Deathstroke vs Blob

The thick, springy fat covering Blob's body had absorbed most of the blast impact. The only reason he cried out earlier was because the heat from the explosion had burned his skin.

"What the hell is this freak?" Deathstroke muttered.

He never imagined someone could block custom explosive rounds with just fat, but the situation left him no time to be shocked.

Now that Blob had taken a hit, he shifted his attention and charged straight at the mercenary.

Deathstroke knew the mutant could manipulate gravity beneath his feet, and even if he didn't had that knowledge, he was fully aware that this oversized freak had no business getting close to him. Especially not with his own lighter frame.

Acting swiftly, Deathstroke dashed backward like he was sliding across oil. At the same time, he hurled grenades from his belt, trying to stall Blob's advance.

Boom! Boom! Boom!

Explosions tore through the street one after another. Windows slammed shut on both sides as Gotham's citizens silently locked themselves indoors.

But inside the fire and smoke, Blob's massive body barely flinched. Aside from a few light burns, there were no visible injuries on him. Even the grenades—much stronger than the explosive bullets—were completely useless against that absurd layer of fat.

Each shockwave disappeared into his body like a stone tossed into the ocean.

'Damn it. This guy's a real fighter.'

Deathstroke kept moving and firing, but nothing worked. He tried aiming for the head, the only place that seemed to lack heavy fat. Blob, however, wasn't stupid. He shielded his skull with his thick arms.

Every bullet Deathstroke fired was blocked by those bulky limbs. Even armor-piercing rounds shot from his most powerful handgun couldn't break through the fat on Blob's arms.

'At this rate... I'll have to go in close.'

Deathstroke didn't like that idea one bit. Not when even Killer Croc had lost in hand-to-hand. But at this point, he had no other option.

If he had time to prepare, he could think of at least 47 different ways to kill this guy.

But this was a damn ambush.

All the guns and explosives he carried on him were useless. The only weapons he could count on now were the two katanas strapped to his back.

With that thought, Deathstroke stopped retreating. He grabbed both blades and charged straight at the mutant.

Unfortunately, the reality was worse than he expected. Blob's fat absorbed impact far better than anyone could imagine. Even Deathstroke's razor-sharp katanas, capable of slicing through steel, barely left a red mark on his arms.

And this was because he was a genetically enhanced super-soldier.

If it had been an ordinary person, even a battle-hardened veteran, they wouldn't have been able to harm Blob at all. Even if he just stood there and let them try.

Now, Deathstroke found himself in trouble.

One of his blades got stuck in the fat, and before he could pull it free, Blob's massive fist was already swinging toward his head.

Bang!

A deep thud rang out as Deathstroke's body flew through the air and crashed into a pile of garbage. He lost consciousness instantly.

Even with his armor—made from energy-absorbing Promethium alloy—his skull caved in under the force.

If someone had X-ray vision, they would've seen that it wasn't just the skull. Deathstroke's brain had taken a devastating hit, turning almost to mush from the impact.

And yet, despite the fatal damage, his body began healing rapidly. As long as he wasn't torn to pieces, he could recover.

Blob noticed it too. He narrowed his eyes and muttered to himself, "A mutant? No. If he were a mutant, Charles would've warned me already."

Blob was sure of one thing. Charles, all the way in Westchester, had to be watching his actions with his psychic abilities.

And if he hadn't said anything, it meant this regeneration wasn't the result of a mutant power. It came from some other method.

Now that he no longer had to worry about accidentally killing a fellow mutant, Blob stopped holding back. He walked up to the fallen enemy without hesitation, raising both fists and slamming them down onto his chest.

Boom!

The ground shook as if the entire street trembled under the impact.

When Blob stepped back, Deathstroke's chest had a massive crater in it. His lungs and heart were completely pulverized.

Unless someone had a freak healing factor like Deadpool, whose regeneration mutated from cancer-ridden cells, this kind of injury was fatal.

No brain to think. No heart to keep energy flowing through the body. In that state, no matter how powerful the healing factor, it was useless.

As Deathstroke's regeneration began to slow down, Blob made his judgment.

"That's it. He's dead for sure."

With that, he turned around and walked away.

During the time he had spent battling Deathstroke, Killer Croc had already fled. Since the original target was gone, there was no reason for him to stick around.

Blob deactivated his powers. His huge frame began to shrink, dropping from 2.23 meters to a more normal height of 1.78 meters. His weight went back to 462 pounds.

But just then, behind him, the seemingly lifeless body of Deathstroke began healing at an incredible pace. For most with regenerative powers, that kind of injury would've been the end. But the mercenary hadn't reached his limit yet.

His heart and brain were the first to heal. As his torso reformed, he suddenly gasped and opened his eyes.

This time, they weren't calm and calculating. They were bloodshot, filled with raw madness.

The pain had triggered something deep inside him. Memories—old, agonizing ones—rushed back all at once. In that moment, his humanity drowned in rage and instinct.

He didn't wait to finish healing.

Deathstroke pushed himself up, grabbed his katanas, and leapt into the air—straight at Blob.

The blades aimed directly for the top of the mutant's head.

Even in this wild state, his body remembered the basics. Strike where the enemy is weakest. No thought required. Just instinct.

But Blob caught on at the last second. He noticed the shadow stretching across the ground.

"What? Still not dead?"

There wasn't enough time for his body to swell up again, but his gravity manipulation was still fast enough.

He unleashed it in an instant. The intense force crashed down on Deathstroke, dragging him straight toward the ground.

The mercenary hadn't yet reached Blob's head. Instead, his falling body slammed into the street, but the momentum—and the added gravity—drove both of his katanas deep into his target's shoulders.

The blades pierced clean through, pushed in by the mutant's own power.

**

**

**

Thank you for reading! If you'd like access to extra chapters and want to support my work, you can visit my P@treon:

P@treon/SilverShark769

Vote with Power Stones for Bonus Chapters!

Your support means a lot, thank you!