Chapter 6: The Bat That Does Big Things
"Sorry, I hate it."
Wayne straightened up. In the penthouse, only the women, long since drugged by the criminal scum, were still moving—a disturbing, dazed dance of destruction. Their minds were likely already ruined.
Wayne ignored them. He fixed a miniature explosive charge to the intact safe and detonated the door.
BOOM.
The blast was muffled, thanks to the penthouse's thick walls. Wayne could only admire the resourcefulness of the Bat-suit's utility belt, which truly held everything.
The safe revealed wads of currency, large quantities of rough diamonds, and gold. The original Batman might have been indifferent to such gains, but the current Wayne was not. Even as a brief flicker of excitement passed through him, reason took over.
He yanked down the heavy curtains from the window, spreading them on the floor. He emptied the contents of the safe—the diamonds and the gold—into the fabric.
He didn't touch the dollar bills scattered across the floor. Wayne couldn't be certain the money wasn't laced with something harmful.
Firing his grapple gun, Wayne secured the curtain-wrapped bundle of precious metals and disappeared from the penthouse.
But that didn't mean Wayne was done with the organization's property.
"So you sold me out just to get your starting capital?"
Spider-Man looked at Wayne, who was now dragging a large, bundled curtain sack onto the roof. The Spider-Man's large white eyes widened in disbelief. He couldn't believe Wayne had abandoned him simply for the sake of these spoils.
"Dude, you really hurt my feelings," Spider-Man complained, narrowing his lenses dramatically.
"Watch these for me. I'll be back," Wayne said, handing the large, heavy sack to Spider-Man before turning and rappelling back down toward the building.
Spider-Man couldn't believe his ears. Did that Bat just ask me to babysit his stolen loot? He wanted to scream a string of curses at the man, but his better judgment prevailed. He settled down on the water tank, gingerly holding the heavy bundle of stolen goods.
Having secured his most immediate need (money), Wayne was now focused on his second objective: destruction.
CRASH!
The flimsy back door of the building burst inward as a figure collided with it. Gang members inside the corridor groaned and rolled on the ground.
Before anyone could investigate, Wayne was upon them. His approach was direct: a relentless, powerful attack. The iron fists of the Bat smashed into faces, delivering over a thousand pounds of force, guaranteeing instant unconsciousness.
Such violence naturally drew the attention of other crew members, who were terrified of the consequences if their Boss found out about the commotion.
When they finally arrived at the back corridor, they found only their unconscious colleagues. No sign of the attacker.
"What happened, man?"
A guard helped an injured but semi-conscious member sit up, shaking him wildly to extract information about the intruder.
Wayne watched their nervous precautions from the ceiling.
He lightly pushed off the wall and dropped down, driving both knees into the back of a gun-wielding thug. The man coughed up blood and collapsed instantly. Before the two men next to him could react, one dropped with a sickening thud. Wayne had hooked his leg around the neck of the remaining guard.
"Now I ask, you answer."
"Go to hell, you freak!" the man snarled. He had courage.
Wayne's legs tightened around the man's neck, making even breathing difficult. The guy's radio suddenly crackled:
"What happened at the back door? Did someone break in?"
The guard desperately wanted to warn them, but Wayne's iron grip prevented any noise.
Wayne snatched the radio. Performing a quick adjustment on his arm armor to mimic the thug's voice, he spoke into the device.
"Everything's safe, just two guys getting rough."
"You better tell them to stay put! If anything goes wrong, I'll take their skin off!" The voice on the other end, clearly an executive, was high-ranking and furious.
"I know." Wayne turned off the radio and focused his gaze on the frantic, reddening face of the thug. He loosened the pressure slightly, allowing the man a gasp of air.
"Tell me," Wayne demanded. "Why does no one pay attention to the top floor?"
Wayne was genuinely curious. He had made a lot of noise up there, yet no one had rushed to check.
Perhaps the fear of death finally broke the thug's defiance. He spoke directly to Wayne: "The people up there are all important clients. No matter what happens, we can't disturb them."
This answer surprised Wayne. He had assumed the upper floor was for the organization's middle and high management, not their clientele.
"Where is your pharmacy?" Wayne immediately asked the next question.
Wayne needed to move quickly. The next check-in with the sniper would be soon. If they found the sniper had gone silent, they would know something was wrong.
"It's downstairs. Just through that entrance," the minion reluctantly raised a hand, pointing toward a corridor.
"Anyone else down there?"
"Nobody."
Having received the answer, Wayne punched the man in the head. The thug passed out instantly, a look of peaceful oblivion replacing his terror.
Wayne loosened his leg grip, letting the thug drop to the floor. He pulled two miniature incendiary bombs from his utility belt. After setting the timers, Wayne retraced his steps.
The Bat landed silently on the rooftop, where Spider-Man was squatting on the water tank, looking bored, the wrapped loot sitting safely beside him.
"Oh, our great Bat is finally back." Spider-Man, with his sensitive hearing, had noticed the sound of the grapple line retracting.
Just as Spider-Man was about to ask what he'd been doing, a furious blaze erupted from the building across the street.
"That's really doing big things!" Spider-Man sighed, his voice filled with amazement.
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