Chương 136: Gratitude
~Knock, knock, knock, knock~
The silence of a room isolated from the outside world, whose walls were scrawled with faint magical symbols, was diluted only by the measured thud caused by the collision of an empty head with the metal head of a cane. The physical pain really helps to ease the mental pain a little...
Eh, it's so sad to realize you're a complete idiot who can't turn your head on.
It would seem that there are seventy points in the sixth beginning, my memory is close to absolute and allows me to remember almost any event if I concentrate hard enough, but sometimes I just can't see the obvious solution, even though it's right in front of my nose. It took me three and a half hours to get into the astral, and there's a special potion at hand that's designed for just such purposes. A short breath, and the mage only has to concentrate a little to leave the mortal shell. It is clear that the potion of communication with the spirits is limited, and will knock me out for a maximum of half an hour, which may not be enough to dive to the desired level, but the fact ...
Hell, that's the difference between me and real geniuses. They are able to use the full potential of their brains and find solutions even in desperate situations, while I am limited to the mind of a common man and only occasionally able to jump above my head. The situation reminds me of a gamer who bought a mega-expensive computer with the most top-of-the-line hardware, but instead of playing some cool modern games, he spends hours playing third Heroes or Morrowind with a couple of mods for graphics.
After about ten minutes, I calmed down a bit and, putting away my cane, sat down again in the lotus position. It was a shame about the time I'd wasted, but it wasn't as bad as it looked. The spirit communication potion is a crutch. Sure, it makes shamanic practices very easy, but meditating on your own will do much more good in the long run. Now, by the way, there's no need to try to see my own soul again, since I've managed to see everything I need to see. It would be better to repeat the experience in a week or so to evaluate the changes.
If you think about it that way, all my actions have been aimed at my own development, not at gaining borrowed power. As an old grandfather who loved stockings and little boys used to say, "Death is the beginning of a new adventure," and I know for a fact that this is the case. It's no surprise that I want to retain my memories after death and get an easier start in a new life at the expense of a strong soul and pumped-up shells. My desire is overshadowed only by one tiny little problem: due to the sudden infusion of free points, the shells don't have time to stabilize and accept the new power. After the fucked up shit I've seen, my last doubts are gone. All those painful transitions to a new level, the temporary deprivation of magic, the feeling of a red-hot crowbar in the belly and at the level of the solar plexus, the soul that looks like a balloon about to burst, as well as the words of Death now fully make sense. Still, unlike most heroes with the System, I don't have a playable body and a source of magic ready to evolve endlessly no matter how much I torture it. Though in some fanfics, the Me add-on also prevents the user from quickly strengthening and reaching the level of the world's strongest.
Summarizing all of the above, I just need to digest the received power, and then quietly continue pumping, periodically monitoring the state of my soul and hoping that its shell will become whole. But only, knowing the DC world and roughly imagining the number of all sorts of freaks in space and on earth, I realize that no one is going to give me time for normal pumping and a quiet life. In a year or two, maybe less, and the planet will be on the verge of destruction again, and it may well happen again because of Darkseid. He doesn't give a shit. There are thousands of inhabited planets in the universe, but for some reason he wants Earth, as if it were honey.
Strangely enough, the realization of the inevitability of another fuck-up wasn't a reason to lay my head in ashes. I just need to keep living... Hmm, but survivability should be improved soon.
After finally calming down and getting my thoughts in order, I returned to the living room, where a selection of literature was waiting for me. A little shaking cleared my mind, as I remembered such a wonderful thing as Google translator from the old world. In this universe, unfortunately, there is nothing like that, at least in the public domain, but what prevents you from creating your own program? Even the usual text recognition will be a good help, and Bats has a supercomputer, for which to translate the text, even "head-on", will be an easy task. And it's just time to start using the benefits of civilization.
After taking a picture of the pages of the book with the protection spells on my tablet, I armed myself with a dictionary and translated the table of contents to get a rough idea of what I had to work with.
"Steinhaut", one of the names caught on by its brevity, as well as the translation "Stone Skin". Previously, I mostly considered various shields, which have a rather rigid structure in the form of geometric shapes, even if segmented or with the possibility of instant activation, so constantly use them with my style of combat is not too convenient, and the found spell really becomes a second skin and almost does not affect mobility. Only for its normal work requires sand, or the presence of nearby rocks, but their splitting will spend extra mana. Hmm... Carrying around a couple of kilograms of sand is not a good prospect, and there is a small chance that during the formation of protection clothes will be torn to shreds, and with it the spatial ribbons with a lot of useful junk, which will simply fall out into the real world. Although this problem is more global. If they throw one clown on a desert island with a bare ass or put him in jail, and I have nothing but a hairpin in my hair, a reinforced carcass, and a reserve of mana. I wonder if it's possible to create a spatial pocket right on my body. I am a mage, and with a slight tendency to the spatial school, so my skin is quite suitable for the definition of magical material. All that's left is to choose a hole and tattoo around it with magic ink, since ordinary engraving won't work here because of regeneration.
My stomach squawked pitifully, hinting that one superhero had gotten too carried away and should have a snack.
Checking the Shadow Peak's kitchen didn't yield the most encouraging results. There wasn't really any food here, except for a couple of alcoholized freaks in the fridge, but I wasn't quite crazy enough to eat that stuff without a side dish.
Yeah... I expected more from Zee. Though, given her love of traveling the world, it's silly to hope for a buffet, but a sorceress could still use a half-finished meal, like dumplings.
However, I was not restricted in my movements. A quick internet query, and here I am, parking a green-red Aston near a café with a lot of positive reviews. It's New Year's Eve, so no one will be surprised by such a bright coloring, reminiscent of the usual advertising campaign.
Inside the garlanded room, the atmosphere was cozy, reminiscent of eighties movies, and the menu had a good selection of items, so in fifteen minutes I was eating a well-seasoned steak with pasta and Caesar salad. There was a TV on in the background, with some news program on, where the anchors were discussing Superman's disappearance, the epic battle of the superheroes against an army of parademons, and the increase in kidnappings over the last twenty-four hours. My personality, by the way, was also discussed, but not very much, focusing more on the newcomers and shots of Diana fighting. Yeah, the Amazon in anger is gorgeous. Her sword goes through the bodies of bugs like a hot knife through butter, every movement carries deadly danger and predatory beauty.
~Bah~
The front door swung open abruptly, and a trio of gun-wielding thugs wearing Santa Claus masks ran inside.
"Everybody down! This is a robbery!"
One of the freaks pointed a gun at the terrified visitors.
"Fuck... You can't even eat a decent meal in Gotham without getting into another adventure."
***
The Black Wing Gang had fallen on hard times. First the city was flooded with psychopathic clowns, disturbing honest businessmen with their inadequate antics, and then the head of the southern district went crazy, began to ruin his own stash and quarrel with suppliers, pulling all the reserves to himself, which did not go unnoticed by other gangs and the police. Then a real massacre took place in an abandoned warehouse that was being used as a dumping ground for some peculiar things with a blood trail. What to say, if hardened criminals sincerely rejoiced at the arrival of Batman, because the superhero, unlike the armed to the teeth special forces, simply broke limbs and knocked out joints.
After that night, thirty percent of the Wing's members were either behind bars or killed, and not only that, but just a few days later, the Owl Court story came to light, causing the law enforcement and the smaller gangs to go on a tear. In less than a month, the gang had lost over sixty percent of its membership, as well as most of its customers. If it weren't for the strong backbone and the remnants of their reputation and resource base, they would have been swept up by the recently announced Mexican wrestling bastards.
Surviving on the streets of the gloomy city became much harder. Some of the six with more or less normal reputations and without a long trail of crimes behind them even decided to return to a peaceful life, taking jobs as laborers in Wayne's company. Almost everyone was accepted there, because of the beginning of the reconstruction of Old Gotham.
Fortunately for Black Wing, the city was still a hotbed of crime, so it wasn't surprising that after a while there were a lot of people who wanted to join one of the oldest professions and become the master of their own destiny by joining a gang with a not so shitty reputation. The boss decided to cut off all the weaklings at once, so the candidates had to demonstrate what they were worth, and this approach made it difficult for newcomers to return to normal life.
Here was a trio of boys from the slums of Blackport determined to get memberships to get out of poverty, and as their first target they were given a coffee shop, the owner of which had become too self-conscious and decided to refuse patronage in these troubled times.
"What's up? Does everyone remember the plan? - Licking his parched lips, the heavy man in the Santa Claus mask asked. The streets were full of dressed-up weirdos now, so it wasn't likely that anyone would notice a few more until it was too late.
"John, don't fuck with me," said his similarly dressed companion. - Run in, rob the cash register, and get out before the patrolmen or the tights arrive.
"Uh-huh," the third man muttered, nervously tapping his gun. He didn't like where this was going, but it was too late to back down. They'd already stolen the van and gotten the guns as a down payment.
Even though it was late in the evening, half the tables were occupied, but that was even better, since the aspiring robbers could not only rob the cash register, but also get extra cash and shiny bling to increase their share. They burst in unhindered and, threatening with guns, put all the customers and employees face down on the floor.
"Fuck... In Gotham, you can't even have a decent meal without getting into another adventure," a sad voice said in the silence, diluted by the TV playing.
John stared in surprise at the man, who continued to chew his steak lazily, looking tiredly at the robbers.
"Hey, you. Did I not make myself fucking clear?! - the gun was pointed at the idiot who thought he was immortal. - Get your face on the floor or I'm not responsible for me!
"Oh, who's so intimidating," the fearless man shook his head dejectedly, putting a hand to his face. His dark hair suddenly turned green, and his skin blurred like a wax mask, revealing more predatory features, as well as the famous smile scar.
"Joker! - The voice of the thug at the door gave a cock-a-doodle-doo.
His partners were scared, too, not knowing what to expect from this lunatic. They had seen footage of him brutalizing alien creatures, and they didn't want to test the sharpness of his cane.
"Give me that."
John didn't even realize when the former super criminal was at his side and took the weapon from his shaking hands.
"Remember, rookies. You are to be feared, and nothing is as frightening as unmotivated aggression towards your own subordinates," Joker said with a wide smile on his face, swinging his gun. Suddenly he pointed the weapon at the man.
~Bah~
"One of the gang fell to the floor, clutching a bullet-punctured foot with his palms.
"Silentium," the sound from the screaming bandit was cut off. - That's what I'm talking about. Now the hostages will be ten times more cooperative and will fulfill all your requests at the first request. Hey, beautiful, pour me some more compote," the madman suddenly addressed the waitress, who was shaking with fear.
Ten seconds later, he had a glass in his hand and a crumpled bill appeared on the counter as if by magic.
"Okay, well, I hope you've learned your lesson."
Still with an eerie smile, the maniac raked the nearest bandit with the handle of his pistol, and the partner who remained on his feet simply collapsed to the floor, as if undercut.
"Hmm... I apologize for the mess. I think you should call the police," said the psycho embarrassedly, who had taken out three armed robbers in a matter of seconds.
~Bam~
The long-suffering door swung open again, revealing a scarlet-haired young heroine dressed in a purple outfit with the Batman symbol on her chest and a small yellow-lined cape behind her back.
"Joker! - She exclaimed loudly.
The audience got ready for a brutal reprisal, sincerely pitying the fool who decided to dress up her idol.
"Hello, Mousey," the maniac smiled happily.
After a moment, the girl crashed into the clown with her whole body and gave him a very passionate kiss under the fucking stares of the visitors.
***
"Thanks for the gift," Gordon's daughter whispered, pulling away briefly as I tried to put my brain together.
I suspected that our meeting would be unusual, but I was more expecting total ignoring than gratitude. Harley and I had brought the redhead back to town on purpose to keep her out of the way during the battle, but the newfound strength seemed to have satisfied the cutie.
"I thought he was dating Harley Quinn," came a low whisper from the floor.
"Well... The real one dumped him, and with a clone, maybe not interested?"
"No, it's just that the clone reminds him of his ex."
"Doesn't anyone think this hottie just has an awesome figure in this outfit and it's just love?"
The audience's assumptions made Mouse realize the sensitivity of the situation and charmingly drenched herself in paint, almost matching the color of her hair.
Not wanting to embarrass the cutie even more, I activated the smoke grenade and ran outside with the girl.
"What's gotten into you? - I asked cheerfully as we settled into Aston.
"Too excited. Hey, you just don't know what gaining that kind of power means to me! - she clenched her fist. - I'm a superheroine now!
"Ha ha ha, okay, I get it. I liked the appreciation anyway."
"Well, that's not all. I've got a Christmas present for you, too, but you have to come to my place to get it," her eyes flickered suspiciously, but I ignored it and turned down the street.
As I recounted my recent adventures and made the redhead laugh at the moment of dancing with the alien bugs, we quickly made our way to Babs's apartment, and soon I was sitting on the bed in the girl's room, lazily flipping through my tablet and anticipating the fun. At least the sound of the shower running hinted at the nature of the gift, though maybe my favorite just wanted to freshen up, because it was still fun to run across the rooftops in a tight suit, even if you were almost a super soldier.
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