Kapitel 9: Chapter 8: The Bounty
Two Weeks Ago – Gotham Docks
The rain fell like a thousand tiny needles, pricking the surface of Gotham's desolate docks. The sound of waves crashing against the shore melded with the steady downpour, creating an eerie symphony that blanketed the night. A thick mist rolled in from the sea, obscuring the hulking cargo ships that dotted the landscape like silent giants.
High above, perched atop a rusted crane, Batman watched as a dozen men moved in the shadows below. They were jittery, casting nervous glances around as they unloaded crates from a cargo ship into waiting trucks. Their movements were quick and sloppy, the telltale signs of desperation. Batman had seen this scenario play out countless times, but tonight felt different. Something was off.
His eyes, hidden behind the cold glare of his cowl, narrowed as he analyzed the scene. The crates, marked with obscure symbols, bore no usual identification. These weren't ordinary shipments. Batman's instincts screamed danger, and his instincts were rarely wrong.
Silently, like a shadow, he dropped from the crane and moved toward the group. The rain did nothing to mask the quietness of his approach. He wove through the maze of shipping containers, a phantom in the dark. He was invisible, and he was unstoppable.
One by one, he took down the thugs with surgical precision. His movements were swift, calculated—a punch to the throat here, a nerve strike there. No one had time to cry out. Within moments, only one remained—a lone thug, frantically unloading the last of the crates.
Batman seized the man by his collar and slammed him against the cold steel of the container. The thug's eyes went wide with fear, the breath caught in his throat as he stared into the abyss of Batman's mask.
"Who is this shipment for?" Batman's voice cut through the air, low and menacing, like the growl of an approaching storm.
The thug swallowed hard, his pulse pounding in his ears. He tried to wriggle free, but Batman's iron grip tightened.
"I— I don't know!" the thug stammered, his voice shaking. "I swear, I don't—"
"Don't lie to me." Batman's eyes narrowed, his patience wearing thin. He leaned closer, his voice a deadly whisper. "Who is it for?"
The thug's resolve crumbled. The terror was too much. "Okay, okay!" he sputtered. "It's for Bane! Bane, Penguin, and Two-Face! They've teamed up!"
Batman's mind raced. Bane, Penguin, Two-Face… A dangerous combination. "Why?" he demanded, his voice laced with urgency.
The thug swallowed again, his mouth dry. "They're leaving Gotham! Goin' to Detroit. They're gonna take over the city by killing Gambit. They put a bounty on his head… Five hundred million dollars." He trembled, the weight of his words sinking in. "Every mercenary and assassin's been called. It's a hit. A kill order."
Batman's eyes darkened. A half-billion-dollar bounty? That wasn't just about killing one man. It was about sending a message—a declaration of war.
Before the thug could utter another word, Batman slammed his fist into the man's jaw, knocking him unconscious. He stepped back, letting the body slump to the ground, his mind already turning toward his next move.
The Batcave
The sound of the Batmobile roaring through the hidden entrance to the Batcave echoed off the cavernous walls. As the vehicle came to a stop, the towering screens surrounding the Batcomputer flickered to life. A holographic map of Gotham and Detroit appeared, crisscrossed with lines of data and surveillance feeds.
Batman stepped out of the car, his cape billowing behind him as he made his way to the center of the cave. The Bat Family was already gathered, waiting for him—Nightwing, Robin (Damian Wayne), Red Robin, Signal, Black Bat, Spoiler, and Oracle, their faces reflecting the concern etched in Bruce's mind.
Nightwing, leaning against the Batcomputer, was the first to speak. "You don't look happy," he remarked, a hint of dark humor in his voice. "What's going on?"
Batman didn't waste time. "Bane, Penguin, and Two-Face have put a half-billion-dollar bounty on Gambit's head. They're leaving Gotham, moving to Detroit."
Silence fell over the group as they processed the information. Oracle tapped a few keys, bringing up a detailed file on Gambit.
"A bounty that big is going to draw every mercenary and assassin from here to Central City," Red Robin said grimly. "They'll turn Detroit into a warzone."
Robin crossed his arms, his expression as cold as ever. "Gambit's clever. He won't let himself get killed that easily."
"Clever isn't enough," Batman replied, his voice heavy. "This isn't just about Gambit. Civilians will get caught in the crossfire. If we don't intervene, Detroit will burn."
Nightwing pushed off the console and approached. "You're right. We need to warn Gambit. If he's the target, he needs to know what's coming."
Batman nodded, his eyes scanning the faces of his family. "I'm going to Detroit. I need to make sure he understands the gravity of the situation."
Signal stepped forward, concern evident on his face. "And what about Bane, Penguin, and Two-Face? They won't just sit around and wait for their plan to fail."
"They won't have to," Batman said, already planning his next move. "If Gambit dies, Detroit falls."
Present Day – Detroit Rooftops
The night was still, save for the faint sound of the city below. Batman stood on the rooftop, the dark silhouette of Detroit's skyline stretching out before him. Beside him, Gambit leaned casually against the railing, his signature bo staff twirling lazily between his fingers.
The silence between them was heavy, charged with the weight of what Batman had just revealed.
Then, without warning, Gambit burst out laughing.
"I'm sorry, mon ami," Gambit said between chuckles, his voice laced with amusement. "But a half-billion dollars? Dat's how dey plan to kill me? Dat's funny."
Batman's eyes narrowed, his patience wearing thin. "This is serious, Gambit. They'll stop at nothing to collect that bounty. You can't afford to be reckless."
Gambit waved a dismissive hand, still grinning. "I ain't worried, Bats. I've handled worse. Dis is somethin' I can manage."
Before Batman could respond, a soft clink echoed through the air. Instinctively, both men turned, their eyes locking onto the small canister that had appeared in the center of the rooftop.
A smoke bomb.
Thick, gray smoke billowed out, engulfing the rooftop in seconds. Batman's hand shot to his utility belt, pulling out a smoke filter mask. Gambit's stance shifted, his staff at the ready, his eyes scanning the fog.
As the smoke began to clear, figures emerged—silent, deadly, and numerous. At least seventy of them, dressed in black and orange, their faces hidden beneath featureless masks. They moved like phantoms, surrounding the two heroes in a tight circle.
Batman's eyes narrowed as he recognized the signature color scheme. "Deathstroke's mercenaries."
Gambit raised an eyebrow, glancing at Batman. "Who's Deathstroke?"
Batman didn't answer, his mind focused on the threat at hand. Gambit, however, couldn't help but chuckle inwardly. Of course, Jake had watched shows like Justice League and Young Justice back in his previous life. But Deathstroke? Wasn't he just some cartoon villain? This was real life now—far more dangerous than any cartoon could ever show.
Suddenly, the mercenaries attacked.
The first wave came fast, but Gambit was faster. He spun his bo staff with lethal precision, knocking the first attacker off his feet before following up with a flurry of charged cards. The explosions lit up the night, sending several mercenaries flying through the air.
Batman moved with equal ferocity, his strikes clean and deliberate. A batarang whizzed through the air, knocking a mercenary's weapon out of his hands, while Batman's fist connected with another's face, sending him sprawling to the ground.
Despite the chaos, Batman's mind was already working, analyzing Gambit's fighting style. The Cajun moved with a fluidity that was almost hypnotic, combining agility and power with the unpredictability of his powers. But there were weaknesses—moments when Gambit's reliance on his kinetic abilities left him exposed. Batman took note of every detail, cataloging it for later.
The mercenaries kept coming, wave after wave, but Gambit and Batman held their ground. Gambit's bo staff cracked against skulls, his kinetic energy sending shockwaves through the crowd. Batman's gadgets—grappling hooks, smoke bombs, and explosive batarangs—whittled down the enemy with ruthless efficiency.
Within minutes, the rooftop was littered with unconscious bodies, the few remaining mercenaries retreating into the shadows.
Gambit twirled his staff and smirked, glancing over at Batman. "See? I can handle mysel—"
A gunshot rang out, cutting him off.
Pain exploded in Gambit's shoulder, the bullet tearing through flesh. He staggered back, clutching his wound as blood began to seep through his fingers.
"Son of a—" Gambit cursed, gritting his teeth. "It's always the same damn shoulder!"
Slow, deliberate clapping echoed through the air. From the shadows emerged a figure clad in orange and black armor, a single eye visible behind a fearsome mask. Beside him stood a woman, her silver hair framing her fierce, confident expression.
"Impressive," Deathstroke said, his voice cold and calculating. "My robot ninjas weren't meant to win. They were meant to test you. Congratulations, you passed."
Gambit, despite the pain, rolled his eyes. "Can you please shut the fuck up so we can get to the part where I kick your ass?"
But before he could move, his eyes locked onto the woman beside Deathstroke, and he couldn't help but grin, the flirt in him rising to the surface. "And who is dis beauty?"
The woman's expression hardened, but there was a flicker of something behind her eyes. "Ravager," she said curtly.
"Ravager?" Gambit repeated, the grin never leaving his face. "Chérie, you are ravaging my heart."
Ravager scowled, but a faint blush crept up her cheeks.
Deathstroke, uninterested in the banter, stepped forward, drawing his sword. He was about to strike, but Batman moved between him and Gambit, the two locking eyes for a tense moment before the fight erupted.
Sparks flew as Deathstroke's blade clashed with Batman's gauntlets. The two combatants moved with terrifying speed, each strike faster and more precise than the last. Batman's strength and strategy were a match for Deathstroke's brutal efficiency and skill.
Meanwhile, Ravager lunged at Gambit, her twin swords slicing through the air with deadly precision. Gambit danced around her strikes, his movements smooth and almost playful as he blocked and dodged, his bo staff twirling in his hands.
"Why aren't you takin' dis seriously?" Ravager snarled, her frustration evident.
Gambit smirked, catching her wrist mid-strike. "Because I want to go on a date with you, chérie."
Ravager froze, her eyes wide, her cheeks burning red. "W-What?"
Before she could respond, Deathstroke's voice cut through the night. "We're leaving."
Ravager, flustered, threw down a smoke bomb. The cloud of smoke engulfed them, and when it cleared, both Deathstroke and Ravager were gone.
Gambit coughed, waving away the lingering smoke. "Almost had her," he muttered with a grin.
Batman stepped over, handing Gambit a small communicator. "Here. In case you need help."
Remy took it, nodding. "Thanks."
With a silent nod, Batman turned, disappearing over the edge of the rooftop and into the Batmobile below. As the car roared to life and sped away, Gambit watched in awe.
"I need to get me one of those."
Wöchentlicher Energiestatus
-- Power-
Rangliste 
-- Power-
Stein