Santa Slade

March 19, 2019:

Slade and Alex present a gift to Lena.

Suburbs outside of NYC.

Characters

NPCs: Alex Peabody

Mentions:

Plot:

Mood Music: [*\# None.]


Fade In…

The house is a typical Long Island suburban home, and frankly, an odd place to be getting the nod to meet up from a guy who owns his own multi million dollar arms company and at least 2 penthouses in NYC alone. But… there it is. With little wooden shutters, a tiny mowed lawn, a chearful set of windchimes on the porch, the whole sha bang.

*

It was uncomfortably cute. So much so, Lena wasn't sure if her stomach was fluttering around due to her nerves at visiting with Alex, or from normalicy nausea. At the front door, cool and composed as always, she gives a knock and waits. Her hands dig into the pockets of her jacket, the Spring air a bit nippy and soothing to her. She sniffs, and then sniffs again, smelling that abnormal aroma of fresh air.

*

Alex opens the door and instantly splits into a grin, "So… how ya been?" he asks, feigning a sort of small talky nonchalance as he leans a shoulder against the door frame, his arms crossing over his chest lazily. His body blocks her from getting into the house of course, which, from what she can see, looks every bit as ordinary as one might imagine. Pictures on the walls included.

*

Lena smiles his way, the expression genuine as it presses dimples into her cheeks. "Ah, well…busy. Time waits for no one, hmm?" Giving a rocking sway on the soles of her boots, she clears her throat and then glances away before returning her attention to Peabody. With a glimmer of excitement, she sputters out. "I've figured out a way of using my core to power a suit to my advantage."

*

"Wonderful. Flirt later." says a familiar and very serious voice from inside the house, "This house has three rooms, use one when we're done here. I have a contract in Jacarta in eighteen hours, I need to be on a plane in two." Alex winces a bit and mouths the word 'sorry' to Lena before jerking his head inwards and stepping aside, "I uh… I brought in the closest thing to an expert I have on Leonard's tech, which is to say his tactics."

In the kitchen, sitting at the table and sipping from a coffee cup that says 'I murdered a god and all I got was this lousy mug' on it in red letters meant to look like blood splatter, is Deathstroke. His mask is rolled up just enough that she can see his mouth and nose, the white goatee on his chin as he sips from the steaming mug. From where she stands, she's on his blind side and so only gets the expressionless black half of her mask.

Alex nudges her, "Doing a little Mr. Freeze with your Cold then?" he asks curiously as he closes the door behind her.

*

"Fuck you…" She mutters under her breath, giving a roll of her eyes before slipping into the home and giving 'Stroke a glance. "You do what you need to do, I can wait. I have all day." She offers Alex, even offering him an apologetic, if not sympathetic, expression. "Somewhat. I was thinking of giving myself the extra armor as we talked about before, but also of powering wrist mounted freeze guns. My variety, not dad's. Also building in a defense pulse if someone gets too close. Honestly, I think that's all I'd need for now until I get more funding. The issue is making sure I don't kill the power instantly, but I'm working on that." A pause, "I still want dad's gun, though. Doing this wrong this whole time messes with me."

*

Deathstroke snorts from the other room, "Wrong? You don't even have a clue." he says as he stands, finishing the coffee off in a single gulp before reaching up to pull the mask down over his face, "Come on. Lets get this over with so I can catch my flight and topple some silly regime in a place no one outside of it gives to fucks about." he turns to head towards a door in the kitchen and opens it before heading down into the basement.

Alex eyes her again and shrugs, "Been a rough week for him. There was a uh… alien thing. Best not to dwell on it. He's annoyed. Come on, I think this'll be educational… and afterward there's always the rooms?" he says a bit /to/ lightly before skipping out of her reach and heading for the stairs.

*

Without another word, but a powerful glare of her pale eyes, she follows after and heads down the stairs. Her hands bunching into fists within her pockets all the while.

*

The basement is set up to look like a tinkering old man's shop, with a little wooden work bench and a model train set with little trains and people and streams and the whole bit, a half painted carriage car rests on the bench currently, brushes laid out clean and neat ready to be picked up at a moments notice. Deathstroke walks past all of this to a metal cabinet in the corner, he pulls out a ket and opens it, inside are shelves that hold modeling glue, small models, paints, ect. Then he steps through them, the perfect image flickering as he walks beyond it vanishing from view.

Alex just follows, ignoring the small city with it's tiny people and their tiny houses and the tiny train sitting still and motionless on it's tracks. Beyond the wall is a small set of stairs that scan everyone as they walk down them, Alex and Deathstroke are ignored after a scan, but the lasers remain scanning Lena over and over again for the entire decent, as if they were watching her. At the bottom is a steel security door which opens into a concrete room with a few doors inside, none labled. On the walls are weapons. So. Many. Weapons. There's enough fire power in the room to murder an army. Deathstroke killed a small army of Ninja's with a sword and course language before, with what's in the room? … Pretty sure that's a proton cannon from LexCorp over on the wall there. And that's a Stark Repulsar gauntlet, which isn't even sold anywhere! "Range is this way." Deathstroke says, heading through the center doorway.

*

The glimpse into whatever Slade may do on his off time is fascinating. Or would be if the girl allowed herself to shrug off the crushing chip on her shoulder to not hold some sliver of anger toward the man. Gruff and to the point, she got that, but when did it turn into being an ass regardless of where you were? Maybe she'd find out someday. Following still, she gives pause at the phasing wall, the image catching her attention before she walks down the passage of digital eyes sizing her up repeatedly. Next came the cache.

Eyes wide now, she blinks and hovers over a few select models, mostly those that were more tech advanced than she had previously seen, or even just heard of. A linger, a loom, she finds her feet again and jobs after Alex's retreating form as they head for the range.

*

Alex snags her up by the shoulders and turns her away from an Atlantean hardwater carbine and guides her into the range proper. It's… big. Like really big. Large enough to likely run full length combat drills in, a concrete room nearly twenty feet high with various concrete and steel plates and walls set up at varying heights and lengths. There's caution tape around the edges, and the lights coming on over head are all functioning and bright. This place is uh… funded. Well.

Deathstroke turns and tosses Lena an Uzi, followed by a loaded magazine, "Okay kid, lets get this show on the road." he says walking out into the open section of the range. Jesus it's big. Must expand under nearly every house on this block!

*

Her boots squeek against the floor from that force, her eyes all but drooling over the beauty of Atlantis tech. Oh the things she had yet to see in her life. When the lights pop on and flood the space, she squints at first before glancing around the bunker like range. Whatever commentary floating about in her mind is muted out when she notices a gun coming her way. Snatching it out of the air, mag next, she moves her gloved touch about the weapon, checking the chamber before loading the mag properly. "Say when."

*

Alex just sighs, "Drama queens." he mutters, sticking his fingers in his ears and stepping back towards a concrete half wall and ducking a bit. Deathstroke turns to look at her and holds out his hand, fingers extended in a flat blade like posture, knuckles towards her. Then the hand bends inward at the knuckle, the gesture made timeless by Morpheus in Matrix.

*

What's a good baddie without some drama? There is a glance Alex's way, making sure he was behind her, them, at least. Standing, loose, gun up and eyes down the site, she smiles Slade's way. At the ready, she starts firing off in controlled bursts.

*

With each squeeze of the trigger, her eyes never leave her lined target. With every spurt of bullets, she silently counts them down in her head.

*

Deathstroke doesn't move. He just stands there… and the bullets stop in mid air. Hanging. Still. He reaches up and plucks one out of the air and rolls it across his palm before letting it drop. The bullets begin to slowly slide out of the air as if they had been stuck in syrup or something, the first ones fired dropping first, then the next grouping, and so on. "Deathstroke holds up his hand, a slightly large weapon there, done in shades of blue and white, glowing with a soft internal light of it's own. He uses it with one hand, but it's uh… pretty big. Big enough she may require both of hers to use it well. "Absolute zero helps slow movement," he says flatly, "Leonard used to set the beam to a wide arc and fire a quick sweep before a firefight. Only downside is bullets can't pass through it from /either/ side. Annoying. Great help against speedsters, tends to slow them down enough you can actually track them with your eyes."

*

"I…well. Going into business with a speedster, so that's helpful." She murmurs gently, lowering her borrowed gun, her gaze enchanted on the site before her. The gun in particular catches her face. Tender in face and easing off her normally icy demeanor, she takes a step or two closer without fully getting into Slade's range. "Christ, she's beautiful." Slips the praise from her dark lips.

*

Deathstroke holds it out and his hands move through a series of firing possitions so smoothly that it's like watching a master magician handle a deck of cards. That kills people. It's as if he knows every working of the gun and explains them as he uses them, "Beam apperature control, recharging power sourse indicator, pop up articulated sight for midrange combat, internally collapsable shoulder stock, and biometric trigger control currently set to only allow Alex, myself, and you to fire it. Got your bios while you were sleeping Saturday." because that's not creepy. After showing her each of the features in question, he flips it around lightly and offers it to her, grip first.

"Snart's gun was his baby, so he kept most of the tech completely to himself. I have a couple of the first gens left over from a fight or two, been laying instorage for a decade. Alex reverse engineered the tech for us-" "Your welcome!" comes from behind the concrete barrier, "but it's not cutting edge as far as Snart was concerned. That's basically his second gen cold gun with a few helpful additions from us, stock, sights, the basics you'd want optionable on any weapon. I recomend you brush up on your physics if you want anything more advanced then this."

*

She heard him, she was studying every slip of space and mods on the gun with steady attentiveness. Her eyes were glossing over. Her lips quivers, but with a breath she settles her nerves and reaches for the gun. Hesitating, she flicks the safety on the Uzi and settles it under one arm, barrel down, both hands now trembling out to claim the firearm. The comment about grabbing her specific brand of DNA while she was sleeping even seems to fly over her head, that or she doesn't rightly care. She had a new baby now, Leonard's baby-now her own.

Exhaling in a shudder, the girl looks up to the dual-face of Slade. The Uzi drops, she lowers her hand with the cold gun, all before leaning in and wrapping her arms around 'Stroke's torso. Tight, squeezing, she lingers for a moment or five.

*

Deathstroke just sort of… stands there. After a moment he reaches up and gently patpats her on the back, "Snart was not a man I dealt with often, but what dealings we had were never broken. A man of his word, a hard thing to find in this day and age." oddly enough, something that simple sounds almost like praise from the assassin. "Now, you and Alex go play with your toy. I have a plane to catch. If you break any furniture fucking, make sure he replaces it. And don't freeze the upstairs or anything, the couple that lives here would be annoyed and complain."

*

Lena squeezes for just a moment longer before pulling away and hiding her head with some sweeps of her hair. Sniffling, she smiles. Regardless of what he says, how, its context or content, she nibbles at her lower lip and doesn't reply. Instead, she stares at the gun and nods. Simply nods. "Alex," she whispers, finally remembering that the tech-genius did have a hand in modding the weapon so precious in her grip. Turning heel, she moves his way, hidden behind the barrier and yanks him into a hug as well.

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