The Eleventh Apostle

Wednesday 22nd April 2009, 01:00.

New Jersey,

Gotham City,

East End.

The Casa Nostra.

The Five Families.

Esau knew some of their histories, more so than most considering he lived in the part of Gotham that they controlled, the East End. They were a Sicilian Syndicate run by Stefano Mandragora in Sicily, until his passing. At that point, the Casa Nostra had been in disarray and chaos, constantly fighting amongst themselves for leadership, when one family was elected to rule, the head of said family would die under mysterious circumstances mere weeks later.

It was uncommon to see the head of the Casa Nostra survive more than a few weeks, the longest being a year following Stefano Mandragora's death. Since then, the Casa Nostra had been on a rapid decline, their constant infighting leading to the other gangs and families of Gotham taking territory from them bit by bit.

However, it was during the War of Jokes and Riddles that saw two of Gotham's major supervillains clash head to head with Batman caught in the middle causing massive chaos. In the aftermath, much of Gotham's original criminal landscape was destroyed and fractured, many trying to pick up the pieces and adapt to this new way of life, except for one group.

The Casa Nostra.

Whereas other families and gangs had a clearly defined hierarchy and structure that saw them able to bring the full brunt of their power and resources to the forefront, the Casa Nostra were unable to bring out even half of it. They were divided, the five families unable to look past their own internal issues to pool their resources together and attack others.

However, because of that, the five families were uniquely able to function normally in such chaotic times. What was a new experience to the others, was all too familiar to them and in a rare moment of peace, the five families turned their attentions from one another and out to the rest of Gotham.

That was how they took over the East End and firmly planted the knowledge in the mind of their rivals that the Casa Nostra were never to be allowed to come together. If they did, they would become one of the most powerful organisations in Gotham, a rival to Falcone and Maroni Families as well as the False Face Society.

So, they allied themselves with individual families, feeding and picking at the festering wound that was internal strife and chaos. They pushed the Casa Nostra to turn on one another while they reaped the benefits, gaining access to the East End as a result, even though it was owned by the Casa Nostra.

Esau knew much more than most and had done so in order to learn just how Black Mask was able to operate in the part of East End owned by the Panessa Family. Black Mask had sponsored the Panessa Family, just as other families and organisations would have sponsored other families of the Casa Nostra. They fed the conflict and in turn, Esau realised something else, Batman hadn't stopped the war from being waged, all he did was push them to change the venue and rules.

The Casa Nostra was the way in which the crime lords of Gotham waged their war.

Whoever controlled the family that took over Casa Nostra would be the winner.

The rules, there were none.

The crime lords hadn't changed and once more, Batman had turned a blind eye to it all because it was easier to predict their next move. He let it carry on because it contained them and made his crusade that much easier.

The thought made Esau clench his fist tightly, turning back down the corridor, and stopping as he saw the dead body of Alfie being dragged away by other inhabitants of the apartment complex. For all his faults, Alfie had been a decent guy compared to the others who lived here, someone who had been nothing but friendly to him, even if he had some shady dealings going on elsewhere.

He wasn't a friend.

But he had been a part of Esau's life for as long as he could remember.

Alfie had deserved many things, but death wasn't one of them.

This was just further proof to him that Batman's way of doing things was wrong, his way, Black Hood's way was the way things needed to be done now. Even though he hadn't recovered, even though he was still in pain, Esau wasn't going to stop.

Not anymore.

There would be no more hesitation.

No more doubt.

No more reluctance.

It was time he truly became Black Hood.

-X-

Wednesday 22nd April 2009, 01:15.

New Jersey,

Gotham City,

East End.

Smiling lightly, Deathstroke tracked Esau's movements through the streets of Gotham, he was clad in his Black Hood outfit and clearly, favouring his right leg more than his left. He was by no means recovered and a mere two hours ago, had nearly been killed by a bunch of gangbangers who invaded his home. Yet here he was, on his feet and ready to wage a war despite not being in top condition, or even near it for that matter.

He had a death wish.

Deathstroke was almost prepared to intervene and stop things from getting out of hand, only to pause when he saw Esau come across a group of robbers. They weren't part of any of the other conflicts taking place in the East End, just a bunch of young men not much older than Esau who took advantage of the chaos.

They were the type of people Esau would have simply beaten up and left there.

However, this time he came at them with a brutality and ruthlessness that made Deathstroke raise a brow in surprise. The claws on his gloves cut through skin, digging deep into throats and ripping out their Adam's apple and windpipe. His gun fired out; headshots every one of them and his knife came down, piercing through the eye and then the brain of the final robber.

'Well, well, well, this is interesting.' Deathstroke thought amusedly.

Something had changed.

In the span of a few hours, Esau had changed massively.

He was curious to see in what other ways he had changed as well.

"You are being paid to train him," Deathstroke didn't look over his shoulder when he heard the voice, but he did tense up in preparation for a fight. "Not observe him."

"Yes, well, things tend not to be that simple."

"Do not mistake our intentions, Deathstroke." The figure replied calmly. "We did not simply hire you because your skills have been recognised by the First Apostle as one of the best in the world. We hired you because you are easier to predict and control than your equals."

Deathstroke was far from insulted by the words, nor the tone with which they were spoken. He had met many people just like over the course of his career, if he allowed himself to get riled up so easily then he would have been dead a long time ago.

But more importantly, the figure's words were true, unlike the small number of people in the world who could be considered his equals, Deathstroke had no goal or ambition in life. The contract he had at the time, was his goal and nothing more than that. It was what had made him the most prolific and infamous mercenary alive.

"I do not mistake them, I am simply doing the necessary preparation to give you and the First Apostle the best results." Deathstroke, as he always did when faced with such people, replied calmly. "Is Esau desperate? Yes, he knows very well how weak he is, but is he vulnerable? No, he's too prideful and thanks to Talon, is wary of being manipulated by others. These things will take time, but I have the means to speed them up."

"How so?"

"I cannot be certain, but I am positive that Esau is going to wage war against the Casa Nostra. This is going to be a defining moment for him, he is at a crossroads and whether he succeeds or not here will determine my next move." Deathstroke answered.

"And which path should he take in order to make your job easier?"

"Failure," Deathstroke responded, finally packing up his sniper rifle and standing up. Esau had moved out of sight and he needed to move position in order to keep an eye on him. "I have, as you requested, provided him with the serum synthesised from my own blood. But he has refused to take it."

"And the moment he does?"

"He will be one step closer to accepting my offer," Deathstroke said, studying the figure closely.

He had known from the voice that it was the same man who had come to him with the job offer in the first place, a strange one as well. But the money he was being offered as well as the organisation that seemed to be behind it had caught his attention and led to him accepting. Deathstroke knew little of Black Hood at the time, had dismissed him entirely and even now, he did not fully understand this organisation's interest in him.

The boy was talented that much was clear.

But Deathstroke could see little value in him besides that.

However, the money and his own curiosity led to him accepting the job.

"We expect results soon, Deathstroke." The figure said, finally turning on his heel, the black cloak he wore emblazoned with the roman numeral for eleven on the back in white, his hood shrouding his face in unnatural shadows. "The First Apostle does not like being kept waiting." Then, he disappeared, flickering away from view leaving Deathstroke standing on the roof alone.

'The Apostles?' Deathstroke wondered. 'I wonder just what your goal is? And how Esau is meant to help you achieve it?'