Deadshot, Chapter 1

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ImmortalOne

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Disclaimer: I do not own Deadshot or any other characters unless otherwise mentioned.

Yeah, so this is my first attempt at fanfic writing.

Blackgate Penitentiary

Tak.

Tak.

Tak.

Tak.

The rough stone bounced off the cement wall, and landed squarely into Floyd’s open palm. With a flick of his wrist, he sent it flying back, and with another tak, it bounced once again off the wall and into his hand. Time passed, and Floyd repeated the motion. Throwing and catching, throwing and catching. In the prison for Gotham’s most dangerous, the inmates were likely to kill the guards and each other, so seldom did they exit the cells. And so Floyd spent his time lying on his bed, ricocheting a stone off the wall. The accuracy came naturally to him, and not once did the pebble fly off course.

“Stop with the damned noise, or I’ll gut you,” Zsasz snarled from a cell block over.

“Aw, shut up Zsasz,” Floyd replied, and flicked a piece of rubble, which smacked harmlessly into Zsasz’s forehead.

The only person for him to talk to, Zsasz was one of Floyd’s treasured friends. They had deep conversations like this around ten times a day.

Sighing, Floyd laid his head back onto the pillow, and draped his arm over his eyes. Another part of the exciting life of being a badass mercenary for hire. When he wasn’t throwing rocks, he thought about things. Whatever it was that he felt like thinking about, it sure wasn’t the wise and complex thoughts of the philosophers from Ancient Greece.

Clang clang.

The sound of a baton being rapped against the steel bars broke him from his reverie. He turned his head to the side, and saw one of the prison guards, a short man with graying hairs. In his hands was a tray of foods.

“Lunch time, Deadshot,” he announced, and slid the tray through a slot at the bottom of the bars.

Floyd swung his legs over the edge of the bed, and grabbed the tray. A small plate of fish, a cup of broccoli, and a plastic bottle of water.

“By the way, Waller’s coming to Blackgate later,” the guard told him. “Says she wants to see you.”

That took Floyd’s interest. If Waller was coming, most likely she had another assignment for him. Possibly with the Suicide Squad. Although his only reward would probably be a few years subtracted off of his multiple life sentences, it beat spending his days rotting in a cell and bickering with Zsasz.

Picking up the plastic fork, he speared a piece of fish, and began to eat.

︻デ┳═ー

“Deadshot,” Waller said in a cold, unemotional, greeting.

The heavyset woman sat on the other side of the reinforced glass, phone in her hand. Behind her stood two armed guards.

“What do you want me to do this time?” Floyd asked into his phone, cutting straight to the point.

“I’m sending you after Warren White,” Waller replied.

“That drug dealer down in New Mexico?” Floyd interrupted.

“No, the crime lord. In Gotham.”

“Ah, Great White.”

“That’s him.”

“So what’s going on?” Floyd asked.

“I would tell you if you would stop interrupting me after every sentence,” Waller said, irritation creeping into her tone.

“Sorry, sorry,” Floyd smiled, and leaned back into the chair.

“A week ago, Gotham Council Chairman John Lindseed was assassinated when his car was hit with a missile. All the evidence points to White’s gang. With competitors like Black Mask locked up, he’s become the reigning crime lord. He’s getting ahead of himself.”

“So you want me to take him out.”

“Don’t attract too much attention the the matter. We want a clean job. Do it well, and you’ll get ten years off your sentence. And be prepared. Rumors are he’s got metahumans on his payroll.”

“I’ll need my equipment.”

Waller reached down under the table and brought up a briefcase. Opening it, she revealed a shiny silver mask, a red lens piece, folded body armor, and two wrist gauntlets. Floyd smiled at the sight of it. After his time in prison, he needed a chance to get back into the action.

“What about the guns?” he asked.

Waller clucked her tongue. “You’ll get them when you’re being dispatched. I’m not having you shoot anyone.”

“Fair point,” Floyd conceded.

Waller stood up, and one of the guards slid open the fiberglass door. Floyd walked out the room, and stopped before Waller.

“Get dressed,” Waller said, handing the briefcase to Floyd. “We leave now.”

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Guardiandevil83

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#2  Edited By Guardiandevil83

I like it. Where's pt2?