A world of capes and masks(5)

Batman stuck to the shadows, his suit seamlessly blending with the shadows of the building.

Alternating between the gargoyles on the walls and the cover of the cases be moved silently as a shadow. Each step planned with detail and executed with practiced precision.

"This is Damian, Mira, and her classmates are safe but their phones are jammed, I will begin to rescue any others. Oracle guide me to the locations."

"Damian, I will guide you using the data from Batman's scan."

"Got it."

Batman added nothing to the conversation, he had nothing to add. He was making good time as he stayed low to the ground soon he was at his first objective—The bio lab, they had tagged most of the students here.

There were three guards inside, and at the second site, there were three more, just below this room, guarding the staff.

One last time he pushed on his comms, "Damian, quick and tidy. I take on the two teams here, you take the two on your side of the building. We will converge on the last location together. Keep in mind to move quick, leave no time for them to pull guns."

"Got it."

———

Batman was coming and Molly knew it. He always did. His nerves were crawling, jittery any sudden movement, and he would lose all his trigger discipline.

Their bones were about to be powdered and all for what? To be a distraction for some grand plan? Damn it! If they didn't pay so well, he'd out in a heartbeat.

Still, he moved as he ignored the whimpers of the staff. Then he stopped. Under his sight, two small balls rolled into the room, instinctively his arms coiled, his crosshair jumping towards the window.

A hand landed on his shoulder. He spun around—the trigger almost pulled, stopping barely when Martin came into his eyes.

"Calm down dude," He was an ice cube, bald, calm, and a veteran of the gang.

Looking at him, Molley quietened down, a sigh left his throat, "Sorry—" He was cut off as he let out a terrible scream as a gloved hand impacted his back. Batman pulled him by the head before shoving him into Martin and delivering a heavy kick to him, rendering his consciousness mute.

Martin did not last any longer being knocked unconscious upon impact with the ground.

The last one was already unconscious and hanging from the ceiling.

That's how it always goes in Gotham. You never know when he hits you. He lurks in the shadow and strikes when you least expect it. That's why even the boogeymen are afraid of Batman.

———

——

The class was a mess, some kids were hungry while some were thirsty, we had an in-school cafeteria, so none of us carried our own lunch boxes. The motley things we had were all water bottles and some candy bars. But we were expecting a rescue...soon-ish. So, there wasn't any complaining happening now.

Children were surprisingly sensitive in such situations—keeping their heads down and desires under check.

My eyes washed over them more than once as I leaned against the window, the sun giving us its last few gasps for the day as the citizens began their night lives.

I wondered how many more of these nights we would see after our rescue. Many of us would most certainly be moved to other schools, probably outside of Gotham, after all the major reason many already hadn't was that Gotham Academy was considered safe for its students, and perhaps a certain sense of pride at being the Gotham Elite helped too. 'We are the masters of Gotham,' was a common saying in the homes of Gotham's elite.

Funny that. This city is a leviathan, one that has and will devour so many lives. It nearly ate mine.

Are they arrogant to assume they have mastered Gotham then? I don't know. I don't know anything.

And even if it is arrogant, should they really be the ones to take the blame? Or is it the writers who designed them to be arrogant to serve their story? And can you really blame the writer who never knew that this would become a 'real world'?

I honestly don't know, and after having lived in this world for so long, and having so much time to come to conclusions—I have no answers. But I do know one thing, I am going to survive in this world, and by the end of it, thrive.

And I have a feeling, this power I have in me, those crystals might be the key.

Damn it when did I become so philosophical? It's funny really—when you have quiet time, your mind races to the end of the Earth. We humans truly are hopeless workaholics.

[A/N: One chapter, every other day.

For this chapter, I wanted to give the Thugs some character too, even if only a little. Why? Because the reason that Batman does not kill is that beneath all those masks there is a human.

Plus I wanted to show, how Batman looks from the P.O.V of villains. Unseen, terrifying, and overpowering.

Also I want Gotham itself to be a charcter in my story, though with how noobish my writing is, I think that will take a lot of work.

As for the last part, I want to flesh out Heylel more and more. And I wanted to ask those questions to my Audience too. Like in many novels where the MC reincarnates, they say they hate a character, I just go, 'Is it really that character's fault?'

Thank you for reading.]