Chapter 117: CHAPTER 115
[Tom Hendricks POV]
The room hummed with anticipation as the members gathered around their respective screens. I observed the tension in their postures and the flicker of curiosity in their eyes. It was as though an invisible current pulsed through the room, connecting each of them to the hidden possibilities that awaited.
"Welcome, everyone," I began, breaking the thick silence that hung in the air. "I'm sure you're all wondering why I called you here today." The words tumbled out, infused with a hint of mystery.
Santo Cassamento, his eyes gleaming with excitement, couldn't contain his enthusiasm. "You've piqued our curiosity, boss. That email of yours made it sound like missing this meeting would be the biggest mistake of our lives," he said, a mischievous grin playing on his lips, followed by a chorus of murmurs from the others, their hopes and expectations swirling in the air.
"Silence!" commanded Deathstroke, his voice cutting through the room like a knife. The sheer authority in his tone silenced the gathering, reminding them of the hierarchy in which they stood. The room fell still, save for Carmine Falcone, who attempted to restore a sense of calm.
"Let us not jump to conclusions, my friends," Carmine intervened, his voice smooth and commanding. "Stay composed and hear what our esteemed Ghost has to say. He wouldn't waste our time or his own on trivial matters." His words carried an air of wisdom and experience, soothing the unrest that had briefly sparked.
"Very well," I replied, acknowledging Carmine's attempt to regain order.
"A war is looming on the horizon—a battle between villains and heroes," I revealed, watching their faces freeze as the weight of the impending conflict settled upon them. Yet, some were already fixated on my mention of expanding their businesses to new cities, their minds momentarily distracted by thoughts of personal gain.
"War?" they collectively uttered, their voices laced with a mix of curiosity and concern. Deathstroke, however, remained composed, his gaze fixed on the screen as if he had already anticipated the news.
"Yes, a war," I affirmed. "I cannot provide you with all the details, but Lex Luthor and his Legion of Doom are about to plunge the heroes into a chaotic struggle. This presents us with a rare opportunity to expand our operations, to move goods discreetly while the heroes are preoccupied, and even the police are overwhelmed."
"But not all of you will be able to proceed with this expansion," I continued, my gaze sweeping across the room, assessing their reactions. "Only those who desire power, not just money, will be able to ascend with me as I climb the ladder. Those unable to keep pace with my ambitions will find their businesses ripe for the taking."
Their eyes locked with mine, and I could discern the hunger for power in some, while others remained fixated on material gain and status. Money had its allure, but power held the key to controlling one's destiny, to transcending the limitations of the ordinary citizens.
"I stand with you," one of the mob bosses declared, lighting a Cuban cigar and savoring the moment. "You have proven time and again that you deliver. How can I reject an offer from a man who has consistently exceeded expectations? It's like denying a child a new flavor of candy, even when it promises to become their favorite."
A murmur of agreement swirled through the room, voices blending in harmony. Each member recognized the unparalleled opportunity I had presented—a chance to seize more power, wealth, and control. It was a symbiotic relationship, a pact forged in ambition and shared desire.
"Very well," I concluded, my voice laced with satisfaction. "Send me your ideas for expanding your businesses and the chosen cities. I will carefully analyze each proposal and develop strategies to facilitate the movement of goods and establish our influence in these new territories."
As I wrapped up the meeting, a sly smirk played upon my lips, mirroring the greedy looks on their faces. Their imaginations ran wild, envisioning the wealth and power that awaited them. The room buzzed with a renewed sense of purpose, as if the meeting had breathed life into their ambitions.
In the following days, emails flooded my inbox, filled with detailed plans and ambitious visions. Each member sought to outshine the others, eager to prove their worth and secure their place in the expanding empire. I studied their proposals meticulously, identifying strengths and weaknesses, and began formulating the master plan that would guide our operations.
The war between villains and heroes loomed ever closer, like an approaching storm. But within this chaos, I saw opportunity—an opportunity to thrive, to reshape the criminal underworld, and to solidify our grip on power. I knew that in this ruthless world, one had to seize every advantage, leverage every moment, and stay one step ahead of the competition.
…
Now that the meeting was done and dusted, I needed to contact Batman and inform him of Legion's movement. It won't be a fair war if the Legion takes the world by surprise, most of all the Justice League.
In this messed-up world I now called home, options were limited. Ratting out the villains seems like the smoothest move compared to living under Lex Luthor's tyranny and Gorilla Grodd's insanity. I've mulled it over a thousand times, searching for the slickest way to contact the Bat. But every idea that pops up is either pulling off a heist to make him come to me or using the damn Bat signal. Walking to the Wayne residence wasn't a smart move either.
The signal ain't a bad idea, I gotta admit. But I don't wanna come off all goody-two-shoes, like I'm ready to help the heroes whenever snap their fingers, or play by their book. Screw that nonsense. I'd rather rock the villain label and have 'em all hate me than be buddy-buddy with the League.
Then it hits me like a lightning bolt. The perfect scheme to lure him out, grab his attention, give the information and make the heroes dance to my tune. I'm gonna swipe a juicy piece of tech straight from Wayne Enterprises. That's gonna be my ticket to our little tête-à-tête.
So as night falls and the city sinks into shadows, I gear up for the gig. No need for elaborated prep or intricate plans. It's all about one thing: grabbing that sweet tech and setting the stage for our encounter.
…
As I surveyed the towering edifice of Wayne Enterprises, a sly grin curled on my lips. The moon cast an ethereal glow upon the building, illuminating my path towards the heist that would catch the Dark Knight's attention. The legion of doom's impending attack weighed heavily on my mind as I wouldn't want Lex Luthor to have his way, and I knew Batman was the key to tipping the scales and making the heroes plan their move.
With calculated ease, I scaled the walls of the company, my nimble fingers finding purchase in the crevices of the building's facade. Evading security systems that would have deterred lesser criminals, I maneuvered through the shadows, my movements as fluid as a dancer.
Upon reaching the top floor, I slipped into the highly secured research and development wing. The room pulsated with technological marvels, each one a potential tool for my endeavors. My gaze fell upon a prototype device, a cutting-edge creation that would surely draw Batman's attention. With practiced dexterity, I disarmed the security measures, bypassing each obstacle as if it were a mere inconvenience.
As I cradled the stolen tech in my gloved hands, a thought crossed my mind—a tracker embedded within. Wayne Enterprises never missed an opportunity to keep tabs on their prized possessions, and Batman would undoubtedly follow its signal straight to me. The thought brought a mischievous twinkle to my eyes; I was playing a dangerous game, but then again, so was he.
Leaving a mocking calling card behind, I vanished into the night, taking refuge atop a nearby rooftop. The city sprawled before me, a labyrinth of lights and shadows. I chose a perch beside a looming gargoyle, its stone visage mirroring my own inscrutable facade.
Time stretched out, the minutes melding into eternity as I awaited the arrival of the Caped Crusader. A cool breeze brushed against my face, the night air carrying a sense of anticipation. Half an hour passed, but still I waited, knowing he would definitely make an appearance.
Then, as if summoned by the very essence of darkness itself, Batman materialized behind me. His presence was unmistakable—an embodiment of his so-called justice, of hardcore determination. A whispered chuckle escaped my lips as I turned to face him, the moonlight casting a halo around his solemn figure.
"Hey there, Batsy," I greeted him, my voice dripping with casual nonchalance. "I've been waiting for you."
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