SDC 47
I left the hideout ard with live Berettas, several assault rifles, all the grenades I could carry, and a fatter Cursed Energy reserve.
Class: Sorcerer – Level 9 (3rd Grade)
Titles: Touched by the Sparks of Black
Techniques: Inverse Lv 3
Health: 530/530
Cursed Energy: 580/580
Stamina: 510/510
Stats:
STR: 43 1
AGI: 48 1
PER: 54
VIT: 53 5
END: 51 3
CP: 58 2 8
Skills:
Cursed Inventory Lv 4
Hand-to-Hand Combat Lv 4
Cursed Energy Reinforcent Lv 4
Cursed Energy Manipulation Lv 4
Stealth Lv 5
Curtain Lv 3 1
Gun Mastery Lv 5
Acrobatics Lv 4
Swordsmanship Lv 3
ta Ability: Enhanced Regeneration
Free Points: 0
I revved the motorcycle I stole and floored it, shattering every traffic law this corrupt city still bothered to enforce. I cut corners, blitzed through alleys, blew past red and yellow lights, and might've caused a car bump or two along the way.
When the police gave chase, I ditched the bike and vanished behind a Curtain, making the rest of the way on foot with five minutes to spare.
The air at the scene buzzed with tension and noise.
Eager Gothamites pressed against police barriers with phones, protest signs, and screams. Helicopters circled overhead. FBI agents and GCPD brass huddled under a tent, trying to talk down the masked man with a loudspeaker.
"You've got to ask for sothing else," Jim Gordon urged. "Samaritan was burned within an inch of his life. You saw it on the news. He's probably still recovering. He can't be here, not in the tifra you're demanding."
"He'll co," the masked man said, unwavering. "His mushy teenage heart can't afford another tragedy."
He looked straight into one of the spotlight caras and scread, "Co here and face like a man—or all their blood will be on your hands!" He jabbed the detonator toward the hostage bus. "Ti's running out, hero!"
I scanned the rooftops and found Batman. Solo, as expected. Robin was probably in school. He just stood there, staring at the scene.
Ti was short, but I still switched on my burner and made the call.
"You've been difficult to reach," Bruce said.
"That was the point of keeping the burner off," I replied. "Please tell you've got a better plan than standing there like a gargoyle."
"You need to stay out of this," he said. "The situation's far more delicate than you realize."
"Convince ," I said.
Batman glanced at his wrist, then looked directly at and through . Curtain kept hidden.
"Whoever that is under the mask is a world-class professional," he said. "He's got four snipers on surrounding rooftops, possible plants on the bus, a family mber to guarantee your involvent, and a failsafe on the deadman switch in his hand. If we try to jam the signal or disrupt the radio link between the detonator and the bombs, they go off. If his thumb leaves the switch? Sa result. I'd bet he's rigged his snipers the sa way. Any attempt to take even one out, and the whole thing unravels."
"The only real recourse," he added, "is another League mber—soone fast or strong enough to rescue every hostage before the whole situation unravels."
I swallowed. It was worse than I imagined. Black Mask was pulling out all the stops.
"We're less than three minutes out," I said. "Aren't they cutting it a little close?"
"Flash is wrapping up a robbery in Central City. Martian Manhunter is en route. Superman's tied up halfway around the world. Help's coming. You just have to be patient."
I chewed the inside of my cheek. "Don't you have an EMP bomb in that ridiculous belt?"
A pause. "As a matter of fact, I do. But there's no way to deliver it silently. Not without tipping him off."
"I can do it," I said instantly.
"Your disappearing trick," Batman said.
"No one sees unless I want them to."
"That's convenient," he admitted. "And it just might work."
"So, are you giving the bomb, or am I storming that bus without it?"
"Threats and blackmail will only take you so far, Julius," he said. "One of these days, you'll have to trust soone."
"I'll look into counseling after I rescue my aunt."
Batman sighed and suddenly sprang forward, leaping off the building. He fired his grappling hook mid-air to cushion his landing.
I stepped out of Curtain and lood over , a wall of muscle and armor. On paper, I could take him, but the pressure he gave off left breathless.
He reached into his cloak and handed the grenade.
I went to grab it, but he spoke first.
"I know it's tempting to make a beeline for her, but she's not the only one counting on you. That fire changed you. Or maybe it revealed sothing that was always there."
"Poor impulse control?"
"A genuine desire to help people. Don't lose sight of it when you're in there."
I gave him a stiff nod, took the EMP, and turned away.
One minute, forty-five seconds left.
"Thanks," I found myself saying. "You know… for the help."
"Don't make regret it."
I closed my eyes and shaped the most complex Curtain I'd ever ford. A narrow corridor that shrank the closer it got to the bus. The barrier pressed flush against the side and stopped just below the windows.
With a burst of Overdrive, I shot forward, disappearing into Curtain.
It took four seconds to reach the bus's rear. I slid into position, activated the bomb, and rolled it underneath.
Another Curtain snapped up before the explosion, cutting the bus from the rest of the world.
I rose, grabbed the roof, and kicked through the glass.
The blast startled the culprits, and they rose. Five of them, among thirty-five passengers.
I flirted with the idea of the Berettas but settled on tranq guns. The n barked at each other, grabbed throats, and scread, while the passengers resisted, bucked, and scread.
My fingers blurred—neck shot, cheek shot, rib shot. In my haste, I even accidentally hit a woman.
The four plants went down easy.
The fifth didn't.
He had a knife at Denise's throat and a grenade with the pin pulled. His thumb rested on the spoon.
"Step the fuck back, freak!" He hit the transponder. "The kid is in here! Can you hear ? The kid is in here!"
Static.
"Fuck ."
The shivering crowd parted for as I advanced, tranq gun steady.
"Knife or grenade won't save you, you know."
"I've co too far to lose to the likes of you!" He pressed the blade deeper into Denise's skin.
She locked eyes with , and I saw sothing that surprised . Not recognition. No. Faith.
"I need a clear path," I said softly. "Can you find one?"
"What the hell are you yamring—"
Denise stomped on his foot.
He flinched. That was all I needed. Two tranqs to the shoulder.
He still managed to nick Denise's neck as he fell—but it was the grenade that grabbed my attention.
It tumbled from his hand.
Four seconds. That was how long it took for a grenade to detonate.
I crossed the distance in the first second; grabbed the grenade in the second; chucked it out the window in the third; and regretted my choice in the fourth.
The explosion went off outside the protective bubble of my Curtain, alerting the cops... and my killers… that I was here.
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