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74.5% Reborn as the Clown Prince / Chapter 149: Monster

Capítulo 149: Monster

The next arch may seem superfluous to someone, but it is necessary for the further plot.

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***Somewhere east of Gotham***

Over the three centuries of its existence, the Church of the Holy Martyr has transformed from a small building with only a couple of dozen parishioners into a real Gothic cathedral, fully in keeping with the gloomy spirit of Gotham. The towering buttresses, decorated with pinnacle turrets, held up the high walls, connected to them by arched spans. Statues of gargoyles on the parapets looked sternly at the bustling civilians below, and colored stained-glass windows astonished with their beauty and finesse of work. Unfortunately, the majestic and beautiful structure was destroyed overnight by a group of religious fanatics ten years ago. Then a powerful explosion instantly shattered the brickwork, killing and maiming the parishioners present at the service, and the fierce flames that erupted afterward completed the job, leaving the rare survivors without a shadow of a chance for salvation. All that remained of the cathedral were the foundations and a couple of shriveled walls, covered with black soot that had soaked into the stone.

Since then, the territory of the former church has acquired a bad reputation; animals, birds and even common vagrants preferred to avoid this place. It was considered bad form to restore the building, which had become a mass grave for a hundred people, so the enthusiasm of the authorities was enough only to clear up the rubble a little, and give the remains of the building the status of an architectural monument. It was all the more surprising to see a dark van with stained license plates parked not far from the ruins, and seven men got out of it. Five of them were dressed in dark austere suits with wide red belts around their waists and wore dark canvas sacks on their heads, but the other two were without that stylish accessory, but they wore tight blindfolds, and judging by their tortured appearance and their hands tied behind their backs, it was unlikely that they were going to be handed a suitcase of money or shown Disneyland.

"Movere eam*," one of the guards roughly pushed the hesitant prisoner, whose hair was already touched with noble gray.

"Please... Just tell me what I did... And I'll fix it..." the older man begged tearfully, struggling to move his legs that were stiff from the long drive. The thawed January snow mixed with mud made his cheap boots slip dangerously, and he didn't want to check the kidnappers' reaction if he accidentally fell. The few abrasions on his face and the bruises on his body from his sluggishness still resonated with a nasty ache.

The gray-haired man really didn't understand why he was in such a delicate position. An ordinary middle-class worker who had never crossed the path of serious people, but now he had been kidnapped in an alley on his way home and was being led somewhere unknown. No ransom demands, no threats, just painful pokes at any question. And just over twenty-four hours ago, he managed to survive a real alien invasion, hiding with his wife in the basement of the house, and his immediate plans were to quit his job to spend more time with his family!

His younger companion was also stressed by the unknown and the gloomy atmosphere around him, but he preferred to keep silent, knowing perfectly well that asking questions would only anger the guards.

Soon the strange procession stopped not far from the burned church altar.

"Tell me what's going on, please..." the older man spoke again.

"Fear the Lord! - Instead of answering, the armed guard exclaimed and slapped the overly talkative victim sharply on the back of the knee, causing him to collapse to the crumbling ground.

"English? You speak English? - there was hope in the voice of the fallen prisoner. - Hear me out, please! I didn't do anything!

"Sometimes we have to reward them. Illusion is justice," the man in the suit drew his gun and took aim, ignoring the others' babbling.

"Oh, God, please! I have a wife and children," the old man exclaimed, feeling the icy grip on his heart.

"Pray for Chaos!"

"Restauration de Chaos!" the others chimed in, and a shot rang out, blowing the victim's brains out.**

The second prisoner flinched, but instead of the expected fear, he calmed down sharply. Since he had fallen into the clutches of some chaos fanatics, and they were not going to let him live, he could try to attack. He was hardly a good fighter, especially with his hands tied behind his back, but with the right circumstances, he might be able to tear the throat out of one of the bastards. His body tensed, ready to knock down the nearest guard, whose position had been given away by the recent shouting, when suddenly the situation changed once more.

"Not here. Not on my property," came a grim voice from the side of the leaning wall.

In the shadow of the ruined cathedral stood a tall man with long black hair that could use a comb or a visit to the barber. He wore a black open coat, the same color pants tucked into heavy boots, and a red-and-black horizontal striped sweater that looked very much like part of Freddy Krueger's costume, but most importantly, his face was covered by a gray mask, as if sewn from different pieces of human skin with rough stitches.

The fanatics didn't even have time to realize that the unknown man was in their midst, pushing the captive aside. Only the armed kidnapper had the sense to react. He immediately tried to kill the freak who dared to interfere with the ceremony.

~Bah-bah-bah-bah~

Three shots were bound to hit the masked man, but he deftly pushed himself off the ground, jumping two meters and avoiding the deadly gifts. In flight, the hero's body grouped, and from his sleeve appeared a strong fishing line tied to a small handle. The loop, as if alive, lay perfectly on the armed man's neck.

Landing at the perpetrator's back the unknown man tensed slightly and swung his arms sharply apart, separating his head in a canvas bag. The fishing line seemed to pass through the pudding rather than through the muscles, tendons, and spinal column.

The fanatic's decapitated body swayed, only to collapse to the ground a moment later, resembling a marionette whose strings had been cut.

"Leatherface turned to the remaining men and said gravely:"

"All right. Now get out of here before I do the same to every one of you."

"Good," the tallest fanatic spoke up. - Enough blood had been spilled for one ceremony. We'll leave now," he turned away, walking calmly toward the abandoned van, "but we'll be back.

"Hey, what's going on? - When the four's footsteps died down, the bound man decided to remind himself.

"Nothing more," the hero pulled out a folding knife and in one motion cut the ropes around the prisoner's wrists.

"S... Thank you," he thanked sincerely, rubbing his hands together and trying to blink to take stock of his surroundings. The decapitated body came into view, and the smell of fresh blood hit his nose, making his stomach lurch.

"You don't have to."

"I guess I should get out of here as soon as possible... Um... - only now the failed victim was able to get a normal look at her savior, who was already preparing to leave, because people react quite nervously to his image.

"You're Simon, aren't you?"

The question caused the unusual hero to hesitate a bit in his escape.

"Yes. That's my name, Simon Dark," his voice was a little higher.

"I see... Maybe there's something I can do for..."

"Food. I need food."

"Hmm," the man fumbled in his jeans pocket for his surviving wallet, and with a grimace of pain in his sloppily bandaged palm, he pulled out a five-dollar bill. - That's-that's all I can give.

"That's enough, thank you," the timbre of the voice changed slightly again.

Thanking him once more for his rescue, the former captive hurried home, leaving a surprised Simon clutching the crumpled bills.

"What happened while I was asleep? - His gaze locked on a black tower in the distance that hadn't been there before. - Maybe I should get a fresh newspaper.

 

***

 

I woke up to someone insistently licking my cheek with a rough tongue.

"Ew, Frankie, come on, I'll give you something to eat," I shoved the pesky plant acting as a pet away from my face.

I glanced sleepily around the table, which was littered with papers with weave calculations, and made my way to the kitchen, feeding the flycatcher a juicy steak. As I watched him rumble happily, wrapping a pair of flexible vines around my leg, some doubts began to creep into my head.

"Wait... Where did you even come from?"

"Abby found him this morning under the rubble and fixed him up," Harley said, coming into the room. A few steps away, she gave me a very tender kiss, pressing her body against mine. - Mr. J, we could use our own transportation, because it's not always convenient to order a cab or rent a car every time.

Judging by her blooming appearance, the girl had been on her feet for a long time, but I resembled a corpse raised by a novice necromancer after a productive night. And that's with my stamina! Although, I must admit, I'm not sorry for the time spent, because I managed to create a completely stable structure. True, I had to slightly weaken the protection of the stone skin, which, however, is still able to withstand a shot from a gun in passive mode, and in the active mode even a couple of automatic bullets. The main thing is that when activated, the illusion remains stable, because it is literally woven into the main structure, and you can wear it for quite a long time. Of course, there is still a problem with crushing damage, but a hematoma or concussion is definitely better than a bullet wound or soft tissue dissection.

"I was just thinking about the car, and we'll get it today. Hmm, Frankie, stop it," I tried to pull the flexible limbs away from me, but the green monster hugged my leg tighter, still rumbling.

"Frankie," my faithful companion deftly unhooked the purring flycatcher from me. - Abby said she'd had to infuse him with a lot of pure natural energy, which had made him a little dumb. But in time, he should be even smarter than he was.

"I see," I stroked the unusual pet, giving it some neutral mana to speed up its recovery. - Sunshine, how would you like to learn a new defense spell?

Naturally, she was all for it, so after a snack we went to the great hall, where I began to teach my beloved a modified spell, but then a big problem arose. No matter how hard the girl tried, she couldn't finish the weave she had started. It was just spreading out in the middle of the process, confirming the theory that Harley was not operating with pure mana, but with a mixture of it. Either that or it was a matter of low control of mystical energy. If you look at it that way, my ability to create almost any spell is quite anomalous and corresponds more to the level of an experienced sorcerer, rather than a person who learned about magic only three months ago, because I don't need to practice weaves for a long time, but enough to fall into a kind of trance and just create the necessary one, following an imaginary pattern.

After a short deliberation, I had to remove almost everything that I had messed with the stone skin, leaving only a small module responsible for the color of active charms. Thankfully, removing unnecessary runic combinations with connection lines is many times easier than adding them. Well and it is worth remembering that supposedly there are two Harleys, so there is no great need for the girl to get wise to the disguise and enough to put a little white makeup on her face and brighten her lips.

Despite the fact that the complexity of the charms significantly reduced, my favorite could not cast them to the end, constantly hanging on seventy percent, but here it is a matter of working out. It makes no sense to reduce the complexity even more, because then the points of attachment to the body are lost and the "stone skin" turns into a static material shield of complex configuration, against which even the remade step looks more effective and does not interfere with mobility.

Having finished with the study of magic, we disguised ourselves and went to the ads found on the Internet. I was determined to buy a '67 Chevy Impala, though, in principle, I could just steal one of the derelict cars from the street, left in plenty after the alien invasion, but then I would have to go to a lot of trouble with its modification to get the right look. Harley, by the way, insisted on the latter option and even got into police databases to find derelict vehicles, but the obsession did not give rest, so after only an hour in the rented on the fake person in the garage was my beauty. The elderly seller had given it away for next to nothing, as the body needed repair, and the engine was in serious trouble.

Honestly, watching a time-worn car being transformed into a dream car under the wise guidance of Harley (who, as it suddenly turned out, is much better at cool cars and their inner workings), I'm incredibly glad I found magic. Thanks to numerous household enchantments and the sculptor's spell, we didn't need any repair equipment at all.

Night had already fallen on the city when, tired and incredibly satisfied, we both recognized that further improvement would require more preparation. However, our new transportation turned out great as it was. I generally like the seventies style, and if you add a pinch of magic to the mix, it's a real eye-candy. Unfortunately, I had to give up on the paramagnetic paint, because I wanted to make it quicker, and it's not easy to apply by hand. I had to stop at the option with rune paths, which in a second can turn a bright and eye-catching car into a completely unremarkable car of another brand, and with a background boost, thanks to the spare parts that kindly donated to me parademons. The reinforcement runes were not canceled either, not to mention the fact that the body materials were partially replaced with a stronger composite donated by Bats, which required a couple of trips to Shadow Peak and from there to the sealed base. Not a bat-tank yet, but quite on the level of government autos and all without losing elegance. And, of course, I couldn't help myself and added attention-dissipating charms, so my beauty, even abandoned in a Blackport back alley, won't be touched by criminal elements until the diamond charge runs out. And if you add purple color to it, the coolness goes to a new level. All that's left is to add an autopilot, but I'll do that later, when I get the right electronics and consult with Babs, who seems to know her way around.

"It looks like a pimp's car..." Harley remarked after a thoughtful inspection of the new car. - I like it!

Now that the transportation is ready, it's time to take a walk around the points of interest, checking them for the presence of various evil things. The more so, it's nighttime, which means that anomalous activity will be much easier to detect.

Before returning to Brazil, Zee had sketched out a rough plan of the city, noting suspicious places, and simple logic. I had done something similar when I was looking for places to charge diamonds, and frankly, my plan was more detailed than the sorceress's. Still, she was only in the city occasionally, and, unlike me, she didn't have access to police servers.

I wanted to involve Bats in this case, but he was busy, and judging by Alfred's reservations, the man was negotiating with the government, beating out some mysterious preferences. Although the direction of negotiations is not difficult to guess, because the canonical composition of the Justice League has already been assembled, and it's up to the main staff.

The first two cemeteries visited were of no interest. The energy of death was palpable, and the concentration of creepy creatures on the astral plane was slightly elevated, but nothing supernatural. As a precaution, I cast a few light flashes and discreetly applied the runes of holiness to a couple of marble tombstones.

After finishing with the prevention, our tandem went to the next point of the route, about which I had a good feeling. While I was thinking about ways to replenish my mana, an article about the burnt-out Church of the Holy Martyr caught my eye: it was hard to believe that no one had tried to adapt a fairly decent area for ten years, and it was obviously for a reason. Upon reaching the place I immediately sensed some impropriety, and after activating my true sight only confirmed my suspicions. There was not a single astral creature around.

 

* Get a move on

**Pray for Chaos.


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