The job was quick and easy.
This was bad news.
As soon as the first half of the payment was received, Floyd Lawton showed up right at the agreed upon time, double checked that Batman was still busy laying down the law on whatever nonsense the clown got up to, then checked it once more to be sure before suiting up.
Deadshot got burned too many times to start shitting on the bat's porch, so it was now his policy to only do so when bigger issues were occupying his time, and even then, only target assholes or people so strong they were no longer exactly civilians.
That's already more moral than the US army.
From what he could see, this Alucard was both, and thus fair game.
So he made a plan, back-up plans and escape routes, started tailing the pussycat until she caught the newest freakshow in Freak City, lined up the shot and took down the bastard with the latest F*ck-You LexCorp's arms division came up with.
Alucard went down, and stayed down.
Just like that…
There was no need to use the turrets he set up on the other side of the building, call the hired muscles to distract him and damage him further, or regroup and start harassing him until he inevitably found an exploitable weakness and took the man down.
The way you usually dealt with superhuman bastards.
He called bullshit, and made the executive decision to pack up and leave the area before his life choices came back to bite him. If the so-called monster was dead and he was just being paranoid, he'd get the rest of the payment.
If he survived and instead had something devious planned out, then he'd be happy to send his downpayment to Thorne or whoever his next of kin happened to be, a few months later while sipping cocktails in Costa Rica and he was sure the heat died down.
"Darn, Thorne really went all in, hiring both Catwoman and Deadshot for little old me." Someone spoke, way too calmly.
His visor made it so he didn't need to turn around to see the one who talked, the figure with bright red eyes and more alarmingly, without a huge hole in their torso.
The man got hit with an Anti-material sniper rifle, and all he got was torn clothes.
That's when Deadshot knew, he f*cked up.
"Well shit," Floyd muttered.
"Indeed," The very much alive man said calmly, sounding amused, as if he was entertaining some kids instead of getting shot in the vitals by the world's greatest marksman.
Deadshot just stood there for a second, looking at the man in a fancy suit he just tried to kill, his mind racing to try and find a way out of the situation.
If he survived shots from anti-material rifles, his wrist-mounted guns would barely tickle him, his assault rifle would take him at least one and half a second to pull out and fire, which was ample time for Alucard to turn his insides into outsides.
Stab him? Please, as if that would work.
There was only one thing left to do, negotiate, and hope he could somehow talk his way out of this.
Talk his way out of an attempted murder…shit, he was screwed.
"Yes, you are quite thoroughly screwed." Alucard nodded empathically.
Did he say that out loud? He didn't, he knew he didn't.
Wait, can this monster also read minds? He called bullshit, that's way too much in one package.
"No, I can't read minds," Alucard shook his head, which didn't exactly help his case, "You're just rather expressive."
…He wore a full face mask.
"Which makes it all the more surprising," Alcuard smiled, which would be pretty darn disarming if not for the fangs and glowing red eyes.
Did he mention the non-existent hole in his chest? Well, it is a pretty big deal.
Alright, he had to stay calm and try to figure things out, at least the monster didn't seem all that bloodthirsty for the moment, especially given the whole shooting him business…
"You should be dead," He said, then immediately cringed.
Was he subconsciously suicidal? He had to be, why else would his darn mouth try to get him killed?
Somehow, it only seemed to amuse the man further, which was a wain in his books.
"Rumours of my death have been greatly exaggerated," Alucard grinned, Floyd would rather he stopped doing that, but was happy to let him keep going since it would likely result in his death.
He also didn't point out that there were no rumours, he personally fired the bullet straight into his surprisingly low heat signature, which he might have missed if not for the way Catwoman was looking at him.
He didn't know whether it was some superpower or tech, but he really wanted whatever the heck Alucard used to spoof detection, could really save his life.
But was neither here nor there, for now, he had to focus on not getting ripped to shreds.
Step one, try to point the scary guy at someone else, preferably someone he didn't like.
Such as the fucker who hired him to murk this abomination without telling him he should've brought a missile launcher.
Something could be said about professionals not throwing clients under the bus, but that was for living professionals.
He'd rather get to see his daughter one more time than play the tough guy for some fat cat who'd happily sell him for half a sandwich and some Kool-Aid.
"Listen, it wasn't personal," He said, swallowing his pride and thinking about his princess, that was the only way he could tolerate the fact that he was essentially pleading right now, "I'm a contract killer, Rupert Thorne is the one who wants you dead."
Yeah, let it be known that the great Deadshot was absolute ass at diplomacy.
He could just picture himself getting thrown off the rooftop and turned into a stain on the pavement. In a city like Gotham, odds were that his corpse would be left to rot for days on end.
Joy.
At least, the monster was having fun, his smile widened making him a lot more unsettling though. He looked as if he just figured out something hilarious, as if he was planning a big prank instead of the best way to dispatch him with extreme prejudice.
Was that a good thing? He had no f*cking clue.
"That he does," Alucard chuckled merrily, and Floyd was was learning many things about to scare stone-cold killers shitless, "but you were the one who tried to murder me, what should we do about that?"
'Not kill me,' Deadshot wanted to say, 'And preferably let me go unmolested and unarrested, but no way that would happen…'
Then his eyes widened under his mask, as his brain somehow managed to stop trying to get him killed, or convince him that suicide was preferable to another minute standing in front of the abomination known as Alucard.
Instead, it came up with something daring, morally dubious, somewhat honorable and very much illegal.
Something that was crazy enough to work.
As he gathered his courage and pitched it to the monster, for what else could you call a man with razor sharp fangs, eyes of the most vibrant scarlet that seemed to glow in the darkness of night, and the kind of power that no amount of guns and precision could overcome?
The monster's smile faded, and he looked at him searchingly until he found what he was looking for, and decided it was worth something more than the satisfaction of crushing his bones.
Hopefully, it would work well enough to keep him alive long enough to leave this hell hole of a city.
Deadshot had a policy against doing business in the batman's yard, now he added a rule to do his level best to never again enter this monster's sight.
But for now, he had a job to do.
It would be neither quick nor easy.
This was good news.
. . .
Presence 1: Awe
Awe is simple but solid. Once the vampire employs this power, those who are near him or her either want to be closer to him or her or shudder in fear.
It is an immediate and intense attraction, but temporal and not so overpowering that those afflicted lose their sense of self-preservation. Danger breaks the spell of fascination, as does leaving the area. Victims will remember how they felt, though, and this will affect their reactions should they ever encounter the vampire again.
Awe is extremely useful in mass communication. It does not matter what is said – the hearts of those affected will lean towards the user's opinion, or know not to provoke him.