Night Watch

While the good men in SWAT uniforms and with automatic rifles were distributing themselves in the warehouse, taking the maniac, who was bound by me and was obviously not going to run away (even with a broken leg and broken ribs), I climbed to the roof of the building and sat on the ledge, staring thoughtfully at the lights of the big city.

Suddenly I was gently embraced from behind by two pairs of arms. The girls caught my depressed mood and didn't distract me with conversation, but provided moral support by placing themselves on either side of me. Although I wasn't sure of Harley's motives for suggesting that we kill the psycho a minute ago, I was still very happy about the outcome, since no one was stopping me from weaving an incredibly useful spell that was part of the standard set of any self-respecting mage.

Shield, after activation, creates a disk of compacted air, the size and strength of which depends on the forces invested. Harley and I, of course, knew this spell, but we didn't see the point of using it because of its high cost and slow cast. And in terms of durability, in our version, the shield can withstand a couple of pistol shots at most, besides, after casting it does not appear instantly, but as if "unfolds" from the point of concentration, like a flower. Given these disadvantages, it is much easier for us to dodge the deadly gift than to pretend to be great magicians.

Why would I need a relatively useless spell now that the fight was over? It's all about its materiality.

For guidance, I use a piece of weave from a modified flare that doesn't work on allies, but now my own aura, left on the bloodstained glass, serves as a guide. I set it to a small diameter of thirty centimeters and shut it off immediately after triggering, and then pump the resulting construct with mana as much as possible so that it's sure to make it all the way through.

For a moment I was overcome with doubt. Who was I to pass judgment? I was just an ordinary man who had escaped oblivion and accidentally acquired some abilities that, frankly, looked paltry compared to any Kryptonian. After all, the former owner of this body was also facing the electric chair for organizing terrorist attacks with a lot of victims, but not in this fucking universe...

No, Jay, unlike you, Zsasz won't even think about making amends. As soon as the fracture heals, he'll continue to "save" people, and from now on, every man killed will be on your conscience. And that bastard dares to threaten your loved ones!

The realization of that last thought gave me back my resolve to go all the way. And now was the perfect time and place, because then I'd have to eliminate the serial maniac by other methods, risking suspicion. Hmm, although Bats would suspect me anyway, but he wouldn't be able to prove anything because of all the witnesses.

It wasn't. Covering my eyes, I mentally pushed the resulting construct toward the blood that had been left behind, listening to the sounds of the city at night.

~Dzang~

Soon, the clinking of glass shattering into many shards and the loud mats of a maniac, a little frustrated with the warehouse logistics and the sluggishness of the raiding party, were on the verge of being heard.

I hope I haven't misjudged this psycho's character and the importance of scarring to him, as well as the local SWAT team, or this is going to be very bad.

*** One minute before the spell is activated***

Covering each other, a trio of armed men surrounded a grinning Victor Zsasz while their comrades searched the warehouse and treated the sole survivor. According to the dossier, after another murder, a patient at the clinic becomes temporarily non-threatening, but the department members were still wary of approaching him. Usually, Batman personally delivers the neutralized supercriminal to Arkham Asylum, or completely blocks his ability to move, tying him up like a caterpillar. But this time Gotham's protector only shackled the maniac's hands with a conventional tie and, judging by the unnaturally twisted leg, ensured a closed fracture.

Suddenly, several of the huge panes of glass under which Zsasz was sitting crunched unpleasantly and began to fall.

"Fuck!" The criminal tried to contain their fall by flipping over onto his back and putting his whole leg up, but by doing so he only succeeded in causing them to fracture on impact and still reach the floor, shattering into many shards.

"Fucking crooked motherfuckers, who puts things up like that? And what the fuck is taking you so long?! Kha-kha," he expressed his indignation, looking at his future escorts with hatred.

"Get down, hands on your head!" one of the commandos woke up, pointing his weapon at Zsasz, who was now surrounded by many sharp objects, but he was not heard.

The psycho leaned back and silently moved his lips, staring in disbelief at his shattered hands, which were bound with a plastic clamp.

"Hey, are you deaf?" The armed man slowly approached him.

"...nine, ten, eleven," the serial killer finished counting, not paying attention to the gun barrel, and began to laugh softly, his laughter getting crazier and crazier with each passing second. - Ha-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha," he coughed, spitting up blood, but the smile didn't fade from his satisfied face, "it looks like fate is on your side today!

"Move aside!" one of the three finally realized the danger of this maniac's behavior.

"Freeze!" Grinning, the criminal picked up the first shard of glass he could find and tried to stab it into the thigh of the nearest target, expecting to hit an artery.

~Bah-bah-bah-bah-bah-bah-bah-bah-bah-bah~

Two machine gun bursts threw Victor to the floor.

"A bright scarlet blood gushed from several neat holes, pooling in a puddle that outlined the silhouette. - Shit... I didn't make it..." he let out one last breath, staring at the ceiling with a glazed look.

The leader of the group cautiously approached the subdued maniac.

"Target eliminated," he said into his radio, after checking his pulse.

***

Thank God Mouse didn't have the same keen hearing as Harley or me, so we didn't turn back until after the shots were fired, or Babs might have had the brains to throw a couple of gluey Batgrenades to fix the targets.

"Is he... Is he dead?" The young heroine asked incredulously, jumping down onto the beam, which gave her a good view of the SWAT team fussing over the body.

"Looks like it," I landed nearby, assessing the disposition.

Everything went almost perfectly, and no one was even hurt, well, except for Zsasz. But the falling glass created a lot of weapons for the master of close combat, and shackled hands with a broken leg don't really save the day. Fortunately, the local SWAT team was on top of their game this time, successfully eliminating the serial killer. Eh, if they always acted like that, how many deaths could have been avoided? Heh, although at this rate, the world would lose one notorious clown right after his first high-profile performance.

"Come on, there's nothing more for us to do here..." I shook my head and stepped out into the fresh air again. - Hell, I wouldn't deny it, I was glad to see it go.

"Yeah, nobody really liked that fucker," said Sailor, who had heard the clinking of glass and mats, but didn't do anything about it as she watched my reaction.

"Yeah, it's probably for the best... - Mousey looked a little depressed. - Eh, where to now?

Hmm, not much of a choice really, either go home and spend the rest of the night with two stunning hotties, trying to dull the unpleasantness of Zsasz's death, or continue the night watch for the same purpose. I glanced at a glowering Harley, who was definitely missing a similar shakeup, and Babs, thoughtfully twirling a batcrew in her hands. A police siren sounded nearby, hinting that not all the criminals were behind bars yet.

In spite of a little doubt, both girls were very enthusiastic about my proposal. What can I say, if I enjoyed the night hunt as much as they did. And it wasn't the gratitude of the rescued and the sense of accomplished superhero duty, although I won't deny that they also contributed, but the adrenaline rush and the realization of my own abilities. Heck, I didn't even notice that I was limiting myself at times, forgetting that my strength, flexibility, and agility were already beyond the human limit. Criminal elements sometimes didn't get a good look at a blurry silhouette in a cape and cylinder before I sent them off to Nightmare Land. Ha-ha-ha-ha, though some of them would shriek in horror about some monster.

It had been an incredibly productive night, for in addition to catching a bunch of criminals who had been hanging around Blackport, judging by the remnants of white makeup on their faces, we'd set up a stakeout for Alastor Winslow.

I won't lie, it was only thanks to Mouse and her cool smartphone with a bunch of hacking programs, and all I had to do was connect to the security systems of the penthouse where the tycoon lived. I'll have to remember to make one of those, because I don't want to use Bats's gadgets with a bunch of bugs.

During the hack, Gordon's daughter confessed that she had wanted to hack something serious for a long time, but her conscience stopped her every time, and here it was necessary to save a human life. It sounds like a lame excuse, but it's a lot better than fiddling around with stealthy infiltration to place miniature cameras. Besides, we'd still have to sneak in to install the gas tanks. I could do a much simpler job of tapping into the local exhaust system, but I'll think about that when I find out what the man's plans are for the eclipse, or he'll skip town and the preparations will be for naught.

***

It was a wonderful awakening, as I was cuddled up against a redheaded beauty, her breath tickling my neck a little. I kissed her gently, trying not to wake her, and looked over at the other girl, who was sleeping sweetly, star-spangled on the left side of the bed. She looked incredibly cute, so I couldn't resist kissing her again, pulling myself out of the embrace.

Leaving my loved ones to sleep after the night's adventures, I went to the workshop. The encounter with the psycho was still fresh in my mind, so I needed a proper firearm. As we scurried around the city, following the Oracle's recommendations, I paid attention to the weapons of our opponents. They weren't very diverse and were mostly cold, but there were some special ones, one of which I couldn't resist expropriating.

On the table was a six-shot .357 magnum revolver with an oddly enlarged barrel. Honestly, I don't know much about firearms, but this beauty knocked my heart out with its shape and weight. Huh, a character in the movie "Big Kush" named Boris Razor said it right: "Heavy is good. Heavy is safe. Even if it doesn't go off, you can always get hit in the head with it."

The weapon did look monumental and gave me a sense of confidence in the future, but it still lacked the individuality, the zest, that I could provide. I had a project in my notes to create a complex of volumetric illusions, so I could test how well the hound's blood conducts and stores mana.

The calculations, somewhat similar to the fitting of ready-made blocks, took a little longer, but due to the small surface area, I managed to tie the power to the background feed, so the revolver will be the coolest and most stylish almost everywhere, meeting my sense of beauty. The next step was to remove the cheeks, engrave on their inner surface a ready-made combination that looked like several intersecting circles with a bunch of symbols inside and around the perimeter, carefully fill everything with a thick blue liquid that had not lost its properties, fix it with varnish and assemble it.

A mental impulse with a drop of mana, and the hilt is colored a pleasing purple. Heh, this is going to be fun. One more impulse and I see a revolver, which Joker himself would be ashamed to use because of the color of the handle and the presence on it of a schematically depicted pale face with green disheveled hair and a wide smile.

I was trying to get away from the original, but in the end I realized that the image created by the mad clown-prince was incredibly attractive. Having reassembled and cleaned the mechanism, I put the weapon in the spatial pocket and went to the garage, where the Aston was waiting for me with a lot of gadgets, some of which should definitely be checked for trackers.

I'd only had time to fully investigate the backhook, taking it apart and soldering out the bug, when two seductive beauties appeared on my doorstep, demanding my attention. At least, one of them was definitely demanding, mysteriously twinkling her multicolored eyes full of anticipation, and the other was interested in my workshop, but Harley and I promptly took Myshonk into the loop, showing the redhead our entertainment room.

"It was awesome *-*," the blonde cutie's first words after being released from the gag were not very informative, but they were full of enthusiasm and happiness.

"Heh, I liked it all too," I gave her a gentle kiss, unhooking her from her haunches.

By tacit agreement, Babs and I decided to take the dominant position, torturing the seductive body of Delirum's avatar.

Unfortunately, I didn't have much fun: it was a sleepless night and the low stamina of the commissioner's daughter, who had successfully passed out from another anal orgasm. Damn, I still couldn't believe she was so sensitive.

After a bath, where Mousey regained consciousness and fought off a second attempt on her taut ass, we sat at the kitchen table, eating a simple lunch of scrambled eggs, sandwiches and coffee, and listening to the news.

"Ha-ha-ha-ha-ha!" I coughed when the announcer told about the appearance of a new hero, who had already been dubbed by the name Babaduk and even painted a rough portrait based on the verbal description of one of the detainees.

On the screen was a black, creepy monster straight out of a child's nightmare. It had an impressive set of sharp teeth in a huge mouth, long thin fingers ending in claws, a cylinder, and something that looked like a cape.

"Fuck... I should have given them time to see me," I lowered my head onto my folded arms.

"Well, well, well, Mr. J," Harley gently stroked my shoulder and kissed my cheek, "it looks cool.

"Do you think so, too?" I asked Babs sitting next to me.

"Ahem, I'd say suggestive," she replied diplomatically, "It would be very handy to get news from informants if you could create the same illusion.

"Hmm, this is going to be fun..." I stare at the screen thoughtfully, memorizing the image.

There was nothing else of interest in the news, except for the information about another small protest in Blackport due to police inaction. Well, in this case, the police were really at fault for letting the situation with the painted bandits go unchecked. We caught a dozen of those assholes scattering around the city, even though the cordons should have kept them out, but no, let's leave it up to the supers... Ugh.

When everyone was more or less satiated and ready for a normal perception of the information, I decided to announce the plan of action for today, which consisted of four points. First, we needed to check the mansion's security systems, because all we needed was uninvited green-haired guests, who were too many for one city. Secondly, we need to order supplies to create gadgets from trusted suppliers, which should help Harley. Thirdly, if we want to use Bats's toys without hindrance, they should be checked too. And, fourthly, we all need hacking equipment, at that moment I glanced expressively at the redhead.

"And what will you do?" The harlequin clarified, having listened to the tasks carefully.

"I should stop by to pick up the cylinders I'd prepared for Alastor and," I opened the letter on my smartphone, checking the date, "visit Arkham Island.

"Oh, say hi to Jeremiah for me," Harley said excitedly.

"I will," I assured my beloved.