Kapitel 28: Issue #26: Deadly Allies
Edmund Serana.
'What he did not only saved my daughter but also put him in my sights.'
From what I have recovered in the ensuing weeks I have returned, his father is one short step away from bankruptcy. Held aloft only by the saving grace of Wayne Industries, which makes him more suspicious.
Rachel has told me about his fighting prowess. Being able to sever a man's hand, especially that of an adult man without an extremely sharp blade, is improbable by any standards.
'Except for one. He's a metahuman.'
Although his ability is not exactly known, I can guess what it is from what little Rachel has told me. He's not yet a threat, however, even if he had already tasted blood.
'I'm getting old and he's young, younger than any superhuman that I have seen before. Maybe it's time to pass down the mantle of death and let others embrace the Scythe of justice.'
It's not the time for that, however, as–like last time–copycats began coming out of the woodworks. Most of them use my name to instill a fear amongst the populace of Gotham, more specifically, the wealthy elites.
But the organizations I'm looking for are the ones who use my name to establish dominance in their respective neighborhood. After I killed the chief of police–braving the murky waters of Gotham to strike at the heart of its criminality–
Yet that is not enough. This city has degraded over the years. It has forgotten the fear of death.
The fear of the Reaper.
"Are you going out again, sir?" Asks Bertha, the mother of Augbert.
I nod, wearing a soft smile on my face. "My friend in New York has been made aware of my return. You know how they are and I can't refuse."
Bertha sighs, "Well, be careful, then, sir. You never know what might happen."
"That you don't."
My brown overcoat flutters in the wind as I enter the car, driving out of the manor and into the nightlife of Gotham.
Ever since my skirmish with the vigilante known as Batman and his subsequent defeat and disappearance, the city has descended into a well of chaos and unrest. His existence has been compared to mine, even before I came home, yet when I tested his will to fight for the peace of Gotham, he failed miserably.
'He cannot do what is necessary nor what this city deserves.'
After that attack on GCPD, the city's influential districts have gotten tighter on their security. Batman knows where I usually haunt the streets, so my web of influence is getting smaller by the day.
It does not matter, however, as my mission for the night is dealing with the organization that uses my name for evil deeds. Not even they could escape the blades of death.
Sutter Lane.
What was once an elegant row of shops rivaling Savile Row is now a den of thieves and hedonism. A different clientele mill about the long-forgotten part of this wretched city.
I park the car into an alleyway, destroying any features and signs that will point to me before donning my leather helmet and putting on a large hat to hide its hideous features.
I scour the streets, gazing intermittently at the fallen sight before me. Crack addicts begging on their knees near alleyways, a brutal mugging of a bespoke couple that had turned the wrong way, and a multitude of whores scraping their faces for small sums of money.
"Hey, honey! Want some suga'?" A middle-aged whore speaks to me, surfing amongst her cadre of girls. Some are young enough to be my daughter's age.
I ignore her and continue walking forward. Yet she is persistent.
"C'mon, don't be shy." She struts her hips and caresses the lines of my shoulder over my overcoat. "How's about I give you pleasure you've never felt before?"
I turn towards her, revealing the skull etched into my mask. Her face morphs into fear as she stumbles backwards.
"Woman, my satisfaction is derived from purging the city of such as you…" I remove my overcoat, revealing my full body crimson leather armor.
The whore screams in fear, stilettos slipping on the crack on the pavement and making her stumble down.
"... Like a disease," The silver scythes on both my hands glints under the moonlight, "You plague this city with evil and crime!"
The people in the streets scream and run in fear, helping no one but themselves. I pay them no heed, walking towards my destination as the echoes of pain and agony fill Sutter Lane once more.
My destination soon reveals itself to me.
A brothel run by Jack Enzirrilo, the son of Enzirrilo Family's godfather Enrico. They have made these streets as theirs and, in vain hopes of further pushing police presence from their establishments, have announced their involvement with me.
I knock on the door and, without waiting for a response, I kick it open. Startled by my entrance, the employees cower in fear, but some quickly raise their guns at me in defiance.
'Nine combatants, seven prostitutes, and thirteen johns.'
"Who the fuck are you?" One asks, tone reeking of someone not within the slashing distance of my scythes.
I prove him wrong by aiming a scythe at him. The silvered cage hilt of my scythe has holes in them, perfectly crafted to release only one thing: iron bullets.
With a thunderous BANG smoke puffs out of my cage hilt as a single bullet ripples through the air and hits the man in the forehead. The quickness with which it hit him prevented him from identifying the pain. Only when the blood dripped from his head to his hand did he notice the agony searing through his mind.
He drops dead, astonishing most, if not all, of the armed men pointing their weapons at me.
Bullets and gunpowder reverberated across the room as a hail of gunfire storms my position, only for them to find it empty of my visage.
"In the last moments of your life…" My voice echoes around the room, startling them further.
The illumination of the room suddenly flickers off, leaving them in complete darkness. The johns begin shouting and running in fear, oblivious to my attempts to slice their guts and leave their entrails hanging in the air.
Only when their torsos and arms leave their body, do they react to the destruction I have brought upon them.
"... Prepare to know wisdom, acknowledged by even the gods…"
I hit another of Enzirrilo's men in the stomach and deftly flay a whore neck to abdomen before returning to the johns. They are the ones who make these women delve into the pits of depravity; those who demand evil are as guilty as those who supply evil.
"...To know the fear of death… the fear of the Reaper!"
I turn on the lights, revealing the utter carnage I have brought upon to this debased establishment. The mobsters are either cut to pieces or clinging to life by a thread, a thread I hold firmly above them.
The johns are nowhere to be seen, at least in one piece. What has remained of their forms are covered in blood and entrails, some theirs and some not.
I walk up the stairs, dripping in the fluids of my duty, whereupon I meet the owner of this brothel and the so-called "friend of the Reaper".
"Y-you motherfucker!" Jack greets me with a warm welcome. "Who do you fucking think you are?"
I saunter forward and, with each step of mine, he and his three other goons step back in fear.
"You say you are a friend of mine, yet you reek of the very evil that plagues this city. I have sworn vengeance twenty years ago, sworn to protect this city and do what must be done."
Dozens of cartridges pelts the ground as I replace the bullets in my cage hilt.
"Tonight, I will remind this city–"
"That you are its past." Batman emerges from the shadows above me and launches a downward kick.
I evade with a skillful roll, putting him in between the mobsters and their guns. The bullets hit his back, but the cape behind him is different from the last time we met.
'The failed son of Gotham came prepared.'
"You are unfit, Batman. You cannot do what is necessary. Relieve yourself from this battle and I shall not harm you further." I order, a glare piercing through my mask.
"I will not." He replies, much to my disappointment.
"Then perish." I aim my scythe and fire off a barrage of bullets, hitting the goons, but not him.
His deft exhibition of his agility prevents the bullet from ever reaching his frame as he grows closer to my position.
'He never learns.'
With a sideway slash, I cut off the bannister to my left to leave him bereft of any footholds. He is quick, however, to take out a grappling hook and to swing above me, inches away from the range of my scythes.
He lands quickly, with barely enough time to block his backwards kick. My leather armor proves to be a tough customer for Batman as nary a bruise or wound has elapsed since he revealed himself.
I retaliate by furiously slashing the sides of his outstretched legs, which feel tougher than normal.
"You think your petty tricks can outclass my duty to this city?!"
When he dives backwards to evade a diagonal slash, my other weapon fires at him and hits his shoulders. The bullet travels inwards but fails to pierce through his armor, leaving only a small yet deep dent.
The force of the bullet, however, destabilizes his roll and knocks him off his feet. I run forward to end his petty life, but the bullets of the goons behind me find my form.
Distracted by the sharp pain enveloping my body, I forgot that Batman still existed. A mistake that costs me a broken jaw as he smashes his fist against my helmet and then, for a second time.
The force of the blow makes me take a few steps backwards, back behind the steps that lead to the ground floor. Unfortunately for him, I have controlled my body by then, which allows me to duck the third blow and retaliate by sliding the back of my scythe against the side of his torso.
He pushes against me and backs into a wall, the side of his torso bleeding from the large gash.
"You cannot hope to defeat me." I mock.
"I don't need to." He replies before throwing small beads onto the ground that release a thick foggy smoke.
I steady my guard and try to predict where he will attack, but he does not attack. Not only after the smoke dissipated that I find the goons of Jack Enzirrilo incapacitated with their boss nowhere to be found.
"I see," I mutter under my breath as my ears pick up the sound of a police siren. "You have chosen to side with the criminals. Very well."
•••
*Olgar (POV)*
"Ladies and gentlemen, lowlives of Gotham… listen once and listen well!" Cobblepot stomps his umbrella on the ground, turning around the cylindrical room with the movements of an expert showman.
"We know what the Reaper has done to our great city! Our profits are down, our business associates are fearing for their lives, and the damn police can't do shit because they're too busy canoodling the masses."
He riles them up masterfully, as evident by the jeers of the crowd and the pounds of the crime lord's hand against the table.
"Mr. Morritz!" He points to a wizened man with graying pompadour and thin-framed glasses. "How much of your drug merchants are losing?"
"35% percent." Morrison replied with as much dignity as a diplomat.
"Big Loue, how about you and your prostitutes?" Cobblepot asks a large Italian man with a white hair combed over.
Luigi "Big Lou" Maroni of the Maroni Crime Family, a bitter rival of the Falcone Crime Family and one of Gotham's biggest human traffickers, answered gruffly, "About 41%. The Reaper, eh, kills the hookers too."
"My business, too, is gone off the rackets because of this Reaper," Cobblepot rumbles under his breath for a moment before looking down on every criminal within the chamber. "That is why I have gone ahead and offered an alliance."
"To who? Metropolis?" Asks Tony Li, the leader of the Neon Dragon Triad. Once one of Gotham's top crime lords and is now trudging through a tong war with the Lucky Hand Triad.
"Me." I look up to see Batman drop Jack Enzirrilo onto the main table.
Every single person in the room either produces a gun or a blade from their pockets, aiming it at Batman. Even with dozens of them surrounding Gotham's premier vigilante, there is an amalgamation of long-forgotten fear and apprehension coursing through every single one of them.
"Put down your weapons before I break them in your face. I'm not here for you." He says calmly, kicking the unconscious form of Jack Enzirrilo towards his father.
"Then what do you want?" Asks Enrico Enzirrilo, barely hiding the angst in his voice.
"The Bat offers a truce," Cobblepot snickers at everyone's reaction. "Yes, that's right. A truce between Batman and all of Gotham's crime lords."
A murmur of fear and disbelief spreads once more before Tony Li smashes his fist against the table to gain everyone's attention.
"What for? To entrap us into being confined in that damn nuthouse?" He asks incredulously.
"To deal with the Reaper once and for all." Batman answers.
A grim smile spreads across my face as Comrade Vassily nudges me on the shoulder.
"Goddamn, Gramps," Vassily remarks. "Did you know this would happen?"
I shrug my shoulders, keeping my secrets within.
'The kids sure know his stuff.'
•••
*Edmund Serana (POV)*
"Did you thank Dr. Thompson before you left?" Asks mother as I board the carriage of death and destruction.
"Yeah…" I mutter under my breath as I close my eyes and place both my hands on my chest.
"Edmund Serana. This is a limousine, not a hearse." She scolds, glaring at me even though my eyes are closed.
"Then why am I being buried!?"
I groan out of my fake death and open my eyes, cringing at the number of party favors flooding my part of the limo while mother and Jasmine bathes in champagne and macaroons.
My birthday is right around the corner–in three days, specifically–and mother thought it best to buy materials for my party just when I had just been released from the hospital.
I'm not sure if she's angry with me that I told her not to prepare for my party or because I told my 'friends' that there is no party or that I ordered Olgar to do something in the city the moment he landed last night.
'I could go either way.'
"Honey, mind telling us where you sent Olgar?" Mother asks as we park unto the patisserie we were in last time.
"I have an online friend, Samantha. Just checking up on her." I tell my pre-prepared lie.
In truth, the business with Penguin escaping the clutches of Batman and Batman being seen in daylight have me worried for some reason.
Bruce has made sure for years to never have a clear picture of him or any of his adventures, being downright fascistic about it as he bought off media and paper companies throughout the years. Yet, there he was, being seen on live television talking to the commissioner of GCPD.
Then, there exists the self-contradictory information. Penguin escapes his clutches, but not the fifteen gunmen that took the whole of city hall hostage. From what I've seen of the newsclips and social media sightings, Batman entered the mayor's office and confronted Penguin.
'Something up and only that Russian spy could tell me about it.'
Although he never really did tell me about it, I secretly learned a few units of Russian and other Slavic languages in the past four years to eavesdrop on his casual curses and bleats of information whenever he becomes too drunk on my father's liquor.
From the drops and hints of stories, he may have been a KGB agent from somewhere in the 70s and that he hates his country for becoming too socialist.
'God, what a hippie!'
I look out to see a meter tall cake being placed atop the counter and Jasmine arguing with the owner of the establishment.
"Are you gonna put that in here?" I point towards the cake.
"No. They're going to deliver it later." Mother replies as she grunts in annoyance. "God, your father isn't responding to my texts and calls."
I scoff. "Do we want him there? I thought we're divorcing him?"
"Edmund." She admonishes, "Even if he won't be my husband for long, he's still your father."
"But he ain't my daddy!" I joke, eliciting a bark of laughter from her.
"You–Ha–need to watch your mouth, mister." She glares at me half-heartedly. "But, seriously, Edmund. You're turning nine this Saturday. Is there anything you want?"
I gaze at her and, for a moment, think to say, 'You and Jasmine being there is everything I want.', but that would be too cheesy, even for me. My smile widens as I rest my shoulder on a pack of glitter balloons.
"I hope you can invite Mr. Wayne and Richard to my party. I know that you don't like him and–"
"Done." She says joyfully, "What's with that look? I'm just happy that you have a friend."
I nod, "Happy."
'Very happy. Now that Bruce is there for the dinner party, he would save me or at least cover for me should anything happen to me that night.'
Jasmine enters the limousine and we drive once more. I observe the city along the way, finding the serenity permeating across the streets to be merely a facade of fear and worry.
In the wake of the Reaper's destruction, many more villains have popped out in the open. From King Shark attacking the opera house to Mad Hatter, creating a deadly caricature of "Through The Looking Glass" in a fully working steel foundry.
His Rogues' Gallery alone put him through back-breaking work. What more of the Reaper's constant massacre of the slowly cannibalizing criminal organizations in Gotham's underground world?
It's safe to say that Batman is under the greatest pressure he has been in the past few years and, if my guess is right, his will would break sooner than later.
'I know all too well what happens during that phase of his life.'
We soon arrive at the manor and disembark the cargo to the maids and bodyguards. While they do backbreaking work for something I don't even want, I head to my room and await the arrival of my spy-cum-bodyguard.
"Don't leave the manor, young man. I've got my eyes on you." Jasmine warns me when she passes me along the halls.
"Yes, ma'am!"
As I enter my room, I lock the door and windows and draw all the curtains before kneeling down and taking out a chest box underneath my bed. I blow out the dust atop its surface, input the three-numbered code and open it to reveal its contents.
A flip phone from the before-times, three journals containing my memories, and a 45. Caliber revolver that I stole from one of the guards that died in Talon's hands. This is my treasure, every one of these items are either the only thing that makes me dangerous in this universe and, at the same time, keeps me safe.
Except for the flip phone. 'That's just because it looks cool to have a secret phone.'
It only has three contact numbers; Alfred's home number, given to me on my third day of training; Bruce's personal number, only to be dialed in case of extreme emergency or if the government has put a bounty on you; and, what I need now, Olgar's phone.
I dial up his number and he's quick to answer.
"Yellow." He says.
I chuckle humorlessly, "Funny. Anything on Penguin?"
"Look at you being a slave-driver to a man recently out of a hospital. I'm proud of you." He remarks.
"Thanks," I say cutely, "Now, Penguin."
"Da. You're right. Something is weird with the criminals. They had a meeting last night. All the crime lords are there, except for Falcone and Black Mask." He informs me.
"Who set it up?" I ask.
"Penguin. Not only that, they have Bird in the audience." A grave tone is injected into Olgar's voice.
"Bird?"
He sighs, "He's Bane's top lieutenant."
"Fuck." I curse aloud. "What happened then?"
"Cobblepot rallied them into killing off the Reaper, but…" Olgar stops for dramatic purposes. "Batman arrived and proposed a truce."
"Fuck." I curse aloud again. "Did they?"
"After a few hand jerks, yes." He replies crudely. "Edmund. This is getting more dangerous. Even my contacts inside of the underworld are warning me from investigating further. What's your order?"
"Nothing. Go back home and be safe." I say.
"What are you going to do?" He asks, even though it's obvious.
"Well, first things first, I'm going to survive my birthday,"
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