Floyd Lawton, code name Deadshot, the world's greatest mercenary and marksman extraordinaire. Deadshot's early career began as a self-proclaimed vigilante with incredible marksmanship attempting to overthrow Batman as Gotham's number one vigilante, only to be ousted by the man he tried to replace as a master criminal attempting to control Gotham's criminal underworld and was promptly sent to prison afterwards.
Floyd, however, escaped his confinement with the help of fellow criminal the Penguin and sought out vengeance against the Cape Crusader for his humiliating defeat. In the outside world, Floyd acquires a brand new costume and wrist guns for his new look as Deadshot before seeking out Batman once again for a rematch. Their reunion was brief, however, and Deadshot was swiftly sent behind bars.
Realizing seeking vengeance is just a senseless vendetta, Floyd escaped prison once again and employed his deadly skills as a mercenary for hire. He then achieved quite a reputation as a man who never misses a shot with a almost perfect track record. His work as a mercenary as gotten him involved in such groups like Task Force X, a secret government black ops operation that uses harden criminals for suicidal missions in exchange for reduced sentences, as the loose canon field leader who seeks a glorious death for a meaningless life.
No battle written.
Although V was super-human and a skilled hand to hand fighter, Deadshot won because of the devastating weapons he was packing.
Bartlin's furniture and flooring abandoned warehouse, New York city, November 7th 2012
Deadshot stares through the scope of his wrist rifle, Hawkeye was in his sights. The purple folds in his suit flashed through a chink in the window of the shield building a half mile away.
He had surely never missed a target. Especially one he was being paid to take out.
Random backstreet alley, Gotham city, October 1st 2012
A dark figure loomed in alleyway, Deadhshot walked up to him. The figure handed him a photo and waved a wad of bills. The figure walked away and Deadhsot stared down at the photo. On the back, was what deadshot figured was a messily written cluster of information. Deadhsot stared with his crimson eye at the information, and upon the sight of the word S.H.I.E.L.D., he crumpled up the paper and threw it into a nearby overflowed garbage can.
Bartlin's furniture and flooring abandoned warehouse, New York city, Novemeber 7th 2012
Should he? No, only fire if it's a kill. He walked away from the window and moved down to the rusted staircase of the warehouse and left.
S.H.I.E.L.D. Headquarters, New York
Agent Clinton Barton stood opened the door to the agency car and stepped in. Across from his plush leather seat were two more S.H.I.E.L.D. agents dressed in two piece black and white suits, dark sunglasses and earpieces. They each had sharp crew cuts and glocks strapped to their hips. "Agent Barton," the first began as the car started to move, "we have intel that an assailant is among the streets of this very city."
"We believe that he is here from the remote city of Gotham-" the second started, suddenly blood spattered their faces as the driver was riddled with bullets. "Get down!" The front wind shield was shattered and bits of glass had scraped the two agents ahead of Hawkeye. "Go, go go!" the first agent said as he looked in front of the car. A shadowy man stood in front of the car holding an M4 assault rifle. The trench coat's hood he wore covered his face in a shadowy cloak. The only thing visible was a glowing red eye.
"Agent Barton, come on!" the first agent said as he opened the door of the car and unholstered his Glock. Hawkeye and the second agent stepped out on the opposite side. The two agents fired through whole mags with their glocks at the figure. The 9mm bullets merely bounced off of his armored suit, "I'm out!" the first agent said as his pistol made a distinctive click. Suddenly, his body collapsed to the ground. Hawkeye looked over at the agent, a single bullet hole appeared right on the top of his tie. Blood sprayed from his lifeless body. The second agent stared over at his dead friend.
"James!" he said as a bullet shot straight through his temple. The agent fell to the ground in a heap of blood and torn flesh. Hawkeye reached back and grabbed a lone arrow and knocked it on his bow. Raising his bow, Hawkeye pulled back the bow string to his anchor point right beneath his chin. Releasing the bow string, Hawkeye fired the arrow.
Stepping to the side, Deadshot dodged the arrow as it impaled itself in a near by road sign. Horns all around honked and civilians abandoned their vehicles in a hurried panic to escape the clash of villain and hero.
Deadshot, although not visible through his mask, smiled as he placed his finger upon the trigger of his M4. Deadhsot pulled the trigger, but among the screams and honks, he only heard the deafening click of his rifle. Deadshot bolted away into a nearby alley and Hawkeye loeaded and fired an arrow in the direction of his fleeing opponent. The arrow again missed and buried itself in a carboard box right beside Deadshot's leg.
Crouching behind a dumpster, Deadshot pulls the empty magazine from the rifle and replaces is with a full one.Civilians run screaming by the dumpster as he stands, watching for his prey.
Hawkeye runs around the corner and watches a grenade as it is thrown towards him. Quickly loading a vibration arrow into his bow, Hawkeye fires the bow. The arrow meets the grenade in midair and splits it in half. Each half of the unexploded grenade smashes through a small window on each side of the alley. The two halves explode in the room sending a spurt of fire and shrapnel through the alley. Walking through the flames, Deadshot fires his M4 at Hawkeye.
One of the bullets penetrates Hawkeye's kevlar on the thigh sending a sharp burst of pain through his leg. Hawkeye moves out of the alley and knocks a fire arrow. As his foe walks around the corner, he is struck in the shoulder by the inferno of an arrow.
Deadshot's trench coat bursts into flames and a startled Deadshot tries desperately to remove the blazing coat. As he does, Hawkeye limps away across the crowded sea of abandoned vehicles to a nearby bank. Deadshot removes the coat and throws it to the ground. Another arrow bounces off of Deadshot's chest plate. Deadshot fires two shots of the M4 towards Hawkeye. The archer drops down and dodges the shots and rapidly fires another arrow down range at his foe. Deadshot ducks and fires his M4 on fully automatic towards Clinton.
Suddenly, I vibration flies by and cuts Deadshot's M4 in half. Angered, Deadshot drops his broken assault rifle and throws a grenade into the bank. Hawkeye runs behind the teller counter as the grenade explodes. Hawkeye stands just as Deadshot fires one of his wrist rifles at Hawk, the bullet barely penetrates Hawkeye's kevlar but the blow knocks the archer over. Hawkeye falls to the ground behind the counter. Deadshot fires three more shots of his wrist rifles through the counter and through the back. Deadshot walks closer and into the bank.
He finally had his chance, he would kill his target. Suddenly another vibration arrow cuts off the barrels of his wrist rifles. Deadshot walks up and stands before Hawkeye. Throwing a punch, Deadshot steps closer. Hawkeye catches Deadshot's fist and twists his foes arm. Deadshot pulls back and throws a second punch. This time catching Hawkeye's jaw and knockingn him onto the counter. Deadshot throws two extra punches. Bloodied and bruised, Hawkeye stands. Deadshot throws another punch but Hawk catches the punch with his hand and bumps his shoulder into Deadshot's elbow, bending it the other way. Deadshot growls in pain. Suddenly, he hears a click.
Hawkeye pulls the pin of one of Deadshot's grenades attatched to the outside of his suit. Hawkeye moves out of the bank holding the pin. Deadshot fumbles around trying to find the grenade, when suddenly, a blast of fire and shrapnel rips Deadshot to bits.
Despite the devastating firepower that Deadshot brought to the fight, Hawkeye's training, experience and superirior marksmanship won him the day in the end. The voters determined that Hawkeye's wide variety of arrows would be able to trump Deadshot's firearms.
"Funny thing about fate, you can't out run it. My cloned friend here will learn this in a rather tragic way. Fate lines up diferently for different people. Like Johnny Wilbur's grandmonther, who spoiled him rotten. The fatass was later employed to help build the Saint Marie barge. The largest barge ever built. When our firend Johnny was working on the main bridge window, he dropped the final screw that secrued the window in place. He dropped that last screw bahind a control unit. But chubby little Johnny's hand was too fat to reach that screw. Nobody ever noticed it for the three years it was active.
Like the woodpecker that incessintly pecked at the Boston Harbor shipping yard's main building wall. A crack emerged, and was never repaired.
Finally, we see Wilma Burdston's forgetuful mind to shut the vents on that same building that night, leving a clean and open air duct vent for someone to look through. Someone like me, to look through the crosshairs of his rifle, through that vent, into the next room over where the woodpecker's crack in the wall was just wide enough for a bullet. Then eight-hundred-and-fifty meters away lies the Saint Marie Barge. In the bridge of that barge, lay an unsuspecting Agent 47, just beyond the screw hole, a screw hole that was made three millimeters too big by a sleepy worker who happened to have a little too much to drink the night prior. A screw hole just wide enough for...a bullet."
Looking around at the bleak harbor shipping yard, Deadshot searched for his target. He knew the Agent would be here by now. He had after all been hunting him for weeks. He knew what the Agent's heart rate was. He knew his favorite weapon. He knew the amount of red blood cells he had running through his veins. Now, he would kill him. It would be no small feat. Killing a highly trained assassin who was made for combat. Seems unlikely, but Lawton had no time to waste on killing pesky little assassins who thought they ruled the world with their garrotes and fancy sniper rifles. None of them would ever match Deadshot's skill. None would dare come close, none would hit their mark. As Deadshot looked upon the shipping yard, he realized something: He was being hunted.
Deadshot turned and ducked behind a shipping container just as a shot flew where he was standing only moments before. "Amateur," Deadshot muttered, setting his M24 down behind the container and arming his wristguns. Semi automatic, armor piercing, wristguns. A personal favorite of Deadshot's. He knew not where the shot had come from, nor who had fired it. He stared at the bullet, now lodged in the concrete. "Seven point six-two caliber. Semi automatic sniper rifle. Seven-hundred meters. Pathetic," He said, rounding the corner and firing a wristgun shot directly through his attacker's scope. The round cut cleanly through the scope and lodged itself in the shooter's frontal lobe.
From atop a shipping container several hundred meters away, the sniper slumped over. The shot he received to the brain killed him instantly. His rifle; left in a bloody mess, showered in broken glass from the broken scope. He was yet another sniper hired to kill the greatest assassin of all time. Deadshot saw no challenge in killing his attackers. They never put up a fight.
Agent 47 watched as his partner bled out on the container. The man was a good shot. Better than any he had met before. This of course, would not prevent him from defeating him. He can hit at a range. A remarkable range, but everyone has a weakness. Go closer, He thought to himself. He set his WA 2000 down and leapt from his position on the loading crane and onto a nearby container. Picking up his hidden AKS 74U assault rifle from the crack between two crates, he leapt off the container and ran towards the direction of his target.
Deadshot knew he wasn't done with his foes. He knew there would be one more, a cheap and desperate trick to try and kill him. They were desperate. But who could blame them? Killing the world's best sniper was no easy task. He's moving closer, Deadshot thought to himself. He wouldn't simply let him get that close. He picked up his custom M4. Suppressor, ACOG scope, custom stock, laser finder, forward grip. It was built for the job, and the job wasn't very pleasant.
He heard footsteps. Light and quick steps. Getting faster. Getting closer. He turned and fired off a round towards his attacker. Missed, Tricky one, He thought. Suddenly, a burst of gunfire erupted from around the corner. Non-suppressed, from the AK line. Fool, he thought. But he was truly no fool. The bullet struck Deadhot's soldier. His armor held up, but he formed a welt the size of a walnut. Deadshot sighed and charged forward, firing semi auto bursts. Agent 47 runs behind the container after firing off a burst at Deadshot.
Deadshot chases him around the corner and switches his rifle to full auto. He turns the bend and opens up on 47. Agent 47 ducks around the corner quickly to avoid the rounds.
47 unloads and reloads his AK and reloads it before turning around the corner of the container and firing off a shot at his attacker. Deadshot sidesteps and fires a shot into 47's shoulder, knocking him on his back. As 47 falls, he drops his rifle. Deadshot walks up to him, rifle aimed from his hip at 47. 47 quickly draws the first of his two AMT Hardballers and shoots it into Deadshot's targeting eye. Deadshot falls back as his targeting piece on his helmet shatters. The bullet smashes through his eye and into his skull. Deadshot drops to his knees in pain, gripping his bloody eye.
47, still lying on his back, fires two more shots at Deadshot's chest. The bullets bounce harmlessly off Deadshot's armor and plink to the ground. Still holding his eye, Deadshot blindly fires one of his wrist rifles through 47's thumb, causing him to drop the gun. 47 stands and picks up his pistol, he swings a kick at Deadshot and clips him along the jaw. Deadshot drops to his chest and unsheathes his knife. 47 goes for another kick and Deadshot ducks and thrusts his knife into the assassin's thigh.
While Agent 47 was a formidable opponent and possessed more accurate long-ranged weaponry, Deadshot more than made up for this with his greater skills, unbeatable marksmanship, and top-natch physical strength. Overall, Deadshot won due to having faced tougher enemies.To see the original battle, weapons, and votes, click here.
Battles here were deemed to be unfair or otherwise not in accordance with wiki standards, and have been removed from the statuses of the warriors and displayed below.
Battle vs. Robert Neville (by Sport Shouting)
Robert Neville has just defeated a group of darkseekers. Deadshot sits atop a building pointing his sniper rifle at Robert Neville's head. Instead, he hits a berserking darkseeker. Deadshot then approaches Neville and fires his wrist guns. Robert surprisingly doesn't get hit by a shot and tries shooting his carbine at Deadshot. Deadshot then runs away to get to cover. Neville throws a grenade to where Deadshot was around. Deadshot threw the grenade away and the explosion acts as a smoke grenade for him. He fires the TAR-21 and one shot hits Robert's abdomen. Due to his high strength, he takes the shot without dying. Robert grabs his shotgun and fires several shots at Deadshot that aren't accurate enough to kill him. Deadshot hides inside a dumpster. Neville fires pistol shots through the dumpster just in case. No blood appears. Neville then falls dead as a wrist gun shot comes through the bottom where Deadshot was hiding.
Deadshot won because of his superior training and skill.