Illumination Plaza
Zack Rander's Office
3:41PM
What did it mean to be human?
Why was it that humans seemed to place importance on themselves above all things? Religious reasons? Societal reasons? Or was it a feature of evolution and survival that made this necessary?
Phillip lay in my hand, the elegant flower pot almost brimming a lovely shade of emerald-green as I idly tossed it up and down. Anyone who saw it would fail to recognize that this flowerpot was all that remained of a person who had been living, breathing, and a person who was human. A creature that had contained sentience, possessed thoughts, desires, dreams – all of which were meaningless now that said consciousness had ceased, the soul had been absorbed into mine, and the body had been metamorphosed into a plant, to give back to the world, so to speak.
Still, in the past thirteen years, while I wasn't binging on nostalgia from my world, constantly turning everything into a reference and making more and more memorabilia that I could to remind myself, to serve as the proof that the world I came from had been real, I had taken the time to map out my questionably egotistical plans for the universe.
The humans in this world, were, a blend of impeccable genius and laughable optimists. To start with my original question, I realized, that if you shot a person, then you were considered bad - wrong, evil. The reason for this morality was that you wouldn't want to do to anyone what you wouldn't like done to you. It was simple, unless of course one wanted to dab into the religious aspects of the origins for morality to which I was dubiously suspicious of.
Humans don't hurt other humans, because humans wouldn't want to be hurt in turn.
It was simple. Except, in this world, that was where problems began to emerge. As it was, I couldn't even be considered human, and this was just based on genetic make-up, which would put me as a Homo-Magi – a species that was to humans as the Pterodactyls are to the present day avian.
An unfair comparison, some would argue, but the results spoke for themselves. With the power of magic I had, I might as well be a god amongst the common populace. This then brought about the serious question – if, technically, I was not truly Human (ala Homo Sapiens) then why exactly, should the 'Human' laws technically still apply to me? Why, did the half-demons and the aliens on this planet subsume themselves to following 'human' laws when they, themselves, were not?
This also brought an interesting fact, which, I noted, even as I gently placed Phillip back on my table.
Technically – aliens, demons, and gods, and other mythical or otherworldly creatures were not human, and thus, they did not have one thing – Human Rights.
The laws in this world were almost similar to that of the normal world where I came from. There were no addendums put in the constitutions that I could see, which covered aliens and supernatural beings. There were, instead, numerous loopholes which would technically allow me to enslave, rape and murder all aliens and supernatural beings I wanted, without ever having to face a single trial – because – they were not human.
If I were to shoot a nameless blob of conscious matter straight in the face, no one would bat an eyelash or even try to charge me for murder – because, it wasn't a human that was killed, but an alien creature, and its sentience is irrelevant.
If I were to find a vaguely sock-shaped alien with consciousness, tear it open a new one and use it to masturbate fervently, I'd probably get a few weird or disgusted looks, but no one would consider it as 'actual' sexual assault. It was just a weird looking alien thing – that's it.
Now, imagine if I were to find Supergirl, pin her to the street, stripped her, and fucked her senseless – you could easily imagine the backlash that would occur from the Justice Friends and the universal worldwide outrage.
Ah – but she isn't human either! So what's the difference? Why would people care more about her assault, than that of a sock-shaped alien? Would they consider it wrong because she was sentient, and thus, capable of feeling the pain and ignominy – but so was the blob! But no one would give a shit about the blob or a sock-shaped alien.
It was because, she looked human. Merely because she appeared human. That appearance would cause people to forget the fact that she wasn't human. It was the same thing with Superman, with Wonder Woman – if they had appeared, looking like the creatures out of Stranger Things rather than the supermodel visages they currently had, then the world would have been far less receiving of their welcome. They would have been considered grotesque abominations which needed to be removed from the public sight.
It was the same reason, I knew, that Miss Martian and Martian Manhunter used their green-skinned appearances rather than their true Martian forms. It was hard to think of a something that looked so inhuman as anything human with thoughts and feelings, and thus, it was harder to relate or even empathize with it. You could empathize with an animal, but only to a certain degree or extent, after which, it's merely an animal, and as such, you can feel perfectly vindicated doing to it things you would not do to a being of your own species.
You wouldn't neuter another human being nor would you even consider 'putting down' a human being, if they had suddenly lost a limb, or, in extreme cases where they were in a vegetative state.
Where was I going with all of this?
I had come to realize, that as a Homo Magi, I was on top of the food chain. I was on a higher evolutionary state than the common Homo Sapiens, and essentially, I was, or I could become, their natural predator.
Not in the cannibalistic sense of course – humans didn't make good meat. However, I meant it in the Darwinist, 'survival-of-the-fittest' type sense. You wouldn't fault a wolf for killing a rabbit, nor would you fault a buffalo for killing a wolf, or a pack of lions for killing a buffalo. It was the way things worked. It was nature's order for the weaker beings to hide and cower in the presence of the strong – their so called 'sentience' didn't matter. All animals were capable of feeling pain to some degree or the other, all were capable of emotion and desire. If sentient dragons were to roam the land, would they choose not to feed on humans, because humans also possessed a degree of sentience? When some humans themselves were known to feed on dogs, cats and horses, dolphins and other creatures possessing that same sentience?
The answer was no.
Hence, as a higher being – I had chosen to discard most moral issues, in light of the universal fact that I was a greater being. A 'next step' on the evolutionary ladder. The literal top of the food chain.
The Lion does not concern itself with the opinions of the sheep.
I closed my eyes, and then slowly nodded.
"There. Done. Megalomaniacal/Egotistic Villain Life Philosophy Complete."
I took glance at my wristwatch. "Took me an hour to complete. I'd have preferred going for a nihilistic approach – but I think the Joker has that one covered… or should I mix Cosmic Nihilism with Societal-Darwinism? I don't think there's a villain out there with that philosophy."
I hummed. Perhaps, that would work as a good idea. Though, I'd have to work on developing my cosmic nihilistic perspective – not that there was much work needed to be done on that. The Universe I'm in is the result of the collective imagination of a group of men and artists with a fetish for skin-tight latex and bountifully breasted women. Essentially, nothing I do matters, will matter, or will truly make a difference in the long run. Which, I supposed, was one of the reasons I went out of my way to give my own meaning to everything I did or experienced. And, it was the defining reason why I wanted to conquer the world – because even if nothing mattered at the end, I would know, and I would have experienced, and I would have lived, in a world, where I had interacted, fought, defeated and conquered Superheroes.
Simply because I could.
"Alright, what's next on my villainy checklist?"
I traced my hand over a piece of paper I brought out from my Inventory.
"Masterminding from the shadows, check. Badass Evil Villain threats, check. Developing an evil villain Life Philosophy, check and check. Attaining a devoutly loyal Second-in-Command – Oh, haven't gotten around to that one yet."
I wondered how the treatment from the Hell-Themed Instant Dungeon had treated my zombie rat minion so far? Perhaps he'd make a good lieutenant?
I cracked my bones and thrusted my hand open.
"Instant Dungeon – Open."
And then, there was a bloody heavy rush of hot air.
~~~~~~~~~~ DC – Remastered Edition
Africa
Forests of Osun
"Why do they have to be so many mosquitoes?"
Although by day, she masqueraded as a quirky, talented magical act, at night, and, usually, numerous other times, Zatanna Zatara was one of the world's leading magical experts. Her name was often mentioned side by side with the likes of John Constantine and Blue Devil, when the Justice League faced enemies of the magical variety that they could not defeat with normal rudimentary means.
One of such instances, was now.
The magician came to a stop in front of what seemed to be a red, decorated shrine kept in place, with human skulls surrounding an item that could only be described as a 'calabash'. Except, there was a pedestal, a pedestal on which an object was supposed to placed, a grave and deadly object, which was now clearly missing from its spot.
"Justice League to Zatanna – this is Vixen, do you copy Zatanna?"
The magician immediately pushed on her speaker.
"This is Zatanna. I hear you Vixen."
"Well? Did you find it?"
"No. The Amulet of Eshu is gone. Faust must have gotten to it before I did."
"That amulet –"
"I know, I know, it grants the wielder the power of the trickster God Eshu and the abilities to summon and control lesser demons –" She said irritably, "I won't let it stay in Faust's hands."
"I'll keep an eye out for any sightings of Faust or gangly demons showing up."
She nodded, slightly, before her eyes went wide as she cartwheeled out of the way to evade a spear which struck and went through the tree that had been behind her seconds ago.
"I've got to go – something tells me that the locals aren't too happy about having their artefact sto –"
She felt it.
It was as though the gravity of the world had suddenly been taken and compressed, forced upon her shoulders with an indescribable weight. As though all of the world's fears and nightmares had coalesced into a single point on the planet, and a creature from the darkest, deepest recesses of hell had been summoned to the world.
The overwhelming magical pressure brought her to her knees, and she grasped her chest with both hands to try and force her lungs to continue to inhale air, even as the feeling of evilevilevilevilevilevil continued to sing around in the air.
Vilemonstrouschaoticabomination –
Then all at once, it stopped.
Air could return to her lungs.
She found herself capable of breathing again, and realized, idly, that she was shaking, shivering even.
Around her, the locals had all collapsed on the floor, praying; praying to their gods for protection.
"-tanna, -atanna, Zatanna! Do you copy? Zatanna!"
Slowly, she forced her still shuddering hand to reach for the receiver.
"I-I-I copy. I'm… here."
"What happened? You just went off for almost thirty minutes and I could hear screaming –"
Thirty minutes? She – she had been screaming?
"Something… something powerful… ancient… something incredibly, incredibly dangerous…"
She shuddered at the feeling of wrongness that came back to her.
"I think – I think an Eldritch Demon was summoned to earth. Anyone closely connected to magic in the world would have felt its presence – would have been affected by its presence –"
"An Eldritch Demon?"
"An ancient demonic being with the powers of a god, born from chaos and darkness – they're one of the strongest types of Demons – like – like…"
She shuddered, feeling incredibly cold and exposed. "I need to contact John, Blue Devil, Dr. Fate – we need to find this thing, and we need to either seal it or destroy it – before it completely destroys us."
An Eldritch Demon here, in the world?
She could not imagine the fates of the poor, unfortunate human beings that would get in its way, and the complete and utter chaos and destruction it would bring.
Oh, what poor soul out there, was currently undergoing the torture of such an inherently evil being?
Gotham City
Illumination Plaza
Zed Rander's Office
"Would you lower your damned magical signature before every rookie magician and his unborn child comes down to Gotham?!"
The creature, standing, easily reaching seven-foot-tall, with the head of a rat, the horns of a goat, the tail of a devil, the claws of what could be a tiger, turned to stare at me in seeming confusion.
"Who dares summon the King of Hell?"
I stared at him. Blankly.
"You – Mortal – tell me – how is it that I have found myself in the human world after eons of –"
"Soul Slavery."
I allowed the magic to immediately take control over his form, letting out a small yawn as I did so.
"You – you dare –"
"Soul Conditioning." I said, ignoring the look of indignation on his face. "Reset: Default Butler Archetype – Nezumi. Set Character: Laid Back and Easygoing. Occasional Deadpan Snarker. Slightly Sarcastic. Set Appearance: Nezumi – Juuni Taisen. Set Loyalty Parameter: Infinite and Unbreakable."
I watched as the changes slowly began to occur.
"You – You – You will pay for this ignominy! I am the King of Hell! I have conquered and devoured countless demons! I – I – I –"
Gone was the giant beast, and in its place, was someone who could easily pass for twenty, with white hair, dressed in an elegant suit and a button-up tie. The man, blinked, once, and then twice.
"I… was I saying something, just now, Master Zack?"
"Oh, just how you were going to clean the toilet bowls with your tongue."
Nezumi blinked. "I… did?"
"Yes, but I told you that it would be unhygienic. You can just use the toilet brush instead. No need to be so zealous."
He nodded, slowly. "Of course, Master Zack. Forgive me, I sometimes get carried away in your service."
I rose an eyebrow as I watched him depart. Mhmm… maybe he wouldn't be too good as a lieutenant after all? I didn't want a sycophant as my second in command after all. Should I look into recruiting one of the numerous villains or villaineses instead? Probably after I'd broken them in of course.
Or, wait, wouldn't breaking them turn them into sycophants as well?
Damn. The whole being a villain thing was actually slightly more complicated than I thought it would be.
Still, what had caught my attention about Nezumi was the power levels he had been emitting, which, seemed way too much for just six years in an Instant Dungeon. A cursory activation of Gamer's Vision was needed.
Name: Nezumi
Level: 666
HP: EX
MP: EX
Age: Ancient
Race: Undead/Demon/Rat Hybrid
Occupation: Butler
Title: Hell's Connoisseur
Current Alias: N/A
Aliases: N/A
Affiliations: Cabrera Family, Zack Cabrera
Base of Operations: Gotham City
Alignment: Indisputably Loyal to Zack Cabrera
Identity: Unknown
Citizenship: N/A
Education: N/A
Bio
Nezumi is an Eldritch Demon Butler in the service of Zack Cabrera that started off as a normal undead rat. First by cannibalizing on members of his own species, Nezumi evolved further into a fearsome Zombie Minion, but it was only until being sent into an exact replica of hell courtesy of Zack's Instant Dungeon, that Nezumi evolved into a demon by cannibalizing on the demonic enemies present in Hell. However, as a day in hell equals a single second on earth, by the first day, Nezumi had already spent 236 years in the Hell instant dungeon. By the end of the six years, Nezumi had spent 500 Millennia in Hell, feeding endlessly on the repetitive spawn and varieties of demonic creatures that existed, amassing a legion of skills and powers and gaining sentience which, along with the extreme passage of time, led him to forget about his creator Zack.
Note: Characters with stats or levels of the designation 'EX' refer to individuals, who, due to certain circumstances or special conditions, cannot be classified into any particular level or cannot be assigned a numerical digit which accurately defines their abilities.
"Oh."
Although I could remember watching the Constantine Movie at one time, and even reading the comics, it had completely skipped my mind about the whole 1 day in hell is equal to 1 second on earth thing. Considering my dungeons were mimicked dimensions, it only made sense that the same logic would apply to it.
Still, it was good that I had Nezumi around. I wouldn't really consider him as a 'second-in-command' just yet, but more of a minion for now.
"So… what else is on the list – ah yes," I grabbed the paper, before looking at the item on it "Obligatory closure of tragic backstory, and introduction to the world as a villain."
I folded the paper in half, allowing it to dissipate into my inventory.
"Nezumi."
In a blur of flame, he appeared before me, wearing rubber gloves and still having a toilet brush in hand.
"Yes Master Zack?"
"By this evening – 'Zed Rander' will most likely be the most wanted person in Gotham," I said dryly, "So, I want you, within the span of now and midnight, to find a suitable, isolated spot in Gotham City, and use your powers however you like, to turn it into a supervillain hideout that would make Superman's Fortress of Solitude look like a retarded kid's sand castle in comparison."
He bowed. "Of course, Master Zack. Would you prefer this hideout to be above, or underground?"
"Underground."
"Of course, Master Zack. Would you prefer it to be cloaked from normal means of detection, and connected to a separate pocket dimension only accessible to you?"
I rose my eyebrow. "You can do that?"
There was a ferocious grin on his face. "For you, Master Zack, I can do – anything."
I think I may need to revise Nezumi's role. He'd definitely make a kick-ass lieutenant.
"Might I inquire about what exactly would be making you a wanted man tonight Master Zack?"
Oh, and he was curious too!
"Oh, I'll just be sending a message to Carmine Falcone – you know. Taking my time in slowly orchestrating his eventual death and gaining 'revenge' against him for killing my mother and all that."
"Master Zack, do you… despise, Carmine Falcone?"
I frowned. Did I? Shouldn't I? He did kill my mother after all – and he orchestrated events which led to my mother's horrible life – but, if not for those events, I wouldn't even exist today.
"I… can't say."
Nezumi nodded, slowly. From the corner of my eye, I saw him bring out a notepad and a pen.
"What are you doing?"
"I'm taking notes, Master Zack."
I rose an eyebrow even further. "Why?"
"To understand," he said simply.
"To understand what? Me?"
"No, Master Zack." He said, shaking his head. "To understand… everything."
Had I cared more to ponder on those words, they would have given me some pause. Alas, I didn't. And so, they didn't. And I shrugged it off as the newest eccentricities of my companion.
My mind was instead focused on testing the waters of my villainy – and of course, doing it with textbook, idiosyncratic precision.
REVENGE QUEST – Blood Is Thicker
Accepted.
~~~~~~~~~~~~ DC – Remastered Edition
Chicago
7th November
4:45 PM
There was one unique fact about Chicago, which separated it from numerous other cities in the world.
Chicago did not have a resident superhero.
There were numerous people who patrolled the streets and skies from time to time, ranging from Supergirl to the Elongated Man, but there weren't any major players in the city. There were fewer metahumans and super-powered psychotics around with grand or ludicrous plans to blow up the city or kill everyone with laughing gas.
This was one of the few reasons that the Viti family reigned as the supreme crime organization in the city. Carla Viti, the family's matriarch and main founder, was the daughter of Vincent Falcone, and the sister of Carmine "The Roman" Falcone. She had come from a city of psychopaths and darkness, a city that had something in the water capable of producing specimens which would leave the entire entourage of hell baffled and feeling incompetent in their ability to create suffering and chaos.
Carla Viti née Falcone felt that this suited her just fine. She did not need any ridiculous fool clad in a bat costume suddenly arriving and disrupting her business. She did not want, nor fancy the concept of having to deal with any of the world's masked crusaders. She especially did not want her daughter, Lucia, or her son, Johnny, to be involved in any of that.
Of course, her brother, the fool he was, probably hired those… 'costume freaks' in his city to maintain his empire. She shook her head distastefully at the idea. The lion did not hire a hyena to help operate its pride. She knew, that one day or another, his choice in using those freaks would end up being the end for her brother. The masks were bad for business in every single way possible, and it would be best to avoid them.
Still, Carla frowned as she made her way towards one of the family's locally owned restaurants. It was unusual, and far too sudden that her son Johnny had called for an emergency meeting. As far as she knew, everything had been moving smoothly so far – their business was almost completely unimpeded, and they had already eliminated nearly every other organized crime family in Chicago. They practically owned the city, yet, Johnny had called to tell her that there was something which had come up, something which could potentially end their reign over the city.
"Ah, Madam Viti – "
"Spare me the bullshit pleasantries and show me where my son is."
"O-Of course – ma'am –"
She snorted at the host's cowed expression, which might have been the result of her having come with six of her best men, all in black suits and glasses, and they certainly were not shy about brandishing their guns.
"Mama?"
She turned her attention to side, a voice catching her attention. "Lucia?"
Her daughter, Lucia, young and beautiful, a reminiscent of Carla's own more youthful days, stood to the side, with two guards of her own.
"Johnny called you here as well?"
She nodded, and Carla's frown grew. What could be so serious that would require both of them here at the same time?
The restaurant was completely cleared out, all the chairs and tables were empty, and –
She stopped.
"Where's the staff?"
No one was here. No waiters. No cleaners. Nothing. She turned her attention back to the host –
He was gone.
Her daughter caught on quick, and her men as well became shifty.
"Something's wrong."
The slow, heavy, sound of a man clapping his hands together easily echoed across the room, the sound seemingly coming from everywhere and from nowhere at the same time. The sound increased in tempo, in crescendo, and she watched as her men rose their guns, entering into a defensive formation around herself and her daughter, each of them trying to find where the sound of the clapping was coming from.
"Hello ladies. Forgive me for my lack of enthusiasm, but, as much as I would have liked to put effort into my introduction, it won't matter in the long run."
A man rippled into existence, right before their very eyes. As though light itself reflected around his very form, he appeared, with platinum-blond hair, sparkling blue eyes, possessing a slender form in an elegant suit that looked custom made and incredibly high quality.
"Who are you?" Carla snarled, "What the hell have you done with my Johnny?"
The man, his form slouched in a somewhat lazy gait merely yawned. "My name is Zack Rander – professional criminal consultant, jack of all trades and eventual greatest villain of the universe. Pleasure to meet you." He took a long, exaggerated bow. "I killed your son because males are easily disposable, and I'm here to make you a deal in which you may or may not survive – depending on what you choose."
"Kill him!" She growled.
Silence.
"I said kill –"
"And who exactly are you talking to?"
"My men of cou –"
Gone. They were gone. She could have sworn, without a shadow of a doubt, that she had come to the restaurant with at least eight men, and that her daughter had also come with two. She could also have sworn, that these men were in front of her less than a second ago, in a defensive position. Now, all she saw, were flakes of what looked to be light, or, pixels, disintegrating into nothingness.
As such, she found herself there, with her daughter, alone, with the strange blond-haired man who was merely giving them an incredibly amused smile. It was a smile that was chilling, a smile which spoke of the fact that he knew something that they did not, a smile, which sent shivers running down her spine, made her hair stand on edge, and sent a lump to her throat that she could not swallow.
It had been a long time since she felt fear.
On instinct, she reached for her purse, for the gun she always kept in it, and she brought it out in one swift move, pointing it in the direction of the man –
He groaned.
"A gun? Really? You might as well try to fight Cthulhu with a spork."
There was a blur.
One second, he had been across from her, and the very next, he stood in front of her, his head pressed against the barrel of the gun, and his hand, clapped against hers like a vice-grip.
"I would recommend shooting me in the head – right here, directly in between the eye-brows, and now that it's at such a close range, there's no chance of you missing."
Carla found herself shaking, shivering, even, from the sight of the insane man in front of her, a man who clearly had no regard for his life. She couldn't pry her hand away from his grip, no matter how hard she tried, and he instead looked up at her with a perked eyebrow.
"I didn't take you for the scared type. It's just a pull of a muscle, the single flex of a finger, and then – that's it – I'm gone. Surely you know how it works?"
Of course she did, she had fired the gun more times than she could care to count. Yet, even as her eyes slightly diverted to the side, to catch her daughter's equally frightened and unsure look, she had no explanation as to why she could not fire the weapon.
"You've killed dozens of people in this City haven't you? Your little organization shakes down money from hard working folks, grabs confused and desperate boys from the streets, turn them into cannon fodder to enrich your pockets, and barely bats an eye when they die – because, well, I guess it just means they weren't good enough to survive the business."
He was still staring at her, but now, his eyes seemed to have grown incredibly dull, almost bored and sleepy.
"Had I been a vigilante, I would have said this killing you would be justice – but I'm not, and good and evil are such arbitrary terms that I couldn't care less if you'd been carving pregnant women open."
He crushed her hand.
She immediately let out a large scream, a curse, as blood spurt forward from the stump that was now her wrist – with the entirety of her right hand completely gone, and her gun now crumbling into dust.
"Mama!"
"Lucia – no! Don't come any –"
Her daughter had lunged forward, lunged forward, her own pocket pistol in hand –
BLAM!
BLAM!
BLAM!
There was silence, for a few seconds, as the blond man's head snapped back, and hung in place.
"Shat whash a chloshe one."
He leaned his head back forward, grinning, as three, smoking bullets lay, caught in-between a sparkling layer of white teeth.
He spat the bullets out, before craning his neck, a series of sickening cracks echoing from it.
"Good attempt. But, unfortunately, not good enough."
Lucia managed to step backwards, uncertainty filling up her face, before, she rose her gun up one more time –
"Tell me,"
She resisted the urge to scream, as the voice had come directly behind her, and a hand had placed itself on her shoulder, and she realized, belatedly, that she could not move.
The blonde man smiled.
"Do you know what the definition of insanity?"
Seeing as she was paralyzed, with fear, the smile wiped off his face. He merely let out a simple sigh, before shaking his head and turning to Carla, who was bleeding from the stump that was now in place of her hand.
"Here's the deal: There are three options. Option 1: You willingly agree to become my eternal brainwashed slaves and servants, have your personalities altered, your body experimented on and changed, and generally, well, you stop being 'you.'."
He yawned again.
"Option two – you refuse option one, and you are tortured and defiled for an unknown period of time by and unknown period of assailants, until you are eventually killed."
The two women were shaking, yet, they couldn't stop themselves from continuing to listen to the incredibly dangerous man in front of them.
"Option three – one of you picks up that gun, and shoots the other person straight in the forehead with it, winning a chance to go home scot-free, and put this terrifying experience behind you."
The silence was thick.
"So, your options are eternal subservience, rape and death, or killing your own family. What's it going to be?"
So far, the 'bored' approached seemed to be working just as well, if not even more terrifyingly well than my previous 'happy and upbeat' approach. Perhaps, it worked even better, because, it gave the impression that they were so far beneath me, and this entire event was so trivial that it wasn't even worthy of my full time, attention or alertness. In contrast, going with the happy approach would have made them think I was just an insane person – which wasn't what I wanted.
Regardless, I didn't exactly know what to say, nor was I even somewhat slightly surprised when, after giving them the instructions, Lucia Viti lunged forward towards the gun on the floor, her mother's gun, and shakily, but steadily, rose it up against Carla.
To say that the elderly woman was shocked would have been the statement of the century.
"Lucia – you – you –"
"I-I'm sorry Mama – but, this is how it is –"
BLAM!
To my credit, I barely flinched at the sound of the gun going off – and let me tell you, these things are loud as hell in person, far louder than Hollywood movies made them out to be. Of course, that aside, I watched as Carmine's sister slumped to the ground, a bullet now lodged firmly in her skull.
To be honest, she was going to die anyway from blood loss from her hand if it hadn't received the proper medical attention. Killing her with a bullet was just accelerating the process.
"S-So… I did it right? You – you're going to let me go – right?"
I blinked.
"I said you'd win the chance to go home scot free and I'll keep that."
I turned to my watch.
"You have ten seconds to get home before that chance is over."
Gotham City
Falcone Estate
The sound of heavy grunts followed by the wild neighs of horses filled the air.
"Oh please God no! Please! Please! OH GOD! OH GOD!"
"Make sure you look into the camera Lucia – oh, and smile – spread those legs a little bit wider – I think Bojack might appreciate it if you did."
"P-please – stop – why – why are you – doing this?! Why?!"
"Other than you being part of a mafia family? Well – this is a treat to all the good folks of the world – and of course, a message – to the one and only – Carmine-fucking-Falcone."
There was a loud scream followed by a heavy neigh.
"So, Falcone ol' buddy, ol'pal – Hide yo wives, Hide yo kids, and hide yo-self – 'cause The Consultant is coming for ya."
The television screen went blank. The room was deadly silent. No one moved. No one spoke. Only the fan of the study whirring and slicing through the air above dared make noise.
"How many?"
The question cut through the silence like a razor blade through paper.
The men in the room stared at each other, confusion apparent on their faces, before one finally spoke up. "Sir?"
"I'm asking – how many people have seen this video?" the silence grew. "Well? How many people in the world have seen my niece get fucked to death by a horse?"
One of the men, the braver, or stupider amongst them, spoke. "Sir… the video was uploaded… to numerous porn sites across the world – XVideos, Pornhub –"
"How. Many?"
The same man, belaying stupidity swallowed. "As of this evening alone, sir… seventeen million – and counting. The video – it – it's gone viral – Uptight Mob Gal Get Loosened by Wild Stallion Cocks for the First and Last Time – people in the Philippines are already making it into a meme –"
BLAM!
No one flinched or moved, as the man who had been speaking suddenly had his brains splattered across the wall.
"This – this is unacceptable." Carmine spoke, his voice a deadly calm. "It seems that we may have an upstart vigilante who isn't afraid to get his hands dirty – and he's made a very, very deadly mistake."
The gathered men said nothing, partly due to the stench of shit and blood slowly encompassing the room, and partly due to the smoking, double-barreled Shotgun still in the hands of the Falcone family boss.
"Let it out now – I want a bounty placed on his head. On this… Zed Rander. The bounty is doubled if he's brought in alive."
One of the men, the one in charge of financial activities and contacts in the underworld, came forward, nodding.
"How much should it be sir?"
The amount was given.
The man couldn't stop his breath from hitching in his throat. "Sir –are you sur–"
He suddenly found a still warm shotgun barrel placed on his throat.
"Did I stutter?"
Wisely, the man shook his head. "N-N-No sir – y-you did not."
The barrel was removed from the throat, and Falcone tossed the weapon into the hands of someone else.
"He attacked my family – raped my sister. Anything less would be an insult." He put his hands behind his back.
"I'll be in my room; do not disturb me unless you've caught the Consultant. In the meanwhile, double the security around my wife and contact my idiot children. And get someone to clean up the fool – his blood is ruining my carpet."
Gotham City
Batcave
#OHMYGOD HAS ANY 1 SEEN DIS LINK?!
#VitiRape Wait… did THE Lucia Viti just get fucked to death a horse?
#I'veneverbeenintobestialitybut I don't know what's worse – that I watched the whole thing – or that I jerked off to it.
#VoteBojack That horse deserves to be our mayor! It's done more to fight crime than Hamilton Hill!
#TheConsultant Consultant my nigga, you da real MVP!
#WhoistheConsultant? Is this guy a new hero? Is he a villain? He doesn't even wear a mask! He's kinda dreamy though.
#TheConsultantVsFalcone Who's ready for the greatest grudge match of the fucking century?!
"It's worse than I expected."
A man said, his eyes glued unto the screen as the torrent of hashtags and other news and tweets about what was easily becoming a country-wide controversy. The news stations had not yet covered it, particularly because of the graphic and obscene nature of the act. Then, there was also the fact that the case had been swept under the rug by the Chicago City Police. None of them were interested in finding the bodies of the Viti women, and they were content to turn their faces aside to the brutal nature of the crime.
As far as they were concerned, the villains had gotten their just deserts, and were not deserving of sympathy.
Except, Batman did not particular care about being sympathetic to them either, but he didn't want them to suffer and be tortured. Criminals or not, they had been people. Yet, everyone seemed to forget that.
"So it seems Master Bruce." He said, glibly, before raising his arms to point out two suits. "Would you prefer the Black Tuxedo, or the White?"
Bruce frowned. "You can't be serious Alfred."
"Oh, yes, pardon me Master Bruce. Black is clearly the obvious choice."
"Alfred – there's a new villain out on the loose who kidnapped and tortured a woman – I don't have time to attend this ball –"
"It's a fundraiser, Master Bruce," Alfred corrected sharply, "A fundraiser for the police department, in which many of your family paintings would be sold or auctioned off, for the benefit of Commissioner Gordon and his men."
"Alfred –"
"If you'll forgive me Master Bruce, but your name has already come up in the media, just this afternoon, and it deeply grates me to have people questioning your honor and motives. But, as they cannot understand nor will they ever know the true reasons, I have no choice but to merely let them continue." He said, almost sternly. "However, I see no reason to give them extra ammunition to continue this war against your family name, and you failing to attend an event to which you organized, would be doing exactly that."
"What did you say?" Bruce snapped up, his eyes narrowing.
Alfred rose an eyebrow. "I said your name has already come up –"
"Just this afternoon." Bruce said, rapidly turning his attention back to the Batcomputer.
Alfred, as well, frowned. "You do not believe it to be a coincid–" he stopped. "Of course. There aren't any."
Bruce Wayne's name being smeared now, at the same time this mysterious puppeteer pulling the strings of the Crime Families had decided to make a major move into the world? Had decided to stop hiding in the shadows and had committed perhaps, one of the most vulgar and unbelievable crimes seen in Gotham till date –
There was no way it could all be a coincidence.
The two events were related. Bruce was certain of it.
The only question, was how?
"Forgive me Master Bruce, but, I do not think that is the most pressing concern at the issue."
Bruce frowned. "Alfred, the fundraiser can wai –"
"I am afraid I am not referring to the fundraiser either Master Bruce – I am referring – to that."
The masked man turned his attention to the screen, with a notable alert on it. An alert, which, he had only gotten due to pawning it off numerous members of his rogues gallery, which was often sent to those in the business of 'collecting'.
"This… this…"
"Will bring hell, to Gotham."
Meanwhile...
News in the Underworld travelled fast. Bounties, however, traveled faster.
Starling City
A man sat on a bed in a motel, slowly cleaning the barrel of his gun. The weapon, a sniper rifle, sheened, just as a small, black phone buzzed.
The man took a look at the phone, before placing it down. He rose his rifle into the air, spinning it, and looking through the scope, the picture of someone with blonde hair and blue eyes already envisioned at the other end.
San Francisco
The sound of swords clashing, grunts of exertion, and the silhouettes of agile movement came to a stop with the sound of a buzz from a phone.
A man with an eyepatch covered on one eye moved over to the device, before his eyes narrowed at it.
"We have a new target."
Central City
"I thought you said we don't do Gotham. That we're never doing Gotham."
"For this amount of cash, offered on some bloke's head? I think we can make an exception."
Nanda Parbat
"It is unusual for Falcone to be this generous."
A group of men and women clad in black, knelt, bowing before another man with a long beard. In their front, knelt a woman with black hair and an elaborate, cat-themed mask.
"Nevertheless – such generosity, is not wise to squander. You may proceed on this task."
Gotham City
Underworld
"KGBeast, the Terror Twins, Tally Man, and every single fucker in Gotham is out there to trying to get that reward!" A man, his face cloaked completely in what appeared to make it seem like a black skull, spoke.
"Now, imagine, boys, what we would do with that cash? Imagine forcing ol'Falcone to cough it all up? We're not taking any chances gentlemen – its winner takes it all!"
Gotham City
Burnley Districts
She had been planning on a simple night out. Just go out, scope out the fundraiser that Bruce Wayne was holding and try to see if she could so brusquely borrow anything or two that caught her fancy. It was supposed to be a relatively simply thing.
Now, she knew that the city was going be the closest thing to a warzone, and that the fundraiser was probably not the safest place to be.
Still, she allowed her lovely feline companion to jump into her arms, as she stroked it's back, wondering, just who on earth was The Consultant, and just what exactly, such an innocent looking young man could have done to make Falcone so pissed.
It was a shame she was primarily a thief and not an assassin or bounty hunter.
Lord knows she would have killed for that Five Hundred Million dollars.