A/N: I have made a severe and continuous mistake 😱 Sorry but NEXT chapter is: The art of jumping. I apologize.
____________________
Batman was not in Gotham City.
Usually if you said that sentence to any criminal they'd probably cream their pants. Batman was fear incarnate for any criminal. Anyone who said they didn't fear the bat, were either lying or were just insane. Barring some competent GCPD member's and the rest of the Batfamily there was few who actually kept this city from being much worse than hell. But Batman was at the top, he was but a man true. But was he ordinary? Hell no.
So yes. When Batman was out of town the criminals could crawl out of their holes and be more reckless. Sure there was Batgirl and Robin, but the two were far more preferable than Batman. Those two would knock you out, Batman would nicely send you to the hospital room with all your bones broken and traumatic brain injuries. So when Batman was away more risk could be taken. Bigger job's could be done, and by extension more profit could be gained.
Or that was how it usually was. But when Batman was away, 'he' had free reign to get as violent as he pleased whilst in Gotham.
"You know? Batman is really so cruel." There in the damp and dense darkness of Gotham City, a few dozen men layed spread about on the dirty pavement. They were unconscious, and were likely to stay that way for a good long while. Arm's and legs twisted in the wrong direction and heavy grotesque bruises on either their faces or bodies.
The figure responsible, and the one who spoke leisurely checked his gun. A modified M1911 pistol, the fire power was usually strong enough to tear through even thick body armour. But while in Gotham he was reduced to using rubber bullets, which was stupid honestly.
He stood at an impressive and intimidating height of 6 feet tall, his muscular and slightly lean physique was not hidden by his outfit. He wore a brown jacket over grey piece of form fitting body armour with a blood red bat emblem at the centre of the chest. Along with this he wore grey gloves and slightly baggy grey cargo pants with gun holsters placed on either side of his hips along with a black utility belt on his waste. Further more there was his heavy black combat boots and finally what stood out most. The blood red helmet that coverd the entirety of his face, the contrasting dense white lenses that acted as his eye's standing out all the more.
"You see when I use normal rounds I put you guy's down quickly." Red Hood spoke, seemingly content on continuing what he was talking about a moment ago. His voice was slightly muffled under the thick helmet, but who was it directed to? A downed man, several tears in his clothing and bruises forming all around his body. Despite his condition, he got of much easier then the other's. Red Hood had to gather information somehow after all.
"Look, I really don-"
*BANG*
"GAAAH!!" A pained scream ripped through the man's throat as a rubber bullet was shot at his right arm. What Red Hood was using was a modified M1911 pistol after all. Even if what just rubber bullets, the fire power behind it was still insane. So the man received a nice violent bone fracture, hence the scream. Said arm was also probably useless right now.
"You see? You could've been dead by now, but no. Rubber bullets and all." He seemed to give an exasperated sigh as he shook his helmeted head. "Now you suffer, broken bones, head trauma and even permanent injuries. Those are okay. But killing nah, we're better than that." His voice was of course heavily laced with sarcasm.
"Okay, okay! I'll talk!" The broken man all but screamed out.
"Good. Now I know Black Mask has been hiring hitmen from all around. The real question is who is he after, and why?"
"He's after someone. The guy stole something and pissed the boss off!" Seemingly not content with getting shot again, the man was quick to spill the beans
"And what was stolen that pissed Black Mask off so much?"
"I-I really don't know man! I'm just a grunt they don't tell me nothing!"
"Is that so..." Red Hood raised his gun and placed the barrel against the man's head. "Well I believe you."
"Wai-!!"
*BANG*
The man's head violently snapped back and to the ground violently under the fire of the rubber round. He definitely had a fractured skull now, but Red Hood could care less. It was easy to tell when someone was lying or not, after all the second a human loses their comfort zone the more simplistic their actions become. They don't lie, they can't lie. Because they know just want kind of a situation they are in, there is just no hope so might as well spill any Intel and avoid punishment, no?
But it had been a while since he was in Gotham, he mostly steered clear of it as whenever he enterd he needed to play by Batman's rules. Meaning killing was a big no-no. The only reason he was in Gotham was because he had been tracking someone down, and they led him to the city. But the city was a buzz, he had not fail to notice all the mercenaries plaguing the city. Deadshot and KGBeast stood out the most, and it was easy to deduce why they were in the city.
They were here for a target. Figuring out who said target was, was for the time being neglected in favour of finding out who put out the hit. That part was comedicaly easy. Just scare some wannabe hitmen and they would sing any tune he'd like. That is how he figured out his old pal Black Mask was behind the new bounty.
He honestly felt like laughing at that. A good while ago he was ready to kill the bastard but he spared him at the behest of Batman, the criminal boss was placed in Black Gate but Red Hood knew that was not going to last for long. Here in Gotham criminals rarely stayed behind bar's. And who would have thought, Black Mask got out and he was already starting trouble.
But he was no fool, Red Hood. Killing Black Mask now would be counterproductive, the man already reclaimed a good chunk of his territory. If he was out of the picture every other crime boss would be gunning for that territory again. A gang war could break out again, and there would be some major casualties.
But for now Black Mask was not a priority, he would focus on gathering some information in the mean time though. But for the time being he still needed to track 'that man' down.
____________________
Chris was like most other Gotham citizens. As in he hated this shit hole of a city to its core but he did not leave. Some may think this an idiotic choice, but Gotham was still a city of opportunity even if it was a shitty place to live in. Like most he wanted more in life, but he was too lazy to work for more. Working unreasonable hour's at some random low wage job just did not sound at all appealing. So he turned to a life of crime, naturally.
It was simple at first, just mug some unlucky schmucks. Though the only thing that was good for was getting chump change. So he found himself working under minor crime bosses. He made decent cash for just being another random grunt, but of course he had to jump from boss to boss as Batman rarely left any crime boss in Gotham City alone for long.
Thus he found himself working under Black Mask. Of course he was just another grunt at first, he did not even get to see the big man himself. But that was fine for the time being, the less important a job he had the less chance there was to run into Batman or his brats. So he did simple job's, protect precious merchandise or go raid rival gangs. Killing was something that took getting used to but he eventually got a feel for it. But eventually his tenacity and knack for crime was noted by the boss himself. And he was entrusted with one of 'those'.
Though he had been working for Black Mask for year's now, there were still some job's more unsavoury than other's. And the one he was busy with now stood out in the top of said list.
Him along with a good chunk of other's who were heavily outfitted were currently located within an old Gotham railway station.
Rows of abandoned train carts sat along the tracks, once bustling with commuters and cargo alike. Their corrugated metal exteriors were faded and weathered, marked with years of neglect and the ravaged by time. Worn wooden benches and creaky doors hint at the faded grandeur of once prominent stations. Weeds and shrubs hhadlong since taken root along the tracks, a testament to the long years of disuse. The no doubt once-bright signage was now faded and illegible, and the platform was littered with debris and rusted fittings.
All of Black Masks men including him were mostly spread out throughout the area, there was about ten including himself that were stationed near two large train carts. Both of which withheld the 'merchandise'. Said merchandise was suppose to be shipped to Bludhaven tonight, but with Red Hood in town they held off. If Batman was known for not showing mercy then Red Hood was known for showing no moderation, not mercy but moderation.
Chris saw one the men scowl deeply as he heard the incessant whimpering coming from inside of one of the train carts. The man banged his fist loudly against the side or the cart as he yelled out.
"Shut the fuck in there! Or I'm coming in there again to teach you bitches a lesson!" The man practically growled out and that seemed to shut the merchandise up.
"Jesus, Frankie. Ya know how piss the boss gets when we touch and use the merchandise." Another man stepped forward, addressing the other one from earlier.
"C'mon don't play coy. Who the fuck even cares if we use 'em? The boss doesn't even know." Frankie spoke with lecherous sneer. "Besides you had your fun with them earlier too."
"Heh, fine, fine. Ya got me. Just don't slip up infront of the boss. I don't want a bullet in the brain."
Chris shook his head is exasperation. If you could not tell, the 'merchandise was people. Mainly women and children that were abducted some time ago. He really did not like these type's of job's but who was he to refuse any kind of order? When Black Mask orders you to do something you do it. Or you get the courtesy of becoming a human beehive thanks to getting riddled with bullets.
But at the end of the day, a job was a job. And he was getting paid.
"Where the hells those idiots?" Frankie spoke up again after some time. The 'idiots' he was reffering to was the other guards who were suppose to take over the shift of keeping watch on the two carts.
"Fuckers are probably fucking around again."
"Eh, they're probably sleepin' on the job again, buncha lazy fucks."
"Maybe they're high again?"
"Nah, pretty sure last I saw them, their limbs were unusable."
The other's did not seem to take note of it, but he did. The fourth voice was unfamiliar, it definitely did not belong to any of the men stationed here at the railway station. Chris glanced around, but he did not need to do that for long as he immediately spotted him.
A high-collard closed dark jacket with matching pants and dress boots. Along with a head of spiked up white hair, and bandages over his eye's.
"Shi-!!!" His exclamation seemed to rally the attention of his 'comrades' but it was much too late.
The unknown individual appeared before him in a flash, he barely had time to blink and he was already infront of him.
"Hello there." And then pain, it took him awhile to register what that pain was. A punch to the stomach rattled his guts and bones as a mouthful of blood violently erupted from his mouth. The punch sent him reeling back, before he harshly collided and skidded around on the ground.
This time the other men turned their attention to the assailant.
"Who the fuck are you!?"
____________________
EARLIER
Catwoman surprisingly enough came through early. He had thought the information on dear 'ol Black Mask would have taken some time to gather and accumulate. But lo and behold, it just took an hour and then viola. He had free access to Black Masks territories, their locations and what not. What kind of merchandise they held and so on.
"I really have my work cut out for me, huh?" He couldn't help but mutter to himself as he scanned through the information quickly.
But it was nothing he could not handle. So he had promptly went to work, he atleast wanted to make progress before the job tomorrow. And so it began. Black Mask had property all around Gotham City, though obviously it was not legally owned by him. It was of course under another name, but that was only for the sake of his secrecy.
It did not matter though. As Gojo had engaged ass kicking mode.
He cleared a good chunk of the guarded territories, and deliberately stood infront of the cameras for Black Mask. Sure he'd attract vigilante attention but he didn't really care at the moment. Most places were warehouses located all around the city, they were mostly used to house narcotics or firearms. No doubt to sell the later. It was easy enough to clear out of course, though there was only one notable thing that caught his attention as he cleared out the various area's.
Standing atop a tall building, Gojo leisurely pulled something out of his pocket. It was a lean black box container, opening it revealed a syringe with a bright green almost radiating serum being withheld in the barrel. He had found it on one of Black Masks men whilst he was robbing them of their belongings. With his eye's it was easy to see that it contained a number of mashed up chemical compounds. Though he did not recognize some of them.
"Titan serum maybe?" Gojo shurgged. If it was then he had no clue as to why Black Masks men possessed one but he didn't really care. "One more." He mutterd as he closed the container before shoving it back into his pocket.
He had made some pretty good progress, he had atleast put a stop to several dozen properties owned by Black Mask. Though this last one was a bit unique. As in it was not a warehouse, instead it was some long abandoned railway station. And the information he got from Catwoman didn't specify in what was kept there. Though he suppose he would find out once he got there.
Clasping his hands together he created the negative distance in space that should never exist. His destination forcibly filled in the void, collapsing the distance between the two. And then his view changed as he disappeared and reappeared somewhere else in an instance, levitating high in the air he overlooked the old railway station beneath him. He scanned everything.
"Thirty, huh? What could they be guarding that's so important?" He wondered before shrugging it off. He was guessing that those ten near those two train carts were guarding whatever merchandise there was. "Guess I'll take out the other twenty first." A grin found its way onto his face as he cracked his knuckles.
"Hmm~ Hmm~ Hmm~." Gojo happily hummed away as he dragged the last of the unconscious thugs to the pile. He had managed to take out twenty of the guards without alerting the remaining ten guards stationed at the two train carts. He would call himself a master of stealth but all he did was wait for blindspots so the other's could not see him. Then he would merely teleport behind them, say 'nothing personal kid' before socking them in the face hard enough to knock them out.
Of course he relieved them of all valuables they had, from jewellery to their money.
"A good haul, I should have been doing this for extra cash." Satoru mutterd as he took off his gloves. Didn't want to leave fingerprints behind now did he?
He turned to his side, there away from the heap of unconscious men was a much smaller heap of wallets, watches, necklaces or other valuables. He most likely did not need all of it but he was greedy. So cupping his hands together, in the next instance a small and soft burst like sound rang throughout the area as the heap of valuables disappeared along with a chunk of the ground, leaving only a small crator behind.
"Now it's only those ten." His feet lifted up from the ground as he levitated to the air, the two train carts and remaining guard's were smack dab in the middle of the railway station. Four men were near the carts while the other's were spread about, all patrolling and walking around in the small area. Clasping his hands together his vision changed as did his location.
Appearing behind one men he mutterd.
"Nothing personal kid." The man snapped his head back just for a fist to sink into his cheek and send him flying, he came to a harsh and skidding landing. Clasping his hands together again he appeared where the four men were guarding the two carts were.
"Where the hells those idiots?" One of the men asked, not having noticed Gojo.
"Fuckers are probably fucking around again."
"Eh, they're probably sleepin' on the job again, buncha lazy fucks."
"Maybe they're high again?"
"Nah, pretty sure last I saw them, their limbs were unusable." Gojo decided to give his very useful and trustworthy input. It seemed only one took note of his unfamiliar voice.
"Shi-!!!" His exclamation seemed to rally the attention of his 'comrades' but it was much too late.
Gojo appeared before him in a flash, he barely had time to blink and he was already infront of him.
"Hello there." And then pain, it took him awhile to register what that pain was. A punch to the stomach rattled his guts and bones as a mouthful of blood violently erupted from his mouth. The punch sent him reeling back, before he harshly collided and skidded around on the ground.
This time the other men turned their attention to the assailant.
"Who the fuck are you!?"
The remaining three grunts aimed their weapons at him, but Gojo stood still and frowned.
"Did I just here a whimper?" He mutterd lowly to himself. It wasn't the guy who he just punched, not this sounded feminine.
He ignored the various rapid approaching footsteps that soon circled him, the other six men now surrounded him along with the still conscious three. One of the three here must have alerted them, but he ignored them for now. Even as their weapons were trained on him.
Gojo focused on the two train carts. Yes, he heard it more clearly now with him enhancing his cochlea. He heard the pitiful and fearful whimpers of people inside the carts. Women and children no doubt.
"I see now, to think I was gonna leave everyone alive. Good grief, I rather not be doing this so soon but it can't be helped."
"What the fuck are you blabbing about punk!? You know who you're messing with!? We're with Bla-"
"Quiet you, I'm thinking."
The man that was yapping was suddenly very much confused right now. As in his confusion could not be placed into mere word's. Though alot of thing's had confused him at this point of his life, however this definitely took the cake. He was suddenly much smaller for some reason and he was staring at a headless body.
Odd, that leather jacket and jeans. He remembered wearing the same outfit. Ah, he saw now what had happend, he would scream if he could.
"Would ya look at that, guess human's can survive while decapitated. At least for awhile." Gojo threw the severed head to the side as the body of the headless man fell to the ground limply.
Expressions of shock graced the majority of the remaining eight men as they looked at the scene and then back at Gojo.
His very first kill and it was a normal human. You would think he'd be atleast a tad affected by taking a human life, but no. He did not feel anything really, maybe a small miniscule amount of disgust at ripping a man's head off, hearing and watching the veins and muscles snapping like rope , as bones broke apart like fragile glass. But was he psychotic for not really having regret even at the moment? Maybe, or maybe not. But even an average human when placed in this situation would act much the same. If you rid the world of a piece of shit scum, would you regret that choice? Would there be any regret at all? Disgust maybe, but regret? No.
He was automatically a bad person now though. Killing was a 'bad thing' no matter how you looked at it or how necessary it was. You'd be labelled a criminal or monster for snuffing out a life. No one would care as to why you killed, they would only be concerned at you having killed. Because only a monster would, right?
"Y-you fucking freak!!" One of the men finally regained his barrings as he lined up a few shots with his AK-47, bullets ripped through the barrel of the gun in a rapid fire. Though Gojo was no longer in his previous position, he was behind the fool who fired.
These people might be scum, but killing was new. And not something he enjoyed, he doubted most would. So no playing around, he'd end this quickly and swiftly.
____________________
His mouth tasted off asphalt and his vision was blurry, not to mention the pain. A severe stabbing pain in his stomach, and spreading throughout his body like a potent poison. With much difficulty he managed to push his body into a sitting position. Unsteadily his eyes focused on the scene a bit of ways away from him. Chris could not help but gape at the sight.
His heart raced as he stared at the macabre sight before him: an array of lifeless bodies, laid out on the dirty debri filled ground. The pungent smell of blood and the acrid tinge of fear hung heavy in the air. Everything seemed so silent that every breath he took seemed to echo in his ears.
Rows upon rows of pale corpses greeted his incredulous gaze, wildly positioned with no precise symmetry. Some missing a head or their hearts.
The first body he managed to focus on was headless, as if it had been brutally severed from its neck with a malicious intent. The sight sent a shiver down his spine, and his mouth became dry, making it difficult to swallow. He hesitantly focused more on the sight, his eyes tracing the vacant space where the head should have been. There were no traces of blood, but the neck stump suggested a horrific end, the jagged edges of torn flesh gradually fading into pristine skin.
As he braced himself to examine the next body, the sight of hearts rippling out stopped him in his tracks. Intrigued yet uneasy, his eyes lingering on the disturbingly rhythmic movements. It was as if the hearts that were violently torn from some of their chest were still alive, throbbing and pulsating with life despite being violently separated from their owners' chests which were caved open, with their rips stick out like needles in a pillow.
Each heart was pulsation, each undulation seemed to whisper a silent tale of pain, despair, and the abrupt halt of existence; a visual representation of lives cut short. The seemingly infinite variety of shapes and sizes of the disconnected hearts struck him with a haunting insight about the diversity of the unfortunate souls now deprived of their existence.
He studied the closest heart, its vibrant red hue contrasting sharply with the otherwise pale and lifeless surroundings. The rhythmic thrumming of blood vessels, once coursing with vitality, now seemed like the ghost of life trying to make its last plea.
Unable to bear the intensity any longer, his breath was caught in his throat. The scene before him shook the foundations of his understanding of life and death. He had killed before yes, but it was a simple matter of putting a bullet in someones skull who was trying to kill him. He couldn't help but wonder about the twisted mind that could bear such atrocities, creating a symphony of mutilation and cruelty with these headless creatures and rippling hearts.
Every fiber of his being yearned to understand the who, why, and what. Why were these bodies contorted in such a horrifying manner? Who had committed these acts of grotesque violence? What was the message behind this macabre tableau? But the answers remained frustratingly out of reach, leaving him to confront the chilling unknown.
But it seemed a single answer was to be granted.
He stood there among the bloody sight, yet not a drop of blood staining his dark attire or his pristine and radiating snow white hair. The one responsible for all the carnage here.
Shakingly his hand reached into his jackets pocket, before he pulled out a lean black container. Opening it he came face to face with a syringe with a radiating green substance in the barrel. If he were in a better state of mind and not piss scared he would have never thought using it, but now...
As Chris sank to his knees, he reached for the syringe that sat in the container. With trembling hands, he loaded the needle with the liquid, his heart pounding in his chest. He took a deep breath and then plunged the needle into his skin, feeling the pain shoot through his veins. At first, nothing seemed to happen. But then, as he watched in horror, the needle began to move under his skin, as if it were alive. With a jolt, he felt something icy-cold rush into his veins, coursing through his body like a wildfire.
As the liquid coursed through his veins, he felt a strange sensation wash over him. It was as if his muscles were awakening from a deep sleep, flexing and straining against the confines of his skin. He could feel them growing, pushing through his flesh like a force of nature. And then, without warning, his body exploded into action. He was lifted off the ground, his muscles tensing and flexing as he struggled to break free from the constraints of his body. His clothes ripped apart, revealing the massive muscles that had grown like a garden in his chest, arms, and legs.
He was more than man now. He was a creature of incredible power and strength, capable of doing things that he never thought possible. With a roar, he grew larger and more powerful, he felt a sense of invincibility wash over him. There was nothing that he couldn't do, no obstacle that could hold him back.
Gojo turned to look at the hulking behemoth of a man. His, no its muscles were pulsing with veins a clear and vibrant green hue. He seemed incapable of even the most basic word's as he merely growled like a wild animal. But wild animal's had instincts, and this one could sense he was a threat. If him charging him like a beast was any indication.
Gojo just looked on bored as the behemoth charged him, but...
*BANG* *BANG*
Two heavy and loud shots revberated throughout the area as bullets pelted against the behemoths head. The result was clearly shown as he slightly staggered to the side under the heavy fire of the bullets.
"Mind not killing this one? I actually kinda need him." Gojo immediately took note of the slightly muffled voice coming from behind him, followed by the slow walk of footsteps. The unknown individual came to a stop at his side, in his right hand a steaming gun. Confirming that he was the one who shot.
Of course this individual did not remain unknown for long, with that iconic red helmet how could he not know who this was?
"Eh, he doesn't look like the talkative type." Gojo spoke gesturing to the growling large man who had long since recoverd from the earlier attack.
"Don't need him for an interrogation." Red Hood seemed content on only informing him of that much. "Though I'd like to ask who the hell you are, but I'm no Batman, so I could care less..." He started as he put his gun in its holster before reaching for his utility belt. He pulled out two rather smooth yet high-tech looking knuckle-dusters.
"So how about giving me a hand? Usually I wouldn't even ask for help but that's also because I'd usually just put a real bullet in his head and call it a day, but unfortunately no killing for me." Red Hood spoke that sentence all too casually but Gojo did not seem to mind. "Though you made quite the mess, enchanced strengh? Nah, doesn't matter. How good are you at holding back?"
"Pretty decent, though one slip up and the big guy's gonna turn to mush." Gojo spoke leisurely with a shrug.
"Uh-huh, well titan serum is for mainly enchancing strength, endurance and durability. But seems like this guy's using an unfinished version." He stated slamming his knuckles together. "A modified version, even love taps should work on him. So lets tire him out."
"Ah, the art of jumping. I don't really need to but its fun to do." Though he should not have too much fun, he still needed to check on who was in those carts.
And so the jumping of the poor individual that used to be known as Chris began.
____________________
A/N: Yes I know short chapter again, but school and all. But think about it like this, short chapter sure but you're guaranteed a chapter everyday.
So next chapter we see how Red Hood got there. And finally Gojo will start the job with Deathstroke.
Bạn cũng có thể thích
bình luận đoạn văn
Tính năng bình luận đoạn văn hiện đã có trên Web! Di chuyển chuột qua bất kỳ đoạn nào và nhấp vào biểu tượng để thêm nhận xét của bạn.
Ngoài ra, bạn luôn có thể tắt / bật nó trong Cài đặt.
ĐÃ NHẬN ĐƯỢC