Chapter 43:

Chapter 43:

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Enjoy!

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[David Lance POV]

I was on my way back to the cave with the food I had bought, when someone threw a knife at me, stopping me in my tracks as I jumped back to avoid the projectile.

That, someone, was no other than Deathstroke.

"You were hard to track," Deathstroke said, slowly drawing his blade from the scabbard on his back. "I'm lucky I happened to be on assignment"

I took a step forward, having no idea how he had found me. But still, determined to deal with him.

Without another word, Deathstroke darted towards me, raising his sword above his head, swinging it down at me, as I dodge side-stepping out of the blade's range, throwing a hard punch at the mercenary's chest, putting some weight into it.

The blow knocked Deathstroke up, and I followed up with a horizontal kick to his ribs, before taking a few steps back to assess the situation.

"Not bad," Deathstroke commented, seemingly pleased with our short exchange so far.

My gaze hardened, getting into position to continue the fight, however, Deathstroke raised his hand at me, putting his sword back on his scabbard.

"I didn't come here to fight, not entirely," Deathstroke said, cracking his neck from side to side. "I came here to help."

I frowned, whatever help he had to offer I didn't want it. ~You can help by leaving.~

"I will, after I actually help," Deathstroke replied, seemingly amused by my demand. "I'm not one to waste time, kid. And I put a lot of time into finding this" At this, he pulled a piece of rolled paper out of one of his pockets.

I had no idea what that was, or how it could help me, but something here didn't feel right.

"It's a map," Deathstroke clarified, tossing the map at my feet.

~What's your angle, Deathstroke?~ I asked, keeping my eyes on him.

He always slips.

He always makes mistakes.

He always realizes he made a mistake when it's too late to avoid any possible consequences, and then tries to fix whatever he did with the equivalent of duct tape in his line of work.

That was his endless cycle.

I would not be part of his cycle.

Not when the case was under my clear jurisdiction.

This was League business, and it would be dealt with under League parameters.

Part of the reason I had asked Constantine for help, instead of Etrigan, was to keep Constantine on my watch at all times, to avoid him making a mistake he would undoubtedly regret at the end of the line.

His knowledge of the arcane arts and the demonic arts helped, but those were in the great scheme of things, just excuses to keep him occupied with me, instead of hunting the girl, like he would've been by now had I not directed his focus on other tasks.

"Every second we spend debating what-ifs is a second more the girl has to brainwash the kid," Constantine barked.

"We won't move until we are certain of how to proceed, am I clear?" I asked, my tone dangerously low.

"Bloody hell with you heroes, and your fucking procedures before doing anything, I swear! I have no idea how you blokes have time to do anything, with you bastard keeping an eye on them," Constantine ranted, opening a new bottle of whiskey, the fourth so far.

Good.

I had more than enough alcohol to keep him entertained until I was sure how to proceed.

"At least you have good whiskey," Constantine complemented with a sigh. "I mean, if the world has to end because you're a bloody moron, I might as well go down drinking the good shit, so thanks for that."

"You're welcome," I replied, continuing with my research. Updating Giovanni on what I had found, as I waited for his update on the situation.

The last time I heard of him was two hours ago, and he had been on his way to talk with Kent Nelson, who was quite possibly our best shot at solving this.

After all.

Kent's knowledge in the arcane arts was almost as vast as Doctor Fate's himself.

If someone had a clear answer about this, it was him.