"Join us, or after we've had our fun with your beautiful wife and daughter, we'll toss you into the Hudson River."
"Your Zegen Gang—every last member has already sworn loyalty to Kingpin. Why are you still fighting?"
Hell's Kitchen, a gritty administrative pocket of Manhattan hugging the Hudson River, was alive with tension. At the docks along the river's edge, a gang member pressed the cold barrel of a gun against the temple of Zegen, a small-time gang leader.
Zegen knelt on the ground, hands bound behind his back, his temple throbbing under the icy touch of the gun. A strained, ugly smile twisted his face.
"Once night falls, New York's small-time gangs start vanishing, one by one, without rhyme or reason. Meanwhile, some other gang's out there, raking in cash and growing stronger… You're Kingpin's men, aren't you, Anthony?"
"You got it," Anthony sneered, licking his lips. "Go ahead and say no, tough guy. I can't wait to have some fun with your wife."
Around them, seven or eight of Kingpin's armed goons, joined by a dozen freshly defected members of the Zegen Gang, erupted into mocking laughter.
"Go ahead and do it," Zegen said, his lips curling into a grim smirk. "Last night, I got drunk and accidentally killed them all. I'm sober now, but I don't plan on living much longer anyway."
A flicker of regret crossed Anthony's face.
"The boss specifically said to avoid killing if we can help it. He wants to absorb the other gangs, not just wipe them out."
"But you," he added, "you're an exception."
Bang!
The gunshot rang out, and Zegen instinctively squeezed his eyes shut.
He braced for death, but his racing heartbeat told him he was still alive.
Missing a shot with the gun pressed to his head?
The absurd thought flitted through Zegen's mind. Then, his ears caught the sound of flesh being pummeled, a relentless barrage of heavy blows mixed with the sickening cracks of breaking bones and screams of agony.
The sounds told Zegen someone had come to save him.
He opened his eyes and caught glimpses of a figure with sharp, pointed ears flickering in and out of the darkness. Each time the figure appeared, several of Kingpin's men collapsed, clutching their stomachs or shattered limbs, their wails piercing the night.
Pop, pop.
A few gunshots rang out, quickly drowned by the thud of fists slamming into bodies. Within moments, the docks fell eerily silent—no more screams, just bodies sprawled across the ground, limbs twisted unnaturally, their fates unclear.
"What… what just happened…?"
Zegen couldn't recall knowing anyone capable of taking down a dozen armed thugs in mere seconds. As he stood there, dazed, a gun suddenly pressed against his temple again from behind.
"Who's there?! Show yourself! Come out, or I'll shoot!"
The voice was Anthony's, trembling with fear, his gun hand shaking uncontrollably.
"You took my gun, but you didn't know I had a spare, did you? Get out here!" Anthony shouted.
He'd been knocked out cold by a heavy blow moments ago, only to be jolted awake by searing pain. His first instinct was to grab Zegen as a hostage.
"Help! Save me! I don't want to die!"
Zegen, just pulled back from the brink of death, found himself staring down a gun barrel again. In that moment, his will to survive overpowered his earlier desire for death, and he cried out for help.
Hiss.
A faint sound cut through the darkness of the docks. A strand of black webbing shot out, sticking tightly to Zegen's leg.
Before he could react, Zegen was yanked forward by an immense force, hurtling through the air until he slammed into the fist of the pointed-eared figure. The impact nearly broke him in half, and he passed out on the spot.
"Huh?"
Anthony, who'd been holding Zegen hostage a second ago, froze as his human shield vanished. His brain short-circuited, unable to process the surreal scene.
Before he could recover, the shadowy figure melted into the night, only to reappear right in front of him.
Anthony didn't even have time to pull the trigger. It felt like he'd been hit by a speeding truck, his body flying backward. Something grabbed him mid-air, yanking him back with brutal force.
"Agh!"
Anthony's scream barely left his throat before a hand clamped around his neck. A low, menacing voice growled, like a demon from the depths:
"Tell me where Kingpin is."
"Aaagh!"
Anthony was losing his mind, frantically praying to God in that moment. But all he got in response was a heavy fist to the face, dislocating his jaw with a sickening crunch.
The blinding pain snapped Anthony back to a sliver of clarity, only for another wave of agony to engulf him.
Crack!
Batman gripped Anthony's face and, with a slight twist, snapped his dislocated jaw back into place. He asked again, his voice cold and unyielding:
"Tell me where Kingpin is."
Kingpin had bought into the Osborn Corporation, and Batman wasn't pinning all his hopes on Black Cat to force Kingpin out. He was hunting the crime lord his own way.
"I don't know…" Anthony mumbled instinctively, his pain easing slightly with his jaw reset.
Snap!
This time, it wasn't his jaw. One of Anthony's fingers broke with a sharp crack. Batman stared at him, his expression unchanging.
"Talk."
"I really don't know!" Anthony sobbed, tears streaming down his face. "All I know is Kingpin's the boss. His orders come through different people every day. I've never even seen him!"
"Who delivers the orders?" Batman asked, unmoved by the grown man crying like a child in his grip.
"I don't know…" Anthony whimpered, watching the demonic figure raise a fist again. Desperate, he blurted, "Wait, don't hit me! They have one thing in common!"
"What?" Batman lowered his fist.
"They all wear suits!"
With that, Anthony took a heavy chop to the back of his head.
Batman rifled through Anthony's pockets, pulling out a phone and dialing the police. Before they could arrive, he vanished into the night.
Ten minutes later, Manhattan police cars screeched onto the scene, sirens blaring.
"Chief George, looks like just another gang fight," Officer Ogg said, surveying the sprawled bodies of the gang members.
George Stacy didn't respond. He swept his flashlight across the docks, inspecting every corner. Finally, he spotted black webbing on Anthony's chest and Zegen's leg.
"Same as the last few days," George Stacy said, frowning. "The one behind this is still out there, no name, no face. We can't let this guy keep running free. Get back to the station and pull the surveillance footage from the area. I want to know who did this."
Having left Hell's Kitchen, Batman slipped into a nearby office building.
"I need to check all the cameras along my route and erase any footage that might've caught me."
"By morning, I'll need to assemble a new computer and pay a visit to Doctor Otto… Here's hoping Doctor Otto's mood is still stable."
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