Slade Wilson, dressed in a rather simple suit with a knife in each of his shoes and a gun under his jacket, stared at the robed man sitting next to him as though the other was insane. 'Which he may well be, considering who his master is.' The master mercenary thought dryly. The man was from the cult of blood, a group of people lead by Brother Blood who worshiped the interdimensional demon Trigon the Terrible. In Slade's opinion, anyone who worshipped that demon had a few screws loose. As much as he would love to tell the nut job to beat it, he wouldn't as said nut job was a potential client, and he always maintained a professional demeanor in front of his clients. It wouldn't do him much good if all the people with money thought he would simply brush them off if he didn't like them. After all, he didn't like any of them. He was only in it for the money.
He had been contacted for a job and told to meet the client at 'The Grin And Bare it'. Normally he would refuse to have a meeting in the strip bar, partly because he doesn't care for such places but mostly due to it being owned by the Joker, but he had been promised three million dollars just for showing.
"What do you need me to do?" He flagged down the bar tender, no doubt one of Jokers thugs, and ordered a beer. No point being thirsty while dealing with the zealot beside him.
"It's not what I need you to do, Mr. Wilson. It's what Lord Trigon want's you to do."
Taking a bill from the case he had received, Slade paid for his drink before turning to his client, "And what does Trigon want?"
"Lord Trigon," He began, sending the master merc an annoyed look for his disrespect, "wishes to hire you to cause a distraction in a . . . foreign country while members of our order work to release our Lord upon the heathens that live there. Of course, you shall be greatly rewarded for your efforts."
Slade was no fool. He picked up on the hesitation the go between had when he mentioned 'foreign country'. Now, while he didn't know what he really meant, he knew that the unleashing of Trigon did not spell anything good. Either way, he was now curious. Invasions weren't something he would do for cheap.
"And what 'foreign country' would I be invading?" He took another long sip of his drink. The man beside him made to answer but stopped and sat up ram rod straight before slouching.
"Equestria, a country in a alternate dimension. A land ruled by two equine demi-god princesses of the sun and the moon. It should be little trouble for one such as you to cause a big enough distraction for my priests to work towards releasing me in peace." The other mans voice had deepened and his eye's, once blue, had turned red.
"Trigon I presume?"
The possessed man let out a dark chuckle before holding out a hand, which Slade took without a moments hesitation. The clasp of hands nearly broke Slade's hand, yet the assassin didn't let out so much as a whimper.
"In the flesh." He let out another dark chuckle as he released Slade's hand. "Forgive me for 'jumping in', but I always feel it is best to conduct business face to face. I've heard much about you, Deathstroke. And it is from these things that I wish to hire you. After all, it's always best to hire the best, and who could be better than a man able to hold off the Justice League by himself?" He gave a huge inhuman grin at the thought of the mortals that had denied him full access to this dimension being beaten by the mortal beside him. "The job is simple. Just cause a large enough distraction that will draw the equines attention towards yourself so that my minions can concentrate on breaking the seal that keeps me from invading that world. I don't care how you do it, as long as the job is done."
"And what of my pay? You know I won't be doing this for cheap. Taking an entire nation, particularly one I know nothing about, is no easy task. Even if all I'm doing is distracting them from the real mission."
Trigon stole Slade's beer before downing the entire thing in one go. He wiped his mouth with the sleeve of his jacket before replying, "I have a file I will give you should you take this job, it contains the basic information on the military and political structure of the country along with a map highlighting all areas of interest. As for the pay? If this works out correctly you can have the entire royal treasure, a sum of four billion American dollars in gold and jewels. And, just to show that I am such a nice guy, when this is all over and I hold Equestria and the entire planet it inhabits within my grasp, I shall give you your hearts desire." He leaned in, even as Slade stiffened at the proximity, "I shall revive your wife. It will be as though she never died." He pulled back and openly laughed at the shocked look on the Terminators face. The sound of the demons dark laughter was startling enough that it distracted one of the strippers on the stage, causing her to trip and land on one of the many men surrounding her.
Ignoring the commotion behind them, Trigon put his hand out once again, "Do we have a deal, Terminator?"
Slade was silent for a moment. It would be dangerous to work for Trigon, the demon was not known for being trust worthy, and there was no way of knowing if he would receive anything that he was promised. Moreover, as this contract would have him in a alternate universe, he would have to question if he would be able to return. However, as Trigon is in fact a demon, it was well within his power to do as he promised. If he would keep to his word.
"I'm flattered you would think of me." The Terminator said dryly, waving the bartender over for another drink. "And your offer is most generous. However, how can I be sure that you will uphold your end of the bargain? You are not known to be trust worthy."
Instead of being offended, the demon simple withdrew his hand and reached into the possessed mans jackets pocket and withdrew a contract from a manila envelope that was stored there. "I am glad you asked, Terminator, for only a fool would enter a deal with a demon without anyway to ensure it would be upheld. And I have no need for a fool."
Slade took the document with a hint of trepidation, whenever someone already had a binding document ready before he even accepted the assignment it normally meant bad things. Either the mission went amiss or do to some loophole in the document he was screwed out of what he was owed. Normally he would simply kill the client and take what he was owed, a way of warning others not to try and screw him over, but he couldn't do that this time.
Reading over the contract revealed that it was fairly straight forward. He distracts the leaders of the targeted country long enough for the local Cult of Blood to summon Trigon, or failing that assisted in protecting the cult long enough for them to do their work, and he gets what he is promised and a trip home with all the loot. The only part that gave him pause was a clause that stated that, should he at any point turn on the cult in a way that would hamper the summoning, he would forfeit his right to be returned to his home dimension. He noted the 'assistance in interuniversal assassinations and mercenary work' note as a point to look over later.
"Everything seems to be fine here." He said as he signed the bottom of the document, which he ideally noted was crafted from sheep skin, "The only thing left is for a time for my . . . departure to take place."
The demon took the contract with a truly disturbing grin. "Go to ware house number three at the old Gotham peer at eleven forty-five Wednesday night. From there a ritual will be performed by my followers will send you to the location of my equestrian followers, who will take you to a prepared a safe house for your use during your mission. Farewell, Terminator." And with that both the host and the contract caught fire, soon reduced to no more than ash that was blown away by a small gust of wind caused by Slade's leaving.
Two days later, Gotham Docs
Slade entered the old building with confidence at precisely eleven forty-five, having spent the past two hours studying the building from various vantage points for traps and signs of deceit, in full armor caring a single large chest. He had spent the past three days studying the information he had been given and packing what he had thought would be necessary for his mission, which included spare ammo, explosives, a med kit to help along his healing factor, and spare clothes and replacement armor should something happen to the Nth metal and Promethium armor. Not that anything most likely would, it had the ability to regenerate itself to an extent and the combination of the two metals made it damn near unbreakable.
"Ah, Mister Deathstroke, we have been expecting you." A cultist greeted the terminator. "If you would just come with me for a moment, we shall send you on your way soon." The cultist lead Slade over to a table with a few items on it. He picked up a small black disk with a blazing orange stylized 'S' on it. "This is an amulet bearing the mark of our lord. It shall allow you to gain access to the bases of our equine brethren, as well as being a shield against scrying. This," He began, picking up a needle filled with a clear liquid as Slade slid the disk into a pouch on his belt, "is a elixir that shall allow you to keep your current form instead of being forced into one that would better suit the alternate universe."
"And what guarantee do I have that it shall do as you say it does?" Slade examined the syringe in his hand with his remaining eye. It wasn't smart to inject yourself with something without being sure of it's purpose. The last time he had doe that he had woken up with a regeneration factor and super human abilities. But that was just dumb luck, after all, it was supposed to make him immune to truth serum.
"The guarantee that your contract stated that we would not deceive you in the purpose of any item that we give you that is relevant to your mission or fake the relevance of an object in any way." He paused for a moment when he saw the look of distrust still in Slade's left eye. "If it helps it has been tested thoroughly on a few of our members who have been sent to and from your destination."
"Very well then." Slade quickly injected himself before crushing the syringe and dumping it in the bin near the table.
"And finally we have this." The cultist picked up a plain black cell phone from the table. "Now, normally you would not be able to use a cellphone in Equestria, given that they do not exist there, however, this one has been modified by our mystics to contact another that's been modified the same way." He took a phone exactly like the one he had handed Slade from his pocket. "This is how we will be contacting you for updates in your mission."
Though he would have liked to question how they had gotten a phone to work between universes, especially when one apparently didn't even have them, he decided the answer would ultimately be chalked up to magic, and decided it would be best to pocket the phone. "Is that it or can we begin?"
"Eager are you? I can't deny that I would be eager to begin as well if Lord Trigon had bestowed such an honor on me." The cultist motioned for Deathstroke to stand in the center of a pentagram that the cultists had painted on the buildings floor. As soon as he had made it to the center all the cultists moved in, taking their places around the pentagram and began to chant.
"One more thing," A cultist to the side called out as those near him continued to chant, "Sister Blood, the equivalent of our Brother Blood shall be waiting to greet you when you arrive. She shall brief you on the current state of affairs when you arrive. Good luck, and may Trigon bless your mission!"
The chanting reached a crescendo and with a flash of fire Slade Wilson, better known as Deathstroke the Terminator, was whisked away to a land of friendship and magic.
Sanctuary of Blood, Equestria
Sister Blood, better known as Mayor Mare, stood in the stone room waiting for the mercenary her Lord had hired, a number of her followers stood around the pentagram chanting the necessary incantations to insure that the mercenary would arrive here instead of some random location. They had received the signal to start their chant when a fire sparked into existence at the center of the pentagram.
Mayor Mare had been the leader of the Cult of Blood for thirty years now and had been working nonstop to bring about her masters release. And now, after all these years, the end of her mission was near. However, unlike in years past the actions she taking now would not be able to be covered as easily, and would draw the princesses attention onto her and her followers.
That was why they needed the mercenary. He would take all the blame for any of her actions now. And that was crucial for many of the acts that had to be done to weaken the seal on her master would cause massive damage. It has been her life's goal to see her master free, and that goal had influenced many of her decisions in life, up to and including her running for mayor of the small town of Ponyville.
As mayor she was able to finally set up a permanent residence for her fellow cult members under the guise of renovations to the town hall. She had added a large and deep labyrinth under the building, explaining away the need to dig as bettering the foundations to the locals. It had been discovered by the Sister Blood before her that Ponyville actually laid directly over part of the seal that prevented Trigon from invading. Through intensive study she had discovered that the town itself was actually part of the seal, and that should it ever be fully destroyed, this part of the seal would break.
There are, or rather, were twenty-five parts to the seal. As of today, ten have been destroyed. Those ten had either been in far and remote places where no pony would notice or unknowingly done by somepony else, such as the destruction of the Nightmare. However, like the necessity of destroying Ponyville, or as the ancient seal refers to it, 'the village that rests at Tartarus's gate', it would be nearly impossible to cover up the destruction of the last fifteen parts.
'Soon,' The aged mare thought, 'Soon all of my work and the work of those who came before will finally be complete, and Lord Trigon shall be released upon this world at last.'
"Sister Blood." BonBon, one of the newest members of the cult called her attention back to the pentagram, where the single flame at the center had begun to trace the pentagram completely, setting the entire thing ablaze. The fire swelled up to until it licked the celling, causing many of the ponies present to shield their faces from the intensity of the flames, before being snuffed completely, leaving only the imposing armed figure of the one summoned.