C 42

The voice had barely finished echoing when the huge figure—donned in the Rabbit Battlegear—suddenly attacked everyone in sight.

Fox and the others reacted with wild expressions of shock, feeling the force of the oncoming wind before they could comprehend the danger. The air crackled with tension as Anton, controlling the suit from afar in Los Angeles, unleashed his might.

Boom!

The unscrupulous repairman fell to the ground, bloodied and unconscious. In the midst of the chaos, Cross saw an opportunity to escape but was quickly thwarted by a sudden explosion.

Boom!

The deafening blast echoed through the Empire State Building, sending shockwaves that alerted everyone nearby. Those working late in the adjacent buildings gazed in horror at the flaming spectacle, their instincts screaming that something was terribly wrong.

DiDiDiDi!

The phones at the New York Police Department rang incessantly, the sound almost drowning out the grumbling of George Stacey, who had just settled into what he hoped would be a quiet end to his shift. 

Recently, he had been consumed with the aftermath of the Continental Hotel incident, a grueling process that had drained his energy and patience. Finally feeling relieved, he couldn't believe that trouble was brewing yet again.

"Which bastard is this time?" he fumed, his jaw set in irritation.

"Director, there's a fierce gun battle in the Empire State Building—some people are using rockets!" a frantic officer reported.

"Rockets?" George echoed incredulously, his temper flaring. "RPG? Which fool dares to fire an RPG in the city and not expect to get blown away?"

The officer continued, "We're still verifying the intelligence, but the communication lines are jammed."

"Damn it!" George barked, storming out of his office. "What are you all standing around for? Move!"

Inside the Empire State Building, the dust from the shell blast settled, leaving Cross and the remaining members of the fraternity momentarily stunned. They had never anticipated such a heavy weapon would be employed against them.

"This is your last chance," Anton's voice rumbled from the Rabbit Battlegear, deep and ominous. He could see the fear and confusion in their eyes, a clear indication of how terrifying his reputation had become. 

The unspoken rules of the underworld were clear: anyone deploying heavy weaponry was essentially declaring war against the city itself, and now they were facing a figure who had disregarded those rules entirely.

After a brief pause, the police arrived in a rush. As they entered the Empire State Building, they found a group of assassins bound and stripped of their weapons, slumped weakly on the ground, their eyes vacant with fear.

"Who the hell are these people?" one officer asked, his brow furrowing as he assessed the situation.

"They're from the fraternity!" a colleague interjected, shock evident in his voice.

"Ah, another killer organization?" The officer's confusion deepened as he quickly pulled out handcuffs, ready to restrain them.

George Stacey pushed through the throng of officers to assess the situation firsthand. His mind raced with the implications of what had just unfolded. 

Cross was a legendary figure in the assassin underworld, an ace killer whose betrayal of the fraternity had made headlines for government. Despite this, George hadn't expected such chaos to unfold in his city.

Using heavy weapons in the Empire State Building was a catastrophic event that would have severe repercussions. His thoughts swirled as he considered the consequences, knowing that these criminals would likely see significant jail time, not to mention the media storm that would follow.

"Who did this?" he muttered, grappling with disbelief. "Who caught these troublemakers? And who's the idiot who played with RPGs?"

George had limited knowledge of the fraternity but understood enough about the delicate balance of power in the criminal underworld, especially regarding the Continental Hotel and the High Table. 

The fraternity's leaders held their ground, but now, seeing so many of them apprehended was shocking.

"Chief, look! It's Batman!" an officer suddenly shouted, pulling George from his spiraling thoughts.

He stared up at the figure standing atop the Empire State Building, recognition dawning upon him.

"Is it him again?" he breathed, his heart racing as he recalled recent events.

The shadowy figure vanished as quickly as it had appeared, leaving the police officers in stunned silence, and George felt a wave of resignation wash over him.

"Close the investigation," he ordered, his shoulders sagging. "There's nothing we can do about Batman."

With a sigh, he felt some relief that reporters weren't on the scene. If the news got out that Batman had once again swooped in to handle a crisis, apprehending some of the world's top killers and resolving a gun battle in the Empire State Building, it would bring a wave of ridicule upon the New York Police Department.

As George contemplated the situation, he didn't notice the man in the shadows with a DSLR, a sly smile spreading across his face as he snapped pictures of the chaos.

"This photo is not bad," Eddie thought to himself, already dreaming of the headline: "Batman Strikes Again: The Dark Knight Catches Top Killers in Epic Showdown!" 

He couldn't wait to show Anton the images and collect a bonus for his work.

Yet, Eddie didn't head home just yet; he had more to do as per Anton's orders. His next stop: the entrance of the New York Police Department.

Meanwhile, back at the Empire State Building...

The Rabbit Armor, having completed its mission within the tower, burst forth into Hell's Kitchen with a roar.

Boom!

The suit's entrance into the street drew immediate attention, and the local inhabitants were quick to respond, brandishing weapons and aiming them at the formidable figure.

"Oh shit! What is that?" one exclaimed, his eyes wide in disbelief.

"Hey, this is our turf! You better think twice before you come here!" shouted another, his bravado masking the fear that rippled through the crowd.

A band of armed men confronted the Rabbit Armor, pulling their triggers without hesitation.

Bang! Bang!

The bullets ricocheted harmlessly off the armor's reinforced armour, creating a shower of sparks. The onlookers were dumbfounded; they had never seen such a resilient creation.

"This is the kingpin's territory!" someone yelled, attempting to rally the others.

Unfazed by the threats, Anton continued his mission, knowing that he had the advantage.

Inside a nearby building, a meeting was underway between a white man clad in an expensive tailored suit and an older black man with a sharp gaze. The white man, despite his bulk, emanated an aura of power and cunning.

"Welcome, fraternity, to my underground kingdom," he said, a smirk spreading across his face as he reveled in their newfound alliance.

But their meeting was abruptly interrupted when a bald man, tattooed with a gun target on his forehead, burst through the door. Ignoring the stunned expressions of the two men in the room, he delivered the bad news.

"Boss, something's gone wrong. Someone just broke in."

…

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