Template: Deathstroke

The last thing Elias remembered was the vibrant splash of red and blue on the comic page, a familiar web-slinging hero mid-leap. Then, a jarring lurch, a cold silence, and the acrid scent of ozone. He blinked, not at the ceiling of his cramped apartment, but at a sterile, unfamiliar white room. A voice, smooth and utterly alien, echoed in his mind, "Welcome, Subject D. Your genetic template has been successfully integrated. Commencing combat parameter recalibration: Slade Wilson, designation Deathstroke." Elias felt a strange, potent energy thrumming beneath his skin, a predatory grace he’d only ever read about. This wasn’t Marvel’s New York. This was something far, far stranger, and he was armed with the skills of a DC legend.