#5

"We have arrived." Huh? When did I fall asleep?

"Thanks, Evelyn," I said tiredly before noticing where we were. "Hey, how did we get the van inside the sewers?" I asked, a little dumbfounded as my mind was still catching up to speed.

"Wouldn't you like to know?" Is that snarkiness in your voice, Evelyn? My oh my, are you taking after me, darling?

Anyway, what a strange place to have an arms deal... Wait...

"Is this a trap?" I asked the obvious question, knowing that the universe enjoys throwing curveballs after a peaceful moment.

"Of course it is, sir. I already have an alternative buyer for the firearms. We just came here to send a message," she answered, putting on a simple, faceless, smooth white mask.

With a crooked smile behind my own mask, I started preparing myself for such a blood-pumping exercise. Oh joy, what should I do: chemical terror or technological obliteration? So many options, wish I could do it all at once. But alas, thou shan't overuse what gives you an advantage.

Then, illumination came forth and my smile turned cruel, very cruel. Going to the lab section in the van, I opened a drawer called 'nightmarish stuff' and went through a few objects that can do very nasty things, but I'm not gonna use them now. Let's go with something simple... Aha, found it. This is going to get very graphic; I wonder if this chapter's going to get taken down because of this? Meh, not my problem.

With my plan ready, I replaced the original crates with an empty one, which I turned into a nasty deathly trap. It wasn't hard; hell, I could've used a mousetrap and it would still work as intended. But I'm just rambling, let's see those idiots.

Taking the crates out of the van without Evelyn's help, I am met with twelve thugs, all using the same style of clothing and hairstyle... Wait, aren't those the poor excuses of criminals that tried to extort the orphanage?

"Gentlemen, very good to finally make acquaintances with you all," I said, maintaining a friendly approach since I quite like the wolf-in-sheep's-clothing method of intimidation.

"Did you bring the guns?" The one I assumed to be the leader asked rudely, making sure I don't have any remorse for killing him and his thugs. How thoughtful!

"Of course, I always keep my part of the deal." Please get my subtle question of 'Do you?' and react violently, please!

But I should've known better than to hope for something from Neanderthals. The man simply hummed and smiled greedily as his men brought the crate to him. His hands fumbled momentarily with the latch before it clicked open. With a grunt, he heaved the lid up, and a barely audible hiss escaped into the air. Revealing prop wrapping, very useful to fool your enemies.

"Well doctor, it was good dealing with you," the leader said, before taking one of the weapons and pointing it in my direction. "Now if you'd be so kind to fuck off, I would be very thankful."

"BWAHAHAHA... Sorry, sorry, I didn't mean to laugh... Wait, you're serious? Let me laugh even harder, BWAHAHAHA." I couldn't hold it anymore and burst out laughing, even hitting my knee to show how ridiculous I found this situation.

And then, I stopped, straightening myself and looking him dead in the eye. "You better think this through, my friend." My voice was cold, almost cruel.

He shivered, but that toy in his hands gave him courage, enough courage to pull the trigger, and that's when it started. In an instant, an invisible, deadly cloud of hydrogen cyanide began to seep out of the crate, a certain mechanism releasing it after he pulled the trigger, unnoticed by them. The leader was the first to feel it. His face contorted in sudden agony as he stumbled back, clutching his throat, his eyes bulging with fear. A guttural, choking noise escaped his lips as he gasped for breath, his skin taking on a bluish tint.

Next to him, a wiry thug dropped to his knees, his face twisted in pain. His fingers clawed at the floor, leaving streaks of blood as he tried to find some anchor in his agony. His body convulsed violently, his mouth foaming as he struggled to breathe.

A tall thug staggered backward, his eyes rolling back into his head. He crashed into a stack of crates, sending them toppling with a deafening clatter. He tried to scream, but no sound came out, only a wet, gurgling noise as he clawed at his throat, his face turning a sickly shade of blue.

The room erupted into chaos. Men fell to the ground, writhing and convulsing, their limbs jerking uncontrollably. One of them managed to take a few staggering steps toward the exit before collapsing, his body twitching as foam bubbled from his mouth.

Others tried to flee, but their movements were slow, uncoordinated. One man, his vision blurred and lungs burning, reached the door but lacked the strength to turn the handle. He slumped against it, his breaths coming in shallow, ragged gasps before he slid to the floor, lifeless.

The warehouse was filled with the grotesque sounds of death: choking, gasping, and the wet gurgle of final breaths. The men lay scattered around the open crate, their bodies twitching in the last throes of life.

And during all that, here we were, watching silently, Evelyn because she didn't care and me because you shouldn't talk during dramatic scenes such as these. In the end, they all paid for their transgression against me, leaving a satisfying taste in my mouth.

"Well my dear, let's go, don't want to get death's stench over my nice clothes," I said, as if this wasn't an obvious act of bioterrorism, entering the van.

"As you wish, doctor," she said, taking the wheel and driving us off.

Huh, turns out we weren't in the sewers, just in an underground entrance to them. Evelyn my dear, since when did you start playing my type of game of deception? You're making me cry because of how proud I am.

Anyway, soon we were off, going through the streets of Gotham in a comfortable silence. That was, until we arrived at the Iceberg Lounge.

"Didn't you say something about an alternative buyer?" I asked Evelyn as we exited the van and went straight in, no one stopping us because they're smarter than that.

"Yes." That's it? Evelyn, I'm barely recognizing you. Where's the overcomplicated and info-dumping information? Oh right, I told you to never do that.