Capítulo 4: Chapter 3: The Hand
Chapter 3: The Hand
New York City, New York
Volume 1: Origin
August, 3, 2019
Cole stepped off of the platform, the encounter with the strange officer pushed to the back of his mind.
The System mission wasn't an immediate task that needed his attention. His keen eye had noticed the blatant kidnapping in broad daylight and his curiosity had won out in the end.
He needed to see where he stood against the common rabble, also he wanted to beat some goon an inch from death, this would also be a good start to separate his York Persona from Todd's Red Hood.
He maneuvered through the crowd, moving barely discernible within the school of bodies. The path ahead was between two dilapidated buildings, one side held a commonplace bodega and the other a family-owned pharmacy.
Cole's attention was drawn to the cobbled road, the odor of trash, and the smell of stale rainwater. A city like this requires you to love it. A step further and he became engulfed in the darkness.
As someone once said, 'It's amazing what people do when they are in the darkness. They perceive themselves safe, invisible to others walking by in broad daylight.'
He watched the two assailants firmly gripping each arm of the woman, disregarding all pretenses that had previously been made and dragging her to the ground against her will.
She struggled and pleaded, but her protest was ignored. In the end, Cole wasn't sure about who they were, but just based on a glance at them, it wouldn't hurt to assume they were people at the bottom of 'The Hand,' hierarchy.
Anger from the depth of his being surged forth, his hands clenched and his heart raced. He stopped and placed his hand on his chest. His heart was beating at a pace that would have been alarming to a normal human. It wasn't fear but anticipation.
He closed his eyes, his hand on his chest. 'Jeremy, I will make sure everyone pays. 'Plus, I loved them too, man, I recall all of your memories. You didn't deserve that.'
He felt disgust toward the organization. It wasn't their criminal aspirations, he could care less about that. What made him angry was they harmed a child. They made a child watch as his parents begged for their lives, even made them choose who goes first. His face contorted. He knew it already but the two couldn't coexist. For his parents, for Jeremy sake, he would visit horrors upon those who did the deed and the organization.
A mask of indifference resurfaced on his face. Since he had already made the connection between the dots and realized that Daredevil's activity in Hell's Kitchen was growing; therefore, he, too, was at the early stages of his origins, just like Daredevil.
He scoured his brain for the memories. What did he know about The Hand? It's an order of evil mystical ninjas heavily involved in organized crime and mercenary activities, mainly assassins. The hand covets absolute power above all other objectives.
His family enterprise wasn't the only corporation hit. They were kept in check in the states because the 'street level' heroes couldn't be handled quite easily. Still, their operations were booming, and they sought money and influence to a broader degree.
"Please," the woman pleaded, her head turning left to the right hoping for one to show some emotion on their emotionless face. "My family only needs another extension." She continued unceasingly as they hauled her forward.
"Your master," she sobbed, "has guaranteed us more time, another year!"
Realization soon dawned on me; she wasn't speaking English. She was speaking Japanese.
She was jerked forward. "He's no master of us," the assassin snarled. "He is mercenary. He has no honor, nor does he speak for The Hand!"
"You low caste assumes much and offer little. America is not the dream that it tells the world. There is no haven." He hissed.
"We brought your family here, and you work. You pay back your debts." The other added.
In a feat of what I could only describe as masterful, the hand goon whirled around and flicked his wrist. A concealed weapon ate up the distance to where I was sequestered. The other dropped the woman and removed a blade he had hidden in some hidden place.
The System held many features; I knew, others I could only wonder about. Be that as it may, I could easily retrieve items stored inside the System and slotted in my inventory. Like sleight of hand by a street magician, I stepped forward with the thrown ninja tool in hand. The two-man lowered their center of gravity as my visage became clearer, out of the shadows, unbothered.
Red Hood Costume was unique, mainly the prime earth version. The torso armor had the figure of a bat-symbol colored red placed in the center. My torso was heavily armored, my hands protected by lightly studded gauntlets; I wouldn't damage my hands again, I hoped.
The black leather jacket was similarly insulated and held hundred of compartments; they were currently empty since I didn't have Jason Todd's arsenal. The combat pants were made of Wayne R&D synthetic mesh, and I seriously doubt this material could be identified or placed in this verse.
Brows rose at my appearance. No doubt, the two wondered what cave I might have crawled out of. I suppose in my case, and it would be better to say spawned from." Daredevil?" Mumbled the woman as her hand came to her mouth. I shot her a querying glance, but I suspect my cowl would only draw other emotions.
"You're far from Hell's Kitchen Daredevil." Added the other.
'Honestly, I didn't know what to say. I knew it didn't want to be confused with Daredevil. Nevertheless, on the other hand, I'm sure my word that I'm not him wouldn't have mattered.
There wasn't much more dialogue after those choice words. Observing my surroundings with critical eyes, I noted objects that could be used in my favor or become a hindrance. The lowlight played in either side's favor; that's if we were equals. A whimper escaped from the teenager's mouth as the closer one of the two grabbed her by her hair and secured her.
Almost at blinking speeds, he was upon me. His blade stabbed toward my head with abnormal reflexes. I quickly dodged, albeit marginally, as his sword caught a glancing hit across my Red cowl. I moved back a half-step before my blade was in my hand and angled toward him below his eye-line. Trained as any one of the hands should be expected to be, my underhanded attack was denied, and my attack quickly became his counter.
His Japanese-style blade had an arms-length on mines, a hand and a half. Our blades met in a bout of sparks, which soon led to us jerking to and fro as we both tried to rend and bleed the other.
He jumped backward, his hand quivering and his breathing harsh. I smirked under the cowl and walked toward him. He was good, excellent even, but there was a vast difference between the two of us; my abilities afforded me an unnatural level of strength and stamina. No manner of conditioning could bridge such a gap. He was limited as they were at this stage. But, unless he was someone like Captain America, or even like the current me, he couldn't hope to win.
The woman was disregarded. Whatever they wanted for her, they needed her breathing to accomplish. I suppose they know I now wasn't the daredevils, and I wouldn't back down.
Out of the shadow, the other goon emerged. Since I used a single hand to fend off the double-handed blade style of the other, my other hand was free. Before he could appear, my pistol was drawn and staring directly at him, I pressed the trigger, and his blade moved smartly. His sharp sense and heightened ability allowed him to deflect the first bullet, but the second and third were beyond his ability.
To his credit, he didn't show any reaction to being shot, and he only looked at me angrily.
His words came out harsh and riddled with accusation. "You're dishonorable! The hand will remember you." It sounded almost like a curse. His body tilted into the shadows and vanished along with his presence. Curious, I checked the scene of his departure and noted a maintenance hole was uncovered. I didn't have to check around to know the other one had left as well. I whistled at their ability. The hand was indeed masters at their crafts...
"What have you done..." She wailed in horror.
"What have I done?" I parroted.
"You're safe from whatever idea they wished to visit upon you. Perhaps, there is a problem?" I asked tactfully.
"You meddle in things you know nothing of. The hand will slaughter my entire family for your interference," she said as tears fled down her face.
"That is how they stop us from going to the authorities."
I suspected the authorities were corrupted, but that's not surprising.
"My death would have earned them another year if I couldn't barter with the master." She moaned. I stared at her annoyance radiation off of me,
She cried. "It's too late. Because of you, my family is damned." She jerked up and charged at me.
The arrival of the blue screen notification quickly drew my immediate attention. Her hysterics would draw unwanted attention. With restraint, I jabbed my thumb into her temple. She crumpled to the ground soundlessly.
Host generated mission:[Neutrality] You sought to help another, but your interference held unforeseen complications.
Reward(s): Two-Hundred dollars. High Powered Taser.
Host generated mission-continued: [Heroic] The Hands grip on the city underbelly is almost unquestionable. If possible, hinder the Hand operation and their ability to function so brazenly.
Reward(s): Captain Cold's Cold Gun. Positive Alignment percentage increase.
As I suspected. My actions would generate missions if they're impactful enough; suppose helping an old lady crossing the street wouldn't grant a task or reward.
Two hundred dollars. That would almost cover the money for the drugs. I looked inward. I could feel the healing factor still working. Interesting if not odd. Was it not done?
The sooner I make more cash, the better off I'll be. Worst case scenario, I could rob criminals or anyone. Cole understood he needed access to all the system functions to succeed; there was no way to secure his survival with his current abilities. Not when he has otherworldly beings to worry about, and he wasn't going to keep his head down while influential people take what they want around him.
He regarded the unconscious teenager clinically. She would awaken momentarily. One wouldn't need to make a wild guess about the continued mission and the woman. I guess I'll be on protection detail tonight. He began to rummage inside her pockets.
"Hello, Dana Mishimoto." She attends Midtown high too. Coincidence?
Upon his return to the populated sidewalk already had him acting again, a speeding cyclist sped past, which he dodged. He checked his plain watch, and the time was 7:33 A.M.
He turned the black metallic card over in his hands. It had a black tarantula on it. It was oddly familiar to him, but he couldn't place it. He took it from the girl.
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