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The poison slows me to the speed of a normal human being. Making this standoff a fair fight. And there's nothing I hate more than a fair fight.
The money is only important because it's important to other people-- a sign of respect via perceived "worth." But it means nothing compared to my name. And right now-- with this already being the second time I've killed him... Someone doesn't think that's worth very much.
Inflict enough damage, take away the things he cares about, and it will all become too much. The man will eventually break. The scars you see and the ones you don't. At least, that's supposed to be the idea.
Luke 10, Christ said find the man of peace--someone you can work with to get things done. I've changed, Tanya. I'm ashamed of the man I was. I'm going a different way. Now you can help me along that path--or you can go on pretending to be about something you're obviously not.
And what have I got, Arthur? A dead son. My otherboy got his throat cut and can't speak. My ex-wife hates me. My daughter's half a nutjob. This is the treasure my lifestyle has earned me--millions in the bank but an empty soul.Enough already.
Putting labels on people--"hero", "villain"--is dangerous and naïve. There are no gods anymore, boy. We're all just dwarves reaching for the shelf. Which makes you, with your power, either the world's savior--or its deadliest threat.
For you--? Or for them--the new subgroup you oversee--the Intergalactic Beekeeper Illuminati wannabe club. That's what this has all been about, right? Recruiting me for your "Core Policy" group...managing that quasi-religious cult you stroll for?
I heard a story once, too...about a decorated Navy pilot. Three tours in the sandbox, group C.O. ISAF, running black bags out of Incirlik. Got ASMO'ed into pretending to be whatever you're pretending to be now -- a third banana-box man. What a waste.
OK, Essence, you showed yourself to me for a reason. You want something. Unless what you want is to convince me and everyone else that I've lost my mind, show yourself to them. Or I ignore your ghostly ass and get on with the mission.
There...inside the Speed Force...I've seen things no man will ever see...things no man should ever see. Awareness...on multiple planes...all at once. And now it's gone. My higher consciousness making it difficult to be in tune with the Speed Force. Every last one of you should die here today. And so should I. So, let's just end it, shall we--? I quit. Deathstroke is finished.
Speed runs in your family, doesn't it? Your father would be proud of what you've become. Except that he's gone. Just like Grant. They were both taken from us before we had a chance to set things right. That vacancy you feel? I feel it too. You miss your father. I miss my son. That grief has...poisoned me. I am what I am because he's dead. Deathstroke is a side-effect. A consequence.