Chapter 9: Chapter 9
MAY 23rd, 1999
3rd Person POV
Narrows, Gothamhe
Narrows, a district nestled within the heart of Gotham City, was notorious for its seedy underbelly. When night fell, a different world awakened. Shadows cast long and sinister, concealing illicit activities unfolding in its dimly lit streets. The air was thick with the scent of desperation, vice, and secrets.
In this labyrinth of vice, a chase unfolded. A figure clad in a red leather jacket, black t-shirt, and jeans darted across the rooftops with the agility of a feral cat. His hands were adorned with a small gauntlet, glowing with blue lines pulsating with electric energy. He fired bolts of crackling electricity, arcing through the night as he sought to deter his relentless pursuer.
Hot on his heels was Brendan, determination etched upon his face. His own gauntlet, equipped with vibro-shocks, unleashed powerful bursts of energy, propelling him forward with each discharge. Roof after roof, they traversed the Narrows, their pursuit a blur of kinetic motion.
As the chase intensified, the buildings grew scarcer. Brendan knew he was closing in on his target. With each leap and bound, he gained ground, his exhaustion pushed aside by sheer adrenaline-fueled determination. There was no escape for the one being chased, no more rooftops to flee upon.
Sensing the inevitable, the hunted figure skidded to a halt, his breathing heavy and labored. He turned to face Brendan, his face a mask of defiance and resignation. "Finally got you, Mr. Buchinsky," Brendan declared, his voice carrying the weight of weariness.
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FEW HOURS AGO
BRENDAN'S POV
In the few days that had passed since my encounter with Croc, I had managed to convince him to join my heist plan for S.T.A.R. Labs. I considered myself extremely lucky that things had gone my way, but I knew I had to deliver on my promise to help him with his condition, or I'd be in grave danger.
On the other hand, my time with the mob had come to an end, and I found myself back at the Bella Luna Taverna, ready to meet Tony. As I entered, the familiar interior and the barkeep greeted me warmly, motioning me to the backroom just as before.
In the dimly lit backroom, Tony was waiting for me, flanked by his guards. His face lit up when he saw me, and he spoke with enthusiasm, "Ah, Brendan, just the man I was looking for! Your name's been circulating quite a bit within the family after you saved Luigi's bacon."
I cringed internally; I didn't want my name associated with the Falcones and attract unnecessary attention, especially from the likes of the caped crusader. Pushing those thoughts aside, I replied, "Just doing my job, boss. By the way, did any of the goons I knocked out reveal anything about who attacked us?"
Tony shook his head, "No, they all said the same thing – they were hired over the phone, payment through dead drops. Nobody saw the guy who hired them. But let's not dwell on them; they're already in pieces. We have some business to discuss."
Taking a seat across from him, Tony continued, "The boss was impressed with your work, kid, and he wants you assigned to him. You'll be working at the Velvet Viper as a guard under his wing. Keep your nose clean and keep a piece with you at all times. We don't know who's targeting us, and I don't want you dead while you owe us money." He chuckled, sliding a Glock and bullets toward me.
Accepting the gun and checking the bullets even though I had no idea how to shoot, I was surprised by Tony's concern for my well-being. Working at the Velvet Viper was a significant opportunity; it was a prominent mob business front, masquerading as a gambling club disguised as a bar. A lot of money flowed through it, and it provided a safe haven away from the violent streets.
I thanked Tony for the chance and left the room, where I encountered the man I wanted to meet, Willy the Mouse – a small, wiry man who always seemed to be in a state of panic. With round glasses perched on his nose, his eyes darted around nervously, earning him the nickname "The Mouse." He was the mob's supposed information broker, but his tips were often hilariously inaccurate or outdated, leading people on wild goose chases.
Willy's network of informants consisted mostly of street kids and gossipy old ladies, further adding to his reputation as an unreliable source. Despite his comical and clumsy nature, he somehow managed to remain a part of the mob.
I asked him as I took him to a corner " So Willy, did you find what I asked for ", even though I knew the guy would get me some unreliable information but he was my best choice.
He fidgeted nervously around, and spoke "Yeah I got it, the man you asked you for lives in a garage near the narrows, I almost didn't find him but you told me about his brother and there are not many Buchinsky's left in Gotham much less a sibling pair so when you told me to find them I looked all around the city but what do you know! they were living right under my nose in my territory, their family history is a bit complicated though coz their family was pretty big back around they did most of the electronic work for the city..... "
Willy kept on rambling on for about 15 minutes throwing in useless bits of information along with some useful ones and I had to shut him up by throwing a packet of cash at him which seemed to shut him then I asked Aim " and what about the other stuff I asked for did you find them ?"
He started scratching his head and replied "Sorry dude, Gotham's a pretty city It will take some time to find them all but by the way why are you loo-", his words got stuck in his throat when he found me sticking me my new Glock to his head.
" Don't ask questions you don't want answers to willy, sometimes keeping your mouth shut, head down, and doing the grunt work is better for your health ", Honestly I wasn't the type to use intimidation to get people to keep their mouth shut but I this was the only way people like willy keep their mouth shut, and for what I was planning to do the fewer people that could connect the dots the better.
Since I had the information for my possible new recruit it was time to find him and get him to cooperate with me for my plans.
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It was the dead of night when I arrived at the address that Willy had given me. The old garage/motor shop stood before me, its dim lights flickering against the darkness. I approached the half-closed shutter and knocked on it a few times, calling out for Marcus. The silence that followed made my heart race, but I couldn't afford to be hesitant. I decided to take matters into my own hands and cautiously entered the shop.
Inside, the garage appeared deserted, and I called out for Marcus again. Marcus Buchinsky, the original Electrocutioner, a name that history had nearly forgotten. His reputation as a self-appointed executioner of criminals who evaded the law intrigued me, and his skill with electronics was exactly what I needed for my heist at S.T.A.R. Labs. But my interest deepened when I learned about his family history from Willy, information missing from the comics.
The Buchinsky family, once one of Gotham's wealthy and powerful clans from the 1920s and 1980s, had fallen from grace in the past two decades. The causes of their downfall were suspiciously timed, coinciding with their investment in the underground subway project. Ronald Buchinsky, the patriarch, and a brilliant inventor, passed away in a car crash along with his wife around the same time as the death of the Waynes, the family's fortunes crumbled, they lost their factories to fires overnight, their government contracts were transferred to their rivals, leading to their eventual bankruptcy. Marcus and Lester, the children, vanished from the public eye, leaving me to wonder about the secret that had been buried beneath Gotham.
Something was definitely suspicious about the entire thing, I had an inkling about who was behind the suspected sabotage of the Buchinsky family but for the life of me, I couldn't figure out what was hiding below Gotham that someone was willing to bury entire families to hide it.
Lost in my thoughts, I heard peculiar noises emanating from a nearby room. Curiosity got the better of me, and I quietly approached the source. Inside, a muscular figure clad in a red leather jacket, black t-shirt, and jeans was practicing his electric attacks on a metal target. I knocked on the door to announce my presence, and with a wary expression, he turned to face me.
"Hey, are you Marcus?" I asked, attempting to introduce myself. Before I could say more, his eyes fell upon the gun Tony had given me, and his reaction was swift. A bolt of electricity shot towards me, and I rolled out of the way, seeking cover.
"Who the fuck are you, and what are you doing in my shop?" he demanded, fear and anger mingling in his voice. I quickly realized how suspicious my presence must have seemed, especially with the firearm in tow. I needed to clear the misunderstanding and explain my purpose, but Marcus didn't wait for explanations. He leaped through a nearby window and disappeared into the night.
Without a moment's hesitation, I followed suit, the adrenaline pumping through my veins as I gave chase. The rooftops of the narrows became our battleground as we leaped and ran, each of us striving to outmaneuver the other. The clatter of our footfalls and the occasional burst of electricity with booms of air created an eerie symphony in the silence of the night.
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PRESENT TIME
The night air was heavy with tension as Marcus Buchinsky finally stopped on the rooftops, his chest heaving with exhaustion from our intense chase. I took a few cautious steps forward, attempting to deescalate the situation, and tossed the gun away from me, making it clear that I meant no harm.
"Marcus, just hold on a second," I implored, trying to catch my breath. "I'm not here to hurt you. I know you saw the gun, but I'm not your enemy. Please, let's talk."
Marcus eyed me warily, suspicion still etched on his face. "Talk? About what? Who are you, and why were you in my garage at this time?"
I hesitated for a moment, carefully choosing my words. "I know about your family history, about how you and your brother have been hiding in the narrows by changing your last name. I also know that your parents' death wasn't an accident. It was a setup, and I want to help you find out the truth."
He scoffed incredulously. "How do you know all this? I've been living secretly for the last five years. No one's supposed to know who we really are."
"I'm part of the Falcone mob," I confessed, knowing that honesty was my best chance at gaining his trust. "We have our sources, and I can assure you that we're good at digging up secrets. I'm planning a heist at S.T.A.R. Labs, and I need someone skilled with electronics like you to help me. But more importantly, I want to help you get justice for your family."
Marcus seemed conflicted, his eyes darting away as if contemplating his next move. "I hate criminals. I want nothing to do with you," he muttered, turning to walk away from me.
Okay this was good for me as he just hated criminals, and had not become the hungry criminal murdering shock machine like in the comics and he could still be convinced if I played my cards right, he was one of the most integral part of my plan you see his family did most of the electrical operations in the city and that included the S.T.A.R.S lab building and they still used all the tech and security and the only surviving person who could know the loopholes about these systems was standing infront of me.
As he started to leave panic surged within me, and I knew I had to make one final pitch to convince him. "Marcus, think about it. How long do you think you can hide yourself and your brother? The people who wiped out your family may still be looking for you, and when they find you, its not a matter of "if" but "when" they won't stop until they erase every trace of the Buchinsky family. You may hate criminals, but if you join me, I promise to help you find the truth and bring those responsible to justice. It won't be easy, and there are no guarantees of riches or fame, but I swear on my life that come hell or high water I'll do everything in my power to ensure you fulfill your revenge."
He stood there for a few minutes, his mind racing with the weight of my words. I could see the conflict in his eyes, torn between his thirst for vengeance and his aversion to criminals. At last, he turned to face me, determination creeping into his expression.
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A/N- So I am back, had a little trouble with my schedule and couldn't write as regularly as I wanted to, how did you like this chapter, did you like Marcus's character introduction, since there wasn't much information about the first electrocutioner I had to make up some history and give him some motivation, do give some feedback. Also, shoutout to Lilvonte_1 and 72_CNDC for the continued power stone support even though I wasn't uploading.
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