maxime. (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
silverdollar) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
oliverfield2020-05-22 11:40 pm
silverdollar) wrote in oliverfield2020-05-22 11:40 pm
Entry tags:
TLFN / OVERFLOW
TEXTING THREADS / GENERAL OVERFLOW
TEXTING THREADS / GENERAL OVERFLOW
TEXTING THREADS / GENERAL OVERFLOW
that's definitely a 'do it'
Too easy. )
Ich habe dir meinen Preis gesagt. Ich werde mich nicht wiederholen. *
( Translated from German: Told you my price. Not going to repeat myself. )
三つの単語は支払うべき小さな価格です *
( Translated from Japanese: Three words are a small price to pay. )
La mort est également une option. Ça ne me dérange pas. *
( Translated from French: Death is also an option. I don't mind. )
Time's a wasting.
( It's a wager Slade will take. )
no subject
[Translated from Mandarin: ...I will pay you half as much again.]
Mahma kan sier altalab alkhasi bika.
[Translated from Arabic: Whatever your asking price.]
Up front, no arguments, no quibbling.
Iustus stillabunt eam.
[Translated from Latin: Just drop it.
Death might well be the more appealing option here. Even though he knows Mask's killers are getting closer and his own defences are presently... depleted. Courtesy of first the Bat and then Black Mask's initial, anticipated retaliation.
But still. It's a steep price.]
no subject
It might be gunfire that Nygma is hearing in the background. Could just be the television. It's a good thing Slade can multitask. )
How cultured of you.
Really that -pow- hard for you to -pow- take responsibility?
( Pot, kettle. )
You heard my price. Last chance before I walk away from this. Mask's men have your location; they'll storm at half-past. Waiting for Sionis' call, but Mask loves to make a show of things. Might even be offering a bonus to whoever brings back a trophy as reward.
That dumbass cane you're always carrying around? Sure would look great mounted on Mask's wall. Right above the shrunken heads.
no subject
[It's about his ego. And his issues. Not that Deathstroke is going to care about either one of those.
He has to literally bite down the next words that want to come out of his mouth, teeth digging into his glove so something snide or insulting doesn't slip out and make the decision for him. It's even harder to restrain himself when background sounds filter through the call.
...Those sound like gunshots? Is Slade already working on some other job? While he's stuck there, wondering if Mask has told his people to take their time with him? Worse, if he's changed his mind and wants Edward brought in alive so he can finish the job himself?]
You've already determined that much, why waste the effort by walking away now?
[It sounds weak even to his ears. Finding that out would be the work of minutes even for someone less skilled than him.]
I can-
[Is there anything else he can even offer?
The grinding of his teeth is practically audible down the line as he struggles with that image of his cane - his own, personal, handmade technological marvel - hanging on Mask's wall. He's seen what Black Mask does to people. It makes Batman's beatings look kind.]
I- [The words catch in his throat, choking him with furious shame.] I'm- ... An idiot.
no subject
He's done the 'jerk' thing before. He's done the 'compassion' thing before. Neither one really suited him to a T; he's grown to prefer a place somewhere in the middle. Like today. He'd planned to give money to a homeless man earlier but took a different way home, meaning he's overdue his daily good deed.
That's the reason he's sticking to when he asks himself why he doesn't draw this out further. Riddler of all people has it coming. Slade could ask him to repeat himself a few times, pretend the line went dead before he heard the good part and record the confession to use as blackmail. But Slade is a man of his word, so he's going to let Nygma off easy. )
Was that so hard? ( That's going to be a yes, if the strain in Ed's inflection is anything to go off of.
Follow this with a photo sent to Ed's phone. A row of dead bodies, like sitting ducks, with the most distinctive part about them being their cheap, dark masks. Sionis always paid for quantity over quality when it came to his goons; twelve pillars of dumb muscle without a brain cell between them. Easy to find, and most of them wouldn't know a Savage Model 110 from a Smith & Wesson M&P 15.)
...I came out of retirement for this, you know. I'd given up killing. I was going clean, Nygma. Earned myself a two-week chip.
( Not that he sounds too disappointed. The thrill of the hunt, it's what gives him life.
Besides, he was bound to slip up sooner or later. This happy little accident just happened to come in a time when someone else needed help. It doesn't count. All smokers who quit cigarettes get at least one cheat day; this isn't any different. Except instead of cigarettes, it's corpses.
Doesn't matter, though. He's going back to square one. )
Return what you stole. Bake him a cake with an apology note stuffed inside. I don't care.
no subject
The picture only slightly mollifies him, the relief of knowing he's not about to have his incomparable brain matter spread over the floor tempered by the realisation that there's no way they were killed that quickly. Slade had already been doing the job and he'd still-
The miserable old bastard. How dare he?]
Clean? You? Please. It wouldn't have lasted.
[Somehow he can't believe Deathstroke is ever going to entirely give up killing. One doesn't get that sort of reputation as a mercenary without enjoying it. And he clearly hadn't needed that much persuasion - he's not even mentioned actual payment. If he were less furious Edward might actually wonder if Slade doesn't find him tolerable.]
Thank you for the advice, daddy.
[Not quite payback for what Slade did to him but he's feeling petulant. Hanging up, Edward is going to take that advice on board and try and fix the situation so he doesn't have to spend the rest of his life watching his back. More than usual.]