Even though he had regenerative powers too, one look was enough for Deathstroke to realize he couldn't outmatch Sabretooth physically. Compared to the mutant's monstrous physique, he was just a regular super-soldier. There was no way he'd win a contest of brute strength.
Besides, he already had the edge in combat skill. There was no reason to waste that advantage by engaging the beast directly.
As Sabretooth lunged again, claws bared and fangs flashing, the mercenary flipped backward in one fluid motion.
The mutant roared past him, momentum unchecked. Seizing the opportunity, Deathstroke kicked off the mutant's back and vaulted effortlessly to the second floor.
Sabretooth, now reduced to a springboard, slammed headfirst into the polished marble of Wayne Manor's main hall. But thanks to his ridiculous durability, the only real damage was to the expensive flooring, not to the mutant himself.
"Deathstroke, why are you here at Wayne Manor? Weren't you working with Batman?" Batwoman asked from the side.
Deathstroke shook his head. Even as he answered her, his eyes never left Sabretooth, who was already pushing himself back up with a low growl.
"No. Batman can handle his situation on his own. He wanted me here instead, to deal with whoever might attack the manor."
Batwoman frowned. She didn't like the implication.
"What's that supposed to mean? He doesn't think I can handle it?"
She was still a little surprised at how gracefully the mercenary had just dodged Sabretooth's assault, but she wasn't ready to admit she was any less capable.
"Don't overthink it. You know exactly how important Wayne Manor is."
As he spoke, Deathstroke noticed Sabretooth turning those bloodthirsty eyes back toward him.
"You keep supporting the GCPD. I'll lead him outside. I've already set up a few surprises out there."
Without waiting for a response, he turned and launched himself through the nearest window. Glass exploded outward, raining across the garden below.
Sabretooth, whose brain practically shut down once a fight started, didn't question it at all. The moment he saw his prey leave, he charged right after him, sticking close on his heels as they left the manor.
"Damn it. Why do I feel like a decorative vase right now?" Batwoman muttered to herself as she watched the two leave, a bit frustrated. Still, she turned back toward the Batcave to reconnect with the Gotham Police.
"Commissioner Gordon, my side's clear. How are things over there?"
Elsewhere in Gotham, Gordon and Harvey were crouched low behind cover, trying to avoid the swarm of metal objects flying wildly above their heads.
"Not good at all!" Gordon shouted, his voice straining over the noise. "The whole perimeter's falling apart. Forget about City Hall; we're not making it that far! If this keeps up, we're gonna be buried right here!"
...
Meanwhile, Deathstroke's car barreled across Thomas Bridge at high speed. Wind howled past the windows, but the real storm was behind him.
Sabretooth was closing in.
On all fours, the mutant tore across the pavement with terrifying speed, keeping pace with the vehicle like it was standing still. His claws dug into the road with every bound, eyes locked on the car's rear bumper. Then, with a bestial roar, he launched himself forward and landed hard on the hood, denting the metal with his weight.
"I'm gonna crush your skull!" he bellowed, raising one clawed hand.
But just as he launched his attack, Deathstroke moved first. He quickly turned the steering wheel toward the left, then dove out of the speeding car.
"What the—?!"
Sabretooth barely had time to react. A split second later, the car slammed into the side of a nearby building. Flames erupted, and the explosion followed just a second or two after impact.
Deathstroke hit the pavement and rolled, his body battered but intact. His healing factor kicked in instantly, sealing wounds and bruises even as he rose to his feet. He knew the explosion wouldn't be enough to kill Sabretooth, but it would buy him time.
Without missing a beat, he sprinted into a narrow alley, reached behind a dumpster, and pulled out a crossbow he had stashed long ago. As he loaded the first bolt, he sensed something behind him.
Sabretooth was already there.
The mutant stepped into the alley like a ghost from hell—naked, skin scorched and blistered, steam rising from his body where fire had kissed it. His clothes had been incinerated, but he stood tall, unshaken, as if flames meant nothing to him.
"You ever stop to think your body's not exactly worth showing off?" Deathstroke said dryly, raising the crossbow and pulling the trigger.
The bolt shot forward, and since it wasn't aimed at the head, Sabretooth didn't even bother dodging. With a smug expression, he kept walking straight through it.
He figured his healing factor could take the hit. His plan was simple: tank the damage, rip the man apart. But the moment the bolt buried itself into his knee, the mutant's stride faltered.
"This is your great strategy to stop me?"
The bolt lodged deep. Even with healing abilities, he couldn't regenerate properly until it was out.
Gritting his teeth, Sabretooth yanked it free.
"Let me show you what mutant power really means," he sneered as he watched Deathstroke fumble slightly while reloading the crossbow. The way he handled it looked clumsy to him.
'Even if he fires another one, so what? Even if it hits my brain, I'll heal. That thing's not killing me.'
But slowly, something started to feel off. His knee wasn't healing. That leg still couldn't bear any weight.
"No way..."
He looked down, and sure enough, the wound was still there. No change at all.
Even with his dull instincts, Sabretooth finally realized something was wrong. That bolt wasn't ordinary; there had to be something in it stopping his regeneration. Otherwise, the wound would've been gone by now.
Right then, Deathstroke fired again. This time, he aimed straight for the head.
Sabretooth wasn't taking any more chances. One leg was useless, but he still had the other, plus both arms. With a roar, he slammed his hands against the ground and launched himself up, leaping toward a nearby wall just in time to see the bolt tear through where his skull had been a split second earlier.
"What the hell did you do to me?!"
"Nothing much." Deathstroke's tone was calm, almost indifferent. "Just used a material that cancels out healing factors."
"Damn it!"
Seeing Deathstroke methodically reload the crossbow again, Sabretooth finally panicked. He could feel death creeping closer, and for once, it felt real. But that fear only awakened the beast within.
He didn't run. He lunged.
With one leg dead, he pounced like a wounded animal, determined to tear Deathstroke apart before the next bolt was loosed. He knew that if he got close, just for a second, he could end it in a spray of blood and bone.
But he underestimated his opponent. The moment he sprang forward, the feeling left his limbs. His body stopped mid-air. He didn't understand why, until he saw it.
A single, nearly invisible wire, stretched taut between him and Deathstroke. He hadn't noticed it at all before. But as he flew toward his prey, it had sliced clean across his throat.
For the first time, Sabretooth saw his own body from a detached perspective—muscular, feral, soaked in blood. Then his head tilted unnaturally, lifted by a hand. He stared up at Deathstroke, who looked down with cold eyes.
"One last thing. Carbonadium—a special alloy made from common raw materials. But for people like us, with healing factors? It's death in metal form."
While speaking, the mercenary calmly raised his crossbow, aimed point-blank.
With a sharp click, the bolt drove straight into Sabretooth's skull.
And then, his world went black. Forever.
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