The Demon's Gift (DCU, SI/OC)

First fanfic btw, don’t be too harsh please.

The Demon’s Gift:


I lie in bed, waiting for sleep to take me. It never does, not as fast as I’d like it to. As I lie I let my mind wander, picturing the stories I’ve read today, wondering how it would feel, being in their shoes, imagining myself among the cast, working alongside or against them, whichever felt more appropriate.

I sigh before turning over, the thoughts are meaningless, they are a child's dream, something that will never come to be. Yet I still wish, I still hope, and I still pray.

I beg in my mind ‘Please, Lord, Lady, Demon, Devil, whoever is listening. Free me from this life. I’ll do whatever it takes, whatever you want me to, just let me take part in a story.’

I wait a few moments… Nothing happens. Yeah, saw that one coming. Well, time to keep trying to sleep. Maybe tomorrow will be a good day, if I’m lucky.

— — — — —

I wake up, yawning. Groggily I reach for my phone to check the time. Wait, where’s my phone?

Wait, where’s my glasses?

Wait, where am I?

Now wide awake, I take stock of the room I’m in, I have an unimpressive single bed, the kind you’d see in a run down apartment, the wallpaper is cracking, my computer is gone, and the same can be said for my posters.

I can’t dwell on my new living situation too long though, I just woke up and I need to piss, so I start my search for the bathroom. It doesn't take long, since I learned my apartment is just a living area with a kitchen attached, bathroom, and bedroom.

Finishing that, I go back to look for clothes and search for more, when I catch a glimpse of a body that is not my own in the mirror. It is far more fit, a bit taller, and honestly, an overall improvement. Is this a dream? Wait, is my dick bigger? Huh. About the same. I guess that’s fine.

When I stop examining my own body, I look in my room for some clothes. It seems whatever did this kept my fashion sense of plain t-shirts and jeans, thankfully. Time to go look in my living area.

I walk out, and the first thing that catches my eye is the table, since it has a big-ass piece of parchment on it. I walk closer to read it, and I finally put it together.
The parchment reads:

“Your plea has been answered, we have placed you in a period of strife, wrought with heroes and villains. In exchange for a chance to live out your fantasies, you will perform 5 tasks for me, afterwards I will consider your debt paid.

• Astaroth”

Demons are real after all. Huh. Fuck me. At least he’s giving me time to get settled.

I curse and jump back as another piece of parchment appears in a blast of flame in front of me, this one reading:

“For your first task, I will reward you as well, I command you to throw yourself firmly onto one side, hero or villain. You have two days to save someone, or kill someone. I look forward to your choice.

• Astaroth”

Fuck. Fuck. FUCK. I don’t even know where I am! A two day limit, if I want to be a hero that means I’ll need to find someone to save in two days! In my entire life so far no one has even so far as gotten into a fight in front of me! I don’t even want to know what happens if I fail the task, would he imprison my soul for eternal torment!? This is a demon we’re talking about!

Fuck, focus, me, focus! Okay, get your bearings, first thing we need to do, establish a name. Though I am similar to my old self, still having my brown hair and blue eyes, I am still different enough to warrant a change. Though, my old name was Bryce, a body that isn’t too different…

Bruce! I’ll be Bruce! Okay, Bruce what, if I wanted to act like a funny guy I’d choose Wayne, but depending on if that franchise exists in this universe I’d just be playing the clown. Eh, whatever, let’s roll with it until I get my bearings.

Okay, name established, time for a plan! I’m great at those, so:

Step 1 - Find out where I am. Simple, can’t do shit until I know that.
Step 2 - Explore the neighborhood. If I decide to throw myself into the hero camp, I’ll need to learn how often people are in danger close to me.
Step 2b - An amendment to step 2, go for a run around the neighborhood, it’ll let me know just how fit my body actually is. Here’s hoping it wasn’t just a cosmetic upgrade.
Step 3 - Choose. Kill, or save. Fuck.
Step 4 - Get a weapon, depending on my choice, I’d say a knife or a bat.
Step 5 - Finish searching my apartment, get cozy, relax a bit for what I’m about to do.
Step 5 - Get it over with. Relax when it’s done.

“Okay Bruce, you have your plan. Let’s go learn where we are.” I walk to the door of my apartment, grab the key off the keyholder on the wall (Thanks Astaroth.) and set out to learn what I’m going to be dealing with.
— — — — —

On my way out of the apartment, I saw that there was a newspaper stand (Huzzah! Coincidence!) and learned where I was. Lucky too, since it seems I’ll actually have to come up with a last name properly, not haphazardly. I appear to be in the DC universe, Gotham too. Fits, given the state of my apartment. What this does mean is that I shouldn’t have to search too hard to find someone in need if I go down that route.

I begin my run, a bit more wary of the civilians, while pondering the other thing I learned. The year had changed, it was 2016. It was a fine enough year for me in my old universe, but in this one, I’m already being faced with a moral dilemma. To kill, or not to kill. The nerd inside of me wants to be part of the bat-gang, but I don’t see that working out well for me. I don’t know how well Astaroth did with my being placed here. Are there falsified documents? Do I have any funds to my name?

Fuck, do I have any money? Didn’t before the swap, do I get any now? What’s rent? How do I get a weapon for step 4? Too much is left unknown. I should’ve checked the apartment before doing this, maybe Astaroth left something for me. Fuck it, let’s go back.

Keeping a steady pace on the way back, I try to keep note of where I see drug addicts gathering, homeless people begging, as well as any place that seems to be being avoided, since I imagine that if anyone was going to try and fuck someone up, they’d do it to one of them in one of those locations. I get back to the apartment, sweaty, but with a healthy appreciation of my new body.

Looking at the clock, I see that it was a 30 minute run, did about 5 kilometers, though I am in America now, I should probably try to learn the Imperial system at some point. Healthier than my old body, for sure. Should probably try to keep running as a habit if I’m going through with my task. Speaking of, let's get searching! I sniff myself... After a shower!

I start in my room, looking through all the drawers in the dresser, finding clothes, unsurprisingly. Approximately 2 weeks worth. I check my closet next, finding a mask, looks like a stylized demon mask, one of those Japanese ones…. Oni! It looks like an Oni mask, I guess Astaroth couldn’t resist choosing a demon for my mask. No proper costume though, so I guess it’s on me to make that.

I nearly walked out of my room before I realized I forgot to check my nightstand. I go back and pull open the drawer, revealing two weapons to me.

One was a brass knuckle, on each knuckle there was a letter, spelling ‘D-M-O-N’. It was at this point I realized Astaroth was fucking with me. They were even red. His dedication to the bit astounds me.

The other was a gun. Used for killing. There was even a note attached so I knew what it was. A Smith and Wesson Model 63. It's already loaded as well. He really is leaning into the whole ‘make your choice’ jigsaw shtick isn't he.

Right as I went to close the drawer on the nightstand I noticed my wallet was in there too, I just missed it because of my focus on the gun, I grab and open it looking for ID, and find that my first name, birth year, and everything else is filled out, except my last name, because I haven’t chosen it yet.

How the fuck does that work! My choosing Bruce haphazardly counted but thinking about being Bruce Wayne didn’t?! The rules and logic behind whatever magic Astaroth is using doesn’t make sense! Am I going to end up rewriting reality when I choose my last name?

No, shut up, you’re overthinking, just choose one now. Uh… Parker? No, no, that’s Spiderman’s thing. Allen? No you idiot! That’s the Flash! He lives here too! Ugh, fuck it. Strong. Oh great demon lord, make me Strong, Bruce Strong.

I watched with rapt attention as the last name section of my ID got filled in, slowly, from top to bottom with glowing red letters that turned black once they finished forming. That was the most interested I’d ever been watching documentation get filled out. Pocketing all my newly minted IDs (Motorcycle license, Driver’s License, and health insurance even, thanks Astaroth, you’re a real one) I go out to my couch in the living room, which was also gifted by the demon, and I sit and think.

I’ve spent all of 2 hours, maybe, in this new world. The first thing I did was run. I really made a 5 step plan to finish my task and I finished every step except choosing and doing. I haven’t even really taken it all in yet. A new world. A new body. A chance to actually be something. But first, I really do need to choose. Once I do, I’ll wait until… let’s say 9, maybe 10, and I’ll go out on patrol. Look for someone.

But who should I look for? Being a hero is appealing in a childish sort of way, stopping the villain, saving the day, getting the girl. In reality though, it's painful. Having to be the one to hold back the truly evil. Hell, look at Batman, he’s had his back broken, been dosed with fear gas, lost a surrogate child, and the list goes on. Being a hero in this city just isn’t at all attractive.

Villainy though, is equally terrifying. Instead of being with the Bat as he faces whatever Lunatic wants to destroy him, you have to commit your crimes hoping he’s already dealing with something, because god (in this case demon,) forbid he finds you committing a crime, or you’re going to the hospital with bones you didn’t even know about broken.

When it comes down to it though, I think the sidekicks had it easier that Bats, with the exception of Jason Todd. I don’t know if there were any other vigilantes in Gotham unaffiliated with him, so maybe I’ll try that. If he wants to draft me for whatever reason, then who am I to say no? Yeah, let’s try and be a hero.
— — — — —

The wait was grueling, I was a nervous wreck an hour before I was planning to head out. Did I ever mention that I never fought anyone before? The only reason I even know how to throw a punch is because of those Martial Artist reaction videos. I’m not cut out for this, but it needs to be done, so I have my brass knuckles in my pocket, or is it brass knuckle because it’s just one hand? Ugh, stop distracting yourself Bruce, focus.

Will that be enough though? My plan to stop a criminal is to just sneak up behind them and punch them really hard with it. What if there’s more than one? I’m no fighter, I might be able to take one guy, but even that’s a stretch. Two or three on the other hand, I could drop one, maybe land a lucky hit on the other, but then I’m in a straight on fistfight with the other guy.

I'm forgetting something. My mystery criminal might have a gun on him, this is Gotham after all. I could knock down 2 people and just get shot afterwards by their friend. Fuck, maybe I should take my own gun, for safety? It’s not like I said I’d subscribe to Batmans ‘no one should die, not even villains’ rule.

You know what, yeah, let’s bring my gun, I shouldn’t need to use it, but just in case. In this city, I can see it saving my life. Just having the threat of it should be enough to deter some of the more common criminals. Not everyone is willing to have a standoff and there likely are a portion of criminals who don’t have guns in this place.

I look in my dresser for clothes that would fit a moonlit walk, and find a nondescript gray sweater, that’ll do. I grab the gun from my dresser and slide it into the pocket on the front. I decide to just leave the brass knuckles on my fist, it’s a comforting feeling, knowing that I'm going to be potentially risking my life shortly.

With my preparations complete, I go sit back on the couch and wait a bit longer, before I go find some trouble.

— — — — —

My patrol has been, well, incredibly boring so far. All I’ve done is walk my running route, and looked in every alleyway I can. I’ve seen drug dealers, who I considered knocking their lights out, but ultimately, would that count as saving someone? Debatable no, since the addict would just find someone else to get their high off of, so I let them be.

I was going to continue debating what constitutes the act of saving someone, when I heard a scream, not even in an alleyway, so all my prior scouting was for naught. Outside an apartment complex, a woman was being harassed by some 6’2’ guy also wearing a nondescript gray sweater and jeans. If not for my mask, I really would just look like a common thug.

I was excited, and feeling a little bit guilty for being excited, as I rushed towards the scene. I cast a quick glance around the area and didn’t see anyone else looking towards them, or another thug waiting for his friend to get jumped by some weird guy in an Oni mask, and I took full advantage.

I ran up behind him, and since he was too busy yelling at her, some shit about “Paying your dues,” and “think of the kids, Susan!” He didn't notice me at all. I cocked my fist back and threw it forwards with all I had, knocking him out instantly. Feeling proud, I looked up at the woman I just saved, Susan, and saw a horrified expression.

“Please don’t hurt me! We don’t have anything to give you!” She was begging, frantically. Fuck, my mask makes me look like a villain doesn’t it. I was about to walk away before I realized, Do I need to make someone believe I saved them for the task to count as completed? Well, better safe than sorry.

“Sorry for scaring you Susan,” (How does he know my name!?) Ah shit she looks more panicked. “But I am no villain, I merely saw someone in need of aid, so I came to help.”

“No villain?! What was he doing wrong, there was no crime! He was yelling at me about my drug habits! He still hasn’t even gotten back up! Wait, Paul? Paul! He’s not breathing either! What did you do!?” Fuck. Fuck… FUCK. She’s crying, over the body… of her lover? I presume. Who I just killed… In one punch… To the back of the head… With brass knuckles… Fuck. I’m a dumbass. Humans are fragile and I’ve forgotten that.

Wait, I’ve just killed someone, in Batman’s city. Oh fuckity fuck. Time to run, I’ll need to ditch the mask on the way. The brass knuckles need to go too, I don’t know what fancy tech Batman has but he could totally track me down with it. Okay, let’s get out of here before she catches her bearings and calls the police.

I sprint away, back towards my apartment, stopping twice by some alleys that had dumpsters in them to discard or my mask and murder tool. Once I had them off I felt a lot safer, especially since not even a minute later I saw a police cruiser drive past me towards the scene. Now out of danger, I started to take in the fact that I killed someone. Someone innocent too, or at least, I think they were. It makes me sick either way. Setting out to be a hero just for my first activity to be murder.

I wrestle with my newfound self-loathing as I enter my apartment, only to see another piece of parchment on my table. This one reads:

“Hah! You’re a fucking moron, genuinely trying to be a hero but forgot how to pull punches! Hilarious. Well, congratulations on completing your first task, it comes with a boon, as you know. For your first murder, firmly placing you on the side of villainy, I gift you a powerset belonging to a group specializing in extermination. I grant you a Witcher’s body, as well as Basic Mastery over their 5 signs. I hope to see an interesting story come of this. Don’t disappoint me. Drinking the vial in your nightstand will give you the abilities mentioned. Don’t mind the pain, I’ll ensure no one can hear you scream. Your next task will come in a week's time.

• Astaroth”

A witcher… The pain he alluded to scares me, since the alchemical process to become one was incredibly painful to anyone that’s undergone it. Yet that’s not what draws my eye, it’s the fact that this was my reward for killing. If I get to become a Witcher for this, what would I have gotten had I actually saved someone instead? Astaroth seems to be pulling on things I’d know…

I can’t focus on this, not after tonight. Let’s go drink the vial and pass out. Refusing would be foolish, especially because I don't know what Bat-universe I’m in. With no idea what could be coming my way, the versatility of the witcher signs are too enticing to pass up.

To prepare for my change, I shower, and I strip, since I don’t know if I will ruin my clothes during this process. I sit on the bed, drink the vial, and lay down. Right as I begin to wonder where the pain he was alluding to is, I scream, for this pain is worse than can be described. I cry, vomit, thrash, beg, anything to just make it stop please!

I thrash and thrash until I end up banging my head against the wall, hard enough to knock me unconscious.

E — N — D

So, this is my first fanfic. Don’t know if I’ll keep running with it. I was just really bored at the time and it seemed like something to do to pass the time, you know. But yeah, a lot of self-inserts and OCs generally tend to have ‘The Gamer’ or some other OP shit that can make the story kind of trivial, and hard to write around. I wanted to give this character something that is strong, but not overly, so that he will still struggle with organized groups of thugs and so villains can still be a threat to him. As for the setting, I originally chose a demon just for the aesthetics but ¾ through the chapter i realized demons are a thing in DC and there are people looking out for shit like what would happen to this character, so in my infinite wisdom, I’m just gonna ignore that until I come up with a solution. If you wanna leave criticism feel free, just don’t be too mean and I’ll keep it in mind for whenever I get bored enough to keep updating this. Though I will say I’m not that great at emotions, so if anyone feels too robotic then some advice there might be appreciated.

 

Chapter 2: All signs point to yes

I wake up, and look at the state of my room. My sheets were thrown from the bed, there are dents in the walls, and there's this… waste, is the best way to describe all that black gunk covering my bed, and myself. Is that what my body purged during this transformation? I guess I should’ve seen this coming when he told me he’d keep people from hearing my screams. I rub my eyes, and breathe in, immediately regretting that choice since that black waste smells about a hundred times worse than a dozen rotten eggs dropped in a vat of vinegar. Oh shit, I’m covered in that stuff, get in the shower you moron, you can throw up in there if the smell bothers you that much.

While in the shower, as I go to shampoo my hair, the intensity of the smell catches me off guard. It is overwhelmingly minty, I swear it wasn’t like this yesterday!

…

I wasn’t like this yesterday! All my senses have been improved! No wonder the smell in my room was so disgusting, I have the witcher senses! If I can track a drunkard based off the smell of alcohol 3 hours earlier, a dude with poor hygiene can probably knock me unconscious. But that means little now, let’s ignore the minty hair routine today, so I can get on with figuring out what exactly is new with my body. I know I was given mastery of the signs, but trying them here would be inviting trouble. I don’t want to blow out a window with Aard or set my couch on fire with Igni, though my room would probably benefit from the fire treatment.

I quickly get in and out of my room with new clothes after drying off, vowing to clean it at some point later today. (I left the window open in there after all, surely it will air out the worst of the smell.) As I leave my apartment and go to lock the door however, I see something that makes my heart drop. An eviction notice. Apparently when Astaroth decided to beam me into my apartment, he forgot to mention he hadn’t actually paid for it this month. Or the last. Or the one before that. Honestly this landlord is a saint if they think I’ve lived here for 3 months without paying rent. Well, let’s try talking to them, diplomacy is a skill I totally have. Where are you? Ah, room 1, of course.

I take the notice, lock the door, and walk down. Mentally running through the possible ways the conversation could go, I feel confident, this is something I can do. Not like last night, where my panic and desperation to finish the task placed before me drove me to make the mistake of a lifetime. Here, there is no mysterious, devilish consequence if I fail to negotiate more time to pay rent, just me getting kicked out and having to live on the streets for a bit. I have fucking superpowers now, I can handle that! Okay, here we are, let’s do this, gameface on, nice smile, knock knock.

The door opens, revealing a tiny, maybe 5’4’’ asian woman. “Hel- Ah, it’s you. You have my rent right?” So I was already a known quantity to this person before I even met them. Your magic is weird Astaroth.

“Hey, yeah I was wondering if I could get an extension? It’s kind of embarrassing to talk about this but I got laid off and that’s why I haven’t been able to get the money to you yet. I just need 2 weeks, and it’ll all be there, I promise.” As I keep lying my ass off, she seems to get progressively more angry as I talk.

“No! You said the same thing 2 months ago! And last month you said you haven’t been paid yet! You’ll give me the money or you will be removed from the building!” She really had to yell that at me huh. Let everyone in the apartment know that I’m behind on rent. Whatever, she clearly isn’t going to buy whatever I try to sell her. Unless…

I wave my fingers in front of her, forming the Axii sign, “I’m sorry that you have had to deal with this for so long, Miss..?”

“...Chen…”

“Miss Chen, But I swear to you, give me two more weeks, and you will have your money, I guarantee it.” Wow, this shit is great. An actual jedi mind trick.

“Okay, I’ll give you two more weeks… just don’t be late again…” I should end the conversation here, I don’t want to say anything that’ll be taken wrong while she’s like this.

“See you in two weeks Miss Chen.” I walk away before she can reply. When I got my powers, I thought Quen and Aard would’ve been the most useful, but Axii? It’s incredible. I don’t know what its limits are, so honestly it was a little risky using it like that, but it worked out. I got two weeks to gather my rent… which I forgot to ask about. Fucking moron, how much you owe her is a key part of this problem! I could go back and ask, but no, that would be too awkward and I pretty much just brainwashed her. Let’s go talk to a neighbor and figure this out. Besides, if Axii is as useful as I think it is, I can get this rent easily by just asking drug dealers to hand over their earnings.

— — — — —

My next-door neighbor, the hard of hearing Mr. Morrison, who either was in a gang or is an avid gun nut, given the shotgun he greeted me with, kindly let me know rent is 500 a month before slamming the door in my face. Well, at least I know, I owe my landlord about $1500. I came up with asking drug dealers for their earnings as a joke, but honestly, it's kind of hard to stop myself at the moment knowing I need to get that much in two weeks. I don’t even know if there are any late fees that I’ll need to pay off either, but I can safely assume the worst, and just aim for $2000. Either I’m correct and pay off the debt plus late fees, or I have an extra $500 to buy shit for my… villainy. I should confront that reality soon, but I find it healthier to just bottle it up and focus on the here and now.

I leave the apartment building and start looking around the city, my new senses letting me see far more than I could before. It’s disorienting, all the smells, sights, sounds overpower the senses and pound on my head like a jackhammer, so I try to tune them out, focus on specific things, like the sign to that corner store down the street, the smell of booze and piss in the alleyways, and the sound of cars driving down the street. They keep me grounded, let me catch my bearings, and slowly, I learn to ignore the excess stimuli. I catch a glimpse of myself in a window, and instantly freeze up. I have cats eyes, fuck, how did I forget about that! Were they there this whole time? Does Old Gun-Toting Morrison know I’m a superhuman? While I panic, staring at my own reflection, I see the cat's eyes slowly fade away, leaving just my normal baby blues in their place. Okay, seems when I let myself indulge in the senses, they come out. Not good, I can’t use them in public. I still have advanced senses, but nowhere near their full potential.

I force myself away from that window and down the street, towards the corner store, because I am thirsty and hungry and my apartment had no fucking food in it. I step in, and quickly grab what I need, which seems to be a… can of pringles and a gatorade, seems some brands are universal. I get to the cashier and go to pay when my dumbass brain finally catches up to the rest of my body. I can’t pay rent fuckface, where are you getting the money to buy yourself snacks? The cashier asks if I’m paying with cash or credit, and I panic. I wave my hand in front of him and say, “I’ve already paid for my things, I’m leaving now.”

“Oh, you already paid? Have a good day then.”

I have to stop doing that. Or do I? I accidentally threw my lot in with the villains, and I know Bruce, Wayne-Bruce not me-Bruce, won’t let a killer become a hero. Not in his city. I see a park around the corner down the street, so I go take a seat on the bench and partake in my ill-gotten goods. I wonder if the witcher senses affect taste? I take a bite of my salt and vinegar chips and ‘turn them on’ (for lack of a better phrase). I start gagging, oh god they do, it was like I made an unholy cocktail designed to poison taste buds and drank it. Never do that again. Moron. Fool.

While I’m sitting in a hell of my own making, I spy a little deal going on. I don’t know what that kid just bought but I’m willing to bet it was drugs. This is turning out to be a good day after all, let’s go use my brainwashing on someone actually evil for once, so no one can truly judge me.
I throw my empty drink and can of chips in trash and start walking over. He seems to be distracted texting someone, which reminds me that I really need to get a phone. I get right up behind him and tap him on the shoulder. He spins around and I quickly throw out Axii once more, I feel like I’m getting better at this.

“What did you sell that kid?” See, I learned from profiling the guy from last night, maybe this guy sold the kid salt for a cooking competition or some shit.

“Cocaine.” Nevermind.

“Give me the money you’ve earned so far today.” Speak nice and clearly, so there’s no room for them to misinterpret my commands.

“Yeah.. I’ll give you… Wait.. The hell I will!” He punches me. “The fuck was that shit! You one of them freaks? Using your fucky mind shit on me are you! Fuck off!” He kicks me in the shin. This was NOT how I planned our encounter, why didn’t it work? Was it not strong enough? It’s not like the games where I can just level up the skill! Oh, it’s not like the games. This is real life now, I can’t just put a point in and make it work better against those with a strong will. Not to mention the command was something he’d never do. Should’ve thought it through more.

I see our antagonist of the day bring his leg back for another kick, so I quickly lash out and jab him in the face. He stumbles back but doesn’t seem that hurt by it. I see him reaching for his pocket, I know realistically he doesn’t have a gun, but I still panic, and try something new.

“Aard!” Damn, I said it out loud, how cringey. He flies backwards, landing roughly on his side. I just used a sign in public with a loud effect, didn't I? Well, let’s get this over with quickly so I can run away before people come and take a look at me. I rush over to him, and see that the rough landing was worse than I thought. One of his arms is either broken or dislocated, but honestly, I can’t bring myself to care about this guy. I mean, he’s selling drugs in a park. Like, c’mon. So I rifle through his pockets instead of making sure he’s okay. I need a lot of money in these two weeks after all. I find a solid $225 in his wallet, and when I check the pocket he was reaching for, I see an antique switchblade with a wooden handle. That’s what I panicked over? Fuck, I’m a witcher, I should be able to handle that, even if I have no training. At all.

I take the spoils of war and run off. Once I’m a safe distance away I think about what occurred and how to make the best use of Axii. It seems that it can allow you to manipulate thoughts at will but really, it just seems to make convincing someone easier. Miss Chen already let me delay rent for three months, what’s two more weeks on top of that? The corner store clerk had no attachment to the job and was clearly going through the motions. The drug dealer was the only one with a hard line. Either all the money he got from selling stayed with him or he was under strict instructions to only give it to one guy, and he was happy with that so he stuck to those rules religiously. So, maybe if I let my brain catch up with my idiocy, I can start being smart about my uses. A clever lie should be enough to get me into most places, but it won’t let me rob them blind. Though, maybe if I was smarter with the dealer, it wouldn’t have had to come to that sloppy excuse for a fight. Something to think about.

— — — — —

Not a bad start. Though I keep thinking back to my fight, if you can call it that. I freaked out because I’m untrained, but there are ways to remedy that situation. I only have $225 to my name, but that’s more than enough to start a membership at a gym. Plus if Axii works how I think it does, there is a way for me to gain a steady stream of funds later…

Yeah, let’s go apply at a gym, if I can I’d want to find a boxing gym, or any place that can teach me a fighting style. I just have to find out where they are. I spot a gas station as I wander down the street and figure that’s as good a place as any to get information. First thing I do when I enter is go look for a newspaper, this city still likes using them so I’ll take full advantage. When I find them I grab one and the first thing I notice is the headline, ‘Wayne Industries employee killed in cold-blood?’ No, that wasn’t me, surely this was Two-Face, or the Joker, being evil. I read the article, but I’ll summarize it for everyone.

‘On October 7th a Wayne Industries employee was heading home with their sister, and arriving at their location all witnesses heard them begin to argue, during their argument a Demon Masked individual ran up behind the Employee, Paul Rennulo, and sucker punched him in the back of the head, whether he had a tool is unknown. The victim's sister, Susan, gave a statement that the killer believed himself to be a hero, and that he was “saving her” from her brother. The descriptions of the killer seem to make him out to be an approximately 6’ tall male, with dark brown hair, he was wearing a gray sweater and a pair of dark blue jeans. If you know anyone of this description who you believe to be the killer, please inform the Gotham Police tip line, at XXX-X46-8362.

Why do my actions have consequences? Do they do this for every murder in this city? No way, this is totally just because the dude I killed worked at Wayne Industries. What the fuck is this favouritism bullshit. I flip through the rest of the paper quickly, and see no mention of anything happening anywhere else in town. What, did all the other murderers in the city decide to take a break while I went out on my first patrol? Whatever, get what you came here for, back to the ad page. Ah, here's one! Gotham City Boxers Gym! A plain name, but it’ll do. Only 100 dollars a month… Fuck it, I need to know how to fight. Aard and Ingi are wonderful signs, but they’d only work on Batman once if they were my only tool. Dude has a plan for everything. Fucking trillionaire spending his money on his vigilante fetish instead of helping the city. I hate the fact that he’d beat the shit out of me, maybe if I get lucky one of his sidekicks will run into me first and I’ll have a fighting chance.

I place the newspaper back down onto the rack, and wonder why the clerk didn’t stop me from just reading the whole thing without paying for it. I mean, it’s only like 25 cents so maybe he just didn’t care. Either way. Let's get out of here. I think the gym was located close to the docks, so let's head down there.

— — — — —


I find the gym, tucked behind some decrepit warehouse. Not where I’d have put it, but hey, you do you Gotham. I signed up, letting nearly half my total cash go. That hurt me, I worked so hard for all that money, but this will be worth it. I got paired up with a big bulky trainer, a guy called, I shit you not, Thor. Looked just like the one from the myths too. Red hair, beer belly, could break me into little pieces with one hand, truly an imposing figure. He put me through my paces once he realized just how fit I was thanks to Astaroth. I swear I saw him smile when he said to double the speed for my cardio on the treadmill. Slave driver. When we got in the ring he was less happy with just how shit I was at fighting, and he made that known by starting to throw real punches. He told me it was “proper motivation” and to “learn to dodge if that upsets you.” At the end of the.. Hour? (That was only an hour? Fuck, it felt like he beating on me for the whole day.) He cracked another smile.

“I look forward to seeing you tomorrow, Bruce. Now go get yourself cleaned up, you look like shit.” He then left to find some other poor bastard to assault in the ring. Well, I do look like shit, he’s not wrong. Let’s hit the showers. There were a few people in the locker room, chatting quietly. I couldn’t pick them up, not without using my witcher senses, so I went to the shower first, and then strained them as much as I could. I learned that my hearing was good enough to pick their voices up, barely.

“Hey, y-u hear a–ut the new -ob?” See, told ya, can barely hear them. The running water from the shower isn’t helping, but turning it off just after getting in would be suspicious.

“Shut up!” Oo that was clear, please, whisper yell more. “T-e new guy -s in the s-ow-er, what if h- hears you?” Damn, went back to quiet conversation.

“It’- fine. He’s in -he showe-.” Hah! My clever eavesdropping plan worked! Take that world, I can be smart! “The Pen-uin h-s a ship-ent coming in f-ve days. The -at is nipp-ng at his h-els though, s- he’s looking for more workers to protect it when it gets here.” Wait, is he getting closer?

“Tell me how much then shut up, I still need to shower, and we don’t want to tip the newbie off.” No, please, tip the newbie off. This is good shit.

“200 for showing, 800 on completion.” Damn! That’s good money, to potentially just stand there all night, wondering if the Bat will show up. You know, on second thought, not enough money for me. Also, does this mean I joined the gym that Batman henchmen use to train? That isn’t exactly promising since they usually never so much as touch him.

“Yeah alright, I’ll be there.” Okay, turn off your senses, they’re about to enter, you don’t want them seeing your eyes. Now, review, Penguin has a shipment coming in five days, he’s also being pressured by the Bat-gang, so he wants more protection for that shipment. That means it is definitely illegal, maybe narcotics? Could be weapons, and I won’t say no to weapons. There is also a lot of money being thrown around for this job, $1000 per goon? Though they might not have it all on site until the end, in which case if I go to bust this party, I’d be getting $200 per goon. That could solve my rent issue in one fell swoop. I’d just need to beat up and rob 10 of them and bounce, leaving the rest for Batman and his merry gang, since they’re already ‘nipping at his heels’. Yeah, that sounds like a fantastic plan. Let’s finish the shower and get out of here.

— — — — —

On my way back to the apartment, I realize that all I have is $125 dollars to my name. If this bust I have planned doesn’t work out then I’ll be up shit creek without a paddle. I need a back up. Hmm, I have a plan… This’ll use up a bit of my money, but this should work.

— — — — —

Knock knock, who wants to donate to charity! I spent 50 bucks on a nice button up shirt, a clip on tie, and a clipboard with a pen. This is fucking genius. Everyone deep down doesn’t disagree with charities, but they also don’t really want to go out of their way to donate. Instead, with a little of persuasion, (i.e. Axii) they can put their grievances aside, after all, they want to donate now, because I can tell them that it’ll make them feel better about themselves, make them look better to their significant other, or any other excuse that will have them giving money to their new favourite fundraiser. The ‘help me pay my rent foundation.’ This isn’t moral, you say, mind altering magics are vile, you say. Well, fuck you too buddy, the devil already told me I’m a villain, so I get the perks! I’m allowed to mind control people into crowdfunding my rent and you can’t stop me!

I’ve cleaned through 4 floors of an apartment building a few blocks away from mine, and I’ve already made $300, shit I might not need to even do the bust at this rate. That won’t stop me though, the sheer money making potential of attacking that shipment makes it irresistible to me. I only needed 10 goons for rent, around 8 now, but excess cash is always helpful. Speaking of, I should probably make a bank account at some point. I can’t just keep carrying my money on me, or leave it in my apartment. If someone were to break in and see all the shit I took just lying on my table I’d be fucked. Fuck, if someone breaks in they’ll see the sludge from my transformation all over my room! Go back you lazyass! Get that shit cleaned then make a bank account!

E — N — D

I had three goals this chapter, they were to, 1. Find a way to keep Axii balanced in the universe. It is mind manipulation but I think I did a good job there. I’ll keep its fight effect similar to the games, just a daze, but I didn’t want it to be the best solution for everything. 2. I wanted to be able to progress plot without using tasks constantly, given that I have a limited number of those. Rent seemed like a pretty good motivator. And 3. Find a way to get him properly involved with the world of crime in Gotham. When I came up with the gym I felt like I opened my third eye. I am admittedly having a bit of fun writing this, but I haven’t gotten to fight scenes yet, and I’m not too confident in writing those, so we’ll see. Next chapter should have some. Thanks for reading guys.

 

Chapter 3 - A good first Impression

My days leading up to penguins shipment pass in a similar way. I start by swinging by the boxing gym so my trainer can beat the shit out of me, and in the locker room I keep my ears open in case some other Gothamite feels like talking about their employers plans, but they’re surprisingly clammy about that sort of thing. Guess I just got lucky the first time.

After I’m done at the gym I swing by a few homes or a floor of an apartment building and get some donations. My income slowed down since I wasn’t as desperate for cash as I was the first time I did this, but barring any extreme misfortunes I am on pace to pay back my rent even without the bust. I’m still gonna do it though. It seems like a good place to test myself, see how I do in an actual combat situation and not just a single drug dealer.

As preparation, I set up an account at the library. I was hesitant to do this, since in some versions of the DC universe Barbara Gordon, a.k.a. Batgirl, ran the library or at least worked there. The draw of their computers won me over though. I needed to research the docks, since a ‘shipment’ kind of implies that whatever Penguin wants is coming by boat. I found 3 locations that I think could work so far. It was originally 5 but I found out two of them have been cordoned off with police tape, something about murder investigations. Fuck this city, by the way. I should totally move to some quiet suburb when I’m done with these tasks.

While I was going through my Gym, Charity, Research routine I also made sure to gather some proper clothes for enthusiastic walks at night. Since it’s October I swung by a store and grabbed a couple costumes. Mix ‘em together, and you get a medieval knight wearing a Superman mask over his balaclava. The knight costume wasn’t the most mobile, so I broke a couple parts off to keep my full range of motion. I couldn’t resist wearing armor like an actual witcher, even if the armor is not real. The Superman mask? Just a bit of fun. Maybe I’ll get a laugh out of the goons I’m going to assault with my demon-given powers.

Tomorrow is the day I go through with it anyway, so I should try and get a good rest leading up to it. Before I lay down and sleep I shoot off a prayer to my favourite hellspawn, just in case. ‘Hail Astaroth, may he let my strikes hit true, and curse my foes, so their days are few.’ A simple prayer, I decided to make it rhyme because it seemed like something he’d appreciate. Time to pass out, and tomorrow, we’ll see if he feels like helping me do this.

— — — — —

I decide to go to the gym regardless of if I’m doing something of dubious legality later. The reason for this choice is because through my repeated beatings lessons I’ve learned that the witcher's metabolism, the shit that lets Geralt eat some bread and completely heal, is here with me too. I can take the bruises that Thor gives me, because they don’t last for longer than a couple hours. Which is good, because if he saw a bruise he just gave me start clearing up 5 minutes after he hit me, that would be more than a little suspicious.

After finishing my spar and fishing for info in the locker rooms, I do prep for the mission. I check my costume first, all the pieces are there, good. I open my nightstand, and look at the only weapon still there after my first night. Do I bring my revolver? I’ve made enough mistakes since coming here that I don’t want to make another by tempting myself with the gun, but at the same time, my durability is heavily dependent on Quen. If two guys line up and start shooting at me, I’m fucked. A gun saves me from that situation. Hum, I think I have to take it. I’ve made enough mistakes since coming here that if I fuck up in something this important, I need something to help me out of it. Okay, I got plenty of time before the shipment shows up, I think. It is still daytime, and this is a comic book world right? Criminals don’t exist during the day. Let’s go find a clear area in the docks, I’ll wait there.

I found a nice spot on top of an abandoned warehouse. It was a little scary getting up here, what with the walkways and ladders being in complete disrepair, but it was a damn good spot. I can even see one of the docks I marked as a potential offload point from here. Let’s throw the costume on and see if they show up.

…

…

…

They didn’t choose this one did they.

…

…

Fuck. Okay, I planned for this! Next one is about a 15 minute sprint in this direction! Go go go!

I get to my second choice, and thank the divine devil, they’re here. How do I know they’re goons-4-hire? The two dudes sitting on top of a shipping container off to the side of the whole operation, with their guns on full display. One guy has some gun I can’t place, the other has a Thompson. Ok, those guys are my first priority. Not only are they the ones with the most firepower, based on the information I overheard in the gym, they likely have all the money as well. I sneak around to a few different angles, and count everyone that I see here, coming up to 12 guys, plus the two ‘supervisors’.

‘This is a lot… No, no. I can do it. Don’t doubt yourself. You are a witcher, not only that. You have 4 more tasks ahead of you. Be better, so you can complete them.’

After I finish with my self pep-talk, I find a good location, and wait for the perfect moment to spring into action. It comes quicker than I thought it would, as it seems a couple of the guys fucked up and put a cargo box down a bit too roughly. Supervisor… Thompson, yeah, let's call him that. Supervisor Thompson left to go make sure nothing was damaged and to presumably chew the guys out, and I saw my chance to take care of Supervisor Nameless SMG.

Nameless SMG was perched on top of the shipping container, seemingly captivated by watching his fellow supervisor scold the workers. I climbed up behind him, and placed him in a chokehold. Thor teaches people to fight a bit dirty after all, he isn’t strict on keeping the art of boxing pure. Once Mr. Nameless SMG stops struggling, I take his gun and gently lower it behind the container in case I take too long and he wakes back up.

With one of the Gun Guys out of the way, I decide to make a good first impression in the hopes of scaring a few of the guys away. I’m no Batman, I’m not skilled enough to take down 14 guys without being spotted. I cast Quen, and run straight at Supervisor Thompson. He notices me a bit too late.

“What the fu-” I knock his lights out, and the guys he was yelling at took a couple steps back, startled, before catching their bearings. I see them stance up and confirm that yes, the gym I go to is where Gothams generally thugs and cheap ne'er-do-wells learn to fight. Well, I’ve had plenty of practice fighting Thor, to the point where I could beat these guys without my signs, but I did say I wanted to make an impression.

I throw my hand in front of me, Aard, and blast the two backwards. They land on the crate they just unloaded. Out the corner of my eye, I see my plan work somewhat well, a couple guys taking off at the sign of anything beyond human capability. Supervisors out, plus the two I’ve hit with Aard and the two that fled. 8 left.

Four of them surround me, boxing me in and hoping that will help. I won’t let it. I choose the guy standing behind to the left, #3. I turn and leap towards him, throwing a Superman punch in honor of my mask. He goes down, but he isn’t out yet. I turn back just in time to duck a wild swing by #2. A quick shot to the gut followed by an uppercut and he’s out for good. #3 is about to get back up, a quick kick fixes that. #1 seems to have picked up one of the crowbars they were using here. He swings once, swings twice, and I pull my fist back, letting the third crash harmlessly against the barrier made by Quen. I strike true, and that just leaves #4.

I look back by where he was, but he seemed to have left? Where would he- oh shit!

I dive for cover behind a wooden shipping box, barely dodging the spray of gunfire #4 let loose with Mr. Thompsons Thompson. Fuck, that was going so well! He shot a burst of gunfire at the box itself, some hit whatever was inside, but one went straight through and barely missed my arm. I don’t hear him moving any closer, and against that type of gun, I wouldn't get two steps before he pops my Quen and fills me with lead. I still cast it though, for what I’m about to do is kind of risky. I take out the revolver I hid in the back of my costume. I take a deep breath, and I peek around the side.

I try to line a shot up with the gun, simply wanting to knock it out of his hands and miss, but not by much. My bullet finds itself in the forearm, and in his pain he drops the gun. Seeing the opportunity I rush him and land a solid hit on his jaw. He goes down and I kick him a couple times to make sure he’s staying that way. #4 down. I look around and see everyone else has fled. Not a bad showing, for my first try at this sort of thing. I crack a smile underneath my mask, and get looting.

The two supervisors didn’t have any more than the other guys. Which is a bit of a letdown honestly. But I still took out 8 guys all on my own. That’s $1600 made just tonight. Already higher than what I needed to pay the rent, and it’s all mine. Euphoric. At least, it was. Until I heard a thump behind me.

I spin around, revealing a caped crusader. Thankfully not THE caped crusader, but still terrifying, for what I am. That being an inexperienced Witcher/Villain combo that just finished his first fight by shooting a guy.

We stare at each other. I think he’s having a mental lapse because of my mask. One of us should say something. I guess that’ll be me.

“So, you having a nice night?” Brain, what were you thinking? He just saw you shoot someone. Probably. Did he?

“Not as nice as yours, looks like. Never seen you before, what’s your name?” He said, instead of accusing me of being evil. Good, seems like he didn’t see it. Wait, my name? Fuck, I need to choose a name! Alright brain, sorry for being a little rude earlier, but I need you to come through for me!

“Super Knight.” Fuck you Brain! That’s not even clever! That’s just what you get by mixing the costumes I bought together!

“So, ‘Super Knight’... want to tell me why you shot that guy?” And he saw, wonderful. Well, here goes nothing.

I wave my hand in front of me, making the sign for Axii, “The second amendment allows the right to bear arms, and that amendment states that self-defense using guns is legal. Thank you for checking in, I’ll be leaving the rest to you.” I turn and begin walking briskly, before a fucking R shaped projectile flies by my face. I slowly turn back towards him, reluctant to get my ass beat in a thrift store costume while being known as ‘Super Knight.’

“Clever trick, I don’t know what you just did to me, but you’ll never get to do it again after tonight.” Ah fuck, he made a heroic statement.

Faster than I thought any normal person could move, he closes the distance and begins something that doesn’t deserve to be called a slaughter, for it was worse. He hit everything. Every time I got a chance to use Quen he just blew through it before I could do anything. When I thought I could counter he just took the offending limb and used it as leverage. I thought this would be the end until he went for a choke similar to the one I used on the first Supervisor. I brought my hand up and angled it behind my head, and used a new sign.

Igni, and flame washed over him. He let go and I spun around, only to find him on the ground, attempting to smother the flames on his head with his own cape. I guess Edna Mode was a little wrong, they can be useful.

Regardless, I take my leg and kick him in the skull. He falls, but I don’t think he’s out yet. I pull the cape off his head and see that I’ve made a little mistake, because he is definitely going to have some burn scars. Fuck. If Batman was gonna put me behind bars before, he’s absolutely going to be hunting me now. Guess who has a new costume to retire! It’s for the best, Super Knight was doomed to fail the moment I named him.

A groan knocks me out of my panic. I take another look at the boy wonder, and I decide that he’s probably not in good enough shape to chase me. I make sure I have my money and gun, and I book it. Never going to go back there unless it’s the end of the world. Which for me, might not be too far away anymore.

— — — — —

The lights in the medbay make a stark contrast to the atmosphere of the rest of the cave, Barb-no, Batgirl, notes.

“How is he.” A gruff voice sounds out behind her.

“Seems to be doing better, he will be left with a scar or two, but no permanent damage done. He should be good to continue after a day or two of rest thanks to the concussion he received at the end of the fight.” He grunts in acknowledgement of her diagnosis.

“Speaking of, report. Who was that he found in the docks that night.” She stands up.

“This’ll be better to give at the computer, come on.” She steps out, and doesn’t even hear his footsteps follow her. The only sign she has that he is following is that she heard him close the door behind her.

Sitting down in front of the computer, she begins the report. “Subject ID; Super Knight. Robin only caught the tail end of the fight, but this is what he saw. I’ll let you watch the video before I continue the report.” She presses play on the recording taken by their body cameras.

As the video plays she sometimes hears him grunt when Robin lands a hit or our perp tries to put his barrier up again.. Why he’s grunting she has no clue. She may be getting trained by the world’s greatest detective, but deciphering his grunts is impossible for even those capable of reading minds.The video ends and so she brings up the next page, freeze frames of the time the perp uses his… magic? She knows he doesn’t like that word but it is the most applicable.

“Throughout the video we saw him try three separate types of magic,” He grunts, and she’s pretty sure it was a disdainful one, “the first, is this one.” A picture of a white symbol pops up.

“This he used at the start of the encounter, and after using it attempted to make Robin believe that using a gun to rob a Villains backroom deal was legal due to the second amendment.”

“I see, next, the yellow one.”

“This,” she brings up the next image, “was used throughout the fight. He seemed to be relying on its one hit protection to give himself a chance to fight back. It never worked.”

He grunts again. She moves on.

A red symbol appears, “He only used this once once as well, as you saw. To get out of the chokehold he used this to blind Robin with flames. Robin was unprepared, and so it worked. Our villain won today.”

“He has not won. His rest is temporary. We will find him, and bring him to justice. The white symbol appears to have properties of mind manipulation, given his ludicrous attempt at escaping Robin at the beginning of the fight. Search through social media for anything indicative of that. Also look into apartment buildings, he could likely convince a landlord or building manager that a room has broken down just so he may live in it. Bring me a list of anything that could fit that criteria. I will search as well. We will find him. Someone with a power like this cannot be allowed to walk free, he could cause untold damage with just that ability, given enough time.” And there it is. He never says much, until it’s time for orders. I get it though, and I’m fine with it. After all, I want revenge for Tim-no, Robin as much as he does.

“Also,” oh he’s not done yet, “thank you for remembering to only use code names while inside the cave. It is a good habit to build.” Ah, that’s what it was.

“No problem, Batman. Now let’s get to work.”


E — N — D

This one took a little bit longer, and I blame God of War. I mean seriously, that game is incredible. 10/10 would recommend. Any way, next one will probably take a bit longer, given that I am seriously addicted to that game. Just felt that I should get this one out before I go and grind through the rest of the game. Thanks for reading guys. Also hope you liked the fight scene! I tried to make it work.

 

Here’s chapter 4! I finally 100% completed God of War so I got around to finishing this. I am going to work on trying to make the chapters a little longer since I didn’t know if 3k was good or not. It’s what I can reasonably belt out in a single sitting, or put together over the course of a day while I hop between games/shows. Here’s a 4k one for you, enjoy.
— — —

Chapter 4 - One giant leap…

I get back to my apartment and offload the cash onto the couch beside where I currently am moping. Nothing quite like burning Robin's eyes out to ensure I’m seen as a villain. Couldn’t bring myself to kill him either so Batman definitely knows. I need to get a failsafe ready. A ‘plan D’ just in case my first plan fails and my panicked flailing can’t salvage what’s left. The issue is that in order to do so, I need to plan around Batman. I may not have been the most avid reader of his comics, but I remember hearing he tracked down an ultra secret society that removed his memories of finding them, and then he just found them again. Twice. If that is the guy I’m up against, I’m well and truly boned.

Well, I could try blackmail. I know his identity, and if I can see if Nightwing is alive then I know his. If Nightwing is then that means I got a solid 50% chance of guessing right on the Robin. For Barbara I can just look up Batgirl and see if that exists yet. Making people believe me would be difficult, but this is just step one of what I am going to call my worst plan yet. I’ll need to pay rent first though, and get myself a phone or computer. Wouldn’t want to see Barbara looking over my shoulder while I research everyone she works with. If she even works at the library.

Those all come tomorrow though, so I start getting ready for bed, brushing my teeth, still not exactly pleased that my best plan to hold off the bat-family is to blackmail them with their identities. Who knows, maybe tomorrow my brain will kick into gear and come up with something useful.

— — — — —

As I get ready for a rousing day of villainy, I remember my outstanding rent. There is still time to pay it off, but best get it out of the way before I forget. Wouldn’t want to try brainwashing Ms. Chen into a fourth month of delays, she’d probably snap out of it and beat me worse than Robin.

She seemed surprised to see me, even more surprised when I had the money. I guess she was preparing herself to kick me out for real after my two weeks were up. But jokes on her, here’s all my hard earned cash! I leave pretty quickly, still unsure if Axii would let keep a full conversation with her and not have her catch on to what I did in our first meeting, and with a burning need to get started on my blackmail collection.

Getting a phone plan in Gotham was easier than I thought, which is to say it was normal. Though it wasn’t Apple and Android dominating the markets but WayneTech and LexCorp. I ultimately decided to get a WayneTech phone because I figure a hero wouldn’t program a backdoor or some bullshit into their phone's operating system. He still might, but at least with Wayne, it’s only a chance, not a guarantee. I play around on my newfound phone, and download some apps that’ll probably be important. Got the social medias, that’s your Twitter, Reddit, couldn’t bring myself to download FaceBook, doubt anything on there would be important enough to warrant the mental damage. I also got this dimension exclusive app, HeroWatch. Someone made it as a way to document Hero sightings. In reality, some villains probably set it up to see if they were safe to do their jobs without Batman or Supes dropping in on them. Regardless, very useful.

I also got a laptop while I was there, WayneTech too, for the same reason. Once I get back to my apartment, well, I guess it’s my home, I should call it that. Once I get home, I boot it up, and I nearly search up Super Knight. I was three quarters through typing it before I realized the only person that saw me was Robin, and no one in their group would have decided to post about that fight online. If I went through with the search, the only thing that would’ve happened is me throwing a neon sign above my head screaming ‘come get me!’

I beat myself up about that near mistake, but then I think that past me would totally search that up, and see no issues about it whatsoever. So really, it’s a win. A sign that I am growing more competent, even if at a snail’s pace.

But I digress, back to my search. Let’s get the easy one out of the way.

‘Gotham City Library Staff’ Yup, Barbara’s there. Lucky me that I avoided her. The less encounters I have with the cave-dwellers the better.

‘Dick Grayson’ I can now confirm that he is real, and it seems that he is in… Bludhaven! Wonderful. That’s one I can ignore entirely. It’s wonderful for something to not be your problem. Now who was the next one again? Uhhh, I think it was…

‘Jason Todd’ … Fuck, he’s dead eh. Well, at least I know it doesn’t stick. Doesn’t make good blackmail though. ‘Hey Batman, I know the name of the Robin that died!’ Yeah, I’d get my shit rocked so hard I’d be sent back through whatever Astaroth used to bring me here. Now, this is where my knowledge gets spotty. Was the next one…

‘Tim Wayne’ Pulls up nothing. Did I get that right? No I think it was…

‘Damian Wayne’ Doesn’t exist. But that doesn’t make sense, there’s a Robin, and Jason is dead. C’mon, you know this! It totally starts with Tim.

‘Tim Drake’ Aha! Oh no, he goes to middle school. I burned a child. Yeah he’s in his last year but what does that matter? I still don’t even know if I left him with his sight. Well, bury those emotions! We can feel them never. Just, place this in the secret identity folder cleverly disguised as ‘Porn’. No one will see through that grand trick. One thing I will do, now that all that is done, is look up ‘New Hero/Villain’ posts. There were Penguin workers that escaped me, and presumably got away before Robin decided to use me as a punching bag.

Nothing. I got some good luck left in me after all. Wouldn’t want my first costume being the one I become most well-known by. Speaking of, let’s get looking for some upgrades. A better mask would be a good start. Something reminiscent of the Witcher franchise… Here we go! A Dire Wolf full helm, made of steel and leather. Priced at around $300, but well worth it. I still have a few hundred left over from my charity work plus the attack on Penguin’s men, but I’ll save that in case of emergencies. My cheap halloween knight outfit can still work for now, I’ll upgrade into working armor once I get another nest egg saved up. Okay, that will arrive in 3 days. Until then, let’s get back to the gym and keep building good habits.

— — — — —

Even though Thor keeps sparring with me and I see the improvements there, I know that it will mean nothing to anyone else that dresses up in the night. Bat-crew can fuck me up easily, Robin established that. I know Deathstroke and Deadshot are in town sometimes, there is nothing I can do to them either. I think there’s some secret society who has foot soldiers capable of beating me like a drum. So even though Thor is a good trainer, I need something more. Something to give me an edge. Right now, my edge is my witcher signs. I can assume Batman has seen all but Yrden, so that’s my failsafe for a fight with him at the moment. After he forces me to use it though, what then?

Where would I even get this mystery training? I doubt there’s just some retired swordplay or krav maga specialist just waiting for me to turn up, I haven’t been that lucky in my time here. Even if I found them I’d need something to convince them to train me. That means doing jobs for cash and risking running into the old Caped Crusader anyway. Fuck, let’s do some anyway. I can’t live in fear, and the more resources I have the better.

I leave the gym, recognizing that I won’t find another guy just talking about being hired muscle any time soon, and that I should try and take a proactive approach to my villainy if I actually want to profit. Bank robbery is a bit outside my purview, so let’s take it a step lower and go for general theft. There are a few things I’ll need to do before I find a place to steal from though. First is to find a fence. I can’t rely on everyone in the crime capital to leave their money laying around their home, so I’m stealing goods, not currency, though any money I find would be appreciated. The second is to find a good place to stash the shit. Call me paranoid, but if Batsy tracks me down to my apartment and it happens to be filled with stolen goods? Yeah, not letting that happen. While I’m at it, maybe instead of a run today, I’ll try parkour? It’s probably a good skill to have if I'm up against him.

— — — — —

I leap off this building, landing gracefully on the other, a true genius in the art of parkour.

Is what I’d say, if I didn’t slam face first into the edge of the roof and plummet into the alley. Note to self, jump further. I try to stand back up but a sharp pain in my leg stops me. I look at it, and yeah, that looks a bit off. I don’t think my leg is supposed to bend that far…

I drag my back against the wall, whimpering every time my leg has to make a movement, and cry at the irony of the situation. I have supernatural regeneration, so I can’t go to a hospital without outing myself, but it takes too long, so I’m stuck here with a broken leg because my dumbass wanted to leap roof to roof like in the comics and tv shows. A real class act, I am.

Wallowing in my misery, my senses pick up the woman approaching me before I notice her coming down the alley. I looked up, expecting to see someone opportunistic trying to mug me, but no, it was some old woman. Well, not that old, she is walking steadily. She does have gray hair though. She starts speaking to me.

“That looks a bit rough there, would you mind if I have a look at it?” She points at my leg, and after a bit of thinking, I nod. She might be a doctor, I might get outed, but hey. I’m a villain, I can hit back if that happens. Also this pain is really getting to me. If this will help it stop hurting, then by all means.

“Okay, this’ll hurt a little.” Wait, wha- Ow! Fuck! Did she just poke it?! Bitch we both know it’s broken!

“Ooh yeah that’s bad. Don’t go anywhere, I’ll be back with a wheelchair in a bit.” She ignores the agony she afflicted me with. I just nod because I don’t trust my voice will sound anything but whiny at the moment. She leaves, and I try to mentally prepare for being moved into a wheelchair. I should’ve asked her to bring some food too, though, actually, that’d be weird to ask for if you don’t know that kicks my healing factor into overdrive.

She returns, and I do not let out whimpers and whines as we move my body onto the wheelchair, I am a stoic man, who took that pain like a champ! She tells me where we’re going, some clinic in East End, which I also just learned isn’t too far from where my apartment is. I live just outside of it, in what she called ‘a decent enough area’. We get into her clinic and she does some examinations, then asks what happened out there to cause that injury. I think she was expecting me to say a mugging or an overdue payment with some mob family, because when I tell her I just really wanted to try parkour I can visibly see her shock followed by indignation.

“So let me get this straight. You, an untrained man, who probably couldn’t even hop a fence,” Wow, rude… Also accurate. “Decided that, Hey! Let’s go jump from building to building! Nothing could go wrong right? I know how to gauge distances, and land properly! Seriously, who tries to land from that fall feet first…”

“How’d you know I landed fee-”

“How else would your leg bend that way!” Well, she seems pretty upset at my failed attempt, let's be a slight bit more prepared next time around. Also far away from her so she doesn’t kill me if I fuck up again. Whatever, let’s just see if I can get some snacks or drinks so I can speed up this recovery time.

“Sorry, but would you happen to have any snacks or drinks I could get?”

“What, break your leg and raid my kitchen was your plan this evening? Is water fine?”

“Yeah, that’d be great.” Now, to escape before she notices the enhanced healing. What’s my best plan…

“Here.” she hands me one of those paper water cups, ah, filled with cold water too, refreshing.

“Now, this clinic has a strict no-violence rule, and a strict confidentiality rule. I’m telling you this so you can take solace not only in the fact that I can’t tell anyone how you broke your leg, but also in that I can’t tell anyone you’re a metahuman.” I damn near choke on the water, how’d she know?

“A lot of the examinations I performed gave back odd readings indicating something unique with your body, so I took a blood test. You really didn’t question why I took blood for a broken leg?” No, no I didn’t.

“I trust the doctor to know best, but at least you’ve taught me to pay attention to my medical professionals now.” She hands over another paper cup of cold water, seeing that I finished the one I had. I chug it.

“Is the water or food necessary for you somehow? Sorry to pry, but I don’t get many people like you in this clinic.” Should I tell her? I guess there’s no harm, given the whole confidentiality thing. If she was lying about that someone would’ve done something about her by now.

“Necessary? No. It does boost the speed at which I heal from wounds though. I’d bet if you check my leg now you’ll see it slowly setting itself back into place while making the bruises fade.” She hums, and decides to gently roll up the leg of my pants. It’s doing what I described and so she nods.

“You don’t see that everyday. Alright young man, since you seem to be healing so quickly, I’ll only keep you for 30 more minutes to an hour. Once I think you’re good to walk you can get out of here.” She nearly leaves before turning back, “Oh, that nifty healing power of yours might give you ideas to go fight crime, or deal in it. Don’t follow those thoughts. I’ve seen what they can do to people. Give up on your dreams of going roof to roof beating on your enemies. Stay safe.”

She leaves me with her words, and I wish I had that choice, I do. But I took a devil’s deal, so I gotta keep playing this game. I end up well enough to leave in twenty minutes, even if my leg is still aching, so I leave before she checks back in. I get home and sit down. This trip was overall a terrible experience, but at least I know of a clinic that can keep secrets. I’ll visit her if I ever get shot, even though it’ll vastly disappoint her.

— — — — —

I decide to forgo my dreams of building hopping for the time being, and look into finding a fence to sell my stolen good. I didn’t know how to look one up online safely, so I didn’t bother. There was one thing I remember about the Batman franchise, and in particular, the Penguin, that comes to mind. His ‘Iceberg Lounge’. If I could find someone willing to take stolen goods off me, they’d be there. Let’s look it up.

The first result of my search is that it’s shut down. Wonderful. Why, you ask? Well, it seems that Oswald finally got caught for Arms Dealing by Bruce. So there goes that option. The article says it should reopen in a couple weeks 'under new management' though. Hmm, if I keep using Axii for charity money for now while stealing shit at night, I should be able to coast by until I find my guy and get a good payday then. Yeah, that should work out fine. Now I just have to choose my first target.

I’m thinking that something of undeniable value would be a good thing to open with, but what would that be? Come to think of it, isn’t there a museum in this city? Yep, there is. Open 9-5 everyday except Sunday, where it’s closed. At least it’ll be easy to scout. I scroll through some the images they have on their site promoting it, and I spot the fucking Starry Night painting. That’s here!? In Gotham!? That’s just asking to be stolen. Now, I have two choices, to go in at the dead of night and risk Batman, or go in during the day and try to Axii my way through all my problems.

I’ve experienced Axii failing me twice, and once it was on a normal drug dealer, so that option isn’t very appealing. Especially since going in during the day means not wearing my fancy new Wolf Helm. If it fails then everyone there will know what I look like, and the power I attempted to use. May as well deliver myself to the Batcave in that scenario. If I do a good enough job in the preparation phase of my heist I should be able to avoid alerting Brucie entirely, leaving him to terrify people much worse than me.

Yeah. That’s a good plan. Let’s look into security on the building. Let’s see if they have any job postings. The ‘apply now’ doesn’t have Overnight Security as a choice so I guess they hire a company to handle that for them. Unfortunate, given that it would be really easy to see the criteria they hire with, and what I’d need to prepare for. Like if the guards need a gun license for the position. I’ll just assume yes, and prepare accordingly. What are my preparations on dealing with someone with a gun? Don’t let them see me. Next question.

If I want to rob the place, I’ll need a layout of the building. However, it seems the owners of the museum also understand that fact, and have taken it offline. Shame. Time to do it the old fashioned way, and scout it out in person. How much did the site say admission was? $20? Yeah, a fine enough price to pay. I’ll make it back after all.

It takes me a 20 minute ride on Gotham’s finest buses to get to the ‘Gotham Museum of Antiques’ which is a thoroughly bland name. Like yeah, no shit. This museum has old stuff in it. That’s why it's a museum.

Paying the toll, I enter and head towards the paintings, while trying to commit the layout to memory. I find a surprising amount of cool shit, like something called the ‘Ace of Winchesters’, a gun said to kill demons. Might grab that myself.

I feel my body start to heat up at that thought, and I realize my patron might not be happy with that idea.

‘Not for you! In case there’s others!’ I cry out mentally, he should be able to hear me since he was listening to my inner monologue. My plea seems to have been heard, as the heat washes away. That’s close enough to approval for me to add stealing the rifle to my list. Also confirmation that it works. I don’t see anything else that catches my eye except for a glass eye supposedly belonging to William Kidd, a famous pirate. May as well take that too, it’ll fit in my pocket so it won’t even be a burden to the plan. Though that’s assuming I can learn how to remove that glass covering it’s placed inside…

Eh, I’ll figure it out. Maybe go to the library and search up how to do it. If I get caught I’ll just say I’m a criminal law student trying to get into the minds of felons. I see no issues. Now, time to find an entry point. The front door is inaccessible. For obvious reasons. I’ve just checked the restrooms. The male ones. There was no fancy tiny window for me to contort my body through. Fire escapes don’t open from the outside. I keep thinking, and searching, yet nothing is coming to mind. My parkour adventure proved that trying to enter from the skylight would get me killed instead of being a safe way in and out.

I keep thinking myself in circles, until I realize that if there is no good way in or out, then I can just make one. I look around for cameras before doing this though, since I don’t want to be noticed doing this. A couple fire exits are off camera. All the fire alarms are in clear view of a camera though, but I have a tool that gets around that. I enter the nearest men’s restroom and wait for my scapegoat to come in. I let him finish what he had to do, I am polite after all, and when he finishes washing his hands, I hit him with Axii.

“You will go pull the fire alarm discreetly. You think it will be funny.” Step one com-

“What’s discreetly mean?..” Ugh, I really chose the dumbest person in Gotham for this. What’s he even doing in a museum?

“Go pull the fire alarm and be sneaky about it. It will be funny.” He goes to do what I said. Good, step one, complete. I wait until I hear it ring and start a timer on my phone. Then wait a few moments longer, and start moving towards a fire exit off the cameras. When I get there, I open it, and praise be, no one’s here. I took this chance because this one was close enough to the entrance to be ignored, but not close enough to be seen from the entrance. With it being just me and a door that only opens from the inside, I vent my frustrations on it, and lay into it with Aard.

The concussive force of my sign nearly breaks the door clean off its hinges, so I do it again. The bottom hinge breaks. I do it again, and the door comes off. There was some noise, but the gaggle of people panicking and the alarm seems to be drowning them out. I grab the door, and haul it back into its original position. If you inspect it closely, it’s very clear that the door is busted. So I’m hoping whoever gets sent here by the Gotham Fire Department slacks on the job a little bit. Maybe once they see there was no fire, and there was just a dumbass pulling the fire alarm because he thought it’d be funny. It doesn’t even matter if he remembers me, because who’s going to believe him? ‘Some dude in the shitter told me to do it’ won’t hold up in court. Though come to think of it, that is totally a crime I just set him up for. I didn’t even bat an eye. I really am turning into a good villain aren’t I.

Once I finish, I pull out my phone and wait for the Fire Department to arrive. They got here in 3 minutes. The GCPD is a bit further away from here than these guys, so I’d say that I have maybe 4 minutes once I get spotted by the cameras, and whoever is manning them. I see the firemen get ready to storm in, only for a staff member to stop them and explain what happened. The fireman they explained the situation to said something to the others, and I saw them all relax a bit and clearly only go through the motions of checking the place for fires. I stay around to see if they fix the door, but as far as I can tell, it’s still as I left it.

I have my plan, I have my entrance and exit. I just need my new helm to arrive, and get a place to hide all my shit. Wait. How am I getting it from point A to point B? Fuck me I forgot transport! I don’t have too much saved up anymore, especially not enough for a fucking vehicle. God damnit. Let’s just get home and I’ll figure the rest out later.

E — N — D

So yeah, chapter 4 is here. No action scenes this time. Felt it would be out of character for him to go pick a fight after getting his ass handed to him by Tim. I did want him to lean more into criminal activity though, and now with a taste of the money he can earn by going out at night, of course he’d choose theft. I wanted to set up what felt like a solid plan, and then at the end I forgot about transportation, and since this a self insert, so did he. Hope you liked my plan, and see yall next time.

 

Chapter 5 - All according to keikaku…

— — — — —

No matter how hard I try, getting an affordable car with no questions asked in three days is impossible with what I have on hand. I am not going to rent a car and risk it being tied back to me during the heist, no matter how appealing the renting process is compared to my current struggle.

Really, the only option I have left if I’m going through with this is to just steal the damn thing and add it to my list of crimes. Doing it before the robbery risks it being found, so it’ll be just before the job that I go steal one. I don’t want police looking for a bar thief near the museum, so I’ll have to steal it a pretty good distance away from there. Alright, okay. That’s doable.

Just to make sure my plan isn’t compromised before showing up at night in a stolen vehicle, I’ll go to the museum everyday leading up to my big reveal. My first true crime. I debated counting my first outing where I met Robin, but that was ‘Super Knights’ debut. Not mine. Which means I should choose my name for the next time I run into a hero. Don’t want to ruin my fancy new wolf helmet with a name like ‘Spot’ or ‘The Big Bad Wolf’. It needs to be cool, not too many syllables, and fit with my theme. Maybe Fenrir? Nah that’s far too ambitious for me.

I think I have it. I remember a Greek myth about a king, Lycaon, who decided to test Zeus’s omniscience by feeding his son to Zeus. Appalled at the act, Zeus turned him into a wolf and killed his offspring before bringing Lycaon's son back to life. I’m not planning to feed Batman any of his orphans, but it seems fitting. My misdeeds have turned me into a ‘Wolfman’. Which would’ve probably been an acceptable name to him.

I finally have my identities set in stone. During the day, I’ll be Bruce Strong, the guy who didn’t pay rent for three and a half months, with a job I tell no one about. At night, I’ll be Lycaon, a (hopefully) small-time villain with mystical powers. Good. Now, back to the routine.

— — — — —

It’s the day of the heist now, and I feel nervous, but more than that, excited. As I left the gym that day, I felt my phone buzz in my pocket. Turns out the Herowatch app has push notifications. It also means the Justice League will be busy with an ‘Invasion’ happening somewhere in Asia. That’s literally all the info the app has given me. Don’t know how long that’ll take, but it seems Lady Luck is smiling down on me. No Batman to ruin me. His sidekicks will still be here, but I beat Robin. I can’t imagine Batgirl being that much better than him either. Besides, I’ve improved a bit. I can weave between punches now.

I don’t actually spend much time doing anything besides waiting today, trying to calm my nerves so I don’t categorically fuck up later. My helm arrived, and everything is ready. I pocketed the keys to a car off my neighbor earlier, I know there were probably better choices to steal a car, but really, how do you choose those options when you can’t hotwire for shit.

As the time for the heist grows closer, I put my costume into my duffel bag, plus grab a few extras. I got myself a bag for skis to place the rifle in so I don't have to run away holding it awkwardly. I briefly considered getting a pizza box large enough to hide the painting but there wasn’t one in proper size, and that only would’ve made me stand out more, bringing a pizza box to a museum and all. I also finally picked up a holster for my revolver, as well as ammunition so I’m not stuck with just 5 bullets until the end of time.

As a side note, the gun stores here really just sell to anyone. They didn’t check for a license or anything, is that how things are done in the U.S.? Or is it just Gotham?

Regardless, I’ve prepared as much as I could. My best foot has been put forward, and it’s time to see the results. Let’s go steal some shit.

I hop into my neighbor's car. The gun-toting one. He keeps his beat up Toyota pretty clean on the inside, thankfully. I flick on the radio, which is currently playing some interview with Wonder Woman about WW1. It was interesting to listen to, even if I have no doubt she kept a lot about it to herself.

I get to where I’m ‘hiding’ my vehicle while I go in, which is just the closest Car Park. Only a couple minutes between here and the museum. I could park it closer, or hide it in some alley, but why bother. They probably take note of vehicles placed down the road of a place being robbed. They absolutely wouldn’t bother checking a parking garage for getaway vehicles, because you’re going to find plenty of potential ones.

I walk down the streets and alleys of Gotham, letting the cool air wash over me. I don’t hear anything in the distance, even with my enhanced senses. A quiet night means the Batfamily aren’t close to me, but that they also aren’t busy. I find a secluded enough spot in an alley, and change into my costume. I threw my duffel bag into the nearby dumpster afterwards. At this point in the night, I hope the homeless in Gotham are done scavenging. If they aren’t, then I guess I might lose my clothes and have to go back home in costume.

Okay, this is the moment of truth. I approach the museum from the side, where I left my entrance, which still hasn’t been seen or fixed yet. Good.

I grab the sides of the door, and shimmy it out of its position before gently laying it down. No alarm went off, which I attribute to the door being sufficiently damaged and not being put back perfectly into place.

I enter, and take note of where the cameras will spot me. This is where I start moving quickly, not stealthily. I take a deep breath, and rush towards my main bounty first, which is also the furthest in, the Winchester of Aces. The gun I plan to add to my list of equipment.

It was also being kept in a glass case like the eye, but after looking up how to get those off illegally, I decided it would be easier to just—

I punch the glass, shattering it. I take the ski bag off my back and load the gun in. The alarm is blaring now, but hey, at least I know my timer has started. I turn to the next closest bounty, the Glass Eye of William Kidd. I break that one too, and man, the sound of glass breaking is so satisfying when you’re trying to break it. I threw the eye in the ski bag too. Now, the painting.

I found it, and found my first complication of the night. They screw the frame into the wall. I mean, of course they do! Otherwise someone could just run in here and grab it, like me. Right now. Honestly, I have two things I came here for. Even if I leave now I still got 66% and that’s a passing grade. However, I. Want. The. Painting.

I decided to first, test my might. I grabbed hold of the sides of the frame, and pulled as hard as I could. I mean really, I put my all into it. Every muscle in my body wanted that painting off the wall, and damn did it work. I yanked that painting so hard it had no choice but to give, I just wish it didn’t give all at once. I fell on my ass, painting in hand when of course, I saw a caped figure land a few feet away. Of course they get here now. I stand up, and face my foe. Not Robin this time, but Batgirl. Okay, I said I could do this earlier, so let’s try not to panic, yeah?

She doesn’t seem to be one for talking, nearly shooting forward without saying a word. However, I have a dastardly trick in mind to deal with her.

“Be careful, you attack me and I’m blocking with the painting. Wouldn’t want to get charged for property damage would you? Given that you are supposed to be a hero.” She stops for a second, forming a response.

“Wha— You’re stealing the damn thing! You don’t call ripping it out of the wall property damage!?” She yells out in righteous indignation.

“Of course that’s property damage. I, however, am a villain. Therefore I do not care.” I try to think up a battle plan based on what I think they know. They probably know Axii can make people more agreeable, but the daze is an unknown effect. Likewise, Yrden is entirely unknown. The others are pretty straightforward, so I should try and start the fight with them, and then use Axii to bail me out if that doesn’t work out well.

My simplistic plan in mind, I lower the painting to the floor. Though, I should ask, just in case she feels generous or hell, even gloaty today.

“How did you know I would be here anyway? I honestly thought my plan was quite genius.” She scoffs at that.

“The police report on it said the guy only did it because someone told him to. Like how you tried to tell Robin how using a gun to attack an arms deal was a second amendment right. You remember that right? Before you nearly burned his face off?” Ah shit she’s getting angry. At least now I know I didn’t permanently cripple Robin, only temporarily. Also means I’m in for a rough fight.

“Before we begin, can I get you to change the name on my file to Lycaon instead of Supe—Ah fuck!” She just cut me off with a batarang! The audacity!

I’m prepared for the perfect movement now. Not really, but I am expecting it. I throw an Igni where she’s approaching to buy myself time to cast Quen. This was the first time I’ve been trying to use them in quick succession, so I learned something new. I can only use one every few seconds. Doesn’t sound like much. In a fight though? It’s far too long. I barely get the Quen up before she’s back in front of me. I know they know about this one, so I time my counter differently.

Her first hit breaks the barrier, I feint a punch with my left and go for a nice, solid stomach punch. It doesn’t land, but I at least stop her from using my own punch against me like Robin did.

She throws down a smoke bomb, and that’s when I remember that the bat-people are more than martial artists. They’re fucking ninjas. I take a batarang to the head, thankfully my helm blocks it, then a kick to the back of my leg sends me falling. I’m losing this fight pretty handedly. I know I have to use one of my last resorts, but I’m not happy about it.

I can’t see her thanks to all the fucking smoke, so I have to use my last sign. I point my hand towards the ground, and cast Yrden. Six glowing purple sigils surround me in a hexagonal shape. I stand up, and see that my casting of Yrden got her to back off. Wary of the new sign? Yeah, that’s probably it.

She’s staying out of my line of sight, but I know that she’s watching me. Which is really keeping me on edge. I remember playing the Batman games and seeing him take down groups of people from anywhere that wasn’t in front of them. If she was trained to do that too…

I shiver. There’s not much for me to do but wait. Even though I know the police are on the way. I see Yrden flicker, about to drop. That’s when I decide to force the issue. I dive back towards the painting, and cast Yrden around it. I turn back and narrowly dodge the foot that came from above. The only reason I was able to do so is because of Yrden’s effect. It’s like she’s moving through water when inside it.

I take my chance, and fight back. A punch to the chin, stop the counter. Kick her leg out, uppercut. I can actually fight back when she’s in the circle, this is amazing! She shoots the grapple at me from her spot on the floor. I dodge easily, before I realize she never wanted to hit me with it. She pulls herself out into safety, giving my head a knee on the way and knocking me down.

I pulled myself off the floor, groaning, grabbing the painting while I’m there. I knew that even though I could win this fight if I forced the issue and got her in Yrden again, we wouldn’t be alone that long. It was time to fight for a way out. I saw her eyes narrow from where she pulled herself, across the room. She pulls something out from her belt, more smoke pellets? Yeah, not dealing with those.

I keep my eye on her, but start running swiftly towards my exit. I see her start to give chase, before I hit her with an Axii. It does nothing but daze and gives me time. She snaps out of it once I get close enough to my fire exit that I can use Yrden to block it off Another roadblock to hopefully help me escape.

As I get halfway between my exit and the street I feel Batarangs break a Quen shield I set up a few seconds earlier and nail my knee from behind. I curse as I eat the dirt. I turn back just in time to block a fist with my face.

Unlike Robin, she doesn’t try and get me in a mount, knowing I’d just burn her or blow her away. With my senses I can see her focused on my hands and the direction they’re pointing. She stands back, mostly using kicks and batarangs to try and knock me unconscious. She is constantly moving in and out of Yrden’s range. I don’t really see a perfect way out of this one, so I do something a bit dumb.

I sit up as fast as I can and throw my hand at her, she dodges, naturally. I wasn’t aiming for her though. My other hand is pointed at myself, at middle mass. I barely have time to get my other hand back on the painting before I blow myself backwards with Aard. I land… Somewhat gracefully?

At least I’m back on my feet, even if I still didn’t escape her. I know that the next time I go down will be the last, so I really need to step it up. I see her palm smoke pellets again, so I cast Axii and get her to stand still for just a couple seconds.

I run up, and grab her hand. I take the pellets from her and shove them in one of my pockets. Now with a solid grip. I try to start the fight anew by snapping her out of the daze with a punch. She catches it though, and this is when I truly realize just how ineffective Axii will be when repeatedly used on the same target.

She tries to keep both my hands pointed away from her, but at this distance that’s a losing battle. I wrestle my one arm so that it points downwards, and cast Yrden. Her eyes widen and that’s how I know I’ve got her now. I crack a smile behind my mask, and start winning this fight. The severe disadvantage given by Yrden is enough to turn the tables, punches when thrown underwater have next to no power compared to their overworld counterpart.

I don’t even bother blocking the hits anymore, just shrugging them off to take full advantage of the small time Yrden is active. I throw every kind of punch imaginable, crosses, hooks, uppercuts, they all strike true. She only has one blocking hand, and right now, it can’t keep up. When it looks like she’s had enough, I take my other hand off her arm, and hit her with Aard. She flies back, and when she lands, I leave as fast as possible. I don’t want to see if she’ll get back up, because if she does I don’t know if I’ll be able to restrain her again with Axiis diminishing returns.

I managed to make it out with everything I wanted before the police showed up. I could hear them arrive when I got to my dumpster and saw that luckily, my original outfit and duffle bag weren’t stolen yet. I took the duffle and swung it over my shoulder, because I am not changing back in the alley and carrying home a clearly stolen painting in my civilian identity, no sir.

I get to the car park, and that’s when it finally hits me. I succeeded. Yeah there were some complications, but I finally did a good job. I throw my loot into the backseat of my borrowed car, and start heading to a storage facility. I rented one of the lockers there to hide the painting, and figured I’ll just keep it as the place where I'll hide all my future ill-gotten goods.

I carry the painting and the duffel bag in, since I was bringing the gun home there is no need to leave that here as well. I get changed, lock it up, and head back home. Job successful. I almost can’t believe it.

Leaving the keys to my neighbor's car in the ignition, I hope that he’ll think he just left them there whenever he uses it next. Once I’m in my apartment and settled, I take the ski bag, and inspect my new weaponry.

Intricate carvings run down the length of the gun, with a pentagram placed almost directly above the trigger. I hold it, and it just feels right. Even back home, I always wanted a lever-action rifle. Now I have one, and damn does it feel good. I looked up the type of ammunition I’d need for it earlier so I could use this tomorrow if I wanted to. I also got more ammo for my revolver but that’s besides the point.

I take the rifle and place it in my closet. That’s as good a place as any. I then grab the glass eye out of the bag and give it a quick inspection. It does seem a bit more blue that what you would expect, but I don’t know if that points to the material it was made out of. If I’m lucky, they made the thing out of sapphire and I’ll be rich once I sell it. If I’m not, this is just completely normal glass dyed a lightish blue.

I shrug, and place it in my nightstand with my revolver. I make a note in my phone to look the damn thing up since the plaque they had in the museum didn’t go into detail on the eye, and if that doesn’t bear fruit, just get it appraised. I take a deep breath, and sit on my bed. Overall I'd say I’m pretty damn happy with how the night turned out.

— — — — —

Overall he’d say she was pretty damn upset with how the night went. Robin watched and Batgirl threw back some painkillers and kept looking through security cameras that they totally had legal access to.

“Goddamn bastard, who does he think he is? ‘You wouldn’t want to cause property damage’ after he rips a painting out the wall.” He hears her mutter. Tim doesn’t exactly want to start a conversation with her when she’s sulking from the loss, but he feels like he needs to know her thoughts on the fight, so he does so anyway.

“Hey Bar—I mean, Batgirl, have you learned anything new about our guy? What did he change his name to again?”

“He changed it to Lycaon. I had Alfred look it up on the way back. It’s the name of a Greek king who tried to feed his kid to Zeus.” Huh? Why they hell would he want to share a name with him?

Batgirl saw the look of confusion he was giving her, so she elaborated. “Zeus punished the king by turning him into a wolf and making him eat the rest of his offspring. I imagine he chose it because of the wolf theme, and not much else.” Ah, that makes more sense. Tim resolved to look the legend up later. It might be useful in establishing a psych profile on Lycaon.

Batgirl continued by answering the other half of Robin’s original question, “As for new, yeah. A couple things. The white symbol, you were right about it potentially being used as a daze. Even though I was prepared the first time caught me pretty off-guard. There wasn’t much I could do. The second time was far easier to break out of, so make note of the diminishing returns.”

“Makes sense, mental manipulation isn’t just suggestion.” Robin calmly responded, inside his mind, he was cracking a large smile at getting the read right. Hopefully Batman will take note of that and give him his own costume soon, and not the hand-me-down one he currently has.

“Hm, yeah. There were a couple new ones though. The first I saw was purple. It had this incredibly irritating slowdown effect. It creates a hexagon out of purple sigils. Every move I made inside of it had resistance. He was naturally exempt from the effect.” She scowled as she brought that one up, which makes sense though. Out of all his abilities so far, this one had the most potential to trip them up.

“Any weaknesses on that one? Like how our mental training is enough to break out of the white one?”

“Only that it’s time limited, and doesn’t affect things outside of its range. I got out of the first one by using my grapple. It was slower inside the circle, but still fast enough to get me out of it.” Not much known then huh?

“How did you escape the second?” He sees her frown at this question.

“I didn’t.” She bites out. Alright Robin, using your super detective skills you can tell she clearly doesn’t want to talk about that one. Change the topic.

“So what about the other one? You said there were two.”

“Ah, right. The other one seemed useful, I just can’t fathom why he would use it on himself. It was a wave of concussive force, color was blue. He used it to gain distance from me, but there were clearly other options. He proved that seconds later when he used white again.” Wait, on himself?

“Maybe he was panicking?” That was really the only reason Robin could think of.

“Didn’t seem to be. I saw he had a gun on him the whole time. He never even hovered his hand over it. If he was panicking I’d bet he would have used that.” Well, she got me there.

Of course, that was when Tim heard the cave open up from above. He turns to view it and a jet flies in. Out of it leaps his mentor, Bruce Wayne, the Batman.

“I’m back.” Is the only thing he says. ‘Man, he’s so cool!’ is all that goes through Tim’s mind. He considers himself to be the first true fan of Batman and Robin, and the stoicism that everyone knows him for was always an admirable trait in his mind.

“Welcome back, we were just finishing a debrief about Lycaon, formerly Su–”

“I was listening. You did gather valuable information tonight. However, I did as well.” Both Batgirl and Robin were waiting on the edge of their seats for his next words. Did he find out who Lycaon is, or what his plans are with the goods?

“I have learned you need training to fight underwater. It is the situation closest to being placed inside his new purple sigils. You also need to control yourself better. You let him know how we found out about his plan. Otherwise, you did well.” Batgirl’s face fell during most of his statement, but rose at the end. If Batman complimented you on a fight, that means you may as well have fought perfectly.

As the Batkids got new training schedules, our ‘hero’ was resting the night away with his stolen goods, content.

E — N — D

This one took about four days, but damn it felt longer. I didn’t get much sleep lately and found myself reading a bit more. Hope the fight was to your expectations. One thing I’ve learned since starting this story is that writing is kind of hard. See ya in the next one, whenever that is.

 

Chapter 6 - Bite the hand that feeds…

— — — — —

Ah, what a beautiful morning, the sun is shining, the birds are chirping, and in my closet lies my new gun.

Though the pride of my heist is slightly dampened by the fact that the Batcrew knows all my tricks now, it is still a powerful feeling. After all, I still won that night. Besides, now I can take a break for a couple weeks until the Lounge reopens.

With those thoughts in my mind, I decide to treat myself. I got a television for my apartment. Sure, I could’ve just used my computer. There are a bunch of streaming services I could’ve signed up for, but believe it or not, I actually want cable this time.

Not because I’m addicted to commercials, like some people. Yeah, they exist. That’s the only reason they tuned into the superbowl, which is so weird. But rather, I want the news. I need to stay up to date on all the happenings somehow, and what better way than a news channel?

I don’t spring for anything expensive, it’s not like I’m made of cash. I do get a nice 40’’ tv though, and it fits nicely on my repurposed coffee table. I go to tune into the Gotham News Network, when something odd happens. Instead of changing the channel to 259 it changes to 666. I sigh, having an idea of what will come.

A cartoon devil appears in front of a similarly styled apartment building. I read the number and realize that’s meant to be my apartment building. The cartoon devil begins to speak in a voice that sounds a bit like Disney’s Iconic Mouse, but distorted and far deeper.

“Well well well, it seems there is some competence lying deep within the bumbling fool. You’ve done well, you’ve succeeded on your heist even when they knew you were coming. I was planning on forcing you deeper into your villainy, but it greatly pleases me that you have been taking initiative.” That makes me feel giddy inside. Wait, should I be happy I pleased a devil? The cartoon devil interrupts my thoughts by pulling in a present from out of frame.

“As such, I will give a rare reward. I shall let you choose when you shall be burdened with your next task. I will even let you name your desire, or even desires, but know one thing. The greater your reward, the harsher the trial. Hercules may have become a god, but his twelve labors would break almost anyone in this world today. Continue amusing me, my fool. I look forward to when you make the deal.” On the screen it shows a Cartoon version of me in costume walk up, open the present and stick his hand inside.

I feel a burning pain on my hand, I start cradling it to my chest and biting back screams, and I see the me on my TV doing the same. Once the pain fades away, I look at my hand, and see the ‘Brand of Sacrifice’ from Berserk, placed right on the back of my hand.

“I hope that’s just for the aesthetic Astaroth, I am NOT ready for demons, even if I am equipped to deal with them.” I think at him. I hear chuckling coming from the TV, and I realize that is the only answer I’m going to get from him. I sigh, and go back to what I was planning on doing from the start.

I turn on the news.

— — — — —


Seeing that I made the news was nice, even if they called me a ‘brute’ for how I removed the painting from the wall. Like, fuck you guys, I wasn’t going to bring a power drill to remove the frame from the wall.

They did get my name right though. They got it from an ‘Anonymous’ source, which means Batman probably told Gordon about me. Now Lycaon is a known name to whoever watches this news channel. If they bother to remember me, that is. The security cameras in that place didn’t get memorable shots of me stealing everything, so they don’t really have a face to put the name to.

I did hear a couple dudes at my gym talking about it though, something about “more masked freaks” in the city, and “he should piss off to Metropolis, we already have enough crazies.” Incredibly flattering stuff, I know. I’m just happy that people do know about me. I think I might get addicted to the attention if I end up getting more popular, this is a nice feeling.

In the showers, I overheard someone outside of them fishing for information on me using my witcher senses. They wanted to know if anyone heard of me, or if I’m available for hire. They didn’t say it so plainly, they danced around the question, but everyone knew what he was asking. I mentally try to place the voice to a name… I think that’s Mark? Yeah, that’s Mark. I should follow him after he finishes here one day. See who he works for, and why they want me.

Why not follow him today? Well, it’s relaxation day. I can’t stalk people on relaxation day. Got to keep calm, and not do any criminal stuff. Especially since I beat the shit outta Batgirl yesterday, and if Bat-mentor sees me, he’ll return the favor twofold. I am going to do absolutely nothing, and order pizza for dinner. Shame I don’t have anyone to hang-out with, but then again, I have been a bit busy committing felonies. Maybe tomorrow I’ll go try and make friends somewhere.

But of course, nothing is ever completely uneventful in my life. Not anymore. Right before I got inside my apartment I saw someone being mugged. They were so close, and I can’t condone muggers operating so close to my home, not when I could come home with potentially thousands after a job and be forced to reveal myself defending it. So I quickly ran inside and grabbed my mask.

I get out, and now they’re beating the person on the ground. Which is ironic. General Gotham shittiness makes muggers not only take everything on you, but take their time giving you bruises all over each limb. Yet that unyielding shittiness now saves the victim lying before me, since it gave me time to mask up and save them.

I walk up behind the one guy watching his two friends knock the daylights out of the guy.

“Hey there.” He spins around.

“Bye.” I grab his head and slam it into the wall. Yep, he’s out. Hey, the other two noticed! They put their fists up and try to avenge their friend, but it truly is useless.

I Axii one, and land a mean counterpunch on the other, getting the easiest one hit knock out I’ll ever achieve. The dazed one is still out of it, and according to my theory of how Axii works, that means this dude's mind is weak as shit.

I go for a kick to the head and down goes number three. I now look at the unfortunate victim. A black dude, skinny as hell too. Aw, they broke his glasses. He looks up, gratefully. His expression freezes up when he sees who I am though. Normally, I’d assume no one would recognize me, but my daring heist is still being talked about on some news channels. A slow day in Gotham for the journalists, or I’m just the most exciting.

His expression falls, his shoulders sag, and he goes to hand his wallet to me. Damn, does this guy really think I need whatever is his wallet?

“I’m not here to rob you, put the damn wallet away.” He throws me a skeptical look, but does slowly retract his arm and put it back in his pocket.

“Why did you save me? I saw earlier today on the news you robbed a bank, not exactly hero material.” Hm. How to eloquently phrase this so he doesn’t get the idea I live here.

“I was just passing through.” I love being vague and mysterious, no need for all those meaningless details that everyone wants. You know what, I’m even going to lean on the wall! Like one of those cool guys in anime and games!

“Figured. The hell you leaning on the wall for? You know Ol’ Danny pisses there right?” I jerk myself away from the wall.

“The fuck is Ol’ Danny?” Gonna have to wash my clothes again. Damn it all! I just did that two days ago!

“You know, old homeless guy? Always trying to beg cash off people for the worst reasons. He once tried telling me to spare a 20 so he could pay off the gnomes, whatever that means.” Hah! Sounds like a funny guy. Also mentally ill, but this is Gotham, he fits in that way. Oh! New plan!

“The Gnomes are ruthless creatures. Paying them off is a fine plan for safety.” Great, now he’ll think I’m crazy, and stop talking to me so I can go back inside. I have to wash these clothes, the quicker the better. I don’t want the residual wall piss getting stuck on my clothes.

“Fuck off. I know you don’t believe that. Right?” Ah, he thinks I didn’t hear that. Good, he questions the sanity found in my mind, drive it home me! You can do this.

“The Gnomes are a force of chaos. They can bend reality to their whims. It is far better to pay a monetary cost instead of a physical one, should they come calling.” He looks up at me, confusion and slight fear evident on his face. He stands, shaking as he forces his beaten body to its feet.

“Yeah, fuck this. I’m out. Have a good one wolf man. Thanks for saving me, I won’t tell anyone you’re fucking looney.” Yes! Another successful plan! He turns the corner and leaves me be. I count to 30 before going back inside.

I unlock the door and enter, only to see him sitting on the stairs in the lobby. We lock eyes.

“Oh hell no! I don’t live in the same apartment as you! You, you… fucking gnome believer!” Aaaaaaaahhhh whyyy… If I knew he lived here I wouldn’t have made him think I was crazy! I see him slowly growing hysterical, I don’t know why. It’s not like he’ll wake up to see me in full costume standing outside his apartment ‘hunting for Gnomes’. Though, that would be funny.

“Hey man, shut up.” He complies. I guess this city does have a healthy respect for villains, given how many there are. Chances are a Gothamite has run into at least one a year.

“Don’t kill me please. I won’t tell anyone you live here…” He pauses. I think he’s struggling to get his next words out. “...Not even the gnomes.” Oh, the defeat on his face as he said that. Golden, I wish I could take a picture and frame it. A piece of artwork to rival ‘Starry Night’.

“As fair a deal as any. I wish you well, young man. Perhaps learn to fight, lest the Gnomes find you instead of bargain bin muggers.” He’s a skinny fucker, but anyone can learn how to throw a punch. It’ll help in this city, that I know. Plus I don’t want to come home and see him getting beat in the alley again.

As I walk past him, I hear his voice, it’s fragile, “Fight? Could I… really fight back?”

Lean into my image for this one, gotta make an impact on this guy.

“Everyone has fangs, they just need to learn how to use them.”

— — — — —

My relaxation day went well after I did my laundry, again. A nice pizza and some time on the TV watching shitty Reality TV about fake heroes exclusive to this universe was thoroughly enjoyable. The day after, I went back to my routine though, and at the gym I saw a familiar face.

Skinny black guy, (note to self, learn his name) was currently being put through the ringer by his trainer. I would’ve stayed to watch how he did, but I saw Thor waving at me to hurry up and get in the ring. I complied, and after both me and him were done with our training, I approached him afterwards, to finally learn who I saved and so I can stop calling him skinny black guy. Also to see if he’ll tell people about me and where I live.

“Hey man, nice to see a new face in the gym. I’m Bruce, by the way.” Textbook introduction, works every time.

“Hey, I’m Jonah, nice to meet you, is everything supposed to hurt?” He was panting as he got his response out, he really did give his all today, didn’t he? I wouldn’t have thought my throwaway line would get him to try this hard.

“Hah! That’s the sign of a good workout. Though if it's really bad ask the trainer. He’d know better than I would if you hurt yourself.”

“Nah, it’s not that bad.” He shakes his head. “I just wasn’t expecting it to be this exhausting. I’m fucking sore everywhere.” Yeah, he certainly is. I can see his arms slightly shaking, not to mention the dude’s covered in sweat.

“Everyone starts somewhere, come on, get in the shower. Just looking at you I know you stink.” Alright, this nice conversation is dragging on my introverted mind. Let’s just turn the conversation to where he lives and if he’s seen anything weird lately, if he mentions me, Lycaon, then I’ll need to do something, but I don’t know what.

“Your legs are shaking too, you good to get home by yourself? Where do you live anyway?” Hopefully my nice guy introduction will make him think I’m not out to rob him or something. It’d be cakewalk because he’s barely standing on his own.

“I’ll find my way. I’m just outside East End, a fine enough spot, though the landlady overcharges on rent.” I knew it was overpriced! 500 a month for that shithole should be illegal. Not to mention we’re in Gotham, I should get that place for 200 at most.

“That blows, see anything odd out there? Some of the guys here have stories of seeing some pyromaniac or some kind of mothman blow past their streets.” Did I hear those stories, not at all. It might make him open up about seeing me though.

“...Nah. Just a homeless dude that swears gnomes are real. Crazy, right? Who would believe that? Just him, I’m sure. Gnomes aren’t real.” My acting crazy yesterday wasn’t received well it seems. I think I broke him. I’m so tempted to just, keep going, tell him that ‘Gnomes (capitalized if you believe) are deadly creatures, and it pays to be prepared’, but I’m supposed to just be a normal gym-goer right now. A damn shame.

“Are you okay man? Gnomes aren’t real. No matter what anyone tells you. Is that it? Just the Gnome guy? If so, you're pretty lucky.” Don’t say anything about me, and we will be fine friends Jonah.

“Yup, just him. I guess I have gotten pretty lucky. Where do you live?” Ah damn, my question has been turned on me. Well, there is a chance he’ll see me one day coming and going to and from my apartment, so I guess I’ll tell him the truth.

He’s surprised when I tell him I live outside East End as well, and I offer to walk back with him when we confirm we live in the same building. It’s odd to say, but I think I’ve made a gym friend, and also my first and only friend in this world. Kind of sad I managed to rob a bank before befriending someone, but hey, some people aren’t very skilled socially. This is fine.

When we get back, I ask when he’ll come by the gym next, and though he doesn’t have an everyday schedule, like me, he has a respectable one. Since he has a job, it’s only 3 times a week he’ll swing by. I caution him that some of the people there work as muscle for whatever shady business a villain wants to do, and to let me know if he hears anything about that. I then retreated to my apartment because that was way too much socializing for me.

Gladdened by the fact he knows how to keep a secret, I order a few Garden Gnomes online to prank him with, and start planning my next outing. My main plan is to lock down the area close to me. My fear of being mugged on the way back with one of my paydays in hand is something I feel the urgent need to fix. Best way to stop that from happening is to just keep the street a ‘safe zone’ of sorts.

How do you make a place in Gotham a safe zone? Why, overwhelming violence, of course. I have a gun that hasn’t seen use yet, so the best way to keep out those pesky fools that might try to steal from me is to shoot them first. There’s no point to just shooting them in this area though, not unless they know why they’re being shot. Maybe I should tag the street?

Yeah, I’ll tag the street with a Wolf head, and under it, write “Safe Zone, kept safe with murder” or something. I’ll workshop it. Once I see my threatening peace message has sunk into the criminal underworld, then I can start doing jobs again. Though I really have no clue what to do next. There is that lead with Mark at the gym, maybe whoever wants to hire me will pay well. I’ll consider it.

I leave my apartment, hunting for spray paint. And a stencil, I’m not crazy. I am also no artist. Last time I tried to draw a dog it came out looking like a mutilated table. God forbid I have to freestyle this.

I get black and red paints, perfect for a mildly ominous warning to keep things safe. Once I get to the end of my street, I remember that Batman is the world's greatest detective, and me putting this up is just a beacon letting him know the area I live in. Not that he needs to be the world’s greatest for that level of insight, I’m pretty sure a beat cop could put that one together.

I widen the scope of my ‘safe zone’ to four blocks, completely reasonable. It adds in a few more houses and a couple more apartment buildings. You know, just to buy me one more day against his intelligence. Also I’m hoping he’s the kind of hero to not hunt villains in their civilian personas.

Once the sun sets, I head out to spray paint the end of my street and label it as my ‘territory’ so to speak. Standing there, and looking at my finished product, I reaffirm my beliefs about how shit an artist I am. I made stencils out of cardboard but they didn’t turn out that well, and it shows. It would work, but every villain has style, you know? Joker has the clown look with a nice purple suit, Riddler has a nice suit ruined by question marks and a stupid hat. Penguin has a suit… A lot of villains have suits in Gotham.

I was about to give up, when I remembered I made a friend! That means I can show up unannounced at his door asking if he’s good at art, right? Doesn’t matter, I’m doing it.

I knock on his door, and with my witcher senses I can hear him walk closer before checking the eyehole, and then cursing and muttering to himself.

“Fucking hell, what’s the bastard want with me now? I didn’t even tell anyone about him! Fucking bullshit ass superpeople. He’s going to say some stupid shit about gnomes isn’t he?” He then, finally, opens the door.

“Hello, wolfman.” He looks upset. I’d say I wonder why, but it’s kind of obvious.

“Lycaon.” I correct him, we now have a working relationship, or we will, by the end of this conversation. He needs to know my name for one of those.

“Wolfman. What do you want? I didn’t say anything about you to anyone.”

“Are you, perchance, skilled at the art of spray painting?” Completely normal thing to ask someone. I swear.

“...Why?” That’s not a no I’m hearing, wonderful.

“I need someone to aid me in marking my territory. It shall be a safe haven for all who reside within.” He literally got jumped in the alley beside our building yesterday, he should be all for this.

“You want me to ‘mark territory’ for you. Ah fuck, I’m not that great with spray paint, but I’m decent. Do I get paid?” See, the trick to success is getting others to do the work for you. Corporate 101.

“Of course, name your price.”

“150. I’m assuming you already have the shit I need, but vandalizing is a crime so I need hazard pay in case one of those hero types or police comes by.” I can respect a cautious man, he’ll get his hazard pay. I can tell by his look he’s not taking no for an answer either.

“A fair enough price. Come, let’s begin.” My first ever underling dutifully trots behind me as I lead him back towards where I wanted the mark to be placed.

I showed him the spot, right on the side of the convenience store at the end of our street. I also showed him the stencil I made and what I wanted before telling him I have more cardboard if he wants to improve it.

“Yeah, no offense, but what you made is shit.” I know, that’s why I hired you. “I’ll improve it. How many of these are we doing?”

“Four blocks, ends of each street, and apartment buildings.” See, I had it planned out, and I didn’t want my trash artistry placed all around where I live. Besides, it would be embarrassing to see some kids making fun of how it looks one day, and I know they would.

I see him use the tools I’ve gathered, and make a much sharper, meaner looking wolf's head. He sprays it how I wanted, black with red eyes, and I ask for the message to be written in red as well.

‘Safe zone, do not bite the hand that feeds’ because I’m an edgy little shit, and it gets the point across.

We go around, painting the warning everywhere else it needs to be put. And then late at night, I now have something to do, patrol. I walk all around my area, geared up with rifle in hand, sometimes taking breaks on rooftops if I can reach them. I do this until a few people break into a jewelry store close by. I hear the alarm with my enhanced senses and start rushing towards it. It’s inside the safe zone, so this will be my first message to all others who would try and break the rule I’ve set.

I get there and they’re still loading up bags with necklaces, rings, jewels, and generally anything they could get their hands on. I don’t even say anything this time, no point when a gunshot can speak for me. Murder for my first message is a bit over the top though, so I’ll do legs this time. I’ll go lethal after this one.

I aim for the guy currently looting necklaces and blow his knee out. I never mentioned how my witcher senses improve aim did I? Well, let’s just say Geralt nailing everything with the crossbow wasn’t just a game mechanic, it really makes accurate shooting a cakewalk.

I pull the lever as the guys turn around, a total of four, now three, and take out Mr. Bracelet Thief's knee next. Pull the lever, there goes Ring-Stealer’s mobility, and lastly, the man literally just taking diamonds and sapphires.

He drops the bag and starts to beg, but I blow both his legs out, because fuck you man. If you’re going to commit a crime in Gotham, at least commit. Have to make sure they know why I did this though.

“I made my message clear today. This area falls within a safe zone. My safe zone. You are the first to break this rule, so you can live. The next shall die. Spread the word, will you?” I leave them in the store, and hope the police get there fast enough to stop their bleeding. It would be really sad if I messed up leaving a message.

Once I get around the block, I realize I just told 4 people who are getting arrested to ‘spread the word’. I’m a fucking moron. Do I just kill the next, and hope they somehow get the message across? Or just keep shooting people and trying to get them to tell their friends? Ah shit does that place have a way to record sound? If they do, Batman is going to hear me giving that message and he’ll think I’m going to kill people next time they break my new rule. I can’t have him thinking I’m a coward so I guess the next ones die.

The rest of the night goes mostly without issue. There isn’t much of value in these four blocks I’ve claimed so my patrols will be pretty boring most of the time. I get home, throw my whole costume and the gun back in the closet, and pass out once more. A good day today. Hopefully tomorrow will be the same.

E — N — D

A nice 4k again. Wonderful. This one took a while cuz I learned I have an eye condition, and I wasn’t just really tired. Did you know it’s not normal for your eye to be so dry you start seeing double. I didn’t. It makes writing hard when your o's look like 8's. This one was slower, because I didn’t want my guy to just go around and keep picking fights, plus I realized he needs a friend! Hope you enjoyed it, and see y’all an indeterminate amount of time later.

 

Chapter 7 - A dish best served...

— — — — —

The next day, I turn on the news and see if they report on my attack on the four robbers. To my surprise, not only did they do a story on it. They even got my warning out of one of them and told it to everyone watching. Now I don’t have to wonder if people breaking the peace know what will happen to them. I can peacefully kill troublemakers without remorse.

It’s not a good thing if I’m in a place where I can say that, is it? Maybe I’ll tone it back a little bit.

Regardless, I keep to my routine. Gym, watch Mark ask questions about me, and ‘information gather’ by sitting in front of my TV all day. Truly, the life of a villain is the best life. Shit, to think I nearly became a hero when I showed up here. Then I’d have to deal with responsibilities and morals. Get that lame shit out of my face. Out here we laze around the house and then go shoot people. Much more enjoyable.

My enjoyment gets cut short when I actually suit up and head patrolling late at night. It doesn’t take long before I see some thugs walking down one of my streets. I know they’re thugs this time because they have baseball bats. At night. No where near a baseball field. Wait, is that Mark with them? What the hell are they doing here? I decided to just cast Quen on myself and meet them in the street. Once all of them see me I speak up.

“I hope you are smarter than the last ones who came here, and you actually heed my warning.” Mark steps forward.

“Lycaon. It’s good to finally meet you. We are here to begin negotiations for a team up, or an alliance. Whichever you would prefer to call it.” Straight to the point huh. Well, may as well hear him out. More money will never be something I turn down.

“Negotiations? I assume you're not the one hiring me then. I would prefer to deal with the person that leads you.” I see him crack a smile at that. He either prepared for me to say that or is just happy he doesn’t have to deal with me. I can’t fault him on the second one. Imagine being the messenger sent to offer a deal to a villain in this city, getting shot isn’t even the worst thing that could happen to you.

“Sure thing, here’s a burner phone. It has our boss's number on it.” He hands me the cheapest phone I’ve ever had to hold. “Have a nice night Lycaon. C’mon boys, let’s get outta here.” Well, it’s good I won’t have to go and stalk him anymore.

I look at the pink burner phone they handed me. I don’t know how these phones work, do you preload minutes or something on them? Hopefully the talks with this mysterious backer don’t go so long I run out and the call cuts off. That’d be awkward as hell. I flip the phone open and see one number saved, it’s labeled “Best Big Boss”. Are these guys fucking with me?

I dial the number, and after a few rings they pick up.

“Lycaon?” A heavily synthesized voice comes over the phone. Ah, fuck. I totally know who this is.

“Correct, and who do I have the pleasure of speaking to?” I thought he died, in the games he didn’t but here they made a grave for him.

“You can call the Arkham Knight. I have a job for you, if you’re willing.” Guess this is the first real deviance in the world that I’ve noticed. I’m sure there have been more but since I haven’t seen them they don’t matter. Ah, he’s waiting for a response.

“I’m not opposed to mercenary work. Though I do have to ask, why hire me?” Cause ain’t that a pertinent question. You worked with Scarecrow and Deathstroke before, why the hell would you take an unknown over those two?

“On the news, they spoke your name. Yet you left no calling cards nor confronted the police. That means you beat one of the Bats, and they tipped off the police and by extension, the media. I want you because you were capable enough to beat them. I’m willing to pay 50 thousand now, and double that on completion of your role.” Fuuuuck I can’t turn down a payday like that one. Are you kidding me? I could do nothing but patrols for months with that much money sitting in my bank.

“Say I agree… What even is my role in whatever plan you’re hatching?” Because even though I want that money extremely badly, I don’t want to go hand-to-hand with the actual Batman himself. I don’t think I’m ready for that.

“I just want you to distract at least one of his sidekicks while I go do the main performance. I want no interruptions when it gets good, you understand?” Did he just pronounce an underline? Where can I learn that talent?

Okay, do I think I can beat either Robin or Batgirl again? (Come to think of it, Batgirl/Barbara isn’t crippled either. Weird timeline.) They know my tricks, but even then, just knowing them doesn’t guarantee a win. Besides, my role is distraction. I just need to draw them away from his big revenge plot on Batman and this city, and I earn $150k. That’s some easy money if I succeed. I could buy myself an actual good apartment, or a nice bike or car to get around without having to steal my neighbors. Jason is an expert on their fighting style too, I could ask to spar and get some lessons on how to beat them. Didn’t he train his militia in the games as well? Yeah, I think if he helps out by sparring and training me, I should be able to pull off the distraction. This will be worth it.

“...Deal. Should we meet up to discuss your plan?” Please don’t tell me you need the distraction tomorrow.

“We should. In a couple days I’ll call you back and provide a location to meet.” After saying that he just fucking hangs up on me? What the hell man. In a working business relationship you need to be more polite than that.

I shake off his rudeness, and go finish my patrol. Surprisingly uneventful. It seems no one wants to test me tonight. Once I get back to my apartment though, I see something that makes my blood boil.

My new friend and gym buddy, Jonah, was lying outside of his apartment door, bloodied up. His arm was not bent the right way. I still had my mask on, so I had no issues walking up to him and seeing if he was conscious.

“Hey, you alive? Capable of moving?” He groans loudly in response. I look at his legs and see that they aren’t broken or bent weirdly, so I make a choice, and pick him up. This’ll be a pain in the ass to walk all the way to the free East End clinic, but this dude needs a doctor and I have no clue if he can afford it.

Jonah groans and winces every time I step onto and off a curb. As well as one particularly bad moment where a pigeon swoops in front of my face and I nearly drop him, but we get there without any additional injuries. I knock on the door with my foot, and I meet the old doctor once more.

She sees me carrying him and just points towards one of the rooms. I oblige and place him on the table inside of it. I turn to ask why she doesn’t have one of those patient chairs in here but she just shoos me out of the room and leaves me alone in the main lobby.

I have nothing better to do, so I just take a seat, and grab one of the trashy magazines that are on the table. Some forms of literature are interdimensional. No escaping the worst gossip you’ve ever heard. At least these ones are usually superhero flavoured. I flip through pages of outrageous gossip, but I stop on one suggesting that Superman and the reporter Lois Lane are dating. I recognize the brilliance of managing to get that put in a magazine no one will believe. I grab a different magazine and flip through it until I see it suggesting that Bruce Wayne is Batman. This is how they hide their identities and relationships, huh? It’s ingenious. I applaud them.

I wait for an hour or so, just reading the trash magazines that also get everything right, wondering if I should try their diet tricks, before Dr. Thompkins comes out and lets me know he’s ready to be seen. I spring to attention, because what happened to my gym buddy is far more important than the magazines ‘get rich quick’ schemes.

I enter and see his arm in a cast, and a tired smile being sent my way.

“Thanks for carrying me out here. I got real worried until she said this was free. Did you pay for it or is she just a saint?”

“Just a saint. Who did this to you?” Because they are going to be meeting the business side of my rifle. You can’t beat up my gym friend in my territory and get away with it.

“I think it was some of the guys that were connected to those jewelry thieves you busted. They said some shit about ‘taking revenge on you’ and ‘breaking the rules that bastard set’. They might be part of a gang, I’m not sure.” Oh boy, those fuckers are in for it! Yeah, those shitstains are dead!

“Any idea where they might be?” At that the doctor cuts into the conversation with a very pointed look.

“You wouldn’t happen to be planning a bloody revenge in my clinic would you? Something that might end with me having to deal with it? Hmm?” Right, shouldn’t plan my glorious bloodbath with the only truly good person in Gotham right beside me.

“No ma’am, I only want to have a peaceful conversation with them, ma’am. Now where are they, Jonah?” I see him look between the two of us, but ultimately he caves into me and tells me where they’re hiding. The good doctor gives him a disapproving look and turns back to me.

“I have a pretty good idea of what you’re planning. It’s Lycaon, right? I ask you not to kill them. I try to save as many lives as possible here, and I am willing to take the burden of trying to keep those poor souls alive if it means less death on the streets.” I’m caught between the doctor's wishes and my warning/promise to the criminal underworld. It’s always good to have a doctor on your side, but letting them live would set a bad precedent for those who want to break the peace I’ve enforced in my area.

I lean against the clinic's wall, and decide to try something. This is a fairly pivotal point in my villainous career, so may as well have the devil on my shoulder weigh in. I focus on the Brand found on the back of my hand, and it starts to sting. I hear his deep, cartoonish voice in my mind. I guess he liked it so he’s keeping it.

“The fool wants me to choose for him, but that’s not how our deal worked. You must provide the reward you wish for, and I shall provide an acceptable task.” Shit, that’s right. What would be a reward to fit the situation then? This is important, and how I deal with it will shape people's perception of me. It’s not something that I could wish for, something powerful or super-unique. I choose a useful, but not groundbreaking wish. No extra tool to get one over on the Bats, just normal utility and something to stop the annoyance of always having to deal with my wardrobe.

‘I wish for the ability to summon my full costume directly onto my body, and send it back to where I summoned it from at will. Costume includes weaponry, like my rifle and pistol, and whatever may be added later. Any design changes will be accounted for, and whatever I consider to be MY costume shall be what is summoned.’ I think that’s fairly loophole free. I’m not sure if he’s going to be an asshole genie on this so I tried to be as clear as possible.

“Well worded, fool. Very well, in honor of your actions thus far, I will give you this task, complete it and gain your new ability. Either slaughter them all, and paint a message in their blood, or show them true justice, spare their lives and remove their ability to harm others.” Whew, thank the almighty demon lords that he didn’t choose something completely different.

I see Leslie and Jonah waiting for my response to her, and I realize I just spent like, a couple minutes staring at nothing. Yeah, say something before it gets more awkward, idiot.

“I will keep your words in mind. We’ll see how remorseful they feel when confronted with their actions, and I shall judge them then.” She sighs as I spout my usual bullshit.

“Whatever, just take your friend and go. I gave him a prescription for painkillers, he should be fine in a couple weeks.” She sounds so defeated, like she knows that I’m going to kill them. There is another way, though removing their ability to harm others sounds like I’d need to do some things that people might consider to be inflicting fates worse than death.

I guide Jonah back to his apartment, then grab my rifle. I left it back here since I had no way to carry both him and the gun without making his injuries worse. Or maybe I did, but I didn’t see it. Regardless, I need to make a choice once more. The first task, murder was clearly the bad, evil choice. Here, I’d consider murder the mercy. To render someone incapable of harming another, I’d need to remove everything they could cause harm with. No arms, legs, you can’t keep your tongue because verbal abuse might count as harm. I’d need to render them completely immobile, and remove their ability to speak. I know the doc wanted me to spare them, but she’s no miracle worker. She wouldn’t be able to fix what I do to them if I go down that road. These guys have earned my wrath, but the ‘true justice’ that Astaroth is offering as a choice is far too evil for me to consider.

With my mind made up, I move towards the gang's hideout. An abandoned metro (or is it subway?) station just inside of East End.

— — — — —

I’m not doing this just for Jonah. What he told me earlier means this is a response, likely from allies of the jewelry store thieves. If they’re only purpose is to break the rules I’ve set as a petty form of vengeance then why would they stop with one? Hell, who’s to say Jonah was the first victim? I might have just missed whoever came before him.

I come up on the location, and see that they actually have guards posted on the stairs down into the station. It makes sense if they’re expecting me to come by. Also smarter than what I’ve had to deal with so far, compared to the supervisors at the docks and the normal museum security. Makes sense, this gang and their colours are relatively well known, so they should be smarter than the thugs-4-hire you could find at my gym.

Loud and proud? Or silent but deadly? I don’t want to attract Batman at the start of the fight, or he might catch me before I can finish. My best bet is to try and play it quiet, but accept that I may need to start shooting eventually.

I take a walk around the block to come at the entrance from behind. They are only guarding the front, so this way I can guarantee they won’t see me coming before I Axii one and… punch the other? I really forgot to add a close combat weapon to my costume, didn’t I? Fuck me. Something to fix later. For now I guess I’ll just use the butt of my rifle.

The benefit of my enhanced senses is that I’ve learned how to walk quietly. It comes naturally when you have them. You don’t want it to always sound like you’re stomping around so you adjust to something quieter, making it so that when you actually try and sneak up to someone, well. Let’s just say this guy had no fucking idea I was behind him.

I opt to snap his neck, and once his body hits the ground, I Axii the other and grip my rifle by the front. I swing it at his head, aiming for the temple, and he goes down. I listen for breathing, and it is there, so I swing again, and once more, until it stops. My heart is beating out of my chest by this point, and I know that now, there truly is no going back, claiming that it was just bad circumstances. I chose to do this. I am a true villain now, and I can make peace with that.

I search their bodies to see if they had anything more effective at a close range than my gun, which is meant for threats a little further away than point blank. I find that one of them had a knife, and they both had guns. Don’t like what that means I’m going to be walking into. If the guards both have guns, I can safely assume everyone here does. Yet I can’t use Quen yet since it makes me glow yellow. It's a bit hard to sneak up on people when I’ve turned myself into a lamp.

I examine my new knife, just a simple pocket knife, and note nothing extraordinary. Eh, it’ll do. I grip it so the blades facing down, icepick, I think it was called, and climb down the steps. Once I’m inside the station proper I see that they haven’t expanded into the tunnels themself, only keeping their shit in the local station. Ease of access, or did they just move in?

No one was watching the stairs though, so I quickly, but quietly, hid behind one of the pillars close to the entrance. Glancing around it, I try to take a headcount. There are tents set up here, so there might be more, but the people I can see add up to about 13. That is a lot of people to kill all by my lonesome. Also not the biggest issue. That would be the four bastards crowding around a fire in a barrel, in the center of the station. Combined they have a view of almost everything. In fact, I think they only missed me because one of them was taking a piss as I entered.

Alright, they’re playing cards now. They aren’t moving for a while, but maybe they’ll be too busy looking at the cards to see me? No, I shouldn’t bet on that. Fuck, I guess we have to go loud, because I can’t even leave now that the pisser came and sat back down.

I cast Quen on myself in preparation, and I also took some things out of my pocket, exchanging the knife for them. Back during the heist, I stole some of the Bat-people’s smoke bombs, and even though I can’t see through it, I can hear, and smell, and those senses alone should give me the upper hand against everyone but those costumed ninjas inside the smoke.

Because of the smokes, I’m feeling a little cocky, so I do something I normally wouldn’t. I leave my hiding place behind the pillar and sprint directly towards the four sitting by the fire, playing cards. The element of surprise lets me get close enough to use Igni and hit all of them with the wave of flames. Their screaming does alert everyone else in the gang, but hey, I just took down four dudes in one move, that was worth it. I feel a bullet break my shield from my left, so I snap my head and my rifle towards that direction, and take the only clean shot I’ll get for the rest of the fight. I hit it, naturally, and then throw down the smoke bombs before I’m overwhelmed.

The smoke spills out, and I take this moment to rechamber my rifle, and draw my knife. I close my eyes and let the rest of my senses wash over me. I hear the four burn victims rolling around on the floor, trying to put out the flames. No issue there. A bit further away, I can hear someone crawling out of the tent. I swiftly march through the smoke towards them, and stab blindly with my knife a few times. They all hit, but I can’t see for shit in this smoke, so I just want to make sure.

The four guys are moving less now, but they’re still breathing, so I walk back and do the same to them, since I don’t hear anyone else in the smoke, or if they are inside it, they aren’t moving. I’ll assume that I’m the only one in here though, and that doesn’t bode well for me. It’s probably dispersing by now, so it’s no longer safe to be standing here in the middle of everything. I remedy this situation by orienting myself towards one of the tracks, casting Quen, and making a mad dash for it.

Midway through my dash, as I break free of the smoke, I hear yelling, before my shield breaks once more, and a bullet firmly lodges itself in my left arm, if you wanted to get specific, the tricep. I let out a cry of pain, dropping my knife. It burns. I force myself to focus, and finish the run to the tracks. At least they didn’t get my shooting arm.

Dropping down onto the rails, I finally have my cover. Now I cast Quen again, and start the game of extremely lethal peek-a-boo. I pop out, nail a man in the head, and a few guys hit me as well, but I have the benefit of ignoring a bullet every few seconds. Four more men drop, I reload, and then I pop out and drop 3 more. The last two ran and are hiding on the other side of the tracks. I can’t have that. I pull myself back onto the main platform and maneuver around pillars so they don’t get a chance to break my shield. My left arm is injured, so I place down my rifle and draw the revolver with my right while creeping closer to them. Lever action is too slow for what I’m about to do.

I take a stabilizing breath, and dive down on their side of the tracks, playing two shots dead center between their eyes. That was 14, all of them. 16, counting the two on the steps. I’m a little surprised they only had this many in their gang, but it makes sense if you think it through. They were the only ones not being led by a proper villain. Just normal gang members all the way through. I have no doubt any recruits they could’ve gotten went to Penguin or maybe Black Mask instead, so they were slowly being bled dry everytime one of them got caught. My actions in stopping some of their members being the final straw, so they snapped and came after me.

I sit there, letting my thoughts wash over me and collecting my things, waiting for my reward from Astaroth. But it never comes. I start to panic, wondering if there’s more, and once I start going over the wording of the task he gave me I figure it out.

“---and paint a message in their blood–”

He meant that literally. Oh fuck me, they’re going to brand me a psychopath for this, and at this point there’s no point in trying to ditch the task, if Astaroth would even let me. I go and grab the knife I dropped earlier. I take many calming breaths, and think of what to write.

Oh god this is gonna be so gross…

— — — — —

“I’m nearly on location, how many gunshots reported?” The sleek black car, more expensive than an entire country, races down the streets of Gotham.

“The only description we have is ‘many’, maybe a gang dispute?”

“It’s a possibility. We’ll see it now.” As he speeds past the abandoned metro station at a speed far beyond legal, he ejects himself from the vehicle. Using the cape to catch himself before landing, he glides to the steps, and frowns. Two bodies lie at the steps.

Entering the station, he grimaces. 12 visible bodies from the entrance, 4 with extreme burns, one with multiple stab wounds. One of the burnt bodies seems to have lost plenty of blood. The rest seem to have all been shot in the head. He moves closer to the scene, and spots something that causes Batgirl to gag.

“...How terrible. Was this..?”

“A very likely chance this was Lycaon. See some of the bullets on the ground? They aren’t malformed despite having been discharged. Like how you and Robin say his barrier just nullifies the impact of your hits.” The detective curses his inability to get here on time. If only he dealt with the splintered Penguin gang members faster, he could’ve stopped this.

“But why would he do that? It’s completely outside of our predictions…” He hears disgust and confusion in her voice. He doesn’t blame her, this isn’t a pretty sight.

On the ground between all of the burnt bodies, there’s a heart stabbed into the ground by a knife. Underneath it reads “Punishment” written in blood. He kicks over the burnt body with plenty of blood around it, to find that this was the one he carved open. Lycaon was not skilled in performing this act, with rough cuts leading down to the ribs that look ripped apart so he could reach the heart. Definitely the first time he did this.

“We can’t say why he decided to resolve the situation this way, however, we know that he stopped a group of robbers last night wearing the same colours, and today there were reports of assaults in his ‘safe zone’ done by people wearing those same colours. This was him acting on his warning.” He examines the rest of the scene and finds two bodies on the tracks, with gunshot wounds that don’t match the rest.

“How savage. This is too far, Batman. We need to stop him.” Why would he need different rounds for this? Ran out of ammo for his new rifle? Maybe. Is this an important clue? Maybe not, but I should still remember it. Could end up being useful.

“We will, we can’t let him go any further than he already has.” He does a second run through the scene and spots something he nearly missed. A small amount of blood, out of place and far from the other bodies. He bends down, and takes a sample of it.

“Sending a sample your way, Batgirl. Run it through examination. I believe it belongs to Lycaon.” There’s always something people forget to get rid of. A keen eye and strong mind are the greatest tools for stopping criminals, at least in Batman's mind. A certain Wolf headed criminal might say it’s Money and Connections.

“On it, I hope you’re right sir.” He grunts his acknowledgement, and leaves the scene before the police and ambulances arrive. There’s always more crime to stop, and there’s no more clues to be found here.

E — N — D

This is the chapter where I realize I need to add an AU tag. So, quick notes on it, Jason did die and was brought back, I’m fine with that, Barbara is not crippled like the games and Joker is alive. Reason I went with the Arkham Knight instead of Red Hood is because the Arkham Knight is cool as shit, the costume and that voice? Incredible. He also had a militia so I’m giving him a pretty hefty amount of money. We won’t be following the whole Fear Toxin nuke plan though. If I wanted to do that I’d have just labeled this an Arkham Knight fic. Also I am still considering adding the Berserk demons. Maybe not in the amounts Guts faced.

The task was used, honestly a bit quicker than I'd have liked, but I want to stop having him go back to the apartment and get his shit. So yeah, author privelidge.

So yeah, another 4k chapter for y’all. 4.7 I think it was, before I added this bit. Hope the fight scene was a bit better, and see ya guys in the next one.

 

Chapter 8 - A relaxing night...

— — — — —

Walking home after that fight was not an enjoyable experience. The burning pain in my arm didn’t fade until I got back and removed the bullet, then drank a bucket of water to kickstart my regeneration.

As my flesh knit itself back together, I washed my hand so many times. I knew I had to write the message, but getting the blood out of them was an experience I never want to recreate. So gross. I took out the dude’s heart, because I figured “Hey, that probably has all of the blood I’ll need for the message in it!” and it didn’t. Newsflash dumbass, the heart just moves it all around. Decided to just stick it in the ground and act like it was a decision I made on purpose.

Once I feel my body is in a good enough condition, I go pass out for the night and when I wake, I turn on the news, no way they don’t talk about what happened.

“Last night, an altercation between the ‘East Enders’ gang and Lycaon got bloody. The gang did not take kindly to Lycaon setting up a safe zone, and assaulted citizens inside of it. When Lycaon retaliated, and wiped out the rest of the gang. There were 16 casualties, one of the members of the gang was even carved open so Lycaon could write a message, ‘Punishment’ in his blood. Lycaon has been deemed unstable and dangerous by police officials, and if you see him, we urge you to go somewhere safe and call the Police. If you believe you may know something to aid in the investigation, please the GCPD tip line at—” Yeah I’ve heard enough. ‘Dangerous and unstable’ isn’t going to do wonders for any future diplomacy though. At least they told people what happens if you were to ignore my warning.

I play with my newest power after shutting off the TV. Summoning my costume, and dispelling it back to my closet. The summoning process takes the form of blue flames that rise around my body, and take the shape of everything that I wear and use as Lycaon. When I dispel them they get turned into wisps of flame that float into the air before extinguishing themselves. I played with that for a good 30 minutes, just admiring the colours. In the process I learned that I don’t have to summon everything at the same time, I could leave my rifle behind, and just summon it to me when I need it.

I tried summoning ammo directly to my hand as well, but that didn’t work until I created a designated spot for the ammo on my costume. Now I can do it, and it feels cool as hell to just have flames turn into a bullet on the palm of your hand.

I swing by the gym to see if they’ve heard about last night, and they did. The overall consensus among the members was to ‘avoid the shit outta that place’ to not provoke me. See, brutal slaughter is the best way to dissuade the unwanted.

I’m in a relatively good mood after that, so I decided to go and tour the city a little bit. After all, you always have to relax after a job well done. The first thing I’m going to do is check the library and see if there’s any cool stories I wouldn’t be able to find back home. After that maybe I’ll walk by the police department just so I know where it is. I’ve heard this place has a music hall as well, so I’ll check if they’re playing anything tonight.

When I walked into the library, on the start of my Relaxation Tour, I remembered that Barbara worked here. How did my genius brain remember that? She greeted me. Just a normal, “Hi, anything I can help you with?” ruined any chance I had of having fun in this building. I can’t just walk out either. That’s either super suspicious or it makes me look like I’m afraid of women. Unacceptable on either end.

“Nah, I’m just browsing today.” God, I hope that sounded normal. I don’t wanna give anything away because of my tone of voice. Am I overrating the detectives in training? Maybe, but it’s better to be paranoid than cocky when it comes to this sort of thing.

“Alright, if you have any questions you can find me here.” And she looks back to her computer’s screen. Victory! Let’s get as far away from her as I can and start browsing.

I find a wide assortment of books, (did you know Stephen King exists here?) and most of the dimensional deviance once again takes the form of a shitload of superhero settings. Every genre has its own subgenre of superhero novels. Romance has the enemies to lovers trope in abundance with heroes and villains getting it on, horror usually features a villain going way too damn far, and so on. Though it was interesting to glimpse into this world's culture, I won’t lie, I want some more variety. Ah well, I’m sure there is some interesting shit here, I’ll just close my eyes and…

I grab a few random ones off the shelves, and realize that I’m going to have to talk to Barbara again. I mean, she’s in work mode right? She won’t notice anything off about little old me, surely?

I place the books in front of her, and get out my library card. She just stares at me for a second before scanning my books. I wonder what that hesitation was all about until I see that the first three books in the stack I handed to her were taken off the romance shelf. Specifically, the section for trashy smut. She scans “The Huntress’ Prey”, followed by “Law of the Winner” and “Amazonian Male”. Am I a freak now, in this world? I keep a straight face, barely, but does that make me weirder? I mean, who can meet someone for the first time and go straight to showing them the smut they partake in with a straight face? At least the last three were more normal. Just a dime a dozen Hero saves the day stories.

“Would you like a bag? They’re only 15 dollars and support keeping the library running?” And here I thought the government kept libraries open. Then again, this is Gotham. They probably need the cash injection. Ah well, not like I’m going to display my smut to everyone on the bus too.

“Yeah, alright.” She puts my books into a reusable tote bag with ‘Gotham Library, good reading for everyone!’ printed on the side. A terrible tagline. She informs my that my books are due back in a month, and I thank her and get the fuck out of there. We are supposed to be bitter enemies, she’s not supposed to be my supplier for lewd novels!

I ditch the rest of my trip, because even though it was my fault I ran into her, my luck would have me run into Tim and Bruce and trip over them, knocking the books free of my bag and letting them also know what I’m going to spend my free time doing for the next month. At least I can get started on these quickly.

— — — — —

Okay, maybe I shouldn’t be ashamed. “The Huntress’ Prey” is surprisingly well written, and if the other novels stay up to this standard, I am definitely in for a good time. I’m halfway through the book but I’ll have to put it down for now. It’s patrol time.

I leave my apartment and go a few blocks over before calling my costume and starting the patrol properly. I can’t always leave my apartment in costume or people would find out where I live eventually. Today, there were no gang-bangers, no incursions by the mafia, just a very dull night. I walk for hours, take a break with some snacks after terrifying that poor cashier at the convenience store, (don't know why he was so scared, I paid for my shit) and amuse myself by summoning and dismissing my rifle, over and over again.

I check the time when I go past the store again, and find out it’s been nearly 5 hours since I started, with nothing happening. I’m about to turn in for the night when I turn a corner and get blindsided and knocked to the ground by what I can only assume to be god himself, because that fucking hurt.

I cast Quen on myself, and try to pick myself up off the floor, but I feel my shield shatter and then my head gets stomped into the ground. I feel someone grab my arm, and reflexively cast Aard, palm facing what I believe to be the person beating the shit out of me. He teaches me that I shouldn’t use Aard on someone holding on to me by using the force I’ve applied to him against me. He lets it send him flying and uses the momentum gained to pull me with him, throwing me over his shoulder and slamming my face into the ground once more. Thank god for this helmet, or I’d have a mangled nose, and have more teeth missing than not.

At this point, I have a pretty good idea of who I’m… Well, fighting would be a bit gratuitous. This is me existing in the same space as Batman, as he shows me what real combat skills look like. I should’ve seen this coming honestly. I mean, carving some guy's heart out probably puts you pretty high on his shit-list.

He kneels on my back and goes for my arms again, and this time I cast Igni instead, he pauses and does something behind me, never letting go of my arm in the process. Just ignoring Igni completely. Afterwards he places something over one of my hands, the left, and I start to panic, realizing what his plan to deal with me was. I need to move my hands in specific ways to cast the signs, and he plans to shut that down by restraining them completely. My one hand has been locked within some sort of gauntlet that slowly fits itself over my fingers, and curls them inwards, forcing me to make a fist. Thing weighs like 20 pounds as well. I can’t let him get the second one over my other hand, at that point, the fight is finished.

I cast Yrden, and hope that it’s as much a game-changer as it was against Batgirl. Sadly, I’m immediately disappointed, since the increased resistance he’s feeling doesn’t make him any easier to move. I struggle some more while he presumably grabs the other one from whenever he was keeping it, and decide that drastic times require drastic measures.

I summon my revolver from its holster directly to my free hand and point it generally behind me, where I think he is. I try to shoot all six rounds, but I only get through three before he knocks the gun from my hand and slams my face into the pavement again. I think that slam was punishment for using a gun on him. My head feels like… like it just got slammed into the concrete three times. Fuck off, I’m too concussed to think of a good analogy.

I pull my focus together to use my last sign on him, Axii, hoping that the daze will buy me enough time to get out of the position. I turned my palm towards him, but I was too late. He snatches my hand and locks the restraint on it. Now with no magic signs to help me in this fight. He picks me off the ground and slams me into a nearby wall, where he demonstrates the other feature on the gauntlets he’s stuck my hands in. He pushes them towards each other and they lock together, placing my hands in roughly the same position they would be in if I were in cuffs.

“You know, I was just about to head back home and pick up a book. Couldn’t have come by earlier?” I say. Or at least, I think I do. My head has kissed the pavement enough to give my concussions concussions. I could be saying anything right now.

He doesn’t say anything back. Rude ass bitch. He’s probably the only person to beat someone in a fight and not say some witty one liner. I’m about to keep talking at him when a very high tech, black car pulls up behind him. I’m sure that normally the villain says something here, but I’m too busy staring at the Batmobile. The Batmobile. I’m in nerd heaven.

I’m stuck in quiet awe as he drags me towards it, and the back of the car opens up, revealing two seats. I guess if someone else pops up while he’s delivering me to the GCPD, then I’ll have a friend for a bit. He roughly tosses me into one of the seats, and some bars lower down around me, ensuring I can’t try and wiggle my way out of the seat. Because he really needed more restraints. Not overkill at all.

The seats get pulled back into the Batmobile, and all is dark for a few moments until a screen lights up. A screen displaying his face as he finally decides to engage me in conversation.

“Lycaon. You are under arrest. You will be delivered to a special cell at GCPD headquarters, where they will read you your rights. Now, I have a question of my own for you. What happened to you? Your DNA is twisted in a way that’s far different from other Metahumans I’ve seen.” Natural Batman, only comes to talk when he needs something from you. In this case, answers. What, does he want to know if I was an experiment? Because that is technically true. Maybe he’s worried that if I am there will be others like me. I’m not talking to him though. My head is still ringing and I’m still upset at getting my ass handed to me like that. Not to mention I’d probably only give something away.

Eventually he turns the screen off, realizing that I’m not going to talk. We drove all the way to the GCPD and I felt the car stop. Taking a deep breath, I wait for the back of the car to open up, and free me from this chair. It started feeling like a metal straight jacket halfway through the ride.

It does eventually open, and I’m blinded by the lights pointed at me. Once I gain my bearings, I see 10 officers in full riot gear pointing their weapons at me, and one in normal clothing who I’m just going to assume to be Commissioner Gordon, since who else would be here when Batman is dropping off a villain?

I get pulled out of the chair by Batman, and then handed off to one of the officers who begins directing towards their ‘special cell’. They start reading my rights to me as we go on the walk. The whole right to an attorney, right to remain silent, yada yada. I tune it out, and I try to strain my senses to listen to Batman and Gordon, but it’s too difficult to make out over the voices in my ear and the growing distance away from them.

The cell is a little overkill, with ventilation and a blast door so thick you’d think it would stand up to the entire U.S. military budget. Glass that looks to be only slightly less resistant than the door. The officer shoves me inside the cell, and once the door locks. It hits me. I am fucked. Where would they send a normal criminal? To a normal jail. Where would they send some crazy dude in a wolf mask that writes messages in blood? Arkham Asylum. I sit on the provided uncomfortable metal bench in the cell, and despair.

I contemplate methods to survive Arkham, but none of them are things I’d like to do, or may be incapable of doing, depending on if they ever take off the restraints Batman put on me. I think about the fact I never finished “The Huntress’ Prey” despite it getting pretty damn good in the chapter I was reading. I wonder if Jonah will keep up with the gym, or if my territory will go to shit now that I’m not there. Fuck! My safe zone lasted all of two nights! The peace was broken on those two nights too, what a joke.

— — — — —

Getting lost in my thoughts, I eventually turn to the clock in the precinct, and see that it’s been… an hour. Really? No one has even come to talk to me. Isn’t that supposed to be a thing they are supposed to do? Wait. They seem panicked. Maybe if I focus I can…

“Get as many as we can! This is new, and we need to deal with it now!” I hear Gordon yell from across the precinct. He commands 4 squads to run to what I assume to be the armory, because they come out equipped with full riot gear. Wonder what the fuck happened that needs that kind of response? Is Bane out? Maybe if I’m lucky someone will come and tell me what’s plaguing Gotham tonight.

I watch Gordon command people from my cell for a few more minutes, and I get bored enough that I try calling out to him.

“Hey! What’s happening out there? Is it the rapture? Please tell me it’s not Gnomes, someone at home would be traumatized if it was!” I see a few heads turn, to look at the crazy bastard in the special cage. Gordon just steadfastly ignores me. Alright, getting nowhere with the Commissioner, fine. The grunts should know too.

“Hey you,” the police officer closest to me turns and stares at me, warily. “Any chance you could give a poor soul closure, and tell me what has everyone up in arms?” He considers it for a second, before shrugging.

“Solomon Grundy rose up again tonight. A bit early though, not to mention that the Bat is handling him. The thing that has everyone scared is that he isn’t alone this time. Rose with a horde of zombies. We don’t know if they’re contagious so ‘scorched earth’ has been authorized.” Scorched earth? A police protocol, I assume. Given the riot gear I’m just going to guess that means the police get to use their fancy toys (their rifles, and I swear a couple of the riot guys had grenades) with no repercussions.

“The undead should not be underestimated. They are notoriously difficult to kill. After all, how do you kill that which does not live? You need a professional, me.” The perfect pitch, I am a witcher, and even though he doesn’t know that, surely if you were facing something new in this city you’d want someone with a costume on your side.

“Hah, nice try bub,” Bub? People say that? “But you can stay right there. Besides, it’s just zombies, just shoot ‘em in the head and they go down. Just like the movies, right?” Damn. It would’ve been that easy if you just didn’t say that. Fucking fool. You’ve jinxed it, and now you actually need me. My gun should be able to handle it, since it has some magic/soul-killer bullshit on it. I just need out of the cell, and these cuffs. The weight is starting to get unbearable.

He walked away before I could keep talking, and Gordon just kept barking orders. I kept trying to get his attention, but he never responded. I know he hates criminals, but this is going too far.

Our game goes on for about 5 minutes before he announces something that causes the officers that stayed behind to panic. The zombies were making a line straight for us. As he says that, I feel my Brand pulse, and start to burn. Fuck, is the mark making them target me? These guys are fucked if that’s the case. Gordon continues destroying the morale of everyone there by telling them that gunshots don’t stop them, even when placed in the head. What kind of leader is this man?

He was listing methods that have been tried, and those that haven’t, when one of the officers spoke up. It was the guy I spoke to briefly earlier.

“Uh, sir? There is one method we haven’t considered.” Are you going to say what I think you are? Oh, you are my favourite person now. I’ll introduce you to Jonah if you live through the night.

“And what would that be?” Gordon seems interested, good, good. Maybe if it comes from someone that’s not me he will actually consider it.

“Lycaon, sir. He said himself that undead are hard to kill, and you need him, since he’s a ‘professional’.” He said it! Now I just need to learn your name so I can find you later. Wait, that makes me sound like a stalk—

“Lycaon!? He’s an insane killer! He carved someone's heart out! I refuse to let him out of the cell!” Well, fuck.

Gordon and the force bicker a bit, but I see that among the force itself, about half of the officers are on the side of using, and the rest aren’t. You know, I’m willing to bet the guys that want me on their side are the corrupt ones. They’re used to working with the crazy guys in capes, so they wouldn’t mind the tools I bring to the table. The other guys just don’t want me at the table and that’s kind of rude, don't you think?

Gordon calls out that the horde is getting closer, and that they need to set up choke points, and all that stuff. The group of officers that wanted my aid try and argue the point a bit more but Gordon just yells at them until they move. Seems a bit like a mean boss, but then again, he’s actually facing a horde of zombies. I’m sure that most bosses would find themselves pretty stressed out and irritable in this situation.

I go sit back down on the metal bench in my cell. The precinct gets barricades set up using turned over desks and chairs behind door knobs. Hey, maybe they’ll get lucky, and fight off the horde all on their own.

— — — — —

All is quiet in the GCPD, as the zombies finally arrive. They start banging on the doors, trying to get in. Just hammering away. They don’t groan either. All you can hear is their movement and their attempts to break down a door. Or a window, but as one of the officers told me when I pointed it out during setup, those are already reinforced. Bulletproof glass should be able to keep them out.

The police force is visibly disturbed by going through something only thought to be fiction, or just flat out not their problem. Usually they hear about things like this in the news, long after some hero flew by and solved it. That fear culminates in a barrage of fire when one of the hordes members makes a crack in the door. When they stop shooting, all they can see is that they fucked up the structural integrity of the door. Riddling it with bullets will do that. I doubt they even killed any.

Gordon barks out a quick reprimand before turning his focus back towards the entrance. The one now being broken into much faster than before. Piece by piece, the undead break it down, using the strength their body held back in life. Eventually, they make it in. The door gets broken off the hinges and a swarm rushes inside, walking into, and over each other, the rotten masses only wishing for slaughter. They aren’t extremely fast, but the only thing that has stopped them from reaching the police already is that they keep tripping on each other.

I see that they aren’t prepared to fight off the undead, and I yell for Gordon, I scream his name, “Set me free Gordon! I can save you! Let me help! I can stop them for good!” He looks over, and he weighs his choices. Eventually, with desperation and reluctance on his face in equal measure, he pulls out a black remote from his pocket. It has a Bat symbol on the side, and when he pushes a button on the screen, my restraints fall off my hands. I immediately summoned my rifle.

“You gotta let me out of the cage too! I can’t do much from in here!” I cast Quen, mentally preparing for the second most disgusting thing I’ll do. Even these guys won’t top an impromptu human dissection. I look over and see Gordon leading a few men over to the cell's controls, fighting off some zombies that made it past the barricades, the others move towards the back of the precinct while laying down suppressive fire. It doesn’t kill them, but it does trip them up for a few seconds.

When Gordon reaches the console he slams a button, and I see the blast door for the cell slowly crank itself open. The moment the zombies have a proper method to reach me, I can feel their hostility shift from the police to me. I guess without one they decided to just kill whoever was closest.

I can’t even get out of my cell before the entrance gets barricaded by a wall of flesh. I cast Igni, and thank god that it actually worked. I did not want to deal with flaming zombies. The walking dead burn briefly before lying down, maybe dead for good. They aren’t writhing, so I hope that means they can’t get back up.

I recognize that the cell the GCPD has put me in is the best choke point anyone could ask for, since there’s only one entrance, and everything else has been reinforced for criminals like Bane, or Killer Croc. No way mere zombies can break down that glass. I start shooting into the entrance, not really aiming at anything specific, because that’s a bit hard with how they’re climbing over each other. I do watch as I nail one in the stomach and it stops moving. It gives me confirmation that my gun does kill the things that aren’t susceptible to normal human means of damage.

I stand there, casting Igni whenever I can, and firing rounds into the rest, but there truly were too many to deal with on my own. Gordon was telling his men to back me up, but that was ultimately useless. He just added lead to their bodies, not harming them in the slightest. They keep making it further and further into my cell, and it’s only when corpses cover all but the last 5 feet of my cell that I see a glimpse of hope.

A bike cuts through the remnants of the horde, (I took down like, 75% of it on my own. Using fire on large groups of enemies is like cheating.) and a figure that I recognize jumps off it, throwing Batarangs blindly into the horde. I question if that was just for style points when they go off, electrocuting the ones hit and the surrounding horde. When they fall from the shock they stay down, and she announces the thing I just recognized seeing that.

“Use your tasers! Any sort of shock puts them down for good!” Batgirl calls out to her father and his officers. Figures that she’d be the one to show up here. Gotta save daddy.

The men cheer when they see a Bat working with them, and with renewed vigor, start actually helping me against these things. I never stopped burning and shooting when she showed up. Now with aid though, it does feel like I’m making progress. As they cut down the numbers I finally get a chance to break free of my cell. They can totally handle the rest of these zombies right? Even if they follow me, I know I can handle it. Especially if I have room to walk backwards.

I push forwards, leaving the cell, but still culling the masses. I figure there’d be more dead cops, but it seems they really wanted me dead. Astaroth, the fuck does the mark you gave me do? I thought it was just a way for me to talk to you…

I count the dead still left walking at me. Only 10? Yeah, I’m good. I break into a sprint for the broken door, leaping over the obstacles and barricades on my way out. I turn back once I escape the GCPD, and see no zombies. I hope that means that Batgirl and everyone else there took care of them. I’d really hate to be jumped by some random undead in the future. It’d be the worst if they came at me during the day. How would I explain to the gym why some zombie is trying to kill me, specifically.

I run to a corner, and turn back into Bruce Strong, civilian extraordinaire. Not a moment too soon either, because not long after a caped figure on a black bike blew past me. Well, time to go home and unwind. Also shower. I never mentioned the stench inside the precinct, but you can imagine what I now smell like just by being close by to all the deceased.

E — N — D

Nearly 5k words. I probably could’ve done the zombie fight better, but I don’t really plan anything, I just kinda write and hope it turns out ok. Came up with a method to make the Brand work in universe, and in turn, also came up with where I think the plot will go. Both you and I will find out if my monkey brain wants to stick to the plan though. One last thing before I go though, not enough synonyms for undead. Not nearly enough.

See y’all in the next one.

 

Chapter 9 - The end justifies the means...

— — — — —

“Last night, horror struck Gotham once more as Solomon Grundy, our resident zombie, rose from the dead. This time however, he wasn’t alone. Testimony states that he came with at least 100 other undead to wander the streets of Gotham.” Oh yeah, Grundy was there too. Thankfully Batman decided to handle that. I’m not sure if my gun and my signs would be enough to handle him.

“The horde decided to split up not long after rising, with 60 corpses moving straight towards the GCPD, who found themselves under siege. Thanks to quick thinking by the Commissioner, Gotham’s police force stays strong, with only a few unfortunate casualties.” Well, I guess it makes sense they wouldn’t want to credit a villain for helping the police officers survive the night. I didn’t think that the Commissioner would take the credit though, he doesn’t strike me as that type of guy. Maybe he was the only one that could take it?

“The corpses were left strewn all over the building, and clean up is still taking place. If you have any business with the GCPD, Commissioner Gordon recommends you call their number or visit a different precinct if that is an option. He states that you would really want to avoid experiencing the mess. Onto other news, the election is—” Ew, politics. No thank you, time to switch to the fireplace channel.

It’s nice to know that they also are dealing with a huge cleanup. Comparatively mine was much easier, but I still showered 4 times just to make sure that there was no more stench on me. Burning corpses does not smell good, and the smell sticks to your clothing too. I learned that the hard way when I got back and found out that dispelling my costume doesn’t get rid of all the grime for me. Ran that through the laundry a few times as well. Now my costume smells like lemons, just as god intended.

I pick up my book, and get reading. I am not letting myself run into some conflict because I had the audacity to go walk outside. Even on my patrol later, I’m not doing it in costume. Learned my lesson from Batman’s ambush. I’ll just pose as a civilian and run away to change into costume if I find something that needs my attention.

Though, sitting here, reading my smut, with a fireplace on my TV, I realize I’m missing something. Background music.

I need background music to really get into the zone, y’know. I can read without it, but it's nice to have. Keeps my focus on the book, weirdly enough. Plus any noises from other apartments won’t disturb me if I can get a sound system. A cheap one though, I still haven’t sold my painting. I need to get around to that soon.

I resolved myself to ignore everything on my way to the store. I’m just going to get some cheap stereo, and go home. Don’t acknowledge anything that isn’t someone breaking my safe zone's peace.

I throw on my favourite nondescript grey sweater, and leave. Thankfully, nothing of interest happens on the walk. Besides me finally seeing the homeless guy Jonah was talking about, forgot his name. Funny guy, he’s moved on from Gnomes now though. Now he’s talking about Chupacabras.

I get to the store and grab myself a smart hub. I know, I know. ‘They listen in on me’. I don’t talk to myself out loud and I share the apartment with no one. I’ll be fine. This is just for convenient access to music. Plus, it’s WayneTech like my laptop. I do wonder if Bruce was having a narcissistic streak when he made this since I have to say “Hey Wayne” as the command phrase.

I was about to check out when I walked past a clearance section. It had Garden Gnomes.

I did something I’m not proud of.

I quickly walked home with my new purchases in hand, and set up my Wayne Hub. I haven't asked it to do anything yet. I have an important task to fulfill first. I take one of my three other purchases, all Gnomes, and go outside to the fire escape on the other side of the building. I climb it until I find Jonah’s apartment.

The view from the fire escape isn’t bad, it looks into his living area. I think of the place the Gnome would have maximum impact when noticed. I decided to set it up as though it was peeking around the edge of the window to the escape. So if he’s attentive, next time he looks out the window, he’ll barely see a Gnome, looking back at him. As I’m climbing down the fire escape to go back to my apartment, I wonder if cultivating my only friend’s paranoia towards Gnomes is a normal and healthy thing to do.

Nah. I’m still gonna do it though.

I go back inside my apartment and place the other two Gnomes inside my closet with my costume. They are just as important, after all. Then I go back to relaxing with my book, the televised fireplace. Now with some music!

— — — — —

I’ve finished “The Huntress’ Prey” and started on “Law of the Winner” but sadly, the latter of two lacks the subtlety, finesse, and characterization of the previous writer. It’s still good, but not nearly as enjoyable as the former. I might have to make another visit to the library and have Barbara look up the authors' other books. Who wrote “The Huntress’ Prey” anyway?

Diana Prince? I feel like I should recognize that.

I was about to turn back to my book when I heard a “What the hell!?” echo through my apartment complex. Good, it seems Jonah found the Gnome. It’s also a testament to how shit these walls are if I could hear him from a floor below me across the hall.

I crack a smile and check the time. 7:13? Yeah, you know what, today has been a damn fine day. I’ll treat myself to a nice dinner before I go on patrol. Where’s a good spot? There’s a nice Italian joint in my territory. Pasta, pizza, oh shit they got wings? They have 50 wings as an option as well? Damn, this is turning out to be a really good night too.

I get there, get seated, and when my wings show up I’m shown what heaven tastes like. I think I made the other customers a little uncomfortable when I moaned as I bit into the first few. They were just that good though.

As I’m sitting there, enjoying my wings, I feel a buzzing in my pocket. I clean off one of my hands to grab my burner phone, because sadly, this is more important than the best wings I’ve ever eaten. The Arkham Knight is calling me back, and that’s a damn good paycheque.

“Lycaon. Where are you right now?” Getting straight to business, huh? I can appreciate that.

“Currently at Lorenzo’s Eatery. You want anything?”

“No. Come meet me at—” He gives me the address for what I’m going to assume is an abandoned warehouse. Gotham has too many of those.

“Sure thing, boss man. Does this mean I get my advance payment?” Please say yes, I keep impulse buying my savings away.

“I’ll have it ready for you on arrival. Be here in 30.” He hangs up, and I wave over a waitress so I can box up the rest of my wings. I refuse to let them go to waste.

The warehouse he wants to meet me at is outside my territory, but not too far away. Perfect walking distance really. I get a block away from it before I duck into an alley and summon my costume. Sadly I can’t send my wings back to my house with my powers so now I’m a scary wolfman carrying takeout. Perfect for the first face-to-face meeting.

I knock on one of the doors and one of the Arkham Knight’s henchmen (Militia? They are properly trained by him.) open the door. I see the man himself standing by a big ass table, with plans and blueprints laid all over it.

“Good, you’re here.” Oh, the synthesization sounds the same in person as it does on the phone. Cool.

“I am. Anywhere I can put this before we start talking the important shit?” I gesture with my takeout. It would feel awkward to talk about our grand plans with me just holding my leftovers.

“Take it from him.” He says to the dude that opened the door. The door henchman does exactly that, and I whisper in his ear that if any are missing I will find him later to exact justice. No one, not even Superman, is allowed to steal my food.

I approach the table, and stand on the opposite side of the Arkham Knight. He begins his, what is this called, a briefing?

“Okay, now we can begin. So, I understand you’ve beaten either Robin or Batgirl before, correct?” He stares at me, prompting an answer.

“Both.” I nod. Best not go into detail on how I won, given that it was because of hidden skills and some luck.

“Perfect. I’ve been setting up a couple crime trails on their level, with clues to match. Batman will be kept busy by another distraction I’ve set up. Don’t worry about that though. Just wait where I tell you to and defeat whichever sidekick comes for you.” A trap? Ambush the Mini-Bats? Well, he was one of them so I’ll trust he’s covered the ways this could fail in his planning.

“Sounds good. A lot of planning you’ve done for this, is that Wayne Tower’s blueprints? How and why did you get those?” I wave my hand at one of the many papers spread out on his massive table.

“I need to guarantee a win there. You can beat them, especially without interference from Batman. This is the best way. Now, I will not tolerate failure. When you win again, you will capture them, and bring them here. Do you understand?” Holy shit I need to learn to speak with emphasis like him. I quickly nod.

“Yup. Mhm. Understand completely. When are we doing this and where’s my money?” It will be kind of hard to move them if I have to physically carry them from wherever the ambush point is to this warehouse. I’ll need a vehicle.

“Good. Hey! Bring him the cash!” He yells to the back of the warehouse. A couple guys come running out with a duffel bag each. Presumably filled with my payment.

“Each has 25 thousand inside it. Take it. I’ll text you your location the night of the ambush. Be ready, we’re doing it in two days.” He turns back to his table filled with plans and keeps studying it. I think that was my dismissal. I go to door goon and grab my wings, and head back to my apartment. Kinda weird to call me just to say a few words and let me go, but I guess he did need to give me my first payment somewhere.

Overall, a perfect night. No crimes, something did come calling but it was just to pay me. Really. Now I can buy transport. Maybe a bike for stuff like my new job, where I have to move a vigilante from Point A to Point B? Just zip tie his arms and legs and throw him on the thing in front of me? Yeah, that should be fine. I can get a car as well for moving any stolen shit if I need it.

I dismiss my costume once I think no one is looking. Now I’m just a dude with takeout and two duffel bags. Nothing to see here, potential Bat-Stalkers in my safe zone.

When I get back to my apartment I see Jonah sitting on the steps by the entrance again, this time looking frazzled. I ask him what’s up.

“What’s up? What’s up!? Gnomes are real Bruce! They are fucking real! One was staring into my apartment earlier from the fire escape. But I showed it who’s boss… Yeah I fucking did…” Hmm. If it isn’t the consequences of my actions. I broke my friend.

“Damn. Sorry to hear that. Maybe Lycaon will take care of them.” He snaps his head toward me as I say my other name.

“Lycaon warned me. Warned me they were a threat. I didn’t pay my dues, and now they come for me. Where will they be next? What will they do to me…?” Wow. I really should feel bad about this. But I still have two more in my apartment and I’m not going to let them sit there unused. Sorry Jonah.

I step around him, and wish him a swift recovery on his arm before fleeing so he doesn’t keep ranting at me. Normally I’d be fine with it but I had 50 thousand dollars on me. I’m not staying outside with that any longer than I need to.

I dump the money in my closet with my costume and my Gnomes. Man, I need more storage space.

I then go crack open my laptop and get looking at bikes. They’re the most convenient in my eyes if I’m ever going to have to escape from someone, since I can veer between cars and through alleys. Maybe I can get a car after this job is done if I want to do anything that would require moving something bulky.

Checking through the dealerships my eyes lock on to one of the listings. A 2016 Yamaha YZF-R1. A superbike. It’s $16,490 though. And that’s without taxes too. Plus, the listing they have is yellow…

Eh, I can just get it a paint job. Sold! The dealership is fine with cash purchases right?

— — — — —

The next day I calculate the taxes and head straight to the dealership. Gotham has a 9% sales tax, which is alright compared to what I’m used to.

I drop $18,000 in cash that day, buying the bike. My worry that they wouldn't accept cash seems to have been meaningless. This is Gotham idiot, half the city participates in criminal activity. If they didn’t allow cash purchases they’d sell to almost no one.

I swing by an auto-shop to get a paint job, because as much as I love the color yellow, (not much, by the way,) I would much prefer having dark colors, what with all my work being done at night. They say it’ll be $400 since the bike is in pristine condition. Acceptable.

After about three hours of pawing through more surprisingly correct gossip magazines, I rode away with a black and grey superbike. Should I name the bike Roach in honor of Geralt? Nah, that’s his thing. I’ll come up with something unique.

I take a joyride around the city, now that I have the option to do so. There isn’t too much to look at for tourists honestly, but I swing by the alley where Bruce's parents were killed and spend the rest of the time up by the downtown, corporate area. It was the cleanest place in this city, which is still very dirty. I don’t know if it’s just my senses but I can see homeless people lounging wherever they can, some with a trail of needles following them.

I didn’t even see this many homeless people back by crime alley. Which come to think of it, makes sense. If you are part of a vulnerable group you would go to where it’s safest, right? Up here no one’s going to kill you for looking at you wrong. At least, not publicly.

My rapidly fading desire to be a hero and help people screams its need to do something about this problem. But I got no clue what someone like me should do about this situation. I’m fairly certain the super-billionaire Bruce Wayne has tried to help with every problem in Gotham at this point, and he has far more resources than I.

I finish my joyride and keep contemplating my options on the way home. As I park my bike I come to a realization. Bruce can only throw money at the problem. In his civilian identity he only has one option to try and aid vulnerable people and communities. He could give them cash, but it would only get stolen from them, he could give them job opportunities, but the managers might not want to keep someone that’s living on the streets around. Lycaon doesn’t need to try and give them cash, he could give them a home, with some work on the side. Plus it would help solve the issue of keeping my territory defended when I end up taking more jobs in the future.

Sometimes, my genius astounds me. Let’s see if I can’t get what I need by tonight.

I get inside and start jotting down the essentials. There are two big things I need to deliver on to ensure loyalty in most of them. Food and shelter. So long as I can ensure that I can get myself a good number of henchmen, even though the title would barely even apply here. I’d only ask them to defend the safe zone, which would be their home. I wouldn’t force them to participate in any gang wars or other things of that nature.

Yes, not henchmen, my guardians, my protectors, will follow me loyally because of the food I so graciously bestow upon them. How much can say, 20-40 mouths be to feed and home? As my research indicated, a lot. My eyes glazed over, staring at some of the numbers and the reasoning behind them.

First big cost, the actual shelter, y’know, the place they would have to stay? Yeah I need to get one of those. I checked various Real Estate sites and listings and my best option is the home for sale in my safe zone that I was considering getting for myself. It’s cheap and if we do away with a good amount of furniture and tear down a couple walls, I can get like, at least 20 guys settled down in there.

Next big cost is the food. I’m not going to mother them and make sure everyone shares the food that I go and buy for them. Fuck that shit, it’s way too expensive. They’ll get enough for one week and after that they’ll earn their money weekly.

Yeah, I can just pay them, after a welcoming party of course, I have to make sure they appreciate me and all the work I’ve done for them. So, my homeless shelter isn’t going to be very legal, in that they can only stay there if they work for me, or normal, in that we don’t organize meals for them, but it’ll still be more than enough. Wait, is me conscripting the homeless a good thing or an evil thing? I am giving them a home... Eh, debate it to yourself later. I’ll just put my offer in on the house and spend the rest of my time preparing for my rematch with one of the Bat-kids.

— — — — —

Two days pass pretty quickly, especially when you spend most of it trying to plan around Bat-people and getting paperwork filled out for a house.

The night of my first mission as a mercenary starts off with me stress eating the rest of my leftover wings. Just as I finish them, my burner phone buzzes with a message.

‘4560 Brine Street. I’ve left a couple things that might help you. One of them should be arriving around 11. Do not fail me.’ Well, it’s 8 right now. May as well go now in case they show up early. Also, he left me with some things? Cool, I love free shit. Especially if it helps protect oneself against Bats.

I pull up to the location on my bike. It surprisingly isn’t an abandoned warehouse, but rather, a WalMart-like store that was closed down due to Black Mold. I would’ve been hesitant to enter but as a witcher I think I’m safe from something as mundane as Black Mold…

Probably.

The door was unlocked, and when I entered I saw a shopping cart left right in the entranceway. It contained two things, first was a signal jammer, and I only knew that because whoever left it here was smart enough to leave a note attached to it. They did the same to the other item, or I guess I should say items. It was a box of tripmines, with a detonator in the box as well in case I needed to blow them manually.

Well, pretty obvious as to what I need to do now. Let’s set up the jammer then rig up some explosives. Also, does the PA still work?

— — — — —

“Hello Master Robin, you should be coming up to the location shortly. Seems the trail ends at the Superstore.” An old British voice speaks clearly over his earpiece. Robin approaches the building from the rooftops. He’s a little annoyed that he has to jump from one building to the next to reach his location, but Barbara took the bike and Bruce won’t let anyone use the car.

“The one that’s been shut down because of mold?”

“That’s the one. Will you be needing any assistance tonight? It seems you’re going to be facing off against a kidnapper, possibly a serial killer and this is your first night back out on the job.” The Boy Wonder frowns. He appreciates the worry he hears in Alfred’s voice, but it is annoying since he’s already heard it from Barbara and Bruce.

“I’ll be fine Alfred. This might be my first night back out, but I’ve trained plenty, and won’t make the same mistake I did last time. Besides, I’m not even going to be fighting Lycaon here, it’s just some random guy.” He says all this as he rappels down the building, and he does a backflip off of it when he’s close to the bottom. Lycaon would say he’s doing this “just to show off.”

“Of course Master Robin. Don’t hesitate to call if you need anything.”

“Sure thing Al. I’ll let you know when I’ve finished.” Robin walks into the parking lot, in range of the jammer. He doesn’t hear when Alfred alerts everyone that Batgirl ran into an ambush, and he also doesn’t hear Batman ask for his status. He just keeps approaching the building.

At the entrance, he stops right before tripping some explosives wired to blow at the activation of the automatic doors. He very quickly realizes that something is wrong. This is no random serial killer, they don’t have resources.

“Alfred. Alfred? Are you there? Check in! Alfred!” He whisper-yells for a response, first from the loyal butler, but he quickly cycles through Batman and Batgirl, also earning no response. He contemplates just leaving the area, but then he'll be letting whoever did these crimes go. He decides that he won’t flee, after all, Batman wouldn’t flee from this. He has the option to try a different entrance, but an inspection on the trapped entrance area shows that whoever set them up only did so on the side that you’re supposed to enter from. Robin ignores that and forces open the ‘Exit’ doors.

As he gets inside the store, he hears the PA crackle to life. Over it he hears someone singing… A lullaby?

He doesn’t know this one, but ‘Wolves asleep amidst the trees’ makes him worry that Lycaon is here. If only he had Bruce's suit! That thing has a voice recognition device attached to it, for crying out loud!

Robin decides to move towards the head office of the store. He figures that whoever set this trap will be close by there and it’s faster than searching the whole store. He needs to solve this quickly and figure out why he’s not getting a response from the others. He sneaks up to the door of the office, and goes to pick it. Right as he’s about to finish, an explosion from behind the door sends him flying out towards the checkout aisles. His training as a member of the Bat-family pays off though, as he catches his bearings just before eating a foot to the face. He rolls away to safety and finds out that his opponent is, as he feared, Lycaon. Bruce forbade him from fighting Lycaon, out of what Robin reasons is Bruce’s fear that Robin will lose himself to the thirst for revenge.

“Damn kid, the hell do they teach you? That was a fucking Bomb, capital B. You don’t just roll away and stand up like it’s nothing.” The man in the wolf mask backs away to the end of the aisle, questioning why he agreed to this before coming to terms with the fact that he is just that greedy for money. To Robin, Lycaon is just engaging in Banter.

“What, you thought that was enough to take me down? You’ll have to try a lot harder than that.” Robin took out his collapsible bo-staff and brought it to full length, ready for a fight against someone that was able to beat Batgirl. He was expecting a long and arduous fight. Lycaon decided that the best way to fight was to break those expectations. He turned around and ran further into the store.

“Wha—Hey!” Robin broke into a sprint after him, but he was still 13. Lycaon has much longer legs.

Robin lost the Wolf-Masked Merc in the clothing section. He used his grappling hook to pull himself on top of one of the wall displays to get a better look. He spotted the man, but Lycaon spotted him first, and threw something at him. Reflexively, Robin dodges a… Nerf Football, and as he’s about to yell at Lycaon for not taking this seriously, the football explodes right behind him.

He falls, ears ringing, into a rack of clothing that breaks beneath him, knocking the air out of his chest and bo-staff loose from his hand. He slowly pulls himself up out of it, and once he steadies himself and picks up his staff, he looks around for Lycaon again. Thankfully, it doesn’t take long. Un-thankfully, Lycaon is holding a basket up by his left elbow filled with Nerf Footballs. Now that Robin can examine them, he sees that they have had their center hollowed out and replaced with explosives. He also sees the detonator in Lycaons left hand. His right is playing with a Football.

“Wanna come quietly? I’m just trying to get paid, you know. I also know for a fact that the guy I’m working for doesn’t want to kill you, so you’ll be safe.” Robin stares in awe at the Masked fools ability to assure him of his safety while playing with explosives.

“Nothing, no response? Well, alrighty then. Let’s play catch.” Robin doesn’t wait, he dashes to the side and points his grapple at the basket of explosives, trying to pull it away from Lycaon. He even succeeds, dodging both the thrown explosive and yanking the others out of Lycaon’s grasp. It’s such a shame then, that everything exploded.

For the third time tonight, Robin reorients himself from all the explosives. He questions why they all went off, especially when they were still far closer to the Lycaon than they were to him. That is, until he sees the shining steel of the Wolf Mask pull itself out of some debris, much more intact than he should be.

Lycaon coughs as he stands. Robin goes to grapple close and secure him before he can cast more of those sigils that Barbara briefed him on, but as he pulls the trigger, he sees that his grappling hook has lost its head. It can’t latch onto anything anymore. He hears Lycaon chuckle at his failed attempt.

“Oh no, did I break your favourite tool? What a shame. Time to lie down, little bird. Accept what’s coming.” This is way different from how he was acting as Super-Knight. Robin won’t lie to himself, he was a little scared of the fight now. Especially with no surefire way of escaping the purple sigils anymore. He can’t run though, Batman would not run.

He steels his nerves, and charges the man across from him. He sees Lycaon use his yellow sigil, and tosses a Batarang to break it, unexpectedly though, Lycaon dodges it.

‘Damn,’ Robin thinks, ‘He is learning…’

The Boy Wonder meets him with the staff. Batting his hands away any time they start moving out in front of him, his head and trying to sweep the legs. In exchange, Lycaon waits for a perfect moment, casts Quen, and immediately goes in close, abandoning defense entirely. This move shocks Robin as he finds his swing harmlessly bounce off the man’s head, and before he can adjust Lycaon lands a hard right hook on his cheek. From there, the fight spirals out of Robin’s control.

Lycaon casts Yrden, trapping Robin inside. He was trained to fight with the resistance it places on him, but he was already on the backfoot before, now he finds himself unable to defend himself properly from Lycaon’s assault. As he finds himself getting pummeled from all angles, he feels the resistance let up. Yrden reached its time limit. Robin quickly dodges backwards, but for the last time tonight, Robin was caught off guard.

Lycaon was already swinging his arms as though he was holding a bat, and mid-swing, he summoned his rifle in a burst of flames, with the butt of the gun acting as the club. Robin barely had time to even comprehend what he was getting hit by before falling unconscious from the blow to his head.

— — — — —

I look down at Tim’s unconscious body.

“Damn, I’m actually not half bad at this villain thing, am I?”

I pick up his body, ignore the pain in my torso at tanking a bunch of explosions, I lived thanks to Quen but it still fuckin hurt. Maybe I should have the Good Doctor give me a check up to see if I broke anything. After I get paid though, let’s get this kid to Jason’s hideout.

E — N — D

Fucking eh, I broke 5k words this time. Barely, but I did. This one took a while longer than the rest, sorry bout that. But this is my Boredom Project, and I’m not that bored currently. Got back into Guilty Gear (look out for OmegaTrash in floor 8 you motherfuckers, I can’t combo shit) and started a Nuzlocke in Pokemon. Plus some new Tv to watch.

I decided to try a third person thing for the fight, mostly because I didn’t wanna spoil the Nerf Footballs of doom, lemme know if it worked out. I probably won’t do it often, since I find writing third person to be a little more taxing than first person, but hey, may as well try and improve even if I’m probably only ever going to write oc or self insert fanfics. Established characters are hard because I don’t wanna fuck em up. See y’all in the next one, whenever that may be.

P.S. Titles are hard too man. I'm running out of slightly clever chapter names.

 

Chapter 10 - Ignorance is bliss…

— — — — —

I loaded Robin onto the bike and was about to ride away from the scene of my newest crime, but luckily I remembered to grab the signal jammer from the store before I left. I wouldn’t want whatever tech Robin has on him to broadcast his location (and therefore mine) to Batman. He’d come to find out why his Boy Wonder hasn't checked in on their comms and find him unconscious and precariously balanced on my bike. Not a good look.

Luckily, Jason/The Arkham Knight made these things portable, so I can just slot it into a backpack I’ve liberated from the superstore and get driving. Sadly the only backpacks they had on hand were… Well… Exploded.

I salvaged a Hello Kitty one though. A little small, and clashes with the outfit, but if it works, it works.

Driving with a passenger on a motorcycle that doesn’t want to balance himself was a little nerve wracking, but we got there in the end. I pulled into the warehouse’s parking lot and found that the Knight himself was already there beckoning me inside, so I followed his instructions and parked inside instead. Means I don’t have to carry Robin as far either, so that’s nice.

I pulled in and saw a fucking full renovation of the place. It has not been long enough to lay down power lines that are hooked up to your fucking turrets on raised platforms. Are those things loaded with fucking harpoons?! He must’ve hired some goddamn miracle workers.

“Hm, well done. Seems my faith in you wasn’t misplaced.” Jason says while going back to tinkering on one of his turrets. “See that chair bolted down in front of one of the turret platforms? Lock Robin into it. There’s restraints on the chair itself and rope underneath it. Tie it tight.”

I park my bike to the side of everything, and take Robin to the chair. It’s one of those ‘restraint chairs’ they use for the mentally unstable so they don’t hurt themselves. I lock down his wrists and shins, and then the body strap to keep him from thrashing too harshly. Now, the rope.

Should I tell Jason I don’t know how to tie a knot?

I mean, I can intuit my way towards something simple, but is simple good enough? Not for a Bat. Robin could escape my dastardly knots in his sleep. It’d be embarrassing to ask the fucking Arkham Knight himself to come tie the rope for me. Nah, let’s just do it myself.

Okay, so one end goes this way… The other like this… Throw in a loop-de-loop… Give it a couple quick yanks… Seems fine?

Fuck it, let’s hope that holds! I examine the room now that Robin is “securely” locked down and no longer my problem. The knight has his fucking turrets set up in what I’m seeing as a pentagram pattern. The top of the pentagram is directly behind Robin on an extra-raised platform. I wanna say like, 10 feet compared to the other platforms only being 5. Presumably he set it up that way to shoot over Robin if Batman took the main entrance, which is opposite of that gun in particular.

I pan up to the ceiling and notice that he has also set up spotlights, all pointed towards the Boy Wonder’s current position. Wants to draw focus to Tim’s abduction and remind Batman of the time Jason was the one left waiting. Wonder if he’s going to do the dramatic reveal of “You let me die!” now or save it for later? He probably won’t do it if I’m here. I should get my cash and leave, quickly. Lest the Caped Crusader find me here with his son/student locked in a chair.

“You’ve done a lot of work since I was here last. Must’ve cost a lot of money, speaking of money…” Gimme gimme, I need my money and I need to go eat something. My ribs still hurt from the basket of explosives.

“I sent for one of my men to get you your cash when I saw you pull in. Just kick back for a couple minutes, it’ll be here shortly.” He finishes with his turret, tossing the tool back into its box and pulling down the plating covering the insides of his harpoon launcher. I’m still confused about that. Well, if I’m being forced to wait, may as well ask.

“Why harpoons? You’d assume bullets would work just as well, usually better.” He chuckles as I walk back to my bike for a (somewhat) comfortable seat.

“Bullets don’t stop the Bat’s car. These things will tear it to shreds.” I can almost hear his smile at that thought. He’s really thirsty for revenge isn’t he. Let’s keep poking at him.

“What do you have against the Bat anyway? I’ve never heard of you before so it’s weird to see you come out of left field with a hatred for him almost as intense as the Joker’s.” He spins around to look at me.

“Don’t speak that clown’s fucking name! As for why I’m doing this, fuck off. It’s not your business.” Hm. Well done me. You’ve effectively shut down any chances for conversation with the only person in this place willing to talk to you. Jason leaves me on my bike and goes to stare at Tim. The occasional goons I keep seeing are not only busy but refuse to meet my eyes. Time to wait in silence until my cash gets here.

Thankfully, it doesn't take too long. Only 5 minutes from when he told me to wait. I trade the Jammer in the Hello Kitty backpack for my cash and go hop on my bike.

“Hey, mind opening the door for me? My job’s done here so I wanna go spend some of this before the next big thing comes along.” The Arkham Knight doesn’t even speak to me, just waves his hand and one of his men runs over to the door and flips the switch. Either he just refuses to talk to me now or he is way too busy inspecting Robin. I hope he’s looking at the kid and not my knots. I don’t know shit about how to tie them but goddamn I know I made like, 10 mistakes.

The warehouse door slowly raises itself and I pull out, only to come face to face with the Batmobile charging towards the entrance.

Where I am.

With all the cash I got from abducting his kid.

Oh fuck…

I crank the throttle and try to pull out of the way. I narrowly succeed in not becoming roadkill, or whatever Batman would call it. “Doesn’t kill” my ass, he did NOT slow down. Sadly, he clipped the back tire and sent my bike spinning out from underneath me. Leaving me on the ground and my hard earned funds still by the bike which stopped spinning a few feet away from me. One of the two duffel bags containing my money has broken open, but I can probably still salvage some of it.

I go to pull myself from the ground when a sharp pain in my leg stops me. I wince and have a look at it. No obvious breaks, so either a fracture of a very pulled muscle. Not good either way. No fighting in my condition. Not with a bad leg and what’s probably broken ribs.

I pull myself up from the ground properly now, without putting too much pressure on my leg, and limp towards my bike. I spare a glance inside the warehouse as I struggle towards it, and see Batman’s infamous car impaled by all five harpoons. Each slowly pulling against the marvel of engineering, ripping off its armor. One of the harpoons even hit Batman’s totally safe mounted auto-cannon, and effectively disarmed the car.

I can distantly hear Jason yelling at his men to keep them organized and on the lookout for the Bat himself. Something I’d question if I didn’t have inside knowledge that he can pilot the thing remotely.

I get to my bike just as I hear glass break and frantic yelling drown out the Arkham Knight’s calm-but-loud orders. Guess Bruce Wayne himself finally decided to show. Means that it really is time to get out of here. I throw the broken duffel on like a backpack, since that way the tear will be up against my back and I should lose less that way. With that done, I pull the bike up off the ground and start driving away. I refuse to be involved in that shitshow any longer. No more money to earn means it’s no longer my problem.

Pulling out of the alleyway I pass by Batgirl arriving by Bat-bike. I swear and curse my luck like there’s no tomorrow but it seems saving Tim is more important than capturing me. Thank the lord for priority objectives.

With the Bats all busy with family drama, I get all the way home without issues. I hide my money in my closet with the rest and make myself some goddamn food. I know I should go to Leslie and her to make sure my healing factor sets things right, but my leg is killing me, so I’m just going to risk it.

— — — — —

I woke up the next day feeling pretty damn refreshed, and I did a whole lot of stretching to see if my healing went well. It did. I won’t need to use the Doctor’s services unless I’m really fucking injured. Nice to know.

Today was the day I was supposed to finalize my buy on the house. You know, the one that I was going to use as a shelter? Now that the time has come though I don’t really feel like doing that. I heard Jason trying to corral his men against the infamous Bat last night, and those trained soldiers couldn’t keep it together. Why would my homeless? Yeah, I need a new plan for the protection of my safe zone, but maybe I should simplify it. Just have people report to me if they see a crime? Should work well enough. I still want the house though. Just not for them. I spent too long earning this money to waste it on something that might not work.

Fifty thousand dollars and some strong-arming the realtor into taking it in cash, and I’m now the proud owner of a one story home with a basement. The basement is damn near covered in mold, but otherwise it’s actually quite nice. Besides, the mold doesn’t do anything to me. I’m a Witcher, mundane toxins and the like don’t harm me. I think. God I wish I had a bestiary or something. Did they keep a page on themselves? I just need to know more about what I’m capable of.

I move most of my shit over to my new place, but I still keep the key for my apartment and will keep paying rent. Bruce Strong flaked out on his rent 3 times in a row, no way the landlady would believe I’m rich enough to get a new place with legal funds. If she reports me to the police I could end up on Batman’s radar, even if that outcome is unlikely.

Speaking of the Bat, there actually wasn’t any news of last night's confrontation in the news today. I suppose Batman managed to keep it quiet somehow. Maybe Jason did his dramatic reveal and dear ol’ daddy doesn’t want his dead son branded a criminal? Who can say? I did see something noteworthy on one of my news sites, the Iceberg Lounge finally re-opened. I might be able to sell my fucking painting. It’s been left gathering dust in my storage unit for how long now? It’ll be nice to get some use out of it. I could sell the Glass Eye I stole as well but I kind of like it as a decoration so I’m keeping that one.

I finish most of my unpacking and head over to the storage facility. Gotta check on the painting and probably take a couple pictures of it so I can prove I have it in my possession. When I get to my locker though, my mood sours. The lock is broken. I pull open the door and…

It’s not there. Someone took my painting. Wait, they took Lycaon’s painting…

Fuck! If someone checked who rented this one they would know who I am! The hell do I do!

Okay, calm down. Focus. You are a witcher. Witcher’s hunt things, so use your senses and start hunting.

Immersing myself in my senses, I pick up a smell. Perfume? Smells a bit like flowers. Alright, the scent is leading me this way, towards the office. It leads to the desk and the ledger of rented units is on the desk, pretty sure the worker’s aren’t supposed to leave that out which means they know my civilian identity. Fucking hell, this is a nightmare. I continue chasing the scent out of the office and towards the parking lot. It gets to one of the spots, and cuts off. It takes me a moment to piece my target’s next move together.

They got in a fucking car. I don’t know what I was expecting. I have a hunch though. I mean, come on, a thief that wears women’s perfume? There’s only one I know of in Gotham. Let’s see if I can’t track down Selena Kyle. Maybe I can have her give me my painting back. Or just let her know not to tell other people about my identity, since I know hers. That’s as good a plan as any. I need to be quick though, before she decides to sell that info to her intermittent lover Bruce Wayne. That would spell the end of me.

With extreme haste, I speed all the way back to my house and begin researching her. I found, as expected, nothing all that helpful. That is, until I went on the message boards.

You see, even in this universe there are disgruntled and insane ex-girlfriends/boyfriends who feel the need to keep in touch with their beloved. Even if their beloved would love nothing more than for them to finally adhere to the restraining order. Some of these people documented how they kept in touch with them and knew where they were at all times. It was from them I learned how to find out the registered address of a cell phone.

You need either software or an app, and thankfully this blogpost has a link to one that works, as well as the cell phone number of the person you’re trying to track down. It seems Selena doesn’t know about this method of tracking since her phone number is on her OneMind (a FaceBook equivalent. Put me through a loop when I saw it too).

A bit of work, and a little money to those greedy mothfuckers on the site charging me 2 bucks for the info, and I know where she lives. A high-rise apartment in a skyscraper downtown. Expensive place. I don’t have the room number but that’s easy enough to find out once I’m there. Now how do I want to handle this visit? Show up in costume or not? A show of force might be helpful but when I look at my armor now…

The cheap plastic armor pieces are covered in cracks and entire parts have fallen off. There are rips all over the clothing with the most obvious being a tear all the way down the leg from when Batman nearly ran me over. At least the helmet still looks good! But still, showing up in that would send the wrong message. Plus, it would be a little embarrassing to go to a skyscraper full of rich people in what amounts to rags. Seems like diplomacy is the way to go, and hey, it worked last time I had to do it.

— — — — —

Her building’s receptionist was not strong-willed enough to resist Axii and she parted with the information I was looking for quite easily. Even let me into the elevators, which you would normally need a keycard for. I’m looking for room 717, she’s staying there. Apparently has been living here a long time, at least according to the receptionists standards. As I walk down the hall I note that Halloween decorations are all over the walls. I completely forgot that Halloween is right around the corner. What day is it even?

The fucking 29th. I haven’t even been here a full month. Hell, maybe I should take a vacation. Though, where would I go? Not Metropolis, Supes could probably tell I’m a bad man just by listening to my heartbeat from across the city. Not Flash, knowing my luck I’d throw my costume on as he runs by and get caught in a split-second. Yeah, I’ll table the vacation. Revisit it later.

Hey, here’s her apartment! Okay, you practiced in the shower. You know what to say. Don’t fuck this up dumbass. Knock Knock.

I hear her approach the door and take a moment before opening. Likely checking the peephole. She eventually cracks the door.

“Hi, who are you? Why are you here” Ah, what a warm greeting. About ten times better than the one I got from Old Henderson.

“Hi, yes. I believe you’ve taken something from me. It was large, rectangular, and I would like to get it back. May I come in so we can peacefully discuss the fine details of any possible deal.” I say as cordially as possible. Yeah, this was the best I could come up with. How the hell do you tell a cat burglar that you want your shit back and name kept secret without it sounding like a threat? This was as close as I could get.

She closes the door and walks away. I decide to count to ten before blowing it open with Aard. Luckily I don’t have to as she approaches the door again when I get to seven. I hear her unlock the door and she swings it open to reveal her pointing a gun at me. Is this just how people greet each other in Gotham? She sees the look on my face and cracks a tiny smile.

“What? Selena Kyle has a concealed carry license. You should’ve known that if you managed to track me down. Only one other person has managed to do that so far, and he came more prepared than you.” I know she meant that to be a dig at my character, but I know the person that tracked her down was the world’s greatest detective so being compared to him really doesn’t hurt my pride or anything.

I take a moment to burn the visage of yet another comic book character into my eyes. The black haired cat-burglar stands in front of me. Shorter, at what I’m going to say is 5 feet and 6-8 inches, but I know better than to look down on someone shorter than me. I got my shit rocked by a middle schooler after all, after that you stop underestimating everyone. No fighting, we're here on diplomacy.

She beckons me in with the gun, “Come on in Bruce Strong, let’s get to talking.” I raise my hands up and walk around her as she closes the door behind me. Inspecting it shows it has three locks attached but I only heard one being used? Doesn’t matter now since she flips all of them on with me inside. Using her gun she points me toward the couch in her living room. A living room that is very pink, almost stereotypically girly.

“Go on, take a seat. You said you wanted to make a deal? What are you looking for in particular? Though before that, tell me how you found me.” Yeah, it makes sense that she would want to know about that before the deal. I just showed up one day at the place she considers truly safe. Probably is imagining whatever villain she decides to steal from next will show up here next and not be nearly as friendly. Sadly I can’t tell her about the phone thing since that would be exposing my insider knowledge. Or I guess outsider knowledge would be more appropriate.

“I am an extremely good tracker. Your perfume was quite distinct.” Wow, that sounds so fucking creepy when you say it out loud, what the fuck is wrong with me.

“You’re a Meta?” Oh thank god she’s glossing over it. “Interesting. You said you tracked me by scent? Damn, I like that perfume. They sell scentless ones, but they’re so expensive for just making you smell like, well, nothing.” She sits in an extremely fluffy chair to the left of the couch I’m sat on.

“If it helps, I’m probably the only one that can track you like this. Though if you swap perfumes you’d need to swap your shampoo as well. I can pick that up quite clearly too.” She scowls at my words.

“That does not help. Also it’s a very bold claim to say that you’re the only one that can track people this way. Ugh, whatever, let’s move on. You said you wanted a deal for the painting back. I can tell you now, not happening.” Fuck, I don’t know how much that was going to earn me but apparently all it’s ever going to earn me now is a bill to the storage facility.

“It’s not the painting that I’m desperate for as much as insurance that my identity won’t find its way to the hands of the media one day. Though it would be nice to get some compensation. I mean, I was going to sell that before you took it.” In my mind I sold it for yet another 50k. Maybe she’ll give me 5%? I can't imagine a kleptomaniac parting with more than that. And I do have a pretty large lump sum right now. It would be nice if she tried being cordial. At this rate I'll try a fight even if I know I'd lose.

Stop, stop. Diplomacy. Don't get mad, pride is meaningless before cash and survival.

“Sorry, but once I get my claws in something I don’t let it go.” Please don’t tell me the cat and claw metaphors will be a recurring thing with her. “As for the matter of who you are, you don’t need to worry, I won’t tell anyone. I’ll just need you to do something for me first.” Ah, yes. Is this the witcher’s curse? Everytime you need someone to do something for you they make you do something else before you get what you came to them for? I’m sorry Geralt. I know how this feels now. Also what a bitch.

“Hah,” I sigh, “Fine. Depending on what it is though, you will pay me. I don’t work for free and your promise to keep a secret will only get me to go so far.” I stare her in the eye, with a hard look on my face as I accept this to make her understand that I’m not negotiating this part of our talks. If her job is anything even remotely dangerous to Lycaon I’m getting a fucking paycheck.

“Well, that seems like a fine deal to me. I want you to investigate something for me. I would have someone else do it but I have a feeling they’d hurt more than help with this situation.” She says while placing her gun on the living room table. Wait, she doesn’t want to use Bat’s skills for this?

“What, is your usual man a shoot first, ask questions later type? Too delicate a job for him?”

“Yeah, I guess you could say he is. That’s besides the point though. Your job is to do some searching for me in the forest west of town. I have a nice cabin I share with someone out there and I saw some unusual things when I went visiting a couple days ago.” At this point, despite myself, I started getting excited. I mean, this is a bona-fide “Witcher Contract”. Go investigate something strange in the woods for a reward. A classic. If only I wasn't being coerced into it.

“Unusual? Got any extra details I could use?” Please don’t make me go off of ‘unusual’ alone. Last time I went into a forest and just looked at shit I think I was 7. Unusual if everything in the goddamn place.

“Oh, you know. Mutilated hiker and camper corpses. Roots that were out of place in impossible formations.” Very fucking unusual. And bad for me. This is one of two things and I don’t like either. Let’s ask about the in-universe option after I finish hearing about the bodies.

“Mutilated how? Come on, give me the details properly.” She shoots me an indignant look, like she hasn’t been extremely vague with her short descriptions.

“Claw marks. Large, I’d have said a bear but we don’t have them in that forest. They had also been fed on for a few days by other wildlife in that forest. That good enough?”

“Hm. Yeah, should be fine for now, I’ll see them soon enough. Now, you said roots in an impossible formation. That means I need to ask, is Poison Ivy out of Arkham? Because if she is then I can tell you now that it was her.” I’ve barely finished speaking before she jumps in.

“Last I checked, she was still inside. I don’t think she has it in her to sneak out quietly. All of her breakouts usually end with giant man-eating plants. If she did though, well, you’ll be the one to find out, won’t you?” I can’t argue with that logic, though it doesn’t feel good to have to accept it. Using me like this is kind of grating. I don't want to start shit here, not with someone capable of holding their own against Batman. I'd summon my gun and she'd have either disarmed me or put three bullets in my chest. Not worth it.

“Earlier, you said you share a cabin with someone, mind telling me what they look like? I can keep an eye out for them while I’m searching.” She purses her lips and thinks on it for a few moments. Why so hesitant here? It's a gesture of goodwill...

“I think I’ll keep it to myself. She hasn’t been in the woods for a while now, and even if she did go in she would be safe. I appreciate the offer though. Any other details or are you going to get working soon?” She gives me a look, filled with annoyance and impatience. Either she really wants safe access to that cabin, or she’s really annoyed with me interrupting her day off. I'm betting it's access she's looking for. Why? Well, what would a cat burglar have a Cabin in the woods for if not stashed goods. Steal my painting, will you? Well, I'll help myself to whatever's inside. Should more than make up my losses.

“Yeah, just the big important ones. Where are the bodies and where’s the cabin?” Her eyes widen and her mouth opens a bit. I see she’s come to the realization that she hasn’t actually told me where to look besides ‘a forest to the west’. Which isn’t very helpful.

“Right, yes! I’ll give you directions to the trail, just give me a moment to write them down.” Selena quickly hops out her chair with… with a… Catlike grace.

Fuck, I’m doing Cat metaphors for her now. I need to leave before all my descriptors become feline in nature. She comes back after a couple moments with the directions written on a post-it note.

“Alright, with this, you can leave me alone right?” Yeah, guess that’s one way to tell a guest to leave. Selena begins unlocking her door and I take one quick look around the place for anything noteworthy. I see nothing suiting my tastes, though I don’t doubt everything in here is expensive. As a personal 'fuck you' I steal the remote to her television. Because fuck her.

She swings the door open once done unlocking, and gestures for me to leave. As I step out her door, she slaps the note on my back, laughs, and tells me I have a week to find the problem or my identity is fair game. Then she slams the door and locks it again. We didn’t agree on a time limit! What the fuck is that bullshit!

I debate blasting her door out of its frame in protest, but that’s not only petty, but also is practically giving her permission to tell people about me. So instead, I leave the building, huffing, grumbling, and swearing vengeance the whole way down. Once I leave though, the anger leaves me in favour of excitement and a bit of nerves. After all, this is my first real contract. Jason’s doesn’t count since I was practically just a thug.

My first contract, and based on the info given, betting Leshen makes the most sense. But I’m not in the witcher universe, so maybe there’s something I’m missing? Then again, last I checked, Grundy doesn’t come back with other zombies. Something’s up, and I have a feeling it’s pretty damn important.

Maybe if I ask…

‘Hey Astaroth, any chance you can clear things up for me? Are the universes melding together? I know you can read my mind so don’t act like you can’t hear me right now.’

No response. Figures. I’m a toy to amuse him, why would he answer my questions? Bastard.

I walk off, thinking about how the hell I could deal with a Leshen. If it is one. I hope my gun’s magical properties will allow it to deal with the creature swiftly, but I somehow doubt things will work out that easily for me. Plus, Leshens can turn in dark grey clouds, and I doubt I can shoot a cloud to death. Not to mention they can teleport when they’re a cloud. Yeah, I need a close range option. One better than using my gun as a club.

Wonder if there are any blacksmiths in Gotham? Might be time I get myself one of those fancy swords, even if they’ll be next to useless against human opponents since I’m not trained in sword fighting. Besides, if we’re being honest, against a human opponent a gun will work far better than a sword about 97% of the time. We don’t talk about the other 3% since those are the superhumans I wouldn’t be able to touch even if I was sword trained.

I should also get an armor upgrade. Anything that can actually protect from harm would be a thousand times better than the costume left in tatters in my closet right now. Maybe my blacksmith doubles as an armorer?

So many things to do, and only a week to do them. Well, better get to work, I finally have a monster to hunt.

E — N — D

Spoiler: Author's note.

Another 5k! Woohoo! I’m not sure on the quality of this one, I’m tired from working retail in the holiday season plus I think I’m coming down with something, but I hope you all enjoy it! My early Christmas gift for all of you, I suppose.

I tried to act like I wasn’t going to give him a sword because he’s getting one next chapter. Like, c’mon guys, how did you manage to ask for it literally as I’m about to give it to him. Uncanny timing. Also, his first real contract. You could count the job with the Arkham Knight, but for all the pay he got, it wasn’t the same as hunting down a beast in exchange for coin and a favour.

Also, if you guys do want to see specific things implemented from the games, let me know. I do plan on making Lycaon a fairly competent witcher by the end of the series. Don’t worry about if he’s staying a villain though. After all, witchers work for coin and Mercs fall in the villain category in the DC universe. Since that’s who they usually get hired by.

As always, see you guys in the next one, and feel free to roast my conversational writing. Everytime I read it, it feels less real and I don’t know if that’s just a writer thing or if I fucked it that bad. My excuse is the slight feeling of sickness. I should put these notes in a spoiler tag so people can scroll past them shouldn’t I? Well, if I figure out how to, this one will be in there. See y’all.

 

Chapter 11 - The birds are singing…

— — — — —

The day is shining, the air feels more breathable, and the streets don’t smell of piss. What happened to Gotham?

Nothing, it’s still a shithole. Today I find myself in the outskirts of Metropolis attending a renaissance fair. My online searches for blacksmiths and armorers didn’t turn out too well for anything inside Gotham, and I guess people working steel for hours on end don’t find time to build themselves a website for marketing purposes.

It doesn’t take me too long to find a blacksmith’s hut, and the man outside is working on a sword with an open air forge right beside the main walkway. A decent sized crowd has gathered to watch the man work, so I guess I’ll try to find an armorer until later when the people start to clear out. I can ask him how much a custom made sword would cost then.

As I walk around the fair, I spy the jousting arena. I know I’m here on business, but I can’t resist stopping for a good 30 minutes to watch the contestants battle for supremacy. I watched Game of Thrones and its prequel, House of the Dragon. They do a pretty good job of conveying how exciting it is to attend one of these events. Still doesn’t compare to actually being there, but then again, what does?

Once they crown a champion of jousting, the fair “Sir Branstein”, they move onto the next event. I was about to leave and continue my search but when I hear it’s sword fighting I turn my ass around and get back in the seat.

I might not have my sword yet, but I’ll need to see how people fight with it so I can start teaching myself. Or hell, maybe once I’m done with what I believe to be a Leshen, I can find one of these guys and ask for training. I do need something to do now that I’ve stopped going to the boxing gym everyday.

My favourite style of fighting comes from the ‘heel’ of the event, the dishonorable ‘Sir Renard’. He fights very aggressively, always on the attack and batting blows away with his steel gauntlets instead of parrying with the blade. He tends to leave himself open, but compensates for that by keeping them on defense, refusing to let them take advantage of the opens lest his opponents take a blow as well. He also fights dirty. Throwing dirt in the others eyes, punching and kicking when not expected. If I didn’t know this was absolutely a scripted event I’d be booing with the crowd too, but I just admire how he’s fighting and am trying to work out how to incorporate it into my own original style of combat.

As he battles his way through the tournament bracket, I find myself trying to copy his arm motions from up in the back of the stands. I’m no fast learner, but I know that instead of blocking blades with a gauntlet on my arm I can cast Quen instead, so I start doing the motion of the sign whenever he performs a block in that way. In my mind, I feel the idea of my sword style solidify itself. I’ll still be shit at it, but at least I know what I want to do.

Eventually, since it’s a scripted event, he loses the final round to a blond knight with a large smile on his face, who refuses to do anything but fight honorably. A bit disappointing, but I always did tend to root for villains in anything I read or watched since you knew they were going to lose at the end of the day. Sometimes you just want to see them succeed and shake things up a little, you know?

Once I leave the arena with everyone else I see that all the Knights are giving out autographs around the exit. My favourite doesn’t have nearly as many going to him to get their souvenirs signed, so I pick up a wooden sword from a nearby stand for 10 bucks and approach him.

“Hey, Renard, right? You were pretty good out there. I liked how you fought, and I was thinking of trying out sword fighting myself. Do you have any tips for me? Oh, could you sign this as well, please?” He smiles as he hears my words, and he pulls a sharpie out of seemingly nowhere as I give him my wooden sword.

“Of course! Always glad to meet a fan! You say you want to try out sword fighting yourself? Well, my main tip would first be to always keep the blade pointed away from you. Sounds simple and obvious, but you wouldn’t believe how many people cut themselves open their first time trying to use a sword. One of my oldest friends actually sliced his leg open when he tried to replicate something he saw in one of my performances. For an actual tip, should you try to parry a blow, don’t meet it head on and try to stop it. You always want to deflect the blade away from your body. Not only is it easier, it’s better on your blade and safer.” He gave me a pretty helpful tip and a warning not to be a gigantic moron, which I appreciate.

He hands back my wooden blade and I see written down the side “To a prospective swordsman; I wish you the best! - Sir Renard.” Cool, I’m gonna put this on my wall. Why not, it’s pretty barren at the moment.

I thank him for the tip and get back to what I came here for. A few twists and turns from the arena I find a vendor selling armor. I browse what they have, which is mostly full plate. In the corner there is some leather armor though, something that upon inspection, nearly fits me. Not too expensive either, only around $400 for the set, which consists of a chestpiece, shoulder guards, bracers for my forearms, and greaves that should be able to allow me to stay fully mobile. There was the waist/thigh armor thing too, which I learned is called a tasset.

I ask the clerk how much it would cost to have the armor resized to fit me, and if I could possibly get it dyed, and she calls out someone who I’m going to guess is either the manager of this shop or the person that made it. After talking with them and doing some measurements he tells me that the armor actually does fit, it’s just tight naturally. Leather usually should be and is tight naturally. He decides to let me try it on, and to my surprise he’s right. It is tight, but not in a bad way. I do some stretches and see that I am afforded almost a complete range of motion. I ask him about the dye job and he tells me that they can do that for $150 and that I could pick it up at the end of the day.

I tell him I’d like it black and he nods before we go our separate ways. I head back to the blacksmith and see his area is far less crowded so I head over. He’s taking a break from smithing at the moment and sitting on a wooden chair drinking from a flask. He locks eyes with me as I approach.

“Hey, I saw you smithing earlier, looked pretty damn good. I was wondering if you took requests?” He grins ear to ear.

“Finally! I’ve been smithing all day and no one bought anything. They just kept pointing and watching. Yes, I can do a commission. What would you like?” Wow, he’s had it rough. I showed up here a few hours after the fair started, so he’s been going at it for what, 6 hours now? I couldn’t imagine doing something as strenuous as smithing for that long without earning anything.

“You have any silver back there by chance? I’m in the market for a silver sword. I’m also willing to pay extra for a rush job.” He tilts his head down and thinks for a bit.

“I have enough to make a silver plating that would surround a steel core. Would that work for you, or are you looking for a blade made entirely of silver?” That’s a damn good question man. I don’t think that the core of the blade matters, since it's completely surrounded by silver. But what if there was some magical reason it needed to be completely silver? No, no. You’re overthinking it, Lycaon. Just take what he has on hand.

“The core will be fine, mind giving me a timeframe on how long it will take for my sword to be ready?” Please be like, 2 two days.

“Well, I could have it ready tomorrow at the end of the day if you wanted to pay for a super rush job. Since it’ll take me about 10 hours of straight work with my power tools.” Oh thank god.

“What about your shop here?” No you idiot! Stop being polite and worrying about their stuff! You’re not Canadian anymore!

“Don’t worry about it, I share a workshop with a couple others, I should be able to get Sandra or Dave to cover for me tomorrow.” He taps his finger on his chin while doing mental calculus. “So, for a normal rush job, which I’d finish in 2-3 days, I’d charge 50% extra. For the super I’m charging double. Your sword will come out to, and brace yourself, this will be expensive, $2500 dollars normally. Which option do you want?”

My eyes widened dramatically at the cost of the sword. I always knew these things were expensive. I mean, in the games the expensive, well-made swords cost thousands of gold pieces, not to mention forging the witcher swords in particular. I decide to bite the bullet.

“Give me the super rush job. Quick, before I change my mind.” I say in a lifeless tone. Just agreeing to give up five thousand on something that could’ve cost half that hurts me in a way nothing else can. But I need the sword so I can start investigating the forest.

“Sure thing. Hey, mind giving me your number? I’ll call you once I finish so you can come pick it up.”

“Yeah, here.” I hand him my phone and he types in his number before sending himself a text message that reads ‘Silver Sword: Super Rush’. He hands it back and runs off to get started. I think.

Wait, I never asked the dude his name. Ah well. I can get it once he’s done with the sword.

I swing back to the armor shop and pick up my freshly dyed leather armor. Looking very stylish in all black. Besides that it’s quite plain but I prefer it that way. The main draw of Lycaon’s costume isn’t his armor but his wolf helm. That’s his symbol, so everything else can be background in comparison.

Taking the armor, I check in to a hotel and wait there for my sword to be ready. I kill the time watching tv and ordering food until I get the message that my blade is ready to be picked up, alongside a cheeky reminder to bring the money. Luckily I was smart and brought way more than I thought was necessary, so it wasn’t much of an issue.

Arriving at the lobby of their building, called “The Four-ge” I get greeted by the smith I talked to at the festival waiting at the desk with my blade in hand. As I hand over fifty one hundred dollar bills, I get his name. Walter. I unsheath and pick up the blade as he counts my money to make sure I didn’t stiff. Giving it a few practice swings I’m kind of amazed at how well made this is for being done in one day. It feels natural in my hand, and I’ve never wielded a sword before. Not to mention how it shines…

I think Walter noticed how I was looking at the blade, and proudly commented on it. Saying that “Even though silver is kind of a shit material for a blade, far too weak, it came out pretty good.”

He also told me “If you actually use the thing, note that it is very fragile. Silver is almost half as strong as steel, so it’ll chip and crack far easier. Bring it back if you need repairs.” He then thanked me for the patronage and wandered off into the back of the workshop. I sheathed my sword and left the building. Time to head back to Gotham and get started on my hunt.

— — — — —

Going to the scene of the killings was a little annoying. The instructions were fine, it’s just that no one told me just how unkempt the trails in the forest are. Foliage grows over and across the path, and I have to bat away branches just so that I can walk. I’m tempted to burn this whole place down if that wouldn’t make me Poison Ivy’s archnemesis and earn me the undying ire of ‘The Green’. That’s some cosmic force DC has that animates all plant life. I already have one cosmic force making me do tricks for him, I don’t need another trying to kill me.

Eventually, after an inordinate amount of cursing and swatting away flies, I arrive at the Cabin. It’s actually quite nice, something you might expect to see a rich outdoorsy aunt own that you visit over the summer. The only thing that shows its current disuse is the buildup of dust on the windows and the overgrown plants on and around the building.

Before I enter and try to find out why Selena wanted access to this place so badly, I do a quick scan for any signs of the Leshen. Despite straining my vision as much as I can, I see nothing out of the ordinary. No tracks left by it, no claw marks on the side of the Cabin, no totems, which I just remembered are something Leshens can have. It would be weird for it to hover around a human structure anyway. Yeah, I should be safe to examine the inside of this place.

If anyone asks, I’ll swear I tried looking for a key, or I checked if the door was unlocked before I used Aard to turn the door into shrapnel. With a full grin, I wait for the cloud of dust I created to fall back to the floor before starting a thorough examination for anything useful to me.

Senses cranked to the max once more, it doesn’t take long for hidden spaces underneath floorboards and drawers with false bottoms to reveal themselves. Pulling the building apart, I can see why Selena was desperate. There has to be, shit, at least 50k in just jewels here. Another 50k in physical cash was stashed behind a painting inside a safe. That should have taken some effort to crack open, but with enhanced hearing it was a cakewalk. I could hear the clicks of the lock given as clearly as someone snapping their fingers.

I’m tempted to just run with this now and come back for the Leshen after all of this is safely placed within my home. But knowing just how lucky I am, (ie. Not very.) I decide to err on the side of caution, and remove the threat to my health before paying myself very generously. I know that stealing from a kleptomaniac is as bad as stealing an addict’s drugs, but if she treated me better before sending me to make her safehouse safe again, maybe I’d have played nicer and left her things alone. As it stands, the bitch deserves this. If she disagrees and tries to get it back? Well, I may think pride is meaningless, but at a certain point you’ll need to make an example of the person trying to take advantage of you. I have a reputation as a Merc to uphold. Which I really should get the word out that I’m a Merc. Maybe Jonah will help me?

I lay my things underneath one of the beds here, one covered in red hair. I’ll admit that I was curious as to who would be a close enough friend to Catwoman that she’d share the location of a safehouse with them, but there were no photos left in this place and no clues beside the hair left on the pillow. Regardless, I’ll take note. Might be useful, might not.

Now, back to the hunt. There were bodies, supposedly she found them on the path up but they weren’t there on my trek through the forest. Checking the post-it I see that they should be about 2 or 3 minutes back, at least according to whatever walking speed Selena uses when on the trail.

I follow the path again, scratching my hand, and finally notice why I missed them the first time through. They were dragged off the path by… Wolves. Yeah I think that’s what these claw and teeth marks match. They left the campers alone after eating their fill, but ruined a lot of the information I could gleam from the bodies.

Scratching my hand more, I rise up and… Why the fuck is my hand so itchy!? I keep scratching my hand. It doesn’t help. It’s just my left hand too, which is weird as fuck, the only thing that’s different between my right hand and my left is that the Brand is on…

I rip off the glove on my left, and see the Brand bleeding. My heart begins to beat quickly as I place my body on high alert, expecting more zombies or some other group of creatures that want to eat my heart just as bad. Wait, maybe the Leshen?

I spend a few minutes swiveling my head around, but nothing shows, so I go back to inspecting my hand. The bleeding mark isn’t nearly as bad as it was that night in the precinct, so I guess that means whatever is causing this isn’t close. Ugh, this likely means something useful, but since I don’t know what it means, all it’s doing is distracting me.

Glaring at the Brand, I go to lower my hand and continue the search when I finally notice something a little off putting. My blood isn’t flowing correctly from the Brand. It bleeds, but instead of the blood dripping down, off my hand, it’s flowing… Left?

Curious, I raise my hand so it’s vertical in front of me, and it’s still clearly flowing left. It only begins to obey gravity once it reaches the edge of my hand. It’s pointing me towards something. Towards whatever’s causing the bleeding. Useful, though the itching will get really annoying.

I send my gloves back to my closet, I won’t be needing them for the rest of this hunt. Following the compass made of my blood through the forest, I eventually find myself on the outskirts of what I’m deciding to call the Leshen’s Grove. A surprisingly large clearing in the forest with a grand tree in the middle. Totems surround the tree at its base, and I see plenty of crows resting in the tree and on the totems themselves. Fuck, they could control crows couldn’t they? Was it just crows, or was it all animals in the forest? Man, what I wouldn’t give for a witchers bestiary.

Eventually, I see a shambling beast enter the grove. Tall as shit, with wood for a body. It’s deer skull gazing blankly as crows fly onto its antlers. I spy at the claws, likely the #1 threat to my safety, they also appear to be made of wood, yet the blood dripping from them attests to their sharpness.

Fucking hell, I’m really about to do this, aren’t I? This is what I made the preparations for. Okay, let’s go kill this thing. I hide behind a tree to hide the flames of my rifle being summoned. I peek back out at I don’t see it looking at my position, nor do I see birds coming to swarm me.

Okay, steady breathing. Gun up, aim for the skull first, it’s like the thing’s head, right? If I’m lucky, this’ll end it before it has a chance to fight back. Focus now, Lycaon. Keep your aim steady, breathe in, hold it…

A crack resounds through the forest as my bullet impacts the Leshen in the skull. The monster stumbles, but as it regains its balance, it screams. Unsettling, sure, but ultimately—

The crows join in his screaming, and I reflexively find myself covering my ears as the cacophony of shrill screeches drown out all the natural sounds of the woods. I shake off the distress, and level my gun at the Leshen once more. I let loose 2 more shots at it, but to my displeasure, the impacts only gave the beast “flesh” wounds, they didn't maim, and they certainly didn't bring me any closer to killing the damn thing. Why isn’t the gun working? It killed the undead fine enough!

I have no time to contemplate the intricacies of my weaponry as the Leshen points at me before turning to a dark fog-like cloud. After a moment, the creatures within the grove answer to its command. The crows take flight directly at me. As my eyes widen, I unsummon my rifle and bring the sword to its place, while the other hand lashes out in front of me with a protective Igni, to keep the birds at bay.

My faith in the bird's common sense seems to have been misplaced, since instead of flying back or around the wave of fire, they elect to take the shortest path to me. Straight through it. I now find myself being bombarded by flaming avians instead of getting a moment to breathe and reassess the situation.

The birds are relentless, they swarm me, trying to peck and claw my eyes out, or just any piece of exposed skin really. Like my hands. The scratches and small wounds are adding up, and if that wasn’t bad enough I can hear the Leshen walking closer now, seems it’s left cloud form.

I know that if it reaches me while the birds are still keeping me suppressed, it’s over, but I don’t know how to bring them all down…

As a beak finds itself driven into my Brand, I snap. I yell louder than a man should be able to, a warcry for the ages as I drive my hand towards the ground. I direct as much power towards it as I can, and cast my sign.

Aard releases itself as a wave around me, knocking the birds away from me onto the ground, and most importantly, letting me think. I back away from the Leshen as I assess the crows, and see that they appear to be concussed. They are tiny creatures, it makes sense that a concussive blast of Aard is enough to take ‘em down. With that, I turn my entire focus onto the Woodland Beast.

It continues shambling towards me, and I grip my blade tight, grit my teeth, and meet it in the middle. Casting Quen as I swing my blade, the glow overtakes me and provides a true feeling of safety. My blade crashes into its chest, leaving a deep mark. It tries to bat me away, but my boxing training has left me with one of my more prized skills, great footwork. I step back and lean just out of its range before leaping back in with an overhead slash.

Another mark is left on it, and even though it can’t emote, I swear I can see its face twist in anger. It screams again, and buries its claws in the earth. Roots covered in thorns burst out of the earth, attempting to bury their sharp tips in my stomach. I dodge by leaping out of the way, but not fast enough, as one clips my leg breaking Quen and another hits my side, leaving a deep cut just below my ribs.

Groaning with pain as I rose back to my feet, I saw that my enemy wasn’t just watching his attack to see if it would hit. He was summoning more aid, this time in the form of grey coated wolves, with dried blood covering their snouts. Guess these were the mutts that ate the campers.

5 of them means that unlike the birds, I do have a way of dealing with them quickly. A small burst of flame and I’m left with my revolver in my left hand. As I put three shots into their targets, taking down the wildlife that let out soul-crushing yelps, the Leshen began using more roots to try and put me down for good. He saw what worked and is trying to abuse it, kudos to him, he’s learning. I need to finish this before he learns too much about how I fight.

Dodging more roots properly, I put the last two wolves down and re-cast Quen. It might not hurt him, but I summon my rifle back to my hands, temporarily replacing my sword in the hopes that the bullets will annoy him enough to make him want to come closer and disarm me.

To ensure peak irritation I place my rounds into the deer skull again, and this time I can see that my rifle is only strong enough to crack the skull. My plan worked though, the Leshen broke connection with the roots and decided to go cloud form to get within melee range. I bring my sword back out, and focus on one of the moves I saw at the fair. Sir Renard was using it against people with swords, but I can repurpose it, surely?

Once the Leshen gets where he wants to be, he storms out of the cloud, right arm already in motion for an overhead swing. This is my time. I raise my blade above my head as I step in and under the arm, the edge of my sliver both deflecting his wood-like claws and leaving deep gash as I use his own force against him. I follow through on the deflect and step around his body, slashing out the back of his right leg as well.

The Leshen stumbles and kneels down to the ground as it finds its body without the support it has grown used to. I see it desperately trying to slash behind its back with its other claw, but a quick backstep out of reach and it passes by me harmlessly. I leap back in with a thrust through its chest, and with a final screech, the Leshen’s body locks up, and breaks apart. Leaving behind a cracked deer skull and some small pieces of the wood-like material its body was made out of. I take a few deep breaths, and let a full grin wash over my face. I did it, I completed my first contract. Now I feel like I can truly call myself a witcher, without feeling like a two-bit imposter.

As I walk back to the Cabin with the loot the Leshen left behind, I think back on the fight, but more importantly, on my use of Aard. It was instinctual, using it there. But how did I do it? I always knew they existed, but I thought it would be outside of my reach, since I was only given basic mastery.

As I thought that, I swear I heard someone laughing at and mocking me, but my senses reassure me that there’s no one in the forest or the cabin, so I just ignore it. Probably my mind playing tricks on me. This means that I really should try and train my signs, since some of the uses would definitely save me from what would currently be death sentences.

I found and ate some berries on the way back to the cabin, so I’m in a good enough condition physically to carry everything back to my home. I’m lucky enough to avoid an encounter with the Bats or with the police as I ride back on my bike, and when I get inside and lock everything away, I send Selena a message about the job being complete to a number she gave me, but also added a note that her cabin was unfortunately raided before I got there. I told her I didn’t track them down since I wasn’t being paid to, and that if she wanted me to do so, I’d be willing to negotiate as equals. I debate for a second, before adding that if she tries to use my identity against me again, I will kill her.

I have my reasons for not fighting her, but they only go this far. I refuse to be a lackey without adequate compensation, and her trying to blackmail me into being one with my most important protection against Batman will not be accepted any longer.

She doesn’t respond to my message, but I do get a notification from my banking app that a ‘Kitty Kat’ sent $3,000 to my account. I’ll take that as acceptance of my words. I fucking deserve more than that, but since I helped myself to an obscene amount of wealth today, I’ll let it slide and add her to my list of “Clients to be unreasonably expensive with.” A list that so far, only has her on it.

I don’t have any mounts for the Leshen’s skull, so I just placed it on my dresser for now, and decided to kick back and relax for the rest of the night. I’ve earned it. Let’s watch some brainless television like “The Real Adventures of the Golden Girls”, which was, would you believe it, a superhero spin-off of the Golden Girls. For unintentional comedy television, this universe is a goldmine.

E — N — D

Spoiler: Author's note.

Another 5k. Good, I think I can keep up chapters of this size, even if it means I don’t update regularly. My sickness is mostly gone, though my throat is still killing me.

I hope y’all enjoyed this one, I actually had a lot of fun writing the Leshen fight, so I hope it flows well. Since Lycaon doesn’t have a bestiary on hand, I’ll use my omnipotent point of view to tell you that the Leshen was young, but had an affinity for building totems. It thought they were pretty.

I think next chapter or the one after I’ll get started on the Big Plot™ since I do kind of want the story to end eventually. I think this chapter put us at 50k, which is nutty, since I started this because I was bored and saw that like, no one was using the witcher powerset. I’m no skilled writer, so feel free to leave comments if I messed up, but this one I’m happy with.

Last thing, did you guys know how expensive swords are? Like, it’s kind of crazy. I did some rudimentary google searches since I didn’t want to write a dissertation about the prices of forging silver, and they can be upwards of 4k. I just said fuck it and threw down a price, since let’s be real, unless it’s super cheap or unreasonably expensive no one cares, right?

Thanks for reading, as always, and see y’all in the next one.

 

Chapter 12 - Trailing Mission

Been a while, yeah? My mind got the better of me, so motivation has been non-existent. We’ll see if I can make a proper return with this chapter or if very infrequent updates will be the new normal.

— — — — —

After the Leshen hunt, I spent a pretty decent amount of time lying low, and patrolling my area when I felt the need. The reason was because I wanted to get a handle on the new ability I demonstrated during the fight, Aard Sweep. At least, I think that’s what it was called. It was an instinctual use, but I’ve been trying to force myself to learn how to use it on command. Every single tool and ability in my arsenal adds to my ability to keep out of jail.

It took a couple weeks to get it to a usable point. Still not coming out as fast as I’d like, but there’s only so much training I can do before I feel the need to take a break.

Now though, as I sit on the couch and contemplate my next move with the news in the background, I decide to get to work on something that’s always been on my list of ‘things to deal with’. During my patrols, I often came across drug dealers. Now, I don’t really have any issues with what people decide to do in their free time. You want to make an unholy concoction of every drug known to mankind? Feel free, so long as you aren’t forcing anyone else to come along.

What I do have an issue with, is the fact that these dealers don’t really care about how old their buyers are. I haven’t actually seen the deals themselves go down, but I’ve seen what looked to be 7th graders walk into an alley, and come out with some plastic bags, filled with white powder.

I don’t necessarily want my small piece of the city to be a utopia, but I wish they’d at least pretend they didn’t live in the worst city in America while they’re here. Is not selling to children such a large ask?

I’ve actually tried to get some information about the dealers and their suppliers or bosses before, but the low level point-of-sale guys don’t actually know that much, and there’s been less of them around since I tend to scare them shitless. I’m also just one guy, who can’t patrol that much because if Batman figures out I show my face on a regular schedule I’m sure he could find time to re-introduce my face to the floor.

So, I might need to do something I wasn’t about to follow up on. I originally wanted to go to the Iceberg Lounge to find someone to buy some stolen goods. Now, I think I’ll need to subtly ask around for some kind of… what are they called? Informants? Snitches? Hell, either will do. Just a quick google search to see what hours the place is open for, and away I go.

— — — — —

I was originally a little afraid of looking out of place here, but luckily for me, the Lounge doubles as a casino. Throw a few hundred dollars away on the machines, and I’ll blend right in.

Coming up on the doors, I have a look at the criminal hotspot. The gigantic Ice Blue sign hangs grandly over the glass doors, and windows allow me to glance in at the machines I’ll be wasting my money on. Bushes line the building, and the ‘security guards’ out front are barely hiding the fact that they’re actually hardened criminals. As far as I know real guards don’t own revolvers like that. Also that they would not be allowed to have them so clearly on display like that.

I pull my head away from the lack of professionalism, and head into the building. I’m tempted to hit the lounge first, but my paranoia forces me to the machines first. Don’t want anyone to get suspicious about why I’m here. Realistically, I know no one watching me, but living in this city on the side against the Bat has made me a bit scared of the shadows. There’s always a chance he set up a camera, or something.

Now, I will say, I decided to do this because I needed a cover as to why I’m here, sure. However, I also do enjoy a bit of gambling, I mean, who doesn’t? My first choice was to head straight to the roulette table. I decided to use 300 dollars there, and 200 on the slots whenever I ran out, or doubled my cash at the table. My roulette money ran out pretty quickly, who would’ve thought that slamming 50 bucks on lucky number 13 each time isn’t a winning strategy?

The slots however, kept me imprisoned on that cushioned stool for what felt like an eternity. Every time, right before I’d run out of money on the machine, I’d win just enough to keep me there for another 5 minutes. Again and again, my freedom was dangled before me, yet eventually the cursed machine grew bored of my suffering and set me free.

Now that my wallet is significantly lighter, I headed over to the Lounger itself. Looking for…

Fuck, what does an information dealer look like?

Change of plans. I found a free table near enough to the center of the room so that I could hear damn near everything being talked about. After ordering a drink, I start listening. All the conversations at once, happening over the music being played was disorienting as all hell for the first few minutes, but eventually I managed to focus in on some conversations. It’s not like I could filter through keywords for my ears to pick up, so I just decided to choose one conversation to hone in on, and if I was lucky they’d say something information dealer-y.

“Did you see the latest Teen Mom episo-”

Don’t need to listen to that one anymore.

“So I took the guy behind the bar, and right as I raised my fists, the guy just tossed a fucking money clip at me and ran away screaming! Easiest hundred bucks of my life.”

Funny enough anecdote, but no, also useless. This half baked plan is seeming to be more trouble than it was worth.

“I’m telling you, it’s not worth it. You saw what Lycaon did to those other guys.”

Oh? Well, go ahead. Tell me what’s not worth it. My information dealer can wait.

“Not worth it? He’s cutting into our profits. Remember what Falcone did to the other guys who failed their quota? It’s our fucking lives on the line. We have to get the guys together and stop the bastard.”

Well, I guess that answers my question anyway. Sorry info-guy, no paycheque for you. Now, I just wait for these guys to tell me exactly what I need to be expecting.

“Fuck. Fuck! Why’d you have to remind me about them!? You’re right… I don’t like it, but you’re right. Falcone won’t see the reasons why we couldn’t keep the profits up, he’ll just make an example out of us. Well? You brought this up, you have to have a plan?”

“I have the basis of one,” his friend just scoffs and mutters some shit under his breath that I couldn’t pick up. “But I figure we should hammer out the rest of the details with the others. Besides, this place is far too public to have a whole ass planning session. C’mon, let’s go.”

Well, that’s my queue to leave as well. Like every game with a trailing mission has taught me, I make sure there’s at least 15 feet between us at all times.

I follow them outside, and when they get into their car I realize that if I want to keep following them, I’ll need to get on my bike, which thankfully isn’t too far away. Still, I make a quick sprint to it so that I don’t lose them, and from there, it was just a nice and relaxing drive to their hideout.

I watch them pull into a driveway belonging to a surprisingly well-kept house, I mean, the grass was fucking mowed. What sort of crook keeps their lawn within HOA standards? Ugh, focus on what’s important, me. We can go back to questioning why they also have a well tended garden out front later.

I park down the street in a convenient alleyway, because this is Gotham, there’s always an alley nearby. I figure keeping my bike well out of harm's way is a good practice, plus pulling in the driveway beside the guys I was just following doesn’t seem very smart.

Walking back towards the house, I elect to wait on calling my gear to me. Right now I’m just some unassuming guy walking down the street, instead of Lycaon, who still has a pretty bad rep honestly. I mean, come on, you rip out one guy’s heart because the devil made you, and suddenly no one wants you around.

My disguise as myself was very effective, since it let me walk right by their house as another car pulled in. See, they would’ve stopped me if I had my wolf mask on. I gave the newcomers a polite head nod as I walked past them, all the way to the end of the street because I was afraid turning around would give me away.

Okay, plan ‘Walk up to the front door’ didn’t work. Guess it’s time to suit up and start fence hopping.

— — — — —

The sound of the door brings me out to the living room, to be greeted by a couple more familiar faces. A brown haired, stocky man. Reliable, up until you need him to fight anyone. Then he gets far too nervous for his own good. Beside him, his best friend, a dirty blonde, about as lanky as men can come. I didn’t much care for him, due to his extreme cowardice, but he has a connection to the family, so what could you really do?

“Hey Craig, Jaime. You guys brought the shit? No one saw you guys bring it in?”

“Yup, we have it. There was a guy out front, but he only saw us pull in. We waited for him to turn the corner before we brought it all in.” Craig reassures me. I shoot a grateful nod to the brunet.

“Hey Boss, the hell is all this for? We brought the shit cause you told us to, but who the hell are we fighting that we need all this?” Jaime gestures toward the various bags on the table containing shotguns, a couple rifles, and a few bulletproof vests.

“One of the freaks,” I pause as they stare at me, mouths gaping, eyes widened, like I told them we were going to fight the fucking Bat. “Lycaon, to be exact.”

Craig is the one that broke from the shock first, “Boss,” he whined, “we can’t fight them. Don’t you remember the last guys that tried? Dead. All of ‘em. I don’t wanna be next, Boss.”

“What he said.” Jaime adds while pointing at him. Little shit.

“We’ll be dead if we don’t. Unless you forgot, Falcone doesn’t allow any decrease in profits. We were put in charge of the district that Lycaon took over. He’s been running out our dealers. I’ve already gotten a warning from my Boss. We won’t get another, so we need to fix the issue, fast.” My explanation only seemed to make Craig more hesitant to participate.

“Okay, let me put it this way. So far, he’s only done a couple things besides take over that district. He’s robbed a bank, which doesn’t prove anything besides the fact that he’s a somewhat capable runner. The other thing, like you mentioned, was wiping out a gang. A gang that clearly, was not prepared for him. We, unlike them, will be bringing the fight to him. We have firepower, we have armor, and most importantly, we will have a plan. One that we’re going to iron out, right now. So sitdown, and I’ll call Ron out of the kitchen so we can begin.”

Once I finish my speech, I turn around and march straight down into the kitchen. Halfway down the steps, I crack a grin as I hear a couple bodies flop down onto the couch. It’s good that they decided to stay. That was a fairly decent motivational speech, if you could call it that.

“What’s got you all happy?” Ron asks as I enter his lab. He’s arguably the most important person in our operation, as he’s the only guy here that actually knows how to make the shit. I’m surprised the scraggly haired friend of mine actually bothered to look away from his work. He treats cooking meth like it’s the fulfilling and important thing he’s ever done in his life.

“Just another wonderful motivational piece, provided by yours truly. Managed to keep Craig and Jaime from chickening out. They’re waiting for us upstairs. C’mon, let’s get started, you can finish bagging everything later.” Reluctantly, the man followed me back upstairs. I stopped myself from sighing, I knew he wasn’t excited by what we were about to do, but could he at least act a little more confident? Show some support for the plan? It’s our goddamn lives on the line.

We get back upstairs, and drag a couple chairs to the living room. Once me and Ron are sat across from Craig and Jaime, we begin trying to come up with the best possible method on ensuring Lycaon’s death. There is a time limit, since gunshots, especially ones from guns like ours, attract the Bats like nothing else will. In fact, that’s one thing every member of Falcone’s mafia learns after being accepted. If you shoot your gun, you have maybe 3 minutes to get the fuck out, or you’ll be caught. If you’re unlucky, you won’t even have that.

Our planning session was interrupted by a knock on our door. Immediately, I scowled at Craig and Jaime, and hissed at them, “I thought you two weren’t fucking spotted!”

“We weren’t!” “Honest!” They cried out. I didn’t believe them for a second, but a few more knocks on the door stopped me from ripping into them. I told them to turn on the sports channel as a flimsy sort of alibi, and went to answer the door.

A glance through the peephole revealed nothing, so I pulled open the door to have a quick look around. Once I opened it fully, I was met with the barrel of a gun.

“Hello, my name is Lycaon. I have reason to believe you’re planning to kill me. I take great offense to that. Show me where the rest of you are, or I think I’ll paint the walls with your grey matter.”

What… How did he find us..? I was as careful as I could be… This must’ve been Craig and Jaime’s fault, the fucking idiots led him right to us! I swear, I’m going to kill the bastards if it;s the last thing I do!

“Hello? Anyone in there? Ugh, of course the minion answering the door is a complete fucking moron. Wasted one of my better lines. Whatever. Hey Buddy.” He looks into my eyes. “Go the fuck to sleep.”

And the last thing I remember is a pistol colliding with the side of my head.

— — — — —

Seems like plan ‘walk up to the front door’ was the correct one after all. Would’ve saved me the trouble of trying to quietly pry open a window. Fucking impossible, is what that is. Five minutes of that was all I could take before giving up.

Thankfully the person they had in charge of the door was too much of a dumbass to even try saying anything. If he looked like he was going to, I was ready with Axii, but it seems like it wasn’t necessary. I let myself into the house, closing the door and stepping over the body. A look to my left shows three others, all pointing weapons at me. I suppose they heard my entrance. Ah well, stealth was a fool’s errand anyway.

“I wouldn’t do that if I was you. I mean really, do you honestly think three guys with guns is all it takes to down a metahuman these days?” I look a bit closer at their table, with all the bags on top of it. Way more guns than they could conceivably use themselves. “So, anyone else coming to visit? Or is it just the four of you? Trying to take on the big bad wolf, all by yourselves?”

No one said a word, but the two on the couch started to shake a bit. One of them even looked like he was going to cry.

“C’mon, one of you has to be the boss, right? Show some backbone, leader! Speak up! I love monologuing, but right now, I want to talk!”

“So uh,” I look at the guy sitting across from the scaredy cats as he points the barrel of his shotgun at the guy I layed out, “he was the Boss. I don’t think he’s up for a talk right now.”

“He was the Boss? Well, fuck it. Not anymore. It’s you now. Talk to me. Is there anyone else you were expecting to drop by? Also, if you three know what’s good for you, put down the guns.” The cowards listened immediately and the man across from them followed their lead after a couple seconds. Now, time to start with the interrogation properly.

“So, now that that’s sorted, answer my first question, then tell me your part in this whole… operation. Also, you two. Go grab your boss and tie him up in his chair with something.” They jumped to action and I took their place on the couch as the man in front of me began his explanations.

He said that they have more people that would’ve worked under them so long as they made the call, since that’s how the Falcone Family works. The thugs were at the beck and call of anyone with actual jobs. And wasn’t that a shock. The dealer’s I’ve been antagonizing and interrogating for the past couple weeks have belonged to a goddamned mafia. He told me that the man I had knocked out was in charge of the drug trade in my district, and that due to dropping profits, he had to do something to keep himself safe from the family’s punishment. Sure, all right. So this could technically all be labeled as ‘My Fault.’

He then went on to explain his place in the operations as the chef. He said he was in charge of making enough to cover demand for a few districts. And wasn’t that something. I always thought it was a process that required a lot of manpower, but hey. Shows what I know. He went further into detail about the creation process and as he did, I swear I saw his eyes light up. I let him just keep rambling as I thought about what I wanted to do with them after I was finished gathering my information.

As I was mulling over the few options I could come up with, a bone-deep chill that originated from my marked hand, rocketed up my arm and across my body. This meant one of two things. One, there is potentially some mystical creature waiting outside to shank me, or…

“Greetings, fool.”

Him. Of course. Well, at least this can distract me from the detailed information on methamphetamine creation. Plus, he finally gave up the mickey mouse voice, and went with what seems to be my voice, but pitched down, and a slight bit more gravelly.

“Always a silver lining, isn’t there? Fool, I have to wonder, do you know why I’m appearing now? Why I appeared the previous times? Show me the insight that belongs to my chosen entertainment.”

Fuck, it isn’t just whims? “No.” Well shit. That was my first guess.

If I look back. The first time was my placement here. The task was waiting for me, and it commanded me to make a choice between two paths. Good and Evil. It was also when I proved my worth as entertainment by ‘failing correctly’.

The second, was a gift. A boon granted for progressing quickly, since I cemented my position on the side of evil, when there was technically still a way to go back to being a hero, and tentatively ally with the Bats.

When I used it, he presented me with two choices, one would show my ruthlessness, the other, would show my mercy, however cruel it may have been. It made me known as a criminal that doesn’t do eye for an eye, but rather an eye for a life.

And now, well. I’ll have to see, but he’ll definitely present me with a choice, one that will affect my future in a permanent way. He only appears at a crossroads… Whenever there’s a choice that will define who I am, he’ll be there to influence my choice. To shape me into something. There were plenty more ways to act in those situations, yet I was restricted by his tasks, into picking not from my myriad of options, but picking the one that felt less bad than the other.

Here, well, I can almost guess what it’s going to be, but lay it on me.

“Yes, you are correct, for the most part. I want to see you not at your strongest, or your safest. Only your most entertaining. I appear to ensure I won’t get bored, as simple as that. With that in mind, here is my task, fool of mine.

In front of you lies the dregs of humanity. The unloved, the shunned. They create poison, to prey on their own kind. Yet within that poison, lies profit. You can see it, in this very building. The basement holds enough poison to keep you growing ever richer for years. Yet, will you fall to this greed, or not? Your first option, poach these dregs of society, and profit from their presence. After all, the devil you know is trustworthy. I’m sure you could control them, if you tried hard enough.

Yet, they are still a devil. Humanity has a long standing belief that devils need to die. It matters not if another devil, worse than the first, takes its place. For you’ve had practice killing devils now that you got rid of the first, and you can just keep going, until there are no more to replace them. You could wipe these dregs off the face of this earth, and keep doing so until there are no more left to dirty the streets. After all, violence is always a solution to any problem.

I wish you the best fool, succeed, and you’ll see your reward. I think you’ll enjoy this one. I know I will.”

And with that, he vanished from my mind, and it felt as though a weight was lifted off of me. Though in its place, there was a new sort of pressure. The pressure that comes from a confirmation of something I was personally fearing deep down. He truly doesn’t care about my well being, and he won’t save me from anything. He only wants to see a story. For that goal, he’ll do anything, including forcing me to choose between what he believes are the two most interesting paths. The ones that would affect the core of my being the most.

Well, fuck him. I’ll rebel the only way I can. I can’t not do the task, as the potential risk of failure is far too high. However, I never remember him saying I couldn’t do both actions. So yeah, fuck it. These misfits are mine now.

The rest of the Falcone’s, will die.

And unbeknownst to the unfortunate soul, the devil cracked a smile at his pawns choice.

E — N — D

Aight, I’m not gonna lie to y’all. Motivation and mental problems aside, this chapter did not want to be written. I think this was what writer’s block is? Anyway, sorry if the chapter is lower quality, it’s kind of hard for me to tell, since I find myself incapable of reading my own work. I dunno, when I 1: know what’s going to happen and 2: literally made the thing. It’s a bit hard to glean enjoyment from reading it.

Regardless, here we go. Chapter 12, in all its glory. No action, because I couldn’t find a place to fit it in, but hey, he’s declared a war on drugs! On both sides, even. So we’ll have him fighting again soon. I’ve been debating starting a new fic, but I can’t decide what I want it to be about. So that’s distant future as well. For the best really, I need to try and force myself into the habit of writing again.

Anyway, thanks for reading, hope y’all enjoyed it, and I’ll see you all in the next one, that hopefully won’t take as long. No promises though.

(P.S. Lemme know if I left any typos in, I was a bit lazy with the proofread/editing this time.)