Bane

Knock, knock, knock! 

Someone knocked on the window of Adam's van. 

Adam rolled down the window to find the same thug who'd tried to extort him earlier, now accompanied by a larger group armed with machetes and crowbars. 

"You think you're Batman just because you dress like him? You almost fooled me back there..." 

Adam didn't have time for this nonsense. He extended his hand, transforming it into a spinning off-road tire, and slammed it into the thug's forehead. 

"Get lost!" 

Honestly, using a machete and some makeshift Robin-inspired weapon to rob people in Gotham? 

How pathetic. 

Watching the thugs scatter, Adam changed his voice and picked up the microphone. 

"Hey, can you hear me? Good." 

He pinched his throat, mimicking Cat's sultry voice. 

"Good day, dear mercenaries." 

Then, he swiftly changed to Deadshot's gruff tone: "I'm glad you haven't resorted to violence. Trust me, that's exactly what I want. Now, untie Killer Croc." 

Deadshot donned his mask, suppressing the urge to ask the obvious question, "Who are you?" 

He was weighing the risks of getting entangled in this increasingly murky situation. 

A strong scent of conspiracy hung in the air. It always started like this: a shadowy mastermind luring a young, naive mercenary into their web. Mercenaries didn't accept jobs from just anyone - with the exception of those like Deathstroke, who possessed the skills and ruthlessness to survive any betrayal. 

But most mercenaries were mortal. Crossing the wrong employer could easily result in death. That's why someone like Deadshot relied on middlemen to connect him with trustworthy clients. The Ventriloquist, for example, had proven himself to be a kind, gentle, and law-abiding crime lord, thus earning Deadshot's services. 

But this unknown puppet master... 

The Ventriloquist finished untying Killer Croc, who promptly sprung to his feet, teeth bared and claws extended. Deadshot instinctively lowered his gun, but the beast thankfully didn't attack. Instead, Croc rushed back to the pile of money, eyes gleaming with greed. He meticulously picked up each bill from the dust, carefully placing them back into the van. 

"Ha ha! I got 200 million dollars, ha ha!" Killer Croc cackled, reveling in his newfound wealth. 

Javelin, consumed by envy, grumbled, "Damn it, why's my cut only–" 

Adam, seamlessly switching to Javelin's voice, interjected, "Don't be jealous of Croc. He just got an advance on the next four years' salary." 

"And I'm a generous employer," he continued in his own voice. "Complete the tasks I set for you, and I guarantee that in a few months, everyone here will be swimming in millions. This is a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity, but you have to be willing to take it." 

A pause hung in the air. 

Deadshot, instantly hooked, decided to dive headfirst into this murky situation. It wasn't about the money, per se. He simply had a taste for adventure. 

Adam launched into a long-winded speech, which can be summarized as follows: 

"I'm loaded!" 

"Your wealthy benefactor" 

"Throwing money around" 

"On how to use said money" 

"This is a HUGE opportunity" 

Adam wasn't a natural orator, but the presence of a mountain of cash and a money-hungry Killer Croc proved to be persuasive enough. The blatant display of wealth, coupled with the subtle threat posed by the other three huddled mercenaries, worked wonders. 

Slipknot forced a tight smile, Tattooed Man patted his belly in satisfaction, and the atmosphere quickly warmed. 

Javelin, ever the opportunist, chimed in with a dramatic flourish, "Oh, great employer! Your generosity knows no bounds!" 

His over-the-top sycophancy, reminiscent of a Shakespearean soliloquy, left Deadshot speechless. 

"Aren't you going to refuse the follow-up mission?" 

"I changed my mind," Javelin declared, a wide grin spreading across his face. 

"Bah, money-grubbing fools," Deadshot muttered in disdain. 

Adam continued, "With that settled, the temporary team is formed. I've even come up with a name for you: the Suicide Squad." 

"That's a terrible name," Javelin complained. 

"I'll add another $100,000 to your pay," Adam offered. 

"This name is perfect!" Javelin exclaimed. Why not? Compliments were free, after all. Deadshot let out a sigh of relief. The current mission was accomplished. As for the next one, with a little caution, he was confident he could survive and return home. 

With $200 million, he might even be able to retire and live a peaceful life with his daughter.

Behind the screen, Adam mirrored Deadshot's relief. After dealing with Bane, he might finally be able to retire and live peacefully with...well, the air. 

"When I earn my own $200 million, I'll go back home, buy a big villa, and live happily ever after with my wife–" 

Splat! 

Like a burst balloon, Javelin's blond, masked head was crushed in a giant hand, his javelin clattering to the ground. 

Phtoo! 

Miles away, Adam spat his coffee onto the monitor, jolting to his feet and smacking his head on the van's ceiling. 

Time seemed to slow down. 

Deadshot's eyes widened as he heard Cat's panicked cry: "Ambush! 

He saw the hulking figure... the half-naked upper body, a tapestry of bulging muscles and twisting veins like pythons. 

Most striking were the bright green infusion tubes snaking from his head to his arms, and the menacing headgear... 

"Bane!" 

... 

... 

... 

Bane felt that he was often endlessly falling through a void... a deep darkness that coalesced into an ocean. 

It was both his cradle and his tomb. 

But it could not confine his mind. 

His soulsoared beyond the coffin, wandering through a twilight realm where death and life intertwined. 

He sought the bat-demon, yearned to stand in its shadow, resist it, and ultimately destroy it! Its fear would die with it— 

Then, all of Gotham would sing: 

Holy is the mighty Bane, conqueror of the evil demon - Batman!

Holy is Bane, ruler of Gotham, exalted above all! 

But a hero's journey is not without its trials... The demon dispatched its minions. The green skinned, fanged beast, his former foe. It groveled before the demon for mere coins.It bared its sharp teeth, hoping to intimidate the mighty Bane. 

But the hero would not be cowed. 

He unleashed a pendulum-like uppercut, sending Killer Croc crashing to the ground. 

"I thought I had defeated you, beast... now I must kill you." 

The monster rose, its fanged maw exhaling a venomous breath... It roared, slamming a massive fist into Bane's head, its sharp claws tearing his flesh. 

"You think you're Gotham's king? you're nothing!" 

Bane's fist connected with Croc's face, knocking him down once more. 

Another blow, sending gravel flying from the ground near Croc's head. 

Another, embedding half the beast's head in the concrete. 

Bane seized the wreckage of a nearby car, hoisting it high— 

"I don't need venom to crush insects like you..." 

Bang! 

"Because I am Bane!" 

Bang! 

"The nightmare of all obstacles!" 

Bang! 

"The scourge of all living things!" 

Bang!!! 

Killer Croc screamed as the wreckage crumpled, twisted, and shattered.

 A gunshot echoed. Bane dodged the bullet and turned his head. 

His movements were fluid, like a dolphin leaping from the water, his eyes blazing in the twilight realm of illusion and reality. 

Ah... Of course, the demon had other pawns to play.