Gotham's underground labyrinth.
A high-ranking Talon carried a black metal case through an abandoned drainage channel.
He carried no weapons.
Weapons were unnecessary in a place like this. The Court of Owls' Talons were weapons themselves.
The old man's orders were simple.
Deliver the goods to Deathstroke.
Leave no trace of his identity.
Above all, do not let the First Seat find out.
The rumble of a diesel engine came from behind the iron door ahead.
The Talon pushed the door open and entered.
Three modified off-road vehicles sat inside the abandoned cold storage facility. Ammunition crates, medical kits, and disassembled firearms lined the walls. Several mercenaries were checking equipment. None looked up.
A man stood beside the table at the far end.
Black tactical gear, an orange-and-black half-mask, one hand resting on a long blade.
"Slade Wilson."
The Talon placed the secret documents on the table.
Deathstroke did not look at him.
"Your people seem increasingly fond of hiding underground."
"Gotham belongs to us."
"Then you can kill Wayne yourselves."
The Talon opened the secret documents.
A map unfolded.
The drainage system, air-raid defenses, and Wayne Tower's underground structure were all marked on the same map. Several red lines stretched from the old cold storage facility in the East End to Wayne Tower's third basement level.
Deathstroke picked up the map and scanned it.
"This passage has been abandoned."
"The entrance is still usable."
"The entrance isn't the problem."
He pointed to one of the intersections.
"There's a surveillance blind spot here. There isn't one here. You send me in, then have someone seal the exit. Wayne dies, the data disappears, and everyone gets to say I did it."
The Talon did not answer.
"Getting someone else to do your dirty work."
Deathstroke folded the map.
"And trying to