Day Four.
Jude huddled safely in a corner behind his battered riot shield, perfectly content to slack off and watch the show.
"Slade," he asked, peeking over the rim. "Why can't Batman just catch up to Deadshot?"
Deathstroke watched the distant, running firefight through his sniper scope. "Because he is too young," he replied calmly.
"He's physically strong, but his fundamental training is still insufficient. His equipment is state-of-the-art, but his tactical thinking hasn't become pure instinct yet. He relies far too heavily on his grapple gun to close the distance. Floyd, on the other hand, is a master at parkour, climbing, and traversing complex urban terrain on foot."
Deathstroke lowered his rifle slightly. "Floyd and I are mercenaries. We've spent countless hours drilling for long-distance raids and short-distance tactical sprints. Observing the environment, formulating escape routes, breaking lines of sight—for us, it's entirely subconscious. We know exactly how to move through a city to bleed an opponent dry."
"Oh, I see. That makes perfect sense," Jude nodded, his eyes clear and entirely devoid of any actual tactical understanding.
Deathstroke couldn't help but turn his head, staring at Jude's utterly vacant expression. He sighed and shook his head.
"Killing an opponent and capturing them alive are two completely different concepts," Deathstroke continued. "Defeating a skilled rookie is one thing; pinning down a master who knows how to maneuver is another. To capture Floyd, Batman needs to possess strength and speed that far exceeds him. Batman just isn't there yet."
Boom!
A deafening explosion rocked the block. Jude flinched, peering out just in time to see a massive fireball erupt from the fifth floor of a nearby building.
He immediately raised his wrist to check his watch. He had cast the "I Didn't Kill Anyone" skill on Deadshot yesterday afternoon, and the twenty-four-hour timer hadn't expired yet. Even if someone was caught in the blast radius, the system would ensure the damage wasn't fatal. Though, looking at the dilapidated structure, he highly doubted anyone was inside.
"Like I said," Deathstroke noted, slinging his rifle over his shoulder. "Floyd had way too much time to prep his home court, and Batman lacks the experience to spot the trap. Let's go see what's left of them."
Jude immediately hoisted his heavy shield onto his back and followed.
High above the explosion, a green silhouette rode the violent updraft. Chuck had heard the blast from blocks away, spotted the flames, and rushed to the scene as fast as the wind would carry him.
I just hope the building is empty, he thought.
The massive green kite banked sharply, floating down toward the shattered windows. Chuck engaged his thrusters, hovering through the smoking gap in the wall.
"Hello? Is anyone in here?"
Seeing no signs of life, Chuck breathed a sigh of relief and fired his jets again, ascending to the next level.
"Nobody on this floor either."
After a rapid sweep, Chuck finally confirmed that the entire apartment complex was abandoned.
It's strange, Chuck thought. Since the day before yesterday, Deathstroke and Floyd seem to be intentionally steering their firefights into no-man's-land, minimizing civilian casualties. He didn't know why two ruthless mercenaries would suddenly care about collateral damage, but he wasn't going to complain.
"Floyd, you don't have to work for the clown!" Batman's gritty voice echoed from the tenth floor.
"Sorry, Bat. He already paid!" Deadshot yelled back.
Ten floors above Chuck, Batman threw a brutal right hook. Deadshot crossed his twin pistols to block the strike, using the heavy kinetic force to throw himself backward and dive out of the shattered window.
Batman didn't hesitate. He launched himself out the window after him. In mid-air, he snapped his cape forward, using the reinforced fabric to blindly deflect two hollow-point rounds Deadshot fired at his face. By the time Batman retracted the cape and landed on the adjacent rooftop, Deadshot had already vanished into the shadows.
As the two continued their lethal game of cat-and-mouse, they both caught sight of the green figure circling the smoke below.
Kite Man?
Down on the street, Jude and Deathstroke also spotted the glider. Jude felt a wave of relief. "He's probably just here for search and rescue. He was the first responder to our collateral damage yesterday and the day before."
"He isn't the mission target," Deathstroke said dismissively. "Ignore him. If we attack him or any other civilians, Batman stops playing by the rules and goes fully lethal."
"You think Floyd knows that too?"
"I don't know. Maybe Floyd actually has some history with Kite Man. Either way, Batman chased him into another deserted block. That works in our favor. We don't have to worry about the traps anymore."
"We're chasing them?"
"We're chasing them."
After double-checking the affected floors, Chuck banked away from the burning building and flew back into the city. Since the night he truly became Kite Man, he had been incredibly busy. Batman had tracked him down, offering a partnership: Batman provided him with real-time intelligence and aerial protection, while Chuck acted as a dedicated first responder for the war zone.
He was currently wearing a custom, lightweight flight suit Batman had fabricated for him, offering top-tier bullet and impact resistance. He also wore a tactical belt stocked with emergency medical supplies (and lollipops courtesy of Jude), and a secure comms link directly to the Batcomputer. Batman had originally offered to completely redesign his glider backpack, but Chuck had stubbornly refused. As an aerodynamicist, no one touched his kites but him.
Though his armor lacked offensive weaponry, it was exactly what Chuck needed. Up in the sky, his biggest threat was stray bullets, and the new suit made him practically bulletproof. Over the past few days, Chuck had pulled hundreds of men, women, and children from the rubble. Slowly but surely, the terrified citizens of Gotham were beginning to recognize this strange, powerless man as a genuine hero.
Sounds like the fight is getting ugly, Chuck noted, hearing the echoes of combat in the distance.
He flew over the skyline, glancing down into an alleyway. Batman, Deadshot, and Deathstroke were locked in a vicious, three-way melee. After four straight days of relentless, high-speed combat, all three men were completely exhausted.
Crack!
Batman delivered a devastating cross to Deathstroke's jaw. The mercenary staggered backward, fresh blood leaking from the cracked seam of his mask.
Thud!
Deadshot seized the opening, driving a heavy combat boot squarely into Batman's unprotected chin, tearing the skin and snapping his head back.
Smack!
Batman instantly retaliated, twisting his momentum into a brutal elbow strike that crushed against Deadshot's faceplate. Blood immediately oozed from Deadshot's nose and mouth, soaking the stark white fabric of his mask a deep red.
It was an ugly, desperate brawl. But as the fists flew, Batman's tactical mind finally adapted. Having spent four days analyzing their exact combat rhythms, the Dark Knight began to predict their strikes. Slowly, methodically, he gained the upper hand, finally finding the perfect opening to knock both bleeding mercenaries completely unconscious.
Dusk.
"Boss. The Bike Stripper is back."
Hearing the agonizingly familiar report, the Riddler merely waved a weary hand, signaling his men to let him in.
Two minutes later, in the grand meeting hall.
The Riddler stared blankly at Jude standing in the center of the room. The man looked entirely uninjured. Aside from a thin layer of brick dust on his black robe, there was absolutely no blood, and more importantly, no bullet holes.
The day before yesterday, his robe had been shredded. Today, it seemed every single bullet had miraculously only hit the heavy riot shield strapped to his back.
"I'm glad to see you back," Riddler said slowly, "but where is Slade?"
"Caught by Batman."
Looking at Jude delivering this catastrophic news with absolute, unwavering confidence, every super-criminal in the room felt a powerful sense of déjà vu.
The Riddler pinched the bridge of his nose. "Thor."
"I'm here."
"I am curious," he said, his voice terrifyingly quiet. "Batman defeated Deathstroke. But what about Deadshot?"
"Batman also took him away."
"The three of you can't beat Batman?"
"No, it's just that the two of them never team up."
"What do you mean by 'the two of them'?"
"Because I didn't fight." Jude reply with a deadface
"So, what were you doing while those three were fighting?"
"Why do you think I was able to retreat unscathed?"
The Riddler took a deep breath and silently said to himself, "Don't kill, don't kill." He had held back last time and he couldn't break it this time.
"Aren't you together?"
"Yeah that the thing, I escape so I can come back and report it."