Perhaps, in every person's life, there comes a moment—an event so pivotal that it reshapes the very essence of who they are, marking a before and an after. A turning point so profound, it changes everything. For Link, that moment first occurred when he was a child, the day his father walked out and never returned.
Link had never really known his father. His memories of the man were fragmented, half-forgotten scenes of a disheveled figure slumped over a cluttered poker table, cigarette smoke curling around his silhouette. For Link, the idea of his father was more a ghost than a reality—an absence that lingered like a haze. He grew up learning not to miss him.
It was his mother, after all, who shaped his life. She raised him on her own, and while his memories of childhood were hazy and incomplete, certain moments were as vivid as if they'd happened yesterday. He could still recall the time he bloodied the face of a classmate who had tried to steal his homework and pass it off as his own. He remembered coming home, beaten and bruised from another fight, only to have his mother gently cradle his face, crying as she tried to console him.
Those small moments built Link's understanding of the world. He quickly learned a lesson that would follow him throughout life—fists spoke louder than words. If you wanted to be treated well, you had to show your strength. You had to make the world fear you, respect you. And so, from that point onward, he chose to be the one with the bigger fist.
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Through the cold blue glow of the computer screen, Charlie watched as Link began to stir. His body, hung suspended like a martyr crucified, was shackled by thick, black tendrils. The dark matter clung to his limbs, binding him in place, twisting and coiling like grotesque vines growing from the shadows.
Then, as if suddenly aware of Batman's presence, those tendrils began to shift. They crawled along Link's body, tightening, stretching, and then spreading outward. The dark mass slithered across his arms, coiled around his legs, and wrapped itself around his torso like a second skin. It crept up his neck, closing over his head like a helmet, until it enveloped his entire form in a living, breathing armor.
Link was no longer a man. He had become something far more monstrous.
Freed from his restraints, Link dropped from his crucifix with a thunderous crash. The force of his landing sent cracks spidering through the stone beneath him. The black substance completely obscured his face, masking his features in a veil of darkness, but even through the screen, Charlie could feel the weight of Link's gaze. His eyes, though hidden, were like embers glowing in the dark, burning with raw, murderous intent.
Link raised his head, roaring like a wild beast, and in the next instant, pitch-black tentacles shot out from his belly with terrifying speed, slicing through the air toward Batman.
These tentacles moved faster than the ones Charlie had encountered earlier, but Batman's accelerated reflexes were a step ahead. With a sharp command from Charlie, Batman rolled out of the way, narrowly avoiding the attack.
But this time, evasion wasn't enough.
In the same smooth motion, Batman raised his arm and hurled a small electric device at Link. The device latched onto Link's chest with a magnetic thud, and in an instant, high-voltage electricity surged through his body. Bright arcs of electric blue danced across his armored form, the tendrils convulsing as the current crackled through him.
This wasn't Batman's usual non-lethal shocker, the kind he used to take down street thugs. This one was designed for more dangerous foes. It was built to incapacitate enhanced humans, or short-circuit exoskeletons and robots. The voltage was higher, the explosive power stronger. According to its specs, the electric current was strong enough to take down an elephant.
But it didn't work on Link.
With a guttural growl, Link gripped the device, tore it from his chest, and crushed it in his hand like a piece of scrap metal.
Charlie's brow furrowed as he watched.
"Friday," he muttered, "he's stronger than the others."
"Yes, sir," Friday's voice replied. "It seems that this variant of Link has a much higher resistance than the others. Be careful."
Despite ripping the device away, Link never broke eye contact with Batman. His gaze was unwavering, a lesson ingrained in him from childhood—always face your strongest enemy head-on. Show no fear. Lock eyes with them and let them know that you are not afraid.
Because the moment you showed fear, the world would take everything from you. Running wasn't an option. Never had been. The only way out was to fight.
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That was how Link had always lived his life. As a boy, he used his fists to fight off the kids who tried to bully him. At first, he had fought to protect himself, but soon he realized something—when he fought back, people feared him. They gave him a wide berth. The bullies who once mocked him started avoiding him. They were scared.
And that feeling? It was intoxicating.
After high school, Link found a new outlet for his aggression—boxing. He was good at it, too. Making people bleed, taking them down with his fists, gave him a sense of control he craved. He rose quickly in the ranks, made decent money, and even got himself a girlfriend—a knockout with long legs and a wicked smile.
For a while, it seemed like his life was set. If things had gone the way he planned, he would have become a famous boxer, maybe even a martial arts champion. But fate had other plans.
One day, Jeff, his best friend, came to him, desperate. Jeff was in deep with the wrong kind of people—gangsters. He owed them more money than he could ever repay. If he didn't pay up, they'd kill him.
There was only one way out. Jeff begged Link to throw his next fight, to lose on purpose. The gang would cover Jeff's debt, and his life would be spared.
Link spent the entire night agonizing over the decision. He emptied every bottle of liquor in his apartment, running the situation through his mind again and again. In the end, he made his choice. Jeff was his only real friend. If losing one fight could save him, then there really wasn't a choice to make.
The next day, Link went down in the ring. He took blow after blow, letting himself get beaten bloody. He lost on purpose.
But rumors started to spread. People figured out that Link had thrown the fight, and soon, everything came crashing down. His career, his future—it all vanished in an instant, like a mirage.
So, he joined the military.
He thrived there. In the army, Link found a new battlefield. He was deployed to the world's most dangerous regions, fighting terrorists and warlords. He excelled in combat, earning promotion after promotion. He had a knack for violence, a talent for making people fear him.
He quickly realized that it didn't matter what battlefield you were on—the rules were always the same. If you were strong, people respected you. If they feared you, they obeyed.
After several years of decorated service, Link was recruited by a special unit—one that operated independently from the army, with even more dangerous assignments. The unit that would eventually evolve into the Ninth Special Service Division.
He couldn't wait to share the news with his girlfriend. He wanted to surprise her, show her that he was finally on the path to greatness again. But when he arrived at her apartment, he found Jeff hiding in her closet.
Jeff. The man whose life he had destroyed his own career to save.
Link nearly killed them both that night. He had the strength and the rage to do it, but he held back. Barely.
That night, Link learned another important lesson: you didn't need friends. You didn't need anyone. Friends, lovers—they were just obstacles. In the end, all you could truly rely on was your own strength.
Now, standing in front of Batman, Link faced the strongest opponent he had ever encountered. But he wasn't afraid. He was stronger than ever before. He was ready.
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Zzzzt—
The electric current from Batman's glove surged into Link's chest, but the dark substance covering his body absorbed the shock with ease. Batman's enhanced arm strength, his superhuman punch, barely made an impact.
Link countered with a wild punch, but Batman dodged with precision, grabbing Link's arm and twisting it in a joint lock. It should have been a favorable position, but Link's body surged with unnatural power, flinging Batman across the room like a ragdoll.
Batman landed in a roll, instantly back on his feet, but Link never took his eyes off him. His gaze was sharp, focused, like a predator stalking its prey.
For Link, this was the moment he had spent his entire life preparing for. Batman was the strongest enemy he had ever faced.
And when he defeated Batman, there would be no one left who could stand in his way.
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