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<blockquote data-quote="Dark Nemesis" data-source="post: 2242297" data-attributes="member: 11714">Deadshot walked slowly through the seedy apartment, searching.&nbsp; James had done a thorough job of cleaning the apartment; there was nothing to indicate that they had stayed there, and nothing to indicate where they had gone.&nbsp; Very thorough.Smiling faintly, he retrieved a cell phone from an inside pocket of his jacket, and dialed a number that he knew from memory.&nbsp; It rang once, before it was answered.&nbsp; “They’re gone,” he said, without waiting for a greeting.“We are tracing them now,” the voice on the line replied.&nbsp; “I’ll be in touch when I know where they have gone.”Deadshot nodded, but did not bother to reply.&nbsp; A soft click indicated that the other person had already hung up.&nbsp; With a sigh, he took a seat on the couch, and stared out the window.&nbsp; Then, after a moment of silence, he reached into his pocket to pull out a crumpled photograph.&nbsp; It was a picture that he had stared at many times before, and had memorized the faces of the three people who had posed for it.&nbsp; A middle-aged man stood in the center of the photograph, smiling at the photographer.&nbsp; He was young, with short dark hair and wire rimmed glasses.&nbsp; He held the hands of two children: a boy and a girl.&nbsp; Both of the children were clad in dark clothes, and regarded the camera with uncertain expressions.&nbsp; Deadshot ignored the images of the children, focusing instead on the figure in the center.&nbsp; “I found them once, father.&nbsp; I’ll find them again.&nbsp; This time, I won’t let them get away.”It was then that the cell phone rang…</blockquote>

[QUOTE="Dark Nemesis, post: 2242297, member: 11714"] Deadshot walked slowly through the seedy apartment, searching. James had done a thorough job of cleaning the apartment; there was nothing to indicate that they had stayed there, and nothing to indicate where they had gone. Very thorough. Smiling faintly, he retrieved a cell phone from an inside pocket of his jacket, and dialed a number that he knew from memory. It rang once, before it was answered. “They’re gone,” he said, without waiting for a greeting. “We are tracing them now,” the voice on the line replied. “I’ll be in touch when I know where they have gone.” Deadshot nodded, but did not bother to reply. A soft click indicated that the other person had already hung up. With a sigh, he took a seat on the couch, and stared out the window. Then, after a moment of silence, he reached into his pocket to pull out a crumpled photograph. It was a picture that he had stared at many times before, and had memorized the faces of the three people who had posed for it. A middle-aged man stood in the center of the photograph, smiling at the photographer. He was young, with short dark hair and wire rimmed glasses. He held the hands of two children: a boy and a girl. Both of the children were clad in dark clothes, and regarded the camera with uncertain expressions. Deadshot ignored the images of the children, focusing instead on the figure in the center. “I found them once, father. I’ll find them again. This time, I won’t let them get away.” It was then that the cell phone rang… [/QUOTE]

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