Bab 13: DC Chapter: 13 The Master Mind.
Bruce Wayne tore through the streets of Gotham in his Tumbler, the armored black Batmobile roaring like a beast unleashed. The city lights blurred past him, his focus locked on the road ahead as he raced against time. He had just saved Rachel from the clutches of Dr. Jonathan Crane, also known as Scarecrow, and her life hung in the balance. The effects of the fear toxin still gripped her, and Bruce knew he had to get her to safety before it was too late.
The Tumbler's wheels screeched as he maneuvered through the narrow alleys and darkened streets, the city a maze of danger. His heart pounded in rhythm with the growl of the engine, adrenaline surging as he swerved past obstacles, pushing the vehicle to its limits. Every second counted. Gotham's criminals were growing bolder, but none of that mattered now. Only Rachel.
He finally made it to Wayne Manor, the Tumbler crashing through the hidden waterfall entrance. The massive vehicle skidded to a halt inside the garage, and without a moment's hesitation, Bruce leaped from the driver's seat, cradling Rachel in his arms. Her breathing was shallow, her body limp, but she was alive. For now.
Alfred stood by, his expression filled with concern as Bruce carried her out of the Batmobile, his cape billowing behind him as they hurried toward the car that would take her to safety.
"Master Wayne, her heart beat, she's fading quickly," Alfred said, his voice tinged with urgency as he opened the door to the waiting vehicle.
Bruce gently laid Rachel in the backseat, his expression tense with urgency. "She'll be safe now, but time's running out." He quickly injected her with the antidote, then turned to Alfred. "Make sure she to get her to safety," he instructed, handing over additional vials. He also left a note along with several antidotes for Gordon, so the GCPD could begin treating others affected by the toxin.
A few minutes later, the grand hall of Wayne Manor was buzzing with the hum of hundreds of guests, their laughter and chatter echoing off the vaulted ceilings. Tables laden with decadent food lined the room, and a live band played a lively tune as Bruce Wayne moved through the throng of guests with his signature grin. He exchanged handshakes and pleasantries, his mind elsewhere, distracted. Amid the cheer of the birthday party, the air was thick with tension, an undercurrent only he could feel.
Outside, Alfred carefully positioned Rachel Dawes in the backseat of the car, gently arranging her unconscious form. Her legs got caught in the doorframe, and Alfred, with a smile that masked his worry, yanked Wayne's golf clubs aside to make room. A guest passing by, cigarette in hand, looked on with curiosity.
"A little worse for wear, I'm afraid," Alfred quipped as if this is a everyday occurrence where a billionaire playboy had play with another woman, nodding politely before driving away with Rachel safely stowed.
Inside, the festivities began to wind down. Guests were beginning to leave, and Bruce, ever the host, worked the room. As he approached Lucius Fox by the buffet, their exchange was brief but critical.
"Any word on that... item?" Bruce asked, his voice low.
Fox nodded, casting a glance around to make sure they weren't overheard. "It's a microwave emitter. It vaporizes water," he said quietly.
Bruce's mind raced. "Could it be used to put a biological agent into the air?"
Fox looked at him gravely. "If the water supply were poisoned first, yes."
The weight of the revelation settled over Bruce, it was highly possible that Crane had laced Gotham's water supply with the fear toxin, intending to poison the entire city. His detective instincts began working, trying to deduce the best course of action to counter this threat. However, before he could delve further into the problem, a voice interrupted.
"Happy birthday, Bruce."
Bruce turned, feeling the weight of the moment, only to be greeted by the familiar smug expression of Mr. Earle, the current CEO of Wayne Enterprises. "Not everyone thought you'd make it," Earle remarked with a slight smirk, his words laced with condescension as he was close to turning Wayne industries shares to public and earn more money.
Bruce said nothing at first, his eyes narrowing slightly. But put on the show as this was his birthday party. "Sorry to disappoint," Bruce replied, his voice calm but his mind elsewhere.
After a few more superficial pleasantries, Bruce made his way through the departing crowd. That's when he saw him, a figure lurking in the shadows, someone who didn't belong.
Ra's al Ghul stepped forward, his eyes locking with Bruce's, carrying a mix of admiration and disappointment. "I've been admiring your work, even as it's interfered with my plans."
Bruce tensed, recognizing some of the remaining guests now as members of the League of Shadows, scattered throughout the hall. His heart raced as he noticed how they eyed him.
"Your quarrel is with me. Let these people go," Bruce demanded, his voice cold.
Ra's, with a slight bow, nodded. "As you wish. But they don't have long to live, your antics at the Asylum have forced my hand, when you save that girl."
Bruce in a high-profile manner shoo the guess from his mansion. The guest confused as to why they were asked to leave but comply. A few minutes later, Bruce's eyes narrowed. "Crane was working for you."
Ra's smiled, a cold, dangerous smile. "His toxin is derived from the organic compound in our blue poppies. Crane weaponized it, but he lacked the vision. I allowed him to think our plan was simply holding the city to ransom."
Bruce's jaw clenched. "But you're going to unleash the toxin on the entire city."
Ra's nodded, his tone turning somber. "And watch Gotham tear itself apart through fear. Gotham is only the beginning."
Bruce stepped toward him, rage building in his chest. "You'll destroy millions of lives."
Ra's eyes flickered with disdain. "Billions of lives. Gotham is the first domino. The world will descend into chaos, anarchy will reign, and mankind will cull itself. Nature will restore balance, and the planet will be saved."
The enormity of Ra's vision settled over Bruce like a suffocating weight. "You're inhuman."
Ra's stepped closer, his voice quiet but filled with conviction. "Don't question my humanity, Bruce. I saved you from yourself. I showed you a path, took away your fear, and gave you the tools to fight. And in return, you burned my home to the ground."
The memory of the monastery in the mountains, consumed by flames, flashed in Bruce's mind, where he was trained in the arts of the Leage of Shadows.
Ra's nodded to his men stationed around the room. One by one, they began setting fire to the drapes, the flames licking up toward the ceiling.
Bruce lunged at Ra's, fists flying, but Ra's was ready. They clashed in a flurry of punches and counters, each move precise, honed from years of training. While Bruce was formidable, Ra's had half a millennium of experience on his side. Ra's moved with deadly grace, effortlessly blocking Bruce's strikes and retaliating with devastating precision. Bruce fought with everything he had, pushing himself beyond exhaustion, but Ra's was relentless. His centuries of combat knowledge were evident in every motion. A swift kick to Bruce's side sent him sprawling to the floor, gasping for breath.
Ra's loomed over him, his face hard. "You were meant to stand by my side, to save Gotham. But instead, you chose to fight me, and now you'll watch it burn."
Bruce, on his knees, glared up at Ra's, defiant even in defeat. "You misunderstand something. You underestimate Gotham."
Ra's shook his head, almost pitying. "No, Bruce. It's you who underestimates Gotham's corruption. We've infiltrated every aspect of this city's infrastructure."
With one final blow, Ra's knocked Bruce out, his body collapsing in a heap on the floor. The flames were growing now, consuming the grand hall, the heat intensifying with every second. "I guess we can now call it even." As he watch the Wayne manor burn.
As Ra's and his men left, Alfred rushed into the burning room. His heart sank at the sight of Bruce lying unconscious amidst the flames. Without hesitation, he hoisted his young master over his shoulder and carried him out of the manor, the fire roaring behind them as Wayne Manor burned to the ground.
Outside, Alfred looked back at the burning ruins, sorrow etched on his face. The manor was gone, but Bruce was alive and as long as Bruce lived, there was hope for the Wayne Family and Gotham.
On the other side of Gotham, the night air was thick with tension, the skyline of Gotham casting dark shadows over the rooftops as Spider-Man clung to a rusted fire escape, watching the group of assassins below. Their formation was tight, disciplined, a squad of Ra's al Ghul's elite Assassins from the League of Shadows, blending into the darkness with ease. They wore black tactical suits, their faces masked, eyes gleaming with deadly focus. Swords were drawn, shimmering in the faint moonlight, each assassin's posture that of a seasoned killer. Accompanying them were soldiers in cutting-edge armor, equipped with the latest firearms and advanced weaponry, scanning for any sign of their target.
Spider-Man's armored suit gleamed in the darkness, the red energy lines pulsing faintly as he watched from above. He calculated his odds, but they didn't matter. This wasn't about numbers—it never was. They were delaying him, trying to buy time for Ra's al Ghul's master plan to unfold, a plan to plunge Gotham into chaos. But Spider-Man wasn't one to be delayed.
With a flick of his wrist, webs shot out from his gauntlets, and in an instant, he descended into the fray. The assassins moved in perfect unison, their swords flashing as they attacked with blinding speed. But Spider-Man was faster. His armored boots landed with a metallic thud as he dodged the first slash, his movements fluid and precise, like a predator playing with its prey.
One assassin lunged, blade aimed at his throat, but Spider-Man twisted mid-air, his suit's spider legs unfolding from his back with a hiss, deflecting the strike with ease. The mechanical spider legs extended, it's metallic and sharp pointed edge, strike at the assassin's sword arm and flinging him across the rooftop with bone-crunching force.
The others surrounded him now, circling like wolves, their swords raised. The elite soldiers aimed their advanced rifles, red laser sights cutting through the night. For a moment, it looked as though Spider-Man was cornered, outnumbered and outgunned.
Spider-Man stood still, his mask gleaming under the faint light, his compound eyes shifting slightly as his voice cut through the silence like a knife.
"You think you've trapped me here? Surrounded by the Leage of Shadows so-called elite warriors?" His voice was calm, almost mocking. "Look around. All I see are weak men… men who failed to achieve what they set out to do. You preach about cleansing the world, bringing true justice, yet all you do is burn cities, destroying what you can't control so you can pretend you're balancing the scales. But you're not. You're just failures, too afraid to face what you've become."
One of the assassins unable to hold the provocation snarled and charged, sword raised high, but Spider-Man moved with lightning speed. His spider legs lashed out, catching the man mid-air and slamming him into the ground piercing through his body that now lies dead. The soldiers opened fire, their bullets pinging off the armored plates of his suit, but Spider-Man barely flinched as the bullets create sparks on his body unable to harm him. The thrusters on his boots and back shot out, with a burst of repulsor energy, he shot into the air, as he charge at them.
He flipped over the group, landing behind them, and before they could react, his web-shooters fired in rapid succession. Thick strands of webbing shot out, trapping their weapons and binding their limbs. The assassins fought to break free, but Spider-Man's web was stronger, reinforced by the combined minds he have gotten thanks to his telepathic powers.
One by one, they fell, helpless against his speed and strength. The rooftop was littered with unconscious bodies, swords lying useless beside their owners. Spider-Man stood over them, his breathing steady in his diamond form untiring, the red lines of his suit glowing faintly as he surveyed the carnage.
JARVIS's voice crackled in his ear. "Sir, I'm detecting an imminent attack on Gotham Prison. Another squad, similar to this one. It appears to be a coordinated breakout."
Spider-Man's mask shifted as he processed the information, his mind already working on the next move. He glanced down at the fallen assassins, some dead, some alive, their defeat a stark contrast to the arrogance they had moments ago.
"Let's not waste any more time," he muttered.
With a hum, the armor's panel shifted, to something more aero dynamic. Viktor soared through the night sky, the powerful propulsion of his thrusters, creating sonic booms that echoed across the cityscape. The glow of Gotham's skyline blurred beneath him as he raced toward his destination: Gotham Prison. His eyes, hidden beneath the shifting lenses of his mask, narrowed as he approached, JARVIS feeding him live updates on the situation.
The prison was in chaos. The outer walls had been blasted open by Ra's al Ghul's men, posing as policemen. A squad of them was already busy freeing prisoners, vile, dangerous criminals who, if released, would plunge the city into a new wave of bloodshed. Viktor spotted a few faces through the smoke and debris, recognizing some of Gotham's most notorious offenders. Murderers, rapists, arsonists, and one in particular, Victor Zsasz. The serial killer, his body scarred with tally marks, grinned like a madman as he stalked through the crumbling wall, searching for his next victim.
Spider-Man's mask gleamed red as he descended from the sky like a predator, landing with a resounding crash right in front of the escaping mob. The ground shook beneath him, debris scattering as the impact sent a shockwave through the air. The prisoners, momentarily stunned by the sudden appearance, paused in their tracks. Zsasz, his twisted smile faltering, locked eyes with Spider-Man.
The prison yard was a scene of chaos, broken walls, burning debris, and the harsh glow of prison outpost-lights casting flickering shadows over the ground. The disguised policemen, Ra's al Ghul's elite soldiers, were guiding the prisoners out, handing them weapons looted from the armory. But as Viktor stood there, adamant about blocking their path.
The men, hardened by years of violence, found themselves hesitating as the armored figure before them radiated an aura of menace.
"You think you can walk out of here?" Viktor's voice rang out, cold and mocking. "I'm not your prison guard. I'm your warden. And I don't plan on letting a single one of you step out into the light, even if you end up dead."
One of the assassins disguised as a cop took a shot at Viktor. The bullet ricocheted off his armor harmlessly, as the bullet bounce of it hit a prisoner on the side who yelp from pain. Viktor tilted his head toward the man, unfazed. His mask's glowing eyes locked onto the shooter before he flicked his wrist, firing a web at him. The web snagged and wrap around his body, Viktor pulled hard hurtling the man towards him, his armored fist slammed into the man's head with a sickening crack killing him, sending him flying across the yard as he hit the ground.
That was the signal. The rest of the prisoners rushed him, emboldened by their numbers and their desperation to escape. Swords flashed, guns fired, pipes, shivs anything the prisoners can get on their hands. But Viktor moved like a blur, his enhanced reflexes and the suit's AI giving him the edge he needed. He sidestepped a blade aimed at his throat, catching the assailant's wrist and breaking it with a sharp twist.
His spider legs sprang from his back, the two of the mechanical limbs lashed out, catching two more men mid-charge, slamming them into the prison walls with brutal force, breaking their bones in a sickening crunch. Webs shot from his wrists, binding more of the prisoners to the ground or the crumbling walls as he leaped, spun, and dodged their attacks.
Gunfire echoed across the prison yard, but Viktor danced between the bullets, the glowing red lines of his suit casting an eerie light over the battleground. Every time a prisoner tried to make a run for it, Viktor was there, cutting them off with a quick strike or webbing them down to the ground. He was an immovable wall, an unstoppable force.
Zsasz, watching from the chaos, tried to slip away in the confusion. But Viktor was faster. He caught sight of the killer just as he disappeared into the shadows of the broken wall. With a flick of his wrist, Viktor sent a line of webbing flying through the air. It wrapped around Zsasz's legs, yanking him back onto the ground with a heavy thud.
Zsasz growled, his voice dripping with venom as he struggled to cut through the webbing with a stolen knife. "You think you can stop me? I've taken more lives than you can count!"
Viktor landed in front of him, his spider legs retracting as he loomed over Zsasz, his mask's compound eyes gleaming in the darkness. "That's the difference between us, Zsasz. You think killing gives you power. But all it's done is shows you've only been praying the weak."
With a swift motion, Viktor webbed Zsasz to the ground, the killer thrashing but unable to break free. The mechanical legs on Viktor's suit sprang out as it pierce the serial killers leg making sure he won't be able to stand up again.
As the chaos reigned, Jonathan Crane remained unfazed, now known as the Scarecrow though the city of Gotham's underworld. Clad in his tattered, makeshift suit and a burlap mask twisted into a grotesque smile, Crane calmly walked through the prison halls, releasing clouds of his fear toxin into the air. The screams of prisoners, driven mad by their worst nightmares, echoed behind him, but he seemed entirely detached, savoring their terror.
Spider-Man found him easily, standing near a group of panicking inmates clawing at invisible demons, their eyes wild with fear. Crane turned slowly, his mask shifting slightly as he tilted his head, the gas nozzle hissing with another release of the toxin.
"Do you feel it, Spider-Man?" Crane's voice was slow and deliberate, dripping with malice. "The creeping dread... the helplessness sinking in? You're just like the rest of them."
Viktor walked through the swirling toxin as if it were nothing more than mist. His mask remained featureless except for its glowing eyes reflecting Crane's twisted figure. Making a breathing sound as if to mock Crane of his actions, he chuckled under his breath, his voice carrying a venomous amusement. "I've had something stronger?" He gestured toward the gas, completely unaffected. "You should learn from Walter White, this is kinda pathetic not enough kick, don't you think?" referencing a person who might not even be in this universe.
Crane hesitated, his eyes narrowing behind the burlap mask. Before he could react, Viktor lunged forward, grabbing Crane by the throat. His hand crushed the mask effortlessly, the brittle material crumbling in his grip as he yanked it off, revealing Crane's pale, gaunt face, his eyes wide with confusion and growing fear.
"You rely too much on this drug, Crane. What happens when it's turned back on you?" Viktor's voice dropped an octave, chilling and predatory.
Without giving Crane a chance to respond, Viktor twist his arm and activated a small nozzle hidden in Crane's wrist, releasing a cloud of the same fear toxin directly into Crane's face. The man gasped, stumbling backward as his own creation overwhelmed him. His eyes widened, and his breath quickened, panic setting in as the effects took hold.
Viktor watched with cold satisfaction as Crane's expression twisted in terror, his lips quivering as he muttered incoherently. Sweat poured down his face as he backed away, his legs trembling. "No... no, no, please, not that... not again..." he whimpered, trapped in his own nightmare as he remembered the time when Batman had attack Arkham Asylum and capturing him as they were dumping the Fear Toxin into the water supply.
Crane look up at Spider-man his bug compound eyes shifted flickering as if a thousand eye's is in there something that will make someone with Trypophobia faint. His form looking like a grotesque human spider with dangerously looking spider legs arching from his back.
Viktor stepped closer, his voice low and mocking. "How does it feel to taste your own medicine, Crane. Are you enjoying it." His hand shot out, grabbing Crane's collar and pulling him forward. With a swift punch to the gut, Crane doubled over, collapsing to the ground, his breaths shallow and erratic.
Viktor knelt beside him, considering for a moment the possibility of using his telepathy to break Crane's mind entirely, to stop him from ever harming anyone again. But as he gazed down at the trembling figure, he received something unexpected
+ 10 points from the scare crow.
+ 1 Item Loader: An item when use will guarantee to give you a Legendary rank item and up.
It seems that it's not just the heroes that will give him more points but villains as well, his mind think for a moment and ask why he didn't get anything from Zzas, it's probably the man is not well known yet in Gotham or his just another useless side character. With a smirk beneath his mask, Viktor muttered quietly, "Congratulations you live to see another day." He stood up, leaving Crane in a heap, his mind shattered by his own toxin, and walked away, the sounds of the chaos in the prison fading behind him.
Around him, more prisoners tried to flee, but after witnessing what Viktor had done to their fellow inmates, their resolve was crumbling. Some dropped their weapons and raised their hands, terrified. Without a word, Viktor webbed them to the walls or the ground, immobilizing them for the GCPD to find later.
Others, more stubborn or foolish, fought on, only to be met with shattered bones and broken spirits. Viktor left a trail of unconscious bodies in his wake, his fists moving like blurs, firing of shock waves and repulser blast, striking with precision and power. Soon, the yard was littered with the fallen—prisoners and assassins alike, groaning in pain or knocked out cold.
As the last of Ra's soldiers fell, Viktor took a step back, surveying the scene. The hole in the prison wall gaped open, the destruction stark against the backdrop of the burning yard. He turned to it, raising his wrists and firing thick, reinforced webs over the gap, sealing it off temporarily.
The sirens of the GCPD echoed in the distance, drawing closer. Viktor stood there for a moment, his breathing steady as he looked down at the prisoners writhing on the ground. Some whimpered, others cursed under their breath, but none dared to move.
"Leave the cleanup to the cops," he muttered to himself, the voice modulator in his mask making him sound distant, almost inhuman.
With one last glance at the carnage, Viktor leaped into the night sky, his armor shifted as his thrusters blast off and he disappeared into the darkness, leaving Gotham Prison locked down and Ra's al Ghul's plan in shambles.
PERTIMBANGAN PENCIPTA 
Ashinydecapod
Ashinydecapod I woked up late. New Chap here.
Status Power Mingguan
-- Peringkat
Power 
-- Power
stone