I raised my gun immediately and fired at the second man and Hendrick, but he was already on the move, ducking under the shot while his fist shot toward my liver.
I twisted out of the way as I flared Curse Energy and put some distance between us, emptying my guns into Hendrick's side. He took it like a champ—he even tried retrieving his own weapon before finally collapsing, bleeding from several shallow wounds.
That turned out to be a mistake on my part, as the second man burst out of the room—nearly a foot taller and twice as muscular as Hendrick. My fingers were a blur, firing until both magazines ran dry as the venom-infused monster bounded toward me.
Visions of that final tournament fight came and went as I dug deep and steadied myself, receiving him without my technique. He went over my shoulder with a throw, and I sprang back to my feet just in time to send him crashing into the wall with a kick to the neck.
Switching out my guns for my new knuckle dusters, I swung before he could rise again, shattering his jaw with the first punch and caving in his head with the second.
Blood coated my mask and face, but I didn't stop.
A triumphant scream rang out behind me, and I spun around in time to see Hendrick buff up. His muscles swelled to twice their original size, straining his bulletproof vest to the point of bursting. Behind him stood a third enhanced man, shouldering a bag full of money. He gave me a terrified look before sprinting toward the rear exit—a metal door with a keypad lock.
Hendrick spread his hands wide, as if to say "stop," grinning when he saw the knuckle dusters on my fists. He was still covered in wounds, but now they were only as large as pinpricks.
"You should've stuck to the real thing," he laughed. "I remember you, you—"
One moment, I was across the hall; the next, his head whipped sideways with a sickening crack, his neck snapping from the force of my punch.
I tumbled forward, Overdrive still active, and burst ahead again, snagging the closing metal door just before it shut. The bagman was halfway through the alley when I caught up, bowling him over from behind.
I didn't bother flipping him over, content to bash his head against the stone until he went limp.
His breathing was shallow—thankfully, he wasn't dead. I tsked. I couldn't say the same for my other victims.
The whole display had only cost me 60 CE. I flipped on Curtain instinctively and took the moment to gather myself.
The timing couldn't have been better. Two men slipped into the alley a moment later, torchlight slicing through the darkness, guns in hand.
I hurriedly stuffed the brass knuckles into one of the many pockets on my vest and reloaded my guns, switching out their magazines.
I vanished the bag of money.
They were just a few feet away when I pulled the triggers, nailing them both in the head. The shots took them off their feet, and I rushed in close, putting one more rounds in their skulls for good measure before dispelling Curtain.
I holstered my guns and grabbed theirs, my gloved hand wrapping around one trigger.
Killing them was the smart thing to do, but I found myself hesitating. They were already down—probably learned their lesson. Plus, they'd be the fourth and fifth people to die by my hands today, assuming I hadn't inadvertently crushed someone with my Semi.
It was already bloody enough.
Reluctantly, I tossed the gun aside and ran off, taking a sharp turn when I saw two buildings close enough to do what I needed. I sprinted up the wall, bouncing off with enough force to propel me to the second and back again until my hand wrapped around the edge of the roof. I dragged myself up, a bit winded.
Sirens echoed in the distance, likely racing toward the scene, and I took off, bounding from rooftop to rooftop, heading toward a very specific manhole cover.
I was only a few buildings away when I sensed it—a subtle shift in the air. A whistle, almost too faint to hear.
I activated Curse Energy Reinforcement and threw myself sideways. A circular disk bit into a nearby air conditioning unit and exploded, releasing a thick pinkish foam that coated a chunk of the rooftop.
My guess? Some kind of restriction agent—probably used by bounty hunters.
Several more disks followed, and I danced away, dodging, twisting, racing toward the edge. By some miracle, I stopped just in time to avoid the last one and landed on my ass.
I was back up and flipping backwards before the next bomb launched. With a Burst of Overdrive, I rushed toward the structure housing the stairs that led into the building, disappearing behind it just as I passed the wall, slipping into the shadows with Curtain.
The pink foam bomb detonated a second later, but I was well outside its range, standing a few steps away from where I had initially started, a scowl forming on my face.
There was a long moment of silence before I saw it—someone swung in from the direction of the attack on what looked like a grappling hook. He touched down a few steps away from me, right at the very limit of Curtain, and I recognized him instantly.
He was about my height, dressed in a ridiculous red and black costume. He even had a cape and a utility belt.
Fucking Robin.
I froze.
If he was here, then Batman couldn't be far behind.
Shit. I thought I had more time.
What were my options?
Run? Hide? Plead my innocence?
That was long gone. I scanned the darkness with my enhanced sight, searching for any sign of the Dark Knight, but I saw nothing. Then again, I didn't expect to.
Batman's sleuthing was world-class.
So, it came back to running.
Just as I was about to do that, I heard Robin speak as he turned toward the staircase, squinting and stalking forward. He moved with careful, confident steps that I mirrored as he rounded the corner, unknowingly slipping inside and outside of Curtain.
He let out a sigh of frustration.
"I can't believe he pulled a Batman on me," he muttered, then cursed under his breath. "Bruce is never going to let me live this down."
My eyes went wide.
Bruce. Batman's name was Bruce?
And he wasn't here?
Couldn't be, not with the way Robin was talking.
My hand reached for my gun. Should I?
I could learn the names of two of my greatest adversaries in a single night?
Greed eventually won out over caution, and my hands moved in a flash. The scuff of my boot alerted him before I fired, and he dove, almost too fast to track.
But on his way up, he took several bullets to the side. The ones that hit his cape sounded hollow, but the rest had him spasming.
He pulled out his grappling hook and fired it into the water tank of a far-off building as he sprinted toward the edge.
I fired more shots, aiming for his hand. All of them missed. A few screwed into his cloaked and his exposed leg.
He flowed like a wraith, zig-zagging and twisting over the ledge just before I could follow.
Robin dropped low before launching himself upward, out of my reach.
Shit.
What the hell was I thinking, trying to get the drop on Batman's protégé?
I holstered my guns and rubbed my forehead.
Still… the name stuck. Bruce.
I wasn't walking away with nothing.
I turned around and leapt off the building with a running start, landing silently with a flare of Inverse, then continued toward the manhole.
With a grunt, I slid the cover aside, climbed in, and replaced it. The smell hit me like an avalanche—especially with my enhanced senses—forcing me to disable Reinforcement while I traversed the narrow walkways, leading deeper into the city.
Bruce had to be Bruce Wayne. It made sense. He was the only one with the money and influence.
I palmed my mask, stunned.
I couldn't believe nobody had pieced it together yet.
Dead parents, years partying around the world, only to return as a more serious businessman. Batman appeared right around that time, didn't he?
And Robin… he had to be that Richard kid Bruce adopted after his parents died. The circus background would explain how someone so young could keep up with Gotham's worst.
A small smile crept onto my face. First night of information gathering, and I'd stumbled onto the motherlode.
Not bad at all. Not bad at all.
I was in the middle of congratulating myself when something shifted in the water and threw itself at me.
It was writhing, cloying, thick enough that I couldn't tear it off, even with my strength. No matter how hard I pushed and fought, it stayed latched on and swallowed my limbs.
Only Overdrive allowed me to exert any sort of momentum, but not for long.
Within seconds, it became painfully clear that I was dealing with something sentient. The sinister laugh that followed confirmed its identity.
"Easiest 50K I've ever made."
Clayface.
I held out some hope he was going to take me in alive—until the wave went over my head and dug into my nose and mouth.
Then, I summoned a grenade in my open palm.
This was dangerous, but fuck it.
At least death would be quick.
I flared Overdrive one last time, even though I was teetering on the edge of consciousness, and pulled the pin, letting the grenade fall.
It drifted deep into the clay, and I spiked Inverse.
The crushing intensified. Bones screeched, muscles spasmed, and skin burst.
Every inch of me was in agony.
Then, there was a flash of white.
And relief washed over me.
--
You guys really did it! LOL. Expect your extra chapter tomorrow.
Patreon is still live. Support the story and read ahead.
Reach 500 Power stones for the second free chapter of the week.