DC: Unfortunate Goon

Hands.

That's the only thing that he could feel. Them anchoring itself on his soul and dragging him closer to the light. He didn't want to go. He knew, he understood that would be the end of him. He didn't want to die.

So he continued going forward. Every step he took, he'd be met with heavy resistance. Every passing second more painful than the last. Everything threatened his consciousness but he knew he couldn't afford to pass out.

The light meant judgment. He didn't want to be judged. He knew the sins he committed.

He couldn't afford to quit.

So he kept at it. Moving forward. Time felt so surreal to him. Maybe the darkness was playing tricks on his mind but he felt that he was there for centuries. Every few steps and he'd be met with a huge set back. He never truly made it past his original spot.

Even then he didn't despair. He didn't want to think that he wasted all his time. He just thought he wasn't trying hard enough. So he put his feet down firmly and kept strutting forward.

One.

Two.

He was now officially past the farthest he's gone. Any moment and there would be a set back. Maybe the floor would feel slippery or a weight would pound him to the floor. He'd gone through them thousands of times.

Sometimes he'd even felt the gaze of death watching him. Just observing. This enraged him. This kept him going. He fought even harder than before as the weight hit him hard. Now on his knees, he continued to crawl.

Three.

Four.

Five.

When he made it past the fifth step, he felt the weight disappear. He felt the hands disappear. He felt the gaze disappear. He felt free. His centuries long battle with death, was it over? He didn't waste any time, this was the first time he felt that there was something at the end of it all.

He ran.

He ran like there was no tomorrow. He continued to run after weeks. All in the same direction. Forward. Not once did he back track. He felt certain of himself. To him who managed to escape death's jaws, this was just another test. A test that he could pass if he continued to keep moving forward.

Weeks past.

He was met with challenges. Skilled warriors that barred his path. He ran away at first before realizing that they were herding him back. As if he was just some primitive animal. He had to retaliate. The soldiers of Hell wouldn't expect it would they?

Months past.

It was hard. Fighting without any training. But he adapted. If the move didn't kill him, he'd recover. He was already dead after all. He just needed to power through it. He noticed a few things too. They were adapting. From stone weapons to bronze. They were evolving with him.

Always on the run, fight after fight. It was like the beginning when he struggled from the paws of Death. He didn't like the feeling one bit.

Decades past.

He was now fighting armies. Armies who've been stamped in the pages of history. From Hanabal���s Elephant Army to the 300 Spartans to modern soldiers, he was always fighting. He was tired and exhausted. He couldn't die but he couldn't rest. What's life without rest?

But he kept going. The further he got from the light, the stronger the enemies were. There was something death didn't want him near in that direction.

Centuries.

There was a switch. From fighting realistic human warriors to beasts in legends. He fought against Vampires and Werewolves. Slayed dragons and leviathans. It was tough at first. One zombie army was enough to keep him at bay.

But he was rewarded for his troubles. He woke up to a new body. A stronger one. One that wasn't weak to the temperatures or overworking. He was able to go farther and faster. To him, it was the universe acknowledging his struggle.

Eons.

One Vs. All

The only thing that he could remember was the blade in his hand and the overwhelming stench of blood. His body was now strong enough to fight for weeks at a time without rest. He plowed through his enemies and for the first time, he felt that he was actually fighting and not running.

It was exhilarating to him. This new found feeling of triumph. Death had sent out all of his cards and he lost. This was his conquest and forward pointed towards glory. This was a testament to his will. He withstood the test of time and at the end of it all was a door and a gift basket.

In the basket was a ring of light and a note.

-To the One Who's Will is Eternal

Touching the ring of light, it disappeared and he was sucked into the doorway.

.

.

.

.

'Why?' Thought the man, 'Why did they give me the gift if they were just going to take it away?'

The man didn't know what to expect in front of the doorway. Was it going to be his home? Would it be a different place? He didn't know but he was ready to face it. He cultivated his will and strength through many challenges.

So when he woke up in front of a city known as Gotham without any of his previous strength, he despaired. Was the gift from the heavens actually a plot from Death?

He could imagine Death's cold gaze on him, laughing about the situation. Was this all a part of Death's plan? Was his struggle futile in the end?

No.

He knew that. He had a body. He felt, he smelled, he touched. All those sensations that were numbed before, he felt all of them.

That's right, strength or not, his original goal was to escape death. If he was living, he escaped. He fought Death and won. He giggled to himself. Why did he waste two weeks living as a homeless person when there was such a simple answer to everything.

"That's right. I only needed to keep moving forward."

As a homeless person, he learned a lot about the city's situation. With that information he was able to confirm that he was in a fictional world. Not that it mattered to him anymore. He just needed to live well. That was now his goal.

There were a couple ways to get rich that he knew. The easiest way would be crime. This was Gotham after all. Becoming a criminal was a side job that everyone did at least once.

Now who to work for?

Don't get him wrong, he was never the type of person to take the lead. He found all of that too troublesome. You needed to manage operations, hire goons, have good work insurance. He didn't come back from hell to do all that.

He also didn't see the appeal for socializing with other mob bosses. He was perfectly content with working a 9-5 job. But he didn't have any identification so it could become very tricky to apply for work normally. Plus, he looked like he was only fourteen years old.

That's why crime would be the best thing for him. His time in hell gave him eons of training so he wasn't too concerned for his safety. He's killed many things before. His first few centuries were dedicated to killing soldiers.

The thing was, he didn't know who to work for. But that wasn't a problem. Douglas, a veteran homeless man, was practically a recruiter for homeless people. At the small price of some goldfish, he was able to purchase this information. He planned to cross reference it to what he knew and then he recreated the list.

___

Name: The Riddler

Pay: ✩✩✩✩

Work Danger:✩✩

Insane Coworkers:✩

Insurance:✩

Job Prospects:✩✩✩

Promotions:✩

Remark: Don't correctly answer his riddles

___

___

Name: Two-Face

Pay: ✩✩✩

Work Danger: ✩ | ✩✩✩✩

Insane Coworkers:✩✩✩

Insurance:✩ | ✩✩✩

Job Prospects:✩✩✩

Promotions:✩ | ✩✩✩✩✩

Remark: Pray to the Coin God

___

___

Name: The Penguin

Pay: ✩✩✩✩✩

Work Danger:✩✩✩✩

Insane Coworkers:✩

Insurance:✩✩✩✩✩

Job Prospects:✩✩✩

Promotions:✩

Remark: 50% off at items from the Iceberg Lounge. Promotions are low since Emperor Penguin happened.

___

___

Name: Carmine Falcone

Pay: ✩✩✩

Work Danger:✩✩✩

Insane Coworkers:✩

Insurance:✩

Job Prospects:✩✩✩

Promotions:✩✩✩

Remark: Avoid if not Italian

___

___

Name: The Joker

Pay: ✩✩

Work Danger:✩✩✩✩✩

Insane Coworkers:✩✩✩✩✩

Insurance:✩✩✩

Job Prospects:✩

Promotions:✩✩✩✩✩

Remark: Boss might kill you just because it's a Tuesday. Great Dental but no one is willing to hire ex-joker goons.

___

___

Name: Harley Quinn

Pay: ✩✩

Work Danger:✩✩

Insane Coworkers:✩✩✩✩✩

Insurance:✩

Job Prospects:✩✩✩

Promotions: N/A

Remark: Close knitted group that started just recently.

___

___

Name: Han Li

Pay: ✩✩✩✩

Work Danger:✩✩✩✩✩

Insane Coworkers:✩

Insurance:✩✩✩✩

Job Prospects:✩✩✩✩✩

Promotions: ✩✩

Remark: A branch of the Triads. Works in the dangerous businesses of drug smuggling. Avoid if not Chinese.

___

He reviewed the cards deeply. Where should he go? The Joker was definitely off the list. That man was insane to the point where it wasn't funny. Getting the attention of a man like him wouldn't do. The riddler was also a no. He couldn't bear to hear all of his dumb riddles. He wasn't Italian so he couldn't even join the Falcone Family.

At the end of everything, he came to two possible job offers.

The Penguin and Han Li.

The Penguin was the safest choice. The worst Penguin could do to him was Ice him or feed him to the sharks. All in all, as long as he minded his manners and did the bare minimum, he wouldn't have anything to fear.

But as a man who went through everything he did, normal wasn't an option for him anymore. He had to excel in it. If he became a killer, he'd have to be the most prolific. If he became a manager, he'd have to be the best.

After careful deliberation, he decided to throw away safety. He decided to work for the Triads. Although they were fearsome in China, they've lost their footing after the alliance made by two Crime gangs. They lost a lot of lackeys in a deal that went wrong and they were pretty much accepting everyone.

This was good. It was almost godsend.

If it helped, his new body looked somewhat Asian. Maybe he'll get better treatment there.

…

It was simple. Joining that is. Maybe it was because they were in a hurry to fill their numbers but they didn't even ask him for his name or age. He didn't even remember it to be honest. He didn't remember the personal things about his past life very well. All he knew was that he did some very unspeakable things. Things that led him to defying death itself.

He gripped tightly at the Beretta they gave him. The cold steel frame that gave him comfort. He was holding steel again. He felt safe.

He remembered their instructions.

'1. Don't do anything until given orders.'

'2. Don't provoke the other side.'

'3. We'll be handling everything if things go south. Hopefully it won't but it wouldn't hurt to prepare for it.'

"Got cold feet already kid?" Another homeless person asked him. He recognized the man. Ronnie was it. "Relax a bit. Chances are, we won't have to do anything and walk away with five hundred dollars for free."

He almost scoffed at that. They knew it wasn't going to go well. That's why they were offering that much. There were about fifty guys from their side that were going. If this wasn't a war, then what was?

"Ya know what I could do with five hundred dollars?" Ronnie said with stars in his eyes. "I heard that a new strip club was gonna open. How 'bout it? Interested in joining me? Ya gotta start young to appreciate the ladies."

The teenager remained silent and that rubbed Ronnie the wrong way. Who did the little twerp think he is? How f*cked up is your situation that you'd be a homeless teenager?

"Ya know what? I've always hated people like you." Ronnie said out loud, almost fuming. "Think you're better than me or something? Come on, say it to my face!"

The teenager just sighed. He hadn't even said anything and he was already getting yelled at. But he knew staying quiet was the right thing to do. If you're joining a Chinese Gang, you gotta adhere to Chinese Customs. Losing it and yelling would only make you lose 'face' after all.

Lo and behold, the Chinese man responsible for recruiting nodded his head with a smile. He passed a test. If things went right, then he'd probably get in without having to prove himself too much.

He just needed to stay composed even in the line of fire. Calm and collected.