Chương 198: Cringe
With one sharp kick, Cassandra—Batgirl—dispatched the legendary assassin, Black Sun. His body flew through the air, crashing through the wooden door, and slamming headfirst into the wall on the other side of the hallway. The impact was loud, and the thud of his body hitting the wall echoed through the narrow corridor.
Before Black Sun even had a chance to regain his bearings, Cassandra was already on him again. Her speed was overwhelming, and her precision, unrelenting. As he tried to push himself up, disoriented and dazed, she struck again, this time delivering a clean, devastating punch to his face. The blow was perfect, calculated to knock him out without killing him. Black Sun's head whipped back, and his body slumped to the floor, unconscious.
It was over in seconds.
Cassandra straightened her posture, calm and composed, her eyes scanning the corridor for any remaining threats. But there were none. Her target was down, the task completed. Everything had gone exactly as she had anticipated.
Just then, out of the corner of her eye, she noticed movement. She turned slightly, already expecting it.
Director Linton had arrived.
He stood in the middle of the hallway, a broad grin spreading across his face as he saw her. His usually composed demeanor softened, and he seemed genuinely pleased.
"Ha, I knew you'd be here," Linton said, stepping forward with a confident stride. "I had a feeling."
He stopped a few feet away, smiling almost sheepishly. "Well, I can't say I knew exactly, but I had this feeling… Like a gut instinct, you know? I could just sense you nearby, like some kind of subtle premonition."
Behind the screen, Charlie—who was controlling Cassandra—rolled his eyes. "This guy…" he muttered to himself. The young director was starting to come across as more than just grateful. There was something about the way he looked at Batgirl, something that made Charlie feel a little uneasy.
Could it be that Director Linton had developed a crush on Batgirl?
Charlie tried not to think about it too much, but it was hard to ignore. Especially considering that, technically speaking, he was the one controlling Batgirl. What would happen if Linton ever found out that the agile, mysterious vigilante he was so enamored with was actually some guy behind a computer screen?
[TL Note - If this novel suddenly takes a strange turn, I'm dropping it]
The thought made Charlie cringe.
Or worse—what if Linton's interest didn't fade when he found out the truth? What if it just got...weirder?
Shaking the thought from his head, Charlie focused back on the scene. Linton was still talking.
"What did you say your name was?" Linton asked, glancing at Cassandra. "Batgirl, right?"
Cassandra said nothing, as usual. She remained a silent, watchful presence. But Linton didn't seem to mind. He gave a small, knowing smile, as if he didn't need a response to feel reassured by her presence.
With a practiced calm, Director Linton knelt down beside the unconscious Black Sun. Without any sense of urgency, he took out a pair of handcuffs from the small of his back and locked them around the assassin's wrists.
"The commotion here has probably drawn attention," Linton said, his tone casual but laced with professionalism. "They'll be here soon—agents, guards, the whole team. I think it's best if you slip out now."
He stood up, glancing down the corridor. "If my guess is right, you've got less than thirty seconds before the others arrive."
He nodded toward a window at the far end of the hallway. "There's an exit over there. I'll take care of the guards. You can go out through that window. If you need anything from me in the future, don't hesitate to ask..."
Linton paused, glancing back at Cassandra as if waiting for a response. "... You're welcome?"
But as he turned to look behind him, he realized that Cassandra had already vanished. He was alone, handcuffing an unconscious assassin, speaking to the empty air.
Linton sighed and chuckled to himself. "Of course you don't need my help."
Despite the abrupt disappearance, he didn't seem offended or surprised. If anything, he looked relieved. She had come, after all. He hadn't imagined it. She had slipped into the FBI building, taken down one of the world's deadliest assassins, and vanished into the night without a trace.
Linton's good mood lingered. He had a feeling this wouldn't be the last time they crossed paths. In fact, he was almost certain there would be more opportunities to work together.
As that thought crossed his mind, he couldn't help but hum a cheerful little tune. He felt light, almost buoyant, despite the gravity of the situation.
And, as if on cue, the sound of heavy footsteps echoed down the hallway.
A group of FBI agents, security officers, and guards stormed into the corridor, weapons raised, ready for action. But when they arrived, all they saw was Director Linton casually humming, with the infamous assassin Black Sun handcuffed and unconscious against the wall.
The agents stopped dead in their tracks, wide-eyed.
The Director had done this?
The whispers started immediately. The security team exchanged glances, their awe barely contained. The agents had always known Director Linton was capable, but this? This was next level. He had single-handedly taken down one of the most dangerous killers in the world—and seemed completely relaxed about it.
The Director was a god.
---
Once the mission was complete and everything was in order, Charlie logged off. Before exiting, though, he switched Cassandra's role back to Daredevil. He adjusted the settings to allow Daredevil to patrol Grace City for twelve hours, allowing the character to handle the nightly patrols without needing Charlie's constant input.
He watched for a brief moment as Daredevil began leaping across rooftops, listening to the murmur of the city, and preparing to hunt down the night's criminals. But Charlie didn't stick around. He logged out and returned to the hero selection screen.
With Black Sun and his organization all but dismantled, Charlie knew the crime syndicate was on its last legs. The elite team of assassins had been wiped out, and the leader was now in FBI custody. Even if Black Sun wasn't completely finished, they were gravely wounded. It would take years, if not longer, for them to recover from this kind of blow.
As Batgirl left Director Linton and the unconscious Black Sun behind, Charlie could already imagine what the headlines in The Riverton Daily would read the next morning:
"Heroic FBI Director Takes Down Infamous Assassin—Single-Handedly."
The media would have a field day with the story. Linton's legend would only grow, and Charlie doubted anyone in the criminal underworld would dare target him anytime soon. The reputation alone would be enough to deter further attacks.
Still, as Charlie reflected on the events, a new idea began to form in his mind.
"Friday," Charlie said as he logged out, "Make a note in my schedule. Let's pay a visit to Black Sun's headquarters when we get a chance."
Friday's voice chimed in, filled with her usual mix of humor and professionalism. "Looking for a place to stretch your legs, sir?"
Charlie grinned. "Not quite. Deathstroke wants to have a 'friendly' conversation with them—the kind of conversation where we settle things for good."
"Understood, sir," Friday replied as she recorded the task. Then, after a brief pause, she added, "By the way, something came in earlier while you were busy. I thought you might want to take a look at it."
"Oh?" Charlie raised an eyebrow. "What is it?"
Friday swiped a floating screen in front of him, displaying a newly published article from The Riverton Daily. The headline caught his attention immediately.
"A Letter to Batman: A City's Gratitude and Hope."
"The editor himself wrote this one," Friday explained. "Apparently, he felt it was important enough to say personally. You remember the Bat-signal event from a while back, right? He was the one behind that."
Charlie leaned forward, intrigued. "A letter to Batman, huh?"
"Not just Batman, sir," Friday corrected. "It's addressed to all the heroes who've been active in Riverton lately. So, technically, it's a letter to you."
Charlie scrolled through the article, reading the editor's heartfelt words. The article recounted the rise of Batman and the other vigilantes who had begun patrolling Riverton City, giving people hope during its darkest moments. It spoke of the changes happening in the city—how citizens were starting to look out for one another again, how people were inspired to make a difference.
The editor's closing words hit harder than expected:
"I know that no amount of thanks will ever be enough to express what we feel, nor can it explain the impact you've had on this city. You face the worst of us every night, and you've given us the courage to keep going.
But this isn't just about thanking you. It's about making a promise. We, the people of Riverton, will do better. We'll show you that we are worth it. You've made us safer, but you've also inspired us to be better. To look out for each other. To rebuild this city.
Because Riverton doesn't belong to one person—it belongs to all of us. And together, we'll make it better. For everyone.
Thank you again. Not just for protecting us, but for helping us see a better version of ourselves."
As Charlie read the article, he thought back to the night of the Bat-signal event. The crowd, the energy, the hope that had filled the air as people looked to the sky, believing in something greater.
For a moment, he was at a loss for words.
He had never anticipated this kind of reaction. His intentions had always been simple: gain experience, level up, and achieve his personal goals. But along the way, he had unwittingly become a symbol of hope for an entire city. It was more than he had ever expected.
Friday, sensing his quiet reflection, placed a cup of freshly brewed coffee in front of him.
"If I may say so, sir," Friday said softly, "You've already become a great hero."
Charlie smiled, lifting the cup. "Thanks, Friday."
He didn't respond right away. Instead, he took a sip of the coffee, letting the weight of what he'd just read sink in.
Maybe, just maybe, being a hero wasn't such a bad thing after all.
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