervent hope that it's sufficient is plainly written on his face for all to see. Not that it's heartfelt, mind, but sufficient.

It's that blade, however, that does put a little more behind it, and he repeats, even as the skin on his neck rises and falls to the words, nicking him as if to encourage the words, "I'm sorry."

Felicity isn't bloodthirsty; only up until recently, she would go lightheaded when faced with blood- even her own. She's white collar through and through. Anything she may have done that has earned her a spot on the 'watch list' of the different alphabet Agencies has all been in the cyber arena where millions of dollars may have been at stake, hundreds of thousands of lines of code hijacked, but bloody death?

Nope.

Seeing that the blade is lowered, but no less dangerous than if at the man's throat, Felicity nods again, this time with a little bit more behind it in sheer relief, "I'm okay.." and she does show the hand, the wrist as if to prove. It's a slender hand, well manicured without the faux nails accentuating it, without jewelry. She watches his approach, watches as he takes her proffered hand in that moment of silence. Her breath is tucked in her throat, though she does look from her hand to that mask, and then back down.

"See?" It's a forced lightness born of that fight or flight that is coming down.

Slade Wilson has posed:
Felicity has so much in her hands right now.

So. Much.

A life is no small thing. It has a future and a past, a beginning, a middle, and an end. Was it going to be her quill that spells his name into the Book of Death and seal his fate? Or was she going to spare his life? Considering that she hasn't told Slade to kill this son of a bitch yet, Slade assumes that Felicity is a bit more on the soft side. Which is fine, it has its uses, but he'd rather not waste a life for free anyway.

"Get lost."

Slade's voice is the kind of voice that can send fear into theh earts of even the staunchest of brave souls. This guy wasn't even brave. He sheathes his sword to join the other on his back, and he keeps an eye on Felicity's wrist. "hnnh...just bruises. Should be fine." He lets go of her wrist then, the gloved material easily coming off and away. "You're safe now. Though what you were doing at a Black Market auction is beyond me."

He narrows his eye at her. "What were you looking for?"

Felicity Smoak has posed:
The man truly does just that. He takes a hesitant step backwards, and another before turning around to head into the backroom. Never does it occur to him that it's //his// place of business, and the 'dressed for death' man is the 'visitor'. Nope. No indeedy. And the other two?

They'll never truly know how close they came.

Felicity's breath is held for those heartbeats that her hand is kept, and once released, she offers up a weak brief smile before putting it into a pocket. "Um.."

The burning question, of course, doesn't really have a straight answer. Not really.

"Information." Of course, she's the infiltrator, but 99.9% of the time, it's behind a computer.

Felicity is pulling a little more courage into her soul, though she'd easily admit that 'you're safe now' has a great deal to do with that. This, of course, has her changing her manner just a touch to the 'I can do this' self-defense.

Mostly.

"Sometimes you can't get what you need just by looking at monitors." Exactly what 'one needs', however, is still up in the air.

"Wait.." and blue eyes narrow behind glasses, "were you there?"

Slade Wilson has posed:
Slade watches the man go, ready to throw a knife into the back of his head if he so much as turns back to look at the pair. Felicity may be no killer, but Slade was prepared to slaughter everyone in this room in a bloodbath. Its his training talking. His mentality. Military, good discipline...but knows far more than he lets on. Felicity was diferent, and that may be what Slade needs.

A partner.

Though Slade keeps his attention on Felicity as she speaks. "Agreed, though even for you, this seemed a bit...excessive. Surely you had a plan to defend yourself if they imposed themselves on you? Pepper spray is effective, but worthless if you don't even have time to reach for it." Slade tells her with a small frown behind that mask of his.

"I was."

Slade answers the question without hesitation or ill intent. "Which still begs the question: what were you there for that seemed to important that you've come to these lowlifes for information that you probably already know?" Slade questions her even further.

Felicity Smoak has posed:
Felicity isn't a good actress, she really isn't. There are a thousand different 'tells', and a few of them are on full display. The biting of the bottom lip, the brief fidget, the looking off to the left as she considers before returning her gaze to the masked face. "Plan? Well, sorta?"

Okay, not really. It looks so easy in the movies!

Brows do rise in surprise, followed by a stuttered, "I didn't see you.." Pause, "Right," here's her self-effacing tones coming to the fore, "of course I didn't."

Glancing around, and the smell of pee is starting to hit her nose, she wrinkles it and gestures towards the door, "Can we leave?" Stalling 101, which is just as obvious to pick up on. "And they are barbarians. They use paper."

Slade Wilson has posed:
Not even a little bit.

Yet Slade keeps his full attention on her. Of course she wasn't going to see him, probably because he wasn't dressed like this...or maybe he was dressed there like this and simply is fully aware of how to join the shadows. Either way, it seems he's a bit of a capable man.

His eye narrows. "You weren't supposed to. All I know for certain is that you were the last person I expected to see there." Slade tells Felicity. Does....does she know who this masked man is?

Though the scent of pee doesn't quite bother Slade as it does Felicity, he understands her discomfort with the scent. Its rather...poignant and nasty. But, regardless, Slade looks at Felicity with a smirk. "Yeah. Lets go."

and he'll walk her out of the place. Funny, really, Slade warned it would be a shame to ruin the flooring...and somehow, the urine has done exactly that.