Central City ~ January 26, 10:46 EST ~
Central City, Iron Heights Prison, Metahuman Inmate Ward. This prison was re-established in Central City after the particle accelerator explosion due to a surge in metahuman criminals. It was equipped with technology and facilities provided by S.T.A.R. Labs, specifically for these metahuman criminals. It housed criminals who, over the past two years, had committed crimes in Central City using their metahuman abilities, extraordinary combat skills, and high-tech weaponry.
At this moment, the alarm at Iron Heights Prison, which housed metahuman criminals, was blaring. All on-duty guards, armed with high-energy impact rifles and electronic force field shields, patrolled the prison, three steps apart, five steps apart, checking the status of each cell.
At the central hub of Iron Heights Prison, Warden Winchester watched his colleagues, who were constantly operating the control panel. Seeing the cold sweat beading on their foreheads, he knew this was no small matter.
"What's the situation, folks?"
"Sir, it's a bit bad. The lightning has caused a short circuit in the cells of Zone 1 and Zone 3. We can't restart them via the control terminal; someone needs to go there to operate them manually!"
Hearing his colleague's report, Winchester's face darkened. As the warden, he knew what kind of criminals were locked up in Iron Heights Prison. Sending someone to manually restart the systems was akin to sending a lamb into a tiger's den!
"Are there any records for the cells in Zone 1 and Zone 3? Pull them up!"
"Sir, Zone 1 holds Gorilla Grodd, and Zone 3 holds the apes that Grodd experimented on."
"Damn it, close all exits, activate the brainwave dampeners, call back the maintenance personnel, and notify the Flash!"
Winchester cursed and immediately issued a series of orders, which the operator quickly carried out. "Sir! We've lost contact with the maintenance personnel and we can't communicate with the outside world!"
"Then close the gates directly! Hold out until the Justice League arrive!" Although he felt for his colleagues who had lost contact, Winchester had to be responsible for the living and coldly ordered all exits to be closed.
The operator understood his superior's feelings and, disregarding everything else, pressed the red button on the control panel. Instantly, the already iron-clad Iron Heights Prison's alarms blared, and gates slammed down everywhere, sealing it shut. The guards who were still patrolling each cell immediately withdrew and returned to their posts.
In Zone 1 and Zone 3 of Iron Heights Prison, which had not responded, a group of two-meter-tall gorillas gathered, their wild eyes flashing with human-like intelligence. They watched their leader, a white gorilla slightly larger than them, who held a guard by the neck with one hand and pressed the other hand to his forehead, his eyes closed. The captured guard's eyes rolled back, and his legs thrashed continuously until he went still.
Casually tossing the guard aside like a rag, the white gorilla opened its eyes and looked at the sealed gate to the passage. It took an ID card from a fallen guard nearby, swiped it, and entered a password. The previously sealed gate opened. "Roar!" The white gorilla let out a roar, looking at the stormy weather outside. It smelled freedom.
"Take up arms, and let us seek revenge on the Flash! I, Grodd, will lead you to victory!"
The white gorilla, or rather, Grodd, spoke in human language, roaring. Behind him, the other gorillas also picked up weapons from the fallen guards, armed themselves, and followed Grodd, charging towards Central City in the distance. Iron Heights Prison, like an iron barrel, had lost its intended purpose in this lightning storm, becoming a cage where the prison guards had trapped themselves.
The rain poured down in sheets, hammering the shattered metal gates of Iron Heights. Lightning split the sky, its flash catching the hulking silhouettes of Grodd and his apes vanishing into the storm, leaving carnage in their wake.
Deathstroke stood on the prison's outer wall, his single eye glinting behind the orange-and-black mask as he watched Grodd disappear toward Central City. The mercenary's comm crackled in his ear.
"Grodd's loose. Situation will destabilize in minutes. Proceed?"
Slade smirked under the mask. "Let the League worry about the gorilla. My quarry is closer."
His boots splashed in the pooling rainwater as he strode down the steps. The chaos around him with the alarms, the distant screams of guards. For him, it meant nothing.
Because he felt it. That presence.
And then the shadows peeled back.
Ryotaro stepped out, cloak dripping with rain, the Rider Belt gleaming faintly at his waist but unused. His expression was calm, unreadable, but his eyes carried storms deeper than the thunder above.
"How have you been?" Ryotaro asked, his voice low but carrying in the storm. "I'm glad you're still alive, Slade." He raised his chin slightly. "Now, let my revenge starts with you."
Deathstroke's grip tightened around his blade, the Promethium steel gleaming. "Ryotaro Nogami. The Rider of Young Justice." His tone was mocking, but behind it lay recognition and wariness.
The two closed the distance. No banter, no hesitation.
Steel clashed in the rain.
Sparks burst as Ryotaro's katana met Slade's broadsword, the force sending shockwaves through the flooded concrete. Ryotaro pivoted, blade slicing at Slade's midsection. The mercenary twisted, parrying, then lashed out with a brutal knee. Ryotaro caught it with his forearm, spun, and delivered a downward slash that hissed past Slade's mask.
Deathstroke chuckled. "Still fast. But you're slower than you used to be. The years softened you."
Ryotaro's blade locked against his. "No… the years sharpened me." With a sudden burst, he pushed forward, their blades screeching as rain slid down the steel. "I've seen and experience way worse."
Slade shoved him back, slashing high. Ryotaro ducked low, sweeping Slade's leg. The mercenary stumbled but recovered with a spinning slash that tore through Ryotaro's sleeve, leaving a shallow cut across his arm. Blood mixed with rain, but Ryotaro didn't flinch.
"You know what I remember most about you?" Deathstroke asked between strikes, his voice harsh with memory. "National City. The fire. The screams. And the girl in the cape who trusted you."
Ryotaro froze for half a second, the ghost of Kara Danvers in his mind. Her smile. The way she had died.
That hesitation cost him. Slade's blade cut across his chest, shallow but painful.
Ryotaro staggered back, breath sharp. His eyes darkened, filled with venom. "Don't you dare speak her name."
Slade pointed his sword at him, smirking. "Why not? You let her die. Supergirl died because you weren't strong enough."
Ryotaro roared, slamming forward. Their swords clashed in a violent storm of sparks and rain. He unleashed strike after strike, each one harder, faster, forcing Slade back step by step.
"You don't know shit!" Ryotaro's voice cracked with rage. "You didn't see what she did! Kara died saving a city from collapsing into hell itself!"
Slade caught his blade, locking them together. Their faces were inches apart.
"She died without leaving a body," Slade hissed. "How sad and you've been running from that ever since."
Ryotaro's hand shot up, seizing Slade's wrist. With a twist, he wrenched the mercenary's blade away, sending it clattering into the rain. In the same motion, he pressed his katana to Slade's throat.
Breathing heavy, soaked to the bone, Ryotaro's eyes burned with fury—and grief.
"You're right about one thing," he said, voice trembling with restrained violence. "I'll never escape that night. But I'm done running." His blade pressed tighter against Slade's neck. "And if you ever use her name again, not even your healing factor will save you."
For a moment, the storm was silent, the two killers locked in a deadly stalemate. Then Slade chuckled, low and cold.
"That's the Rider I remember."
Before Ryotaro could finish it, an explosion rocked the far side of the prison—Grodd's forces tearing through the city. Both men glanced toward the flames.
Slade smirked under his mask. "Duty calls." With a sudden feint, he struck Ryotaro's blade aside with his gauntlet, kicked him in the chest, and leapt back into the storm.
Ryotaro slid across the wet pavement, stopping himself with his sword. He rose, chest heaving, eyes blazing through the rain.
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