Slag is still wrestling with the squirming hobbit when she feels the tap of The Broker's cane at her shoulder. His expression is something between a smirk and a grimace.
“I believe now may be the time to let him go,” he says, “for while it was certainly entertaining for everyone here, it seems we no longer have the time to deal with him. Also you look ridiculous.”
Slag grunts in response, and then lets go. The pitter-patter of tiny, furry, feet scatter across the floor. Slag straightens any parts of her ensemble that may have gotten pushed out of place during the scuffle. She checks her jeans and finds a tiny cut above her knee. Molten ore is already bleeding out and singeing the denim.
“Dammit, not again…”
She looks down and finds the cause of the cut, a long and impeccably sharp knife. She picks it up and examines it.
“The little rat must have stolen it. I can’t get wait to go home, away from all these mystic portals, and invisible thieving midgets, er, little people.”
“Oh we aren’t going home,” The Broker replies.
“As much as I would like to return, we have been given quite an opportunity. These shards can open doors to other worlds. That makes them astounding, immensely important, and priceless… well not entirely priceless. Everything has it’s price, but why would you ever sell?”
He picks up and manipulates the shard of the ‘misty corner’ in his hand.
“Imagine it, opening a door to an entirely new world. Their technology, magic, abilities, patents, and resources all in your hands, and you would be the only one of your realm with access to them…no, that may actually be priceless.”
“But what of the ill-defined ‘Enemy’,” Slag suggests, “wouldn’t they just kill us for it? How can you profit off it if we’re dead?”
“A fair point,” he replies, “but they aren’t my enemy, and who knows, they may be more receptive then our kidnapper alleges. They may even have a better offer. Speaking of offers …”
He pockets the crystal and takes the knife from Slag’s hand. He taps Deathstroke on the shoulder with its hilt.
“Mr. Wilson, isn’t it?” he says with a sterile smile, “You’ll have to forgive me the lack of formal greetings, but considering the situation, I doubt we have time for it. Don’t ask how I know, but you seem to me to be a man who can get things done; I’ve always admired the mercenary spirit. Consider my retrieving this property on your behalf, as simply an indication of better things to come.”
He tosses the knife high in the air and strolls out towards the misty corner portal. Slag follows quick behind the boss and they move into the portal before getting a response.