Deal With The Devil

December 7, 2014: Deadshot makes an appearance.. inside Lois Lane's apartment.

Apartment 462

It's Lois' apartment. It looks lived in.



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Mood Music:

It wasn't long until she was back in Metropolis after being taken care of at the Fortress of Solitude. She felt pampered and doted on there; a vacation of sorts in the guise of getting better. It was just what she needed to get back on the ball. People went missing the other day, it was something for her to possibly look into and write about, but for now, she stares out of her apartment window looking down into the cold Metropolis park with a slight frown.

This cold was not the same like the others.

There was something brewing on the horizon. Something she felt she had to investigate without cause or press from Ms. Danvers, Perry would agree with her on this. Look into it, but discreetly.

So as she stares there, down into the park, she glances off towards the adjacent buildings with a slight frown, then moves away from the window towards the kitchen, still in plain view.

Opening up the fridge, she glances inside; a couple of weeks old chinese boxes that were barely eaten out of, sandwiches with a bit of mold upon them, the lasagna that Ma Kent made almost gone but molded all the same. And milk. She takes it out of the fridge to open the cap and sniff, pulling back with a wince only to return it in it's place. The only thing that would be fresh inside would be the ketchup, relish, and mayonaise, and even /that/ didn't look too sweet. "Gotta start eating healthier.." She mutters to herself, slamming the fridge shut.

Floyd had found himself developing an interest in the journalist ever since the incident at Waffletown. When she seemed to vanish from town for a while, he figured Superman had squirreled his pet reporter off somewhere, like an overprotective mother hen. Bawk bawk bawk. But what had caught Floyd's attention was Lois' ability to handle herself. She hadn't flinched from that guy aiming a gun at her, hadn't even panicked when she'd been shot (although some of that was probably shock). She'd also helped him out on demand, knowing he was working a strategy even if she didn't understand what.

So, he kept some feelers out. Maybe misappropriated a few government surveillance resources. Maybe set up a camera here or there. Which is how he knew Lois is back in town. Which is how he knew she'd inevitably go back to her apartment.

Which is why he's now sitting on her couch behind her as she opens up the fridge, "I dunno, you look pretty good to me. Let's just order a pizza," he says. He already has his gun out and directed her way, just in case she gets any notions of jumping at him or screaming for Superman. "Steady now. Inside voices."

She was so lost in her own mind that she didn't even realize that Floyd was there. The freezer was opened, looked into and shut, it was when she turns around that her hands immediately shoot straight up, her face gone hard as eyes narrow upon the man.. on her couch.

"I don't want pizza." It was true. She wanted something hearty, like steak or potatoes. Or both. Maybe a beer and a movie, or eaten with her laptop while doing some research.

"Why are you here?"

Floyd Lawton keeps his hand steady, the gun relentlessly still, even though the way he holds it seems so casual, almost off-hand. Like the gun was a part of him. "Had to check in on my human shield. You took buckshot for me. Not many people have done that."

Is he being honest? Who can tell? When you have no conscience, lying becomes quite a simple thing.

"And then you disappeared. Vanished. I thought maybe you'd been kidnapped. Frankly, Lois, I was concerned. Did somebody take you hostage? Did they do bad things to you? Just wink at me if it's not safe for you to talk," he says with a crooked smile.

Lois takes a step back to lean against the counter top, hands still upright to show that she was unarmed. But still, she was not pleased, he dropped the dime on her when she should have known better. Would she deny taking a bullet for him? Probably not, she was in the way and stopped him from getting hurt. Two rights make them even.

"And from that alone and you walking into my apartment like you own the place, it's clear that you don't have many friends.

Hands slowly lower as she drops out a sigh, glancing away from him and towards the ground. She wasn't going to tell him where she's been.. but only..

"Wait. What? Have you been spying on me? Go to hell, what is it.. Deadshot? And I didn't pass along your message by the way. You don't get to use me like some bargaining chip."

Floyd Lawton smirks at the spirit, his other hand pulling out a pack of cigarette and opening it, drawing one out with his lips, "I'd offer you one, but I'm sure you'd tell me you quit years ago. For your health," he says, flicking open his zippo as he lays the pack down, passing the gun from hand to hand with expert ease.

"You can call me Floyd. And you're not a bargaining chip. I don't want anything from your big blue buttnugget of a boyfriend. Other than just not seeing his flat face anymore. Or, like, alien guns. I've never shot an alien gun. That'd be cool."

"But, nah. Just you, Double-L. You're right, I don't have many friends. Something about being a killer does that to people - I'm sure you Googled me or some shit. Doesn't mean I don't like company. And, what can I say? You made an impression."

"Think about it this way. How many journalists get to sit and have a civil conversation with a mass murderer? Not many, I'm betting."

Lois shakes her head, she probably would have taken one once upon a time. And maybe she did quit because of her health, chasing down stories would wind her now, and she possibly wouldn't have pulled through so easily if she were just stuck within the hospital. "Floyd then. And no. I didn't have a chance to google you, or anything else of that nature." Though now?

"None. None at all unless there's a visit to Strykers. Which I don't see.. or possibly see anytime in my future." With that, she boosts herself from the counter top, taking slow and purposeful steps towards the couch.

"I did you a solid and took a buckshot for you. How about you do me three and give me an exclusive. Surely you want to be known, to have your story told, to be glorified. Mass murderer turned hero who saved Lois Lane and others from robbery turned bad. Isn't that what you want? What you're really here for? Redeption?"

By now she stood in front of him, a serious look in her gaze. If she could excuse herself and get to her phone, she could call the police. Or maybe Kal.

Floyd Lawton laughs, "Want to be known? You got me mixed up with a serial killer. S'okay, it's a common mistake. I ain't some fucked up fool like the Joker or those other psychos. I don't give a shit about fame or attention. At least, not public attention," he says.

"A serial killer kills on compulsion. Can't help himself. Keeps trophies, has signatures, foams at the fuckin' mouth. Hallucinates shit. I, on the other hand, am a mass murderer. I've killed a lot of people, but I could stop anytime I wanted to. It's just, y'know, what I'm good at and I've found out that there are people who'd pay me to do it. Pay me a lot. You wouldn't believe the people who've paid me," he chuckles.

"If I talk to you about me, we'd have to make a deal. I take deals very seriously. Again, later on, you can check your sources: when I make a promise, I follow through on it. Only moral I have. So, let me make this clear to you: if you and I make promises to each other, I'll hold up my end. If you don't hold up yours, when I find out, you and at least a few people you know will die."

The way he spoke to her; and she could feel it, every bell set off in her spoke of danger and killer. Before, she pegged him as a cop, the way he held .. or sat himself in the corner with a watchful gaze. Unfazed by the sight of the gun where most cowered and nearly began to cry. He.. and she.. were the only ones who were cool. The risk that she took for a story and her friends.. and the risks he took just to get a dollar. In the end, it was both the same. They were no strangers to danger.

Which is why, even when the gun was trained on her, she kept her cool just now. She's been dropped from high rises, shot even, attacked in alleyways and chased after by the most terrible. And her heartrate doesn't go up an inch.

Lois was comfortable around heroes and killers. Some would see her as a headcase.

"Fine." She blurts out. "The only deals I make are the ones that I /can/ follow through on, legally, and by the law. Nothing that would get anyone hurt or cause the death of any innocent person. Even guilty. Those are my only limits. Until then.."

She slowly draws her hand forward for a shake.

"Lets make that deal."

Floyd Lawton smiles and, very carefully, lays his gun down on the table. It sits there almost like a taunt. Go ahead. Try it. See how far you get. Maybe you'll shoot him. Maybe just wound him.

Maybe not.

He takes the offered hand and gives it a single firm shake, "My brother and I used to spit on our palms before we'd shake on a deal. Of course, that was before I blew his head off. So we'll do without the extras." he says, his eyes cold and steady as he enters into a strange pact with the reporter. For what purpose, even he wasn't entirely sure…yet.

Lois looks towards the gun as it's resting there. So close to her leg, easy to bend, swipe.. move like her Daddy taught her.. and all of those militants she learned under…

The hand was soon gripped and shook, yet the story of his brother's murder nearly rocked her. It made her chest hurt, tears almost burning her eyes not due to sorrow, but to pure anger at the casual way he spoke. She just made a deal with the devil, and now she regretted it.

It was but a simple lean to snatch the gun from the table, the quickness in which she moved had her aiming and pointing the gun towards him as if she were an expert in her own right. A few steps were skipped back and soon, one hand grasped her wrist as she fought to keep herself still as she aimed, finger through the slot ready to pull.

"Now get out."

Floyd Lawton smiles at that barrel and slowly walks forward, "Don't worry, I'm leavin'. You'll see me again soon. I'll have my lawyer work something up," he says, and he walks until he's closed the space, until the barrel is pressed hard against his chest. He makes no other threatening move, but leaves himself open. If she wants to kill him, she can. No muss, no fuss, just pull.

And then his hand moves faster than an average eye can see, snatching the gun from her hand roughly. He starts to push by her, turning his head so he almost whispers in her ear. "Sleep well, Miss Lane." he says and then walks out the door.

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