Onto the Grinder #78

Strolling through the majestic Gotham Park, I couldn't shake off this eerie feeling of déjà vu. Despite never setting foot here before, it felt like I'd clocked in hours wandering its paths. In the distance, I spotted a gloomy young man engaged in what looked like a losing battle with a rugged middle-aged fellow. 

They seemed locked in combat, but with a blink, they vanished into thin air, leaving me questioning my sanity. 

"Hallucination or ghostly sparring partners?" I muttered, scratching my head as Rattigan shot me a skeptical glance. Apparently, he missed the show. Maybe I'm just seeing things.

"Let's not dwell on the weirdness. I'll just have a talk with Poison Ivy and get out of here before seeing things becomes the norm for me," I declared, steering away from the main trail and diving deeper into the park. 

As I mentioned, I didn't come here for a stroll but to find Poison Ivy. How did I know she was here? Courtesy of the Penguin, Gotham's most reliable information hub. Sure, he's a bit pricey, but when it comes to solid leads, the Penguin's your bird.

After several minutes of strolling, I stumbled upon a dilapidated greenhouse, overrun by creeping vines and tangled foliage, as if it had been abandoned for decades. 

Stepping into the clearing, I unwittingly drew the attention of the shady characters lurking around the area. With their heavy attire, caps, and shades concealing their features, they hardly looked like friendly neighborhood folks.

As I pondered their motives, one of them, oozing menace, advanced toward me. "You!" the shady fellow barked, positioning himself at a calculated distance—close enough to intimidate yet far enough to deter any sudden moves. Yep, these guys are definitely not simple. 

"Who are you, and what the hell are you doing here?" he demanded, his hand inching toward a concealed weapon within his coat.

Flashin' him my trademark grin, I raised my hands in mock surrender. "Would you believe me if I said I'm just takin' a scenic stroll?" I quipped, bracing myself for whatever came next. 

The guy shot me a steely glare, his silence hanging heavy in the air, before suddenly lunging at me with an expandable baton clutched tightly in his grip, clearly aiming for my head.

As the man lunged at me with his baton, I caught his wrist with a grin, channeling my inner action hero. With a flick of my wrist and a bit of martial arts finesse, both man and baton were spinning in the air. 

With one hand, I took the baton and, with the other, punched its owner, sending him flying away. He crashed into a tree with a satisfying thud, a symphony of curses from his friends following his descent. 

"Who's next?" I challenged, brandishing the baton and extending it to its full length like I was about to audition for a superhero movie.

The other shady characters exchanged nervous glances, realizing they might have picked the wrong guy to mess with. As they fumbled for their guns and opened fire, I couldn't help but roll my eyes. 'No hesitation at all... what the hell have I gotten myself into?' I grumbled inwardly, activating my trusty Storm Walker shoes for a speed boost.

With bullets flying around me like disgruntled bees, I danced through the chaos, weaving between shots with the grace of a caffeinated ninja. Dodging bullets was becoming a habit, but hey, beats catching them with my teeth. 

I waited for the first goon to run out of ammo before I decided to pay him a visit up close and personal, zipping over like that one uncle once he finds out your parents aren't home.

As I materialized before the man, he swung his pistol at my head, his actions speaking more loudly about his combat experience than any word can. 

Quick on the draw, I deflected his strike with the baton, making him drop the gun like a hot potato. I was about to give him a friendly tap on the noggin to send him into dreamland, but a glance at his buddies' trigger-happy fingers made me think twice. 

'Let's see how far they're willing to go...' Instead of delivering the knockout blow, I looped an arm around his neck and positioned him as a human shield, a move straight out of an action movie playbook. 

The shady crew didn't hesitate to open fire, clearly intent on turning their erstwhile friend and me into Swiss cheese targets. "Well, well, seems like your pals aren't big on teamwork," I quipped, flashing a grin at my unwilling bodyguard.

Summoning a swirling barrier of shadows, I intercepted the hail of bullets before they could turn him into a pin cushion. 'Experienced, ruthless, and packing heat... what a pleasant punch,' I mused inwardly, noting their readiness to ventilate their own buddy without a second thought.

After giving the guy in my grip a solid headbutt and a one-way ticket to Dreamland, I tossed him aside for later interrogation. "Time to clean up and get to the bottom of this mess," I muttered, eyeing the remaining shady characters, who seemed about as shaken as a tree in a gentle breeze. 

Pouring a generous splash of water on the thug's face, I couldn't help but chuckle as he sputtered back to reality, grumbling all the while. "No... Hate school. Got no friends... Don't wanna go..." he mumbled, clearly still in the fog of unconsciousness. 

A solid slap brought him back to the present, his eyes darting around with cautious suspicion before he clamped down on something hidden in his mouth as soon as our gazes met.

With a silent challenge in his gaze, he waited for the shoe to drop, but to his surprise, nothing happened. 

"Cyanide bill in the tooth filling, huh? Classic move," I quipped, pulling the poison pellet that was in his mouth with a turn of my hand. 

The thug's expression shifted from confusion to shock in an instant. "You might as well just end it now... I won't spill anything, even if you put me through the wringer," he spat out defiantly, his jaw set with stubborn resolve. 

I couldn't help but raise an eyebrow at his unwavering defiance. "Not even flinching at death and torture, huh?" I remarked with a wry grin.

"After today's botched job, someone else will finish the job if you don't," he retorted, his tone as firm as his grip on reality. "And as for torture, been there, done that. You won't break me," he declared matter-of-factly, bracing himself for the worst.

"Fair enough, if you've been trained to endure the training, then regular people certainly can't make you talk..." I conceded with a nod, rising to my feet and extending my hand. 

With a subtle gesture, shadows converged and enveloped the thug's frame, wrapping him in a cocoon of darkness. "But who the hell said I was a regular person?"

As the shadows encased the thug, leaving only his eyes visible, I couldn't resist a mischievous grin. "You know, spending the last couple of months at the bottom of the sea taught me some fascinating things," I mused, pacing around him as he squirmed in his shadowy prison.

"Take the immense pressure down there, for example, and its effect on the human body..." I trailed off, watching his confusion deepen. "When it comes to toughness, I'm not worse than the strongest Atlantian warriors, but let me tell you, it felt like I had a mountain sitting on my chest for the first week. Got used to it eventually, though," I chuckled, settling down beside him.

"Now, I can't replicate that pressure with my shadows, but a fraction of it? Piece of cake," I continued, shooting him a pointed look. "One little squeeze, and poof! You're instant paste," I sighed dramatically. "But that's no fun... What if I dialed up the pressure bit by bit?" I teased, putting on an expression of relishing the thug's fear.

"Will your bones crack like twigs? Will your insides burst like overripe fruit? Or maybe your eyes will pop out like a cartoon character?" I pondered aloud, my grin widening at his growing discomfort. "Honestly, I'm just as curious as you are to find out," I chuckled darkly. 

As the thug's thrashing reached a crescendo, I raised an eyebrow, feigning innocence. "Oh? Seems like you're rearing to go... Your dedication to the cause of science is truly inspiring," I remarked, closing my hand slowly, and adding just a hint of pressure. 

It was less of a squeeze and more like an overenthusiastic bear hug, but the mental image I'd painted in his head with my words seemed to do the trick, sending him into a frenzy of thrashing and muffled cries.

"Oh? Got something to share with the class now?" I quipped, flashing him a wicked grin as I peeled away the shadows shrouding his mouth.