Chapter 153: Cat woman Mia
Night fell, and Gotham City—awakened once more by the darkness—came alive with bright lights cutting through the gloom.
In a narrow alley, a long-haired woman in a short dress and heels walked with graceful, confident steps alongside a disheveled-looking man toward a small dive bar.
Pushing open the bar's metal mesh security door, the sharp clatter of her heels on the floor immediately drew everyone's attention.
She calmly walked deeper into the establishment, passing the disheveled man who sat alone at the bar drinking, until she reached a table where a short, well-dressed man sat waiting.
His face was expressionless as he watched the approaching woman with an air of cold superiority.
He seemed completely immune to her striking figure and captivating smile.
"Right hand, complete fingerprints," she said smoothly, producing a card displaying several clear fingerprint impressions. She flashed it briefly before handing it over.
"Well done," the short man nodded stiffly, his expression unchanging as he tucked the fingerprint card into his inner jacket pocket.
"Don't be so impatient, handsome," the woman said, tilting her head so her long, flowing brown hair cascaded over her shoulders, exuding a dangerous allure.
Her red, sensual lips seemed to promise both fragrance and temptation.
However, the man before her remained completely unmoved.
"Where's what you promised me?" Seeing that her attempt at seduction had failed completely, she dropped the act and looked directly at him, all business now.
"Oh," the short man nodded as if just remembering there had been another clause in their arrangement.
He raised his hand and waved it casually.
A man standing by the bar's metal mesh door immediately locked it from the inside.
Another large man slowly approached the woman from behind—it was clear this short man had always intended to break his promise.
"Heh~" The woman smiled, a dangerous edge to her expression that should have been alluring, but the men in the room paid it no attention whatsoever.
"I don't know exactly what you need Mr. Wayne's fingerprints for," she said casually, tilting her head slightly. "But I'm betting the thumbprint will be particularly useful."
She was playing her trump card. "You're not very good at counting, are you?"
However, her tactic proved completely ineffective.
The man didn't even blink, utterly unconcerned about this woman's so-called leverage.
"I can count just fine," he said coldly. The man now standing directly behind the woman had already drawn a pistol and chambered a round with an ominous click.
"In fact, I'll count from one to ten."
As soon as he finished speaking, the armed man pressed the gun barrel against the back of her head.
The message was clear: count to ten, and if she couldn't produce the last fingerprint, she could wait to die.
No matter how well prepared she'd been, she couldn't overcome someone's absolute advantage in position and firepower.
"Fine," she sighed, reaching for her phone, but it was snatched away before she could even turn it on.
Watching him scroll through her device, her expression grew tense. "My friend is waiting outside for word from me..."
The implication was obvious: don't lay a hand on me, because if anything happens, her friend will call the police.
However, the short man simply pulled out his own phone, sent a quick text message, and moments later, someone knocked on the door.
It was her friend—now his hostage.
"It's awfully quiet in here," the young woman who'd just entered said nervously, pulling a small envelope from her purse—the final bargaining chip.
"It'll get lively soon enough, trust me," the woman in the short dress said, taking the envelope and handing it to the short man across from her.
"Are you okay?" her friend asked with concern.
"I'm fine. See you in a bit."
The friend's departure wasn't hindered, and soon the bar fell quiet again—leaving only the tense standoff between the woman and the short man, the drunk still nursing his drink at the bar, the enforcer at the door, and the gunman standing behind her.
After a quick inspection of the contents, the short man managed a soft grunt of approval.
"If we'd just done things as originally agreed, we could have avoided all this trouble," she said quietly in the now-silent bar.
"We can't leave any witnesses," the short man explained calmly, tucking the envelope into his inner jacket pocket alongside the fingerprint card. "Even if you're a beautiful woman, nobody will care when you disappear."
"You're absolutely right," she agreed, completely ignoring the gun still pressed against her skull.
"But the entire Gotham City Police Department is currently searching for my boyfriend," she said, gesturing subtly toward the bar's television, which was broadcasting breaking news about a high-ranking police officer's disappearance.
"Clever bluff, but they definitely won't track him here," the short man said with confident dismissal, barely glancing at the TV screen.
"I wouldn't be so sure about that," she said, her eyes downcast and expression uncertain, "because you just used his phone to send that text."
Hearing this, the short man's face went pale as he realized he'd been completely played.
The entire GCPD was probably tracking that signal right now!
He quickly raised his own weapon, ready to eliminate her before the police arrived.
BANG!
The enforcer standing at the entrance suddenly screamed in pain. Everyone instinctively looked toward the bar's entrance and saw that the wire mesh security door had a massive dent in it!
The large man who'd been guarding it was knocked sprawling to the floor.
About fifteen inches above the ground, there was an unmistakable impact crater.
BANG!
Another thunderous impact.
The metal gate dented even further inward, and the lock mechanism was clearly on the verge of failure.
Taking advantage of the distraction, the woman moved with lightning speed—she disarmed the man behind her with a single fluid motion, then knocked him unconscious with a devastating punch.
Just then, the battered gate—subjected to one final, powerful impact—finally gave way completely and burst open with a screech of tortured metal.
A figure in a black tactical suit rushed through the opening.
Judging by the way he followed through with his right leg, it was obvious he'd been the one kicking down the reinforced door!
Absolutely brutal!
However, the short man hadn't come unprepared—he'd stationed at least ten armed men throughout the bar as backup!
Just as a hail of gunfire was about to erupt, the man in black suddenly accelerated into a full sprint.
He launched himself into the air, and his hands seemed to conjure flames—tongues of fire erupted from his palms as bullets wreathed in sparks flew with surgical precision toward the wrists of every gunman!
"Ah—!"
"Aargh—!"
"Gah—!"
"—!!"
Screams rang out in rapid succession.
By the time Jake crossed the distance and came to a stop directly before the woman in the short dress, every single armed thug was clutching their wounded wrists and writhing on the floor in agony!
However, Jake paid absolutely no attention to any of them—his eyes were locked solely on the woman standing face-to-face with him, barely eight inches away.
"Mia?" he asked, searching her eyes, though his question carried undertones of certainty.
"You came," she smiled softly.
"You're different than before," Jake said, studying her face carefully. "That's my fault—the merge changed you."
"No," Mia shook her head gently. "Maybe Mia and Selina were always meant to be the same person. Two halves of one whole."
"I'm just glad I found you. Now that I have, are you ready to come home with me?"
"I want to fulfill Selina's final wish first," she said, determination flashing in her eyes. "Clear her criminal record completely and start fresh. She deserves that much."
As the two stood face-to-face in quiet conversation, the short man—having witnessed the overwhelming power of this mysterious figure who'd appeared from nowhere—had lost all his previous confidence and was attempting to slink toward the back exit.
Suddenly, a hard metallic object pressed firmly against the back of his skull, immediately halting his escape attempt.
Then came a calm, measured voice from behind him: "I wouldn't move if I were you."
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