The computer was dusty and archaic. Silvia doubted it had as much RAM as her morning workout. She plugged the charger into a nearby outlet and pressed the clunky power switch. An orange light glowed dimly on the front and the screen flashed into colour.

In an instant her desktop displayed that she had an email. Silvia was quick to open it. There was no sender, the slot was completely blank, but the message read loud and clear '7th Avenue in Queens street.' One of her targets had been spotted.

Silvia knew she'd have to go after him one way or another... but whether she was actually going to kill him or not remained a mystery. She wasn't willing to think about it as she got changed into her costume, nor when she grabbed a rifle from the wall. She even tried avoiding the thought when she passed the newly framed picture of her and Clark.

They had gone on four more dates since their first, the last being an amusement park. Clark had forced her to take a picture with him... but she didn't look at all happy about it. He was smiling bright enough to put the sun to shame, and next to him Silvia appeared to be sulking.

They were taking things slow, meaning they still hadn't kissed yet. Sometimes she wondered if they were actually dating or if they were going out as friends. The way he held her hand to walk her back home suggested that they were more than that... but Silvia wasn't use to people having any interest outside of a one night stand. She wasn't exactly sure which pace a real relationship was meant to move at.

Silvia, without ever looking back at the photo of Clark that was sure to fill her with guilt, hurdled out the window and into the night. She knew the perfect spot to set up her gun.

She hated assignments where she had to stakeout from a distance. She much preferred to kick the doors down and rush her target with guns blazing then to place a bolt action rifle a kilometre away then sitting there for four hours whilst the target turned up.

She had her mask pulled up over her mouth and popped handfuls of M&Ms in every minute or so. It distracted her from thinking about whether or not she was actually going to shoot this man...

Satisfied with her current mouth-load of chocolate, Silvia slipped her mask back down and pressed her cheek onto the stock of her sniper rifle. Peering down the scope, Silvia picked up movement in the window of the office tower. "Jesus. About time..." She muttered under her breath.

A bunch of people poured into this board room. Suits, all of them. Business types... Silvia quickly recognised her target and traced him with her crosshairs.

She saw his face...the smile on it when he shook everyone's hands as they entered and took a seat. She knew this scumbag had screwed people over in the past, and that was usually enough for Silvia to want to blow their head off. But it was different now...

Her finger twitched...but it remained floating in front of the trigger. She gritted her teeth, enraged at her emotions. Silvia thought that she was getting soft. Getting soft meant that her career as a killer was over...

Without warning, the window of the board room shattered into transparent shrapnel, and two bloody holes appeared on the target's forehead. Blood sputtering from the hole in his face, the man tumbled to the ground as his guests stampeded for the door, security guards pouring in from every direction of the room.

"Son of a bitch!!" Silvia growled, dumping her rifle, pushing to her feet and glancing around at the skyline. Her enhanced vision managed to pick up a slight swirl of gun smoke at a mall complex a couple blocks away. Silvia, sighing, propelled herself over the alleyways and scampered up the apartment buildings. She wasn't going to let this guy get away.

In less than a minute, she threw herself through the fifth floor window of the mall. Landing with a roll, she was puzzled to see that the shooter was casually leaning against the wall by the sniper rifle...waiting for her. "You've gotten faster." The man's low, raspy and confident voice said to her. "Still...pretty pathetic."

Silvia's eyes widened in rage when she made out the half black, half orange mask that was wrapped around the man's face. There was just one eye piece on it, and it was flat white with a thick black outline. His suit was comprised of some kind of advanced scale-like light armour...

"Nothing to say, you cheap Chinese knock-off?" Slade Wilson, Deathstroke, quipped.

Silvia, within the blink of an eye, pulled out her pistol and unloaded its entire clip at the mercenary in front of her. She was fast...but Deathstroke was faster. Each shot caught the flat side of the Terminator's promethium broadsword as he swung it with expert precision and unbelievable speed.

Mirrors, windows and shop mannequins were blasted apart by the stray rounds. With a chuckle, Deathstroke continued to spin his sword around in his palm as nothing but blank clicks followed the gunshots.

"I'm going to kill you, old man." Silvia spat.

Wilson elegantly sheathed his blade and crossed his arms. "Feel free to try. You're nothing but a damaged little girl trying to prove to herself that she's not weak and useless."

Silvia bounded forward and extended her fist at Wilson's head, but it was caught and twisted by the experienced soldier. He twirled and rammed his own fist back into Silvia's jaw. There was a violent crack as she snarled through the pain. Without letting the blow slow her down, the Reaper managed to wrench her arm free and whip an elbow into Wilson's temple, weakening his stance but not plucking a single sound from the man.

Wanting to take advantage of this opening, Silvia leapt into the air and pushed with both of her feet, seeking to send Deathstroke flying back with a double kick...but was instead shocked to realise that Wilson clutched both of her legs and swung her face first into a concrete pillar. This bone crunching impact was not enough to quench Deathstroke's lust for blood, however.

"How so very predictable." He snapped. With that, Wilson slammed Silvia's body into the ground once, twice, then three times. Silvia tasted blood in her mouth...she felt broken bones.

He finally released his grip, but Silvia wasn't as eager to stop as he was. She kicked up, then bounded onto him like a savage animal, pummelling his skull with brutal open palm strikes and punches as she wrapped her legs around his abdomen. Wilson didn't let out a single whimper as Silvia screamed, continuing her flurry.

Deathstroke curled a fist, reeled back then buried it with startling velocity into Silvia's gut. She released a garbled yelp as blood erupted from her mouth, painting the blue face of her mask. Wilson once again dug his fist into her stomach, causing Silvia to loosen her hold on him.

"You think you can keep up with me?" He seized her by the neck and pegged her with full force at the side of an ATM. Silvia impacted the machine with the top of her skull; an injury that would've killed any normal person. She and the ATM were sent tumbling over from the intense force. "Don't quit your day job." Deathstroke taunted.

Silvia once again pulled herself up without a moment's delay. "Shut up. I took down Batman...and I'll take you down the same..."

"Batman's small game, sweetheart. Especially when you're a meta. Nothing to brag about."

Deathstroke pushed the offensive by sweeping out his sword and swinging it out at Silvia's head. Despite her injuries, the Reaper evaded the unbreakable sword and thrusted another of her pistols into Wilson's ribcage. She managed to squeeze the trigger twice before Deathstroke sent his sword down along her shoulder and backhanded her away as if she were a ragdoll.

Stumbling backwards, Silvia noticed that her gunshots pierced Deathstroke's suit and was causing some light bleeding to his torso.

"Hmpf. You're still nothin' but a wannabe." The Terminator flashed forward and gouged Silvia's right knee with his broadsword, slashed a deep cut upwards through her chin, mouth and cheek, then swung its pommel into her forehead with a dull crack.

Silvia could barely see straight after the would be fatal blow to the head, but her ravenous rage sent her barrelling into Wilson once again. Blood oozing from the wound on her face, and mask hanging open from the strike, Silvia shrieked like a feral creature and dug her teeth into the bullet wound on Wilson's ribs.

She brutalised the bare flesh with her teeth, as Deathstroke thrusted his sword into Silvia's abdomen. With a whip of her head, Silvia tore a chunk of Wilson's meat out of his torso and was flung backwards when Wilson kicked her blood-soaked body off of his weapon.

Silvia landed with a crunch on the tiled floor, a pool of her own blood appearing beneath her. Deathstroke sheathed his sword and patted the gorey teeth-marked wound on his body.

"Hm. Impressive. I'm a bit tougher than the usual steak. My guess is that whatever chemicals that scumbag dad of yours put into your system maximised your instincts as well as your physicality." He said and the Reaper snarled, sending spit and blood all over the floor as she tried to stand. Deathstroke continued "To think you exist because someone wanted to copy me is an insult, really. If you were better...that would be a different story."

Wilson unholstered his Desert Eagle, pointed it at Silvia's already mutilated body and fired relentlessly. Each shot wasn't enough to cause Silvia any pain in her current crazed state. Deathstroke shrugged. "But the fact of the matter is, you're much too fun. If you survive this, I guess you'll have earnt a rematch. And by the way...I noticed your little moment. You're getting soft. And that means that I'll be beating you to every job if you don't stop being a coward."

Reaper wanted to curse him, to scream that she was no coward... but her vision was fading fast and her voice had left her. Deathstroke didn't give her a second look when he left, and before long she was motionless against the concrete roof. Her instincts died down but when they did the pain came barrelling through.

Her skin became clammy beneath the fountain of blood. Every few minutes she would scream like she was being tortured... but worse. It had a raw quality, the realness of a person consumed by a pain that knew no end or limit. Then the agony was too much and she could no longer vocalise it.

In the distance she heard someone call her name... It sounded like Clark but deeper, more controlled. Then an 'S' symbol blurred into her mind. She was in so much pain that she couldn't even connect it with a person. All she could do was hear him, and feel her bones rattle when he picked her up. Soon enough even those senses faded and she was left in utter darkness.

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