Under the illumination of four giant searchlights prepared by the mercenary team, two large vans drove into the abandoned parking lot.
Slipknot and Tattooed Man stepped out of the vehicles, stone-faced and cold as they approached.
Like Deadshot, Cheshire, and Captain Boomerang, they were mercenaries hired by Nathan Blake.
Of course, in their eyes, it was the villain Ventriloquist who hired them, not the legendary Batman.
Slipknot, a strong Mexican man skilled in using ropes, was responsible for tying up Killer Croc earlier. He glanced at Croc, still bound on the ground, and a slight smirk crept onto his face.
Tattooed Man, just like his nickname, looked like an abstract painting splattered with bird droppings. He sneered as he approached, his voice dripping with sarcasm: "Ha! Our target's an idiot!"
With a loud *bang*, a puff of white smoke escaped from Croc's head.
The group worked together to drag Killer Croc to the back of the two vans. Tattooed Man couldn't resist a few more jabs, nearly getting his arm bitten off by Croc in the process, causing another round of chaos.
Humiliation.
Rage.
Killer Croc was seething with fury.
His anger surged higher than the gamma rays from the explosion of the Orion supernova; this insult trampled on his dignity, and not even all the waters of Europa could cleanse this shame.
The secrets of the universe, the reversal of space and time, the rotation of the sun and moon, none of it could quench his fury!
He roared at the top of his lungs:
"Unforgivable!"
His scream rivaled the cries of Prometheus as he stole fire from the gods!
"Unforgivable!"
It echoed like Jesus's rage from the cross!
"Unforgi—"
Thud! Nathan didn't bother with pleasantries. He simply opened the van's back door and dumped a literal ton of cash onto Killer Croc's face.
No tricks. It was all cold, hard dollars.
The pile of green bills collapsed from the van to the ground like a spilled roll of toilet paper.
Killer Croc's voice halted, like a duck's neck being squeezed shut.
"This is just an advance. If you agree, it's all yours."
"Un... unforgi—"
Thud! Nathan opened the second van, and another ton of cash rained down, slapping Croc's face with cold bills.
Croc's furious, green face turned red with frustration.
Stop insulting me with this money!
He wanted to yell something righteous. Killer Croc wasn't just a cold-blooded beast or a vicious freak; he wasn't someone who would just bow down for a pile of cash!
Does money make you all-powerful? Do you really think I'll grovel just because you throw cash at me?
Slap!
A bill stuck to his eye, blocking his vision.
"Unforgi... unforgi..."
For... give...
Forgive... you...!!!!!!!!!
Killer Croc swayed, mentally and physically dazed by the overwhelming amount of money crashing into his brain. Holding onto the bills, he said with the utmost seriousness:
"Dad!"
Deadshot: "?"
"Ahem, what I mean is..."
"I've wandered most of my life, regretting not finding a wise employer sooner. If you don't mind, I am willing—"
"Oh my God, there must be tens of millions of dollars here!" Captain Boomerang jumped into the pile of cash. "I'm gonna die!"
"Get off!" Croc roared in anger. "That's my money!"
"Sure, it's yours, but right now I'm the one rolling around with it!"
Furious, Killer Croc, despite being tied up, used his core strength to fling himself into the cash pile too.
"Mine! Mine!"
"..."
Deadshot was at a loss for words.
Under the lights, the bills seemed endless, making him dizzy.
Unlike Boomerang, Deadshot wasn't new to money. He could estimate amounts far better.
Tens of millions?
This was at least 200 million!
Damn it! He had no idea Slipknot and Tattooed Man's vans were stuffed with cash. They probably didn't know either.
For a moment, Deadshot considered shooting everyone on the spot and making off with the 200 million.
But his reason won out. If someone could pull out 200 million to bribe Croc, they could just as easily put a 200-million bounty on his head.
He had a daughter, and you can't run from responsibility. As tempting as the money was, it was no good if you couldn't live to spend it.
More importantly, the money weighed over two tons. Even if he managed to take it, there was no way he could get it out of Gotham.
He forced himself to look away, but not before locking eyes with Slipknot and Tattooed Man, whose red eyes sent a chill down his spine. He immediately drew his gun.
"Whoa, whoa! Calm down, guys."
Deadshot kept a wary eye on the two fools, prepared for any irrational moves.
"Ventriloquist, where are you?"
He stopped calling him the client now.
What? Ventriloquist is the client? Yeah, right.
If that balding, middle-aged man could casually throw around 200 million, why would he bother with Gotham's underworld?
Unprompted, Deadshot remembered the Batman puppet on Ventriloquist's hand, and a shiver ran down his spine.
Just thinking about that bat-like figure made his ribs ache.
The last time he'd come to Gotham, he fought Batman on a train and ended up with three broken ribs...
No, no, stop thinking about him…
Deadshot shook his head.
First of all, let's rule out Batman. He'd never do something like this.
So... who has enough money and could command a criminal like Ventriloquist?
Penguin? Two-Face? Riddler? It wouldn't be The Roman, he fled to Hong Kong... Maybe I should broaden the suspects...
What about Bruce Wayne?
Nah, no motive. Rule him out.
"Ventriloquist! Ventriloquist? Damn it—let the real boss talk to me."
"What are you talking about?"
"Don't play dumb."
Slipknot and Tattooed Man's eyes were growing increasingly dangerous.
Deadshot kept a close watch on them as he slowly backed away.
Even Captain Boomerang, dense as he was, sensed something was off.
He climbed out of the cash pile, standing beside Deadshot, while Killer Croc continued rolling in the money like a cat high on catnip.
Deadshot wasn't planning on starting a fight here. It wasn't that he couldn't take out everyone except Croc, but the feeling of being manipulated irked him.
It seemed the mastermind knew Deadshot had a family and wouldn't cause trouble, using him to suppress these unruly mercenaries. And if suppression failed, they'd use Deadshot to eliminate the unstable ones in the group.
Wait, Deadshot realized, the mastermind even anticipated that I wouldn't start a fight. So the idea that I'd kill everyone here and leave them without manpower was never a possibility. This is strange… How does he know me so well?
As for Killer Croc, if he tried to take the money and run, that 200 million would immediately turn into a bounty on his head, and the rest of the group would tear each other apart to claim it.
But if Croc agreed to the job, he'd have no choice but to stick with Deadshot to protect his newfound wealth. Together, they could easily wipe out the other three.
Then, once the mastermind sent Ventriloquist to offer incentives or threats, the other two would likely calm down and set aside their greed. This balance was impressive, but what if it all went wrong?
At that moment, Deadshot noticed Cheshire quietly moving into a flanking position, setting herself up against Slipknot and Tattooed Man.
Oh! A backup plan.
Had she already been bribed?
Damn it, why wasn't I bribed?
Deadshot ground his molars, completely ignoring his habit of jacking up prices at the last minute.
The tension vanished into thin air as Deadshot lowered his gun and glared at Ventriloquist.
"So, isn't it time for the real boss to show his face?"
Then he watched as Ventriloquist nodded and pulled out five earpieces from behind his back.
Damn it, the mastermind had planned even this. So frustrating.
---
Translator Note:
Add this work to your library and support with power stones!
Under the illumination of four giant searchlights prepared by the mercenary team, two large vans drove into the abandoned parking lot.
Slipknot and Tattooed Man stepped out of the vehicles, stone-faced and cold as they approached.
Like Deadshot, Cheshire, and Captain Boomerang, they were mercenaries hired by Nathan Blake.
Of course, in their eyes, it was the villain Ventriloquist who hired them, not the legendary Batman.
Slipknot, a strong Mexican man skilled in using ropes, was responsible for tying up Killer Croc earlier. He glanced at Croc, still bound on the ground, and a slight smirk crept onto his face.
Tattooed Man, just like his nickname, looked like an abstract painting splattered with bird droppings. He sneered as he approached, his voice dripping with sarcasm: "Ha! Our target's an idiot!"
With a loud *bang*, a puff of white smoke escaped from Croc's head.
The group worked together to drag Killer Croc to the back of the two vans. Tattooed Man couldn't resist a few more jabs, nearly getting his arm bitten off by Croc in the process, causing another round of chaos.
Humiliation.
Rage.
Killer Croc was seething with fury.
His anger surged higher than the gamma rays from the explosion of the Orion supernova; this insult trampled on his dignity, and not even all the waters of Europa could cleanse this shame.
The secrets of the universe, the reversal of space and time, the rotation of the sun and moon, none of it could quench his fury!
He roared at the top of his lungs:
"Unforgivable!"
His scream rivaled the cries of Prometheus as he stole fire from the gods!
"Unforgivable!"
It echoed like Jesus's rage from the cross!
"Unforgi—"
Thud! Nathan didn't bother with pleasantries. He simply opened the van's back door and dumped a literal ton of cash onto Killer Croc's face.
No tricks. It was all cold, hard dollars.
The pile of green bills collapsed from the van to the ground like a spilled roll of toilet paper.
Killer Croc's voice halted, like a duck's neck being squeezed shut.
"This is just an advance. If you agree, it's all yours."
"Un... unforgi—"
Thud! Nathan opened the second van, and another ton of cash rained down, slapping Croc's face with cold bills.
Croc's furious, green face turned red with frustration.
Stop insulting me with this money!
He wanted to yell something righteous. Killer Croc wasn't just a cold-blooded beast or a vicious freak; he wasn't someone who would just bow down for a pile of cash!
Does money make you all-powerful? Do you really think I'll grovel just because you throw cash at me?
Slap!
A bill stuck to his eye, blocking his vision.
"Unforgi... unforgi..."
For... give...
Forgive... you...!!!!!!!!!
Killer Croc swayed, mentally and physically dazed by the overwhelming amount of money crashing into his brain. Holding onto the bills, he said with the utmost seriousness:
"Dad!"
Deadshot: "?"
"Ahem, what I mean is..."
"I've wandered most of my life, regretting not finding a wise employer sooner. If you don't mind, I am willing—"
"Oh my God, there must be tens of millions of dollars here!" Captain Boomerang jumped into the pile of cash. "I'm gonna die!"
"Get off!" Croc roared in anger. "That's my money!"
"Sure, it's yours, but right now I'm the one rolling around with it!"
Furious, Killer Croc, despite being tied up, used his core strength to fling himself into the cash pile too.
"Mine! Mine!"
"..."
Deadshot was at a loss for words.
Under the lights, the bills seemed endless, making him dizzy.
Unlike Boomerang, Deadshot wasn't new to money. He could estimate amounts far better.
Tens of millions?
This was at least 200 million!
Damn it! He had no idea Slipknot and Tattooed Man's vans were stuffed with cash. They probably didn't know either.
For a moment, Deadshot considered shooting everyone on the spot and making off with the 200 million.
But his reason won out. If someone could pull out 200 million to bribe Croc, they could just as easily put a 200-million bounty on his head.
He had a daughter, and you can't run from responsibility. As tempting as the money was, it was no good if you couldn't live to spend it.
More importantly, the money weighed over two tons. Even if he managed to take it, there was no way he could get it out of Gotham.
He forced himself to look away, but not before locking eyes with Slipknot and Tattooed Man, whose red eyes sent a chill down his spine. He immediately drew his gun.
"Whoa, whoa! Calm down, guys."
Deadshot kept a wary eye on the two fools, prepared for any irrational moves.
"Ventriloquist, where are you?"
He stopped calling him the client now.
What? Ventriloquist is the client? Yeah, right.
If that balding, middle-aged man could casually throw around 200 million, why would he bother with Gotham's underworld?
Unprompted, Deadshot remembered the Batman puppet on Ventriloquist's hand, and a shiver ran down his spine.
Just thinking about that bat-like figure made his ribs ache.
The last time he'd come to Gotham, he fought Batman on a train and ended up with three broken ribs...
No, no, stop thinking about him…
Deadshot shook his head.
First of all, let's rule out Batman. He'd never do something like this.
So... who has enough money and could command a criminal like Ventriloquist?
Penguin? Two-Face? Riddler? It wouldn't be The Roman, he fled to Hong Kong... Maybe I should broaden the suspects...
What about Bruce Wayne?
Nah, no motive. Rule him out.
"Ventriloquist! Ventriloquist? Damn it—let the real boss talk to me."
"What are you talking about?"
"Don't play dumb."
Slipknot and Tattooed Man's eyes were growing increasingly dangerous.
Deadshot kept a close watch on them as he slowly backed away.
Even Captain Boomerang, dense as he was, sensed something was off.
He climbed out of the cash pile, standing beside Deadshot, while Killer Croc continued rolling in the money like a cat high on catnip.
Deadshot wasn't planning on starting a fight here. It wasn't that he couldn't take out everyone except Croc, but the feeling of being manipulated irked him.
It seemed the mastermind knew Deadshot had a family and wouldn't cause trouble, using him to suppress these unruly mercenaries. And if suppression failed, they'd use Deadshot to eliminate the unstable ones in the group.
Wait, Deadshot realized, the mastermind even anticipated that I wouldn't start a fight. So the idea that I'd kill everyone here and leave them without manpower was never a possibility. This is strange… How does he know me so well?
As for Killer Croc, if he tried to take the money and run, that 200 million would immediately turn into a bounty on his head, and the rest of the group would tear each other apart to claim it.
But if Croc agreed to the job, he'd have no choice but to stick with Deadshot to protect his newfound wealth. Together, they could easily wipe out the other three.
Then, once the mastermind sent Ventriloquist to offer incentives or threats, the other two would likely calm down and set aside their greed. This balance was impressive, but what if it all went wrong?
At that moment, Deadshot noticed Cheshire quietly moving into a flanking position, setting herself up against Slipknot and Tattooed Man.
Oh! A backup plan.
Had she already been bribed?
Damn it, why wasn't I bribed?
Deadshot ground his molars, completely ignoring his habit of jacking up prices at the last minute.
The tension vanished into thin air as Deadshot lowered his gun and glared at Ventriloquist.
"So, isn't it time for the real boss to show his face?"
Then he watched as Ventriloquist nodded and pulled out five earpieces from behind his back.
Damn it, the mastermind had planned even this. So frustrating.
---
Translator Note:
Add this work to your library and support with power stones!
Under the illumination of four giant searchlights prepared by the mercenary team, two large vans drove into the abandoned parking lot.
Slipknot and Tattooed Man stepped out of the vehicles, stone-faced and cold as they approached.
Like Deadshot, Cheshire, and Captain Boomerang, they were mercenaries hired by Nathan Blake.
Of course, in their eyes, it was the villain Ventriloquist who hired them, not the legendary Batman.
Slipknot, a strong Mexican man skilled in using ropes, was responsible for tying up Killer Croc earlier. He glanced at Croc, still bound on the ground, and a slight smirk crept onto his face.
Tattooed Man, just like his nickname, looked like an abstract painting splattered with bird droppings. He sneered as he approached, his voice dripping with sarcasm: "Ha! Our target's an idiot!"
With a loud *bang*, a puff of white smoke escaped from Croc's head.
The group worked together to drag Killer Croc to the back of the two vans. Tattooed Man couldn't resist a few more jabs, nearly getting his arm bitten off by Croc in the process, causing another round of chaos.
Humiliation.
Rage.
Killer Croc was seething with fury.
His anger surged higher than the gamma rays from the explosion of the Orion supernova; this insult trampled on his dignity, and not even all the waters of Europa could cleanse this shame.
The secrets of the universe, the reversal of space and time, the rotation of the sun and moon, none of it could quench his fury!
He roared at the top of his lungs:
"Unforgivable!"
His scream rivaled the cries of Prometheus as he stole fire from the gods!
"Unforgivable!"
It echoed like Jesus's rage from the cross!
"Unforgi—"
Thud! Nathan didn't bother with pleasantries. He simply opened the van's back door and dumped a literal ton of cash onto Killer Croc's face.
No tricks. It was all cold, hard dollars.
The pile of green bills collapsed from the van to the ground like a spilled roll of toilet paper.
Killer Croc's voice halted, like a duck's neck being squeezed shut.
"This is just an advance. If you agree, it's all yours."
"Un... unforgi—"
Thud! Nathan opened the second van, and another ton of cash rained down, slapping Croc's face with cold bills.
Croc's furious, green face turned red with frustration.
Stop insulting me with this money!
He wanted to yell something righteous. Killer Croc wasn't just a cold-blooded beast or a vicious freak; he wasn't someone who would just bow down for a pile of cash!
Does money make you all-powerful? Do you really think I'll grovel just because you throw cash at me?
Slap!
A bill stuck to his eye, blocking his vision.
"Unforgi... unforgi..."
For... give...
Forgive... you...!!!!!!!!!
Killer Croc swayed, mentally and physically dazed by the overwhelming amount of money crashing into his brain. Holding onto the bills, he said with the utmost seriousness:
"Dad!"
Deadshot: "?"
"Ahem, what I mean is..."
"I've wandered most of my life, regretting not finding a wise employer sooner. If you don't mind, I am willing—"
"Oh my God, there must be tens of millions of dollars here!" Captain Boomerang jumped into the pile of cash. "I'm gonna die!"
"Get off!" Croc roared in anger. "That's my money!"
"Sure, it's yours, but right now I'm the one rolling around with it!"
Furious, Killer Croc, despite being tied up, used his core strength to fling himself into the cash pile too.
"Mine! Mine!"
"..."
Deadshot was at a loss for words.
Under the lights, the bills seemed endless, making him dizzy.
Unlike Boomerang, Deadshot wasn't new to money. He could estimate amounts far better.
Tens of millions?
This was at least 200 million!
Damn it! He had no idea Slipknot and Tattooed Man's vans were stuffed with cash. They probably didn't know either.
For a moment, Deadshot considered shooting everyone on the spot and making off with the 200 million.
But his reason won out. If someone could pull out 200 million to bribe Croc, they could just as easily put a 200-million bounty on his head.
He had a daughter, and you can't run from responsibility. As tempting as the money was, it was no good if you couldn't live to spend it.
More importantly, the money weighed over two tons. Even if he managed to take it, there was no way he could get it out of Gotham.
He forced himself to look away, but not before locking eyes with Slipknot and Tattooed Man, whose red eyes sent a chill down his spine. He immediately drew his gun.
"Whoa, whoa! Calm down, guys."
Deadshot kept a wary eye on the two fools, prepared for any irrational moves.
"Ventriloquist, where are you?"
He stopped calling him the client now.
What? Ventriloquist is the client? Yeah, right.
If that balding, middle-aged man could casually throw around 200 million, why would he bother with Gotham's underworld?
Unprompted, Deadshot remembered the Batman puppet on Ventriloquist's hand, and a shiver ran down his spine.
Just thinking about that bat-like figure made his ribs ache.
The last time he'd come to Gotham, he fought Batman on a train and ended up with three broken ribs...
No, no, stop thinking about him…
Deadshot shook his head.
First of all, let's rule out Batman. He'd never do something like this.
So... who has enough money and could command a criminal like Ventriloquist?
Penguin? Two-Face? Riddler? It wouldn't be The Roman, he fled to Hong Kong... Maybe I should broaden the suspects...
What about Bruce Wayne?
Nah, no motive. Rule him out.
"Ventriloquist! Ventriloquist? Damn it—let the real boss talk to me."
"What are you talking about?"
"Don't play dumb."
Slipknot and Tattooed Man's eyes were growing increasingly dangerous.
Deadshot kept a close watch on them as he slowly backed away.
Even Captain Boomerang, dense as he was, sensed something was off.
He climbed out of the cash pile, standing beside Deadshot, while Killer Croc continued rolling in the money like a cat high on catnip.
Deadshot wasn't planning on starting a fight here. It wasn't that he couldn't take out everyone except Croc, but the feeling of being manipulated irked him.
It seemed the mastermind knew Deadshot had a family and wouldn't cause trouble, using him to suppress these unruly mercenaries. And if suppression failed, they'd use Deadshot to eliminate the unstable ones in the group.
Wait, Deadshot realized, the mastermind even anticipated that I wouldn't start a fight. So the idea that I'd kill everyone here and leave them without manpower was never a possibility. This is strange… How does he know me so well?
As for Killer Croc, if he tried to take the money and run, that 200 million would immediately turn into a bounty on his head, and the rest of the group would tear each other apart to claim it.
But if Croc agreed to the job, he'd have no choice but to stick with Deadshot to protect his newfound wealth. Together, they could easily wipe out the other three.
Then, once the mastermind sent Ventriloquist to offer incentives or threats, the other two would likely calm down and set aside their greed. This balance was impressive, but what if it all went wrong?
At that moment, Deadshot noticed Cheshire quietly moving into a flanking position, setting herself up against Slipknot and Tattooed Man.
Oh! A backup plan.
Had she already been bribed?
Damn it, why wasn't I bribed?
Deadshot ground his molars, completely ignoring his habit of jacking up prices at the last minute.
The tension vanished into thin air as Deadshot lowered his gun and glared at Ventriloquist.
"So, isn't it time for the real boss to show his face?"
Then he watched as Ventriloquist nodded and pulled out five earpieces from behind his back.
Damn it, the mastermind had planned even this. So frustrating.
---
Translator Note:
Add this work to your library and support with power stones!
Under the illumination of four giant searchlights prepared by the mercenary team, two large vans drove into the abandoned parking lot.
Slipknot and Tattooed Man stepped out of the vehicles, stone-faced and cold as they approached.
Like Deadshot, Cheshire, and Captain Boomerang, they were mercenaries hired by Nathan Blake.
Of course, in their eyes, it was the villain Ventriloquist who hired them, not the legendary Batman.
Slipknot, a strong Mexican man skilled in using ropes, was responsible for tying up Killer Croc earlier. He glanced at Croc, still bound on the ground, and a slight smirk crept onto his face.
Tattooed Man, just like his nickname, looked like an abstract painting splattered with bird droppings. He sneered as he approached, his voice dripping with sarcasm: "Ha! Our target's an idiot!"
With a loud *bang*, a puff of white smoke escaped from Croc's head.
The group worked together to drag Killer Croc to the back of the two vans. Tattooed Man couldn't resist a few more jabs, nearly getting his arm bitten off by Croc in the process, causing another round of chaos.
Humiliation.
Rage.
Killer Croc was seething with fury.
His anger surged higher than the gamma rays from the explosion of the Orion supernova; this insult trampled on his dignity, and not even all the waters of Europa could cleanse this shame.
The secrets of the universe, the reversal of space and time, the rotation of the sun and moon, none of it could quench his fury!
He roared at the top of his lungs:
"Unforgivable!"
His scream rivaled the cries of Prometheus as he stole fire from the gods!
"Unforgivable!"
It echoed like Jesus's rage from the cross!
"Unforgi—"
Thud! Nathan didn't bother with pleasantries. He simply opened the van's back door and dumped a literal ton of cash onto Killer Croc's face.
No tricks. It was all cold, hard dollars.
The pile of green bills collapsed from the van to the ground like a spilled roll of toilet paper.
Killer Croc's voice halted, like a duck's neck being squeezed shut.
"This is just an advance. If you agree, it's all yours."
"Un... unforgi—"
Thud! Nathan opened the second van, and another ton of cash rained down, slapping Croc's face with cold bills.
Croc's furious, green face turned red with frustration.
Stop insulting me with this money!
He wanted to yell something righteous. Killer Croc wasn't just a cold-blooded beast or a vicious freak; he wasn't someone who would just bow down for a pile of cash!
Does money make you all-powerful? Do you really think I'll grovel just because you throw cash at me?
Slap!
A bill stuck to his eye, blocking his vision.
"Unforgi... unforgi..."
For... give...
Forgive... you...!!!!!!!!!
Killer Croc swayed, mentally and physically dazed by the overwhelming amount of money crashing into his brain. Holding onto the bills, he said with the utmost seriousness:
"Dad!"
Deadshot: "?"
"Ahem, what I mean is..."
"I've wandered most of my life, regretting not finding a wise employer sooner. If you don't mind, I am willing—"
"Oh my God, there must be tens of millions of dollars here!" Captain Boomerang jumped into the pile of cash. "I'm gonna die!"
"Get off!" Croc roared in anger. "That's my money!"
"Sure, it's yours, but right now I'm the one rolling around with it!"
Furious, Killer Croc, despite being tied up, used his core strength to fling himself into the cash pile too.
"Mine! Mine!"
"..."
Deadshot was at a loss for words.
Under the lights, the bills seemed endless, making him dizzy.
Unlike Boomerang, Deadshot wasn't new to money. He could estimate amounts far better.
Tens of millions?
This was at least 200 million!
Damn it! He had no idea Slipknot and Tattooed Man's vans were stuffed with cash. They probably didn't know either.
For a moment, Deadshot considered shooting everyone on the spot and making off with the 200 million.
But his reason won out. If someone could pull out 200 million to bribe Croc, they could just as easily put a 200-million bounty on his head.
He had a daughter, and you can't run from responsibility. As tempting as the money was, it was no good if you couldn't live to spend it.
More importantly, the money weighed over two tons. Even if he managed to take it, there was no way he could get it out of Gotham.
He forced himself to look away, but not before locking eyes with Slipknot and Tattooed Man, whose red eyes sent a chill down his spine. He immediately drew his gun.
"Whoa, whoa! Calm down, guys."
Deadshot kept a wary eye on the two fools, prepared for any irrational moves.
"Ventriloquist, where are you?"
He stopped calling him the client now.
What? Ventriloquist is the client? Yeah, right.
If that balding, middle-aged man could casually throw around 200 million, why would he bother with Gotham's underworld?
Unprompted, Deadshot remembered the Batman puppet on Ventriloquist's hand, and a shiver ran down his spine.
Just thinking about that bat-like figure made his ribs ache.
The last time he'd come to Gotham, he fought Batman on a train and ended up with three broken ribs...
No, no, stop thinking about him…
Deadshot shook his head.
First of all, let's rule out Batman. He'd never do something like this.
So... who has enough money and could command a criminal like Ventriloquist?
Penguin? Two-Face? Riddler? It wouldn't be The Roman, he fled to Hong Kong... Maybe I should broaden the suspects...
What about Bruce Wayne?
Nah, no motive. Rule him out.
"Ventriloquist! Ventriloquist? Damn it—let the real boss talk to me."
"What are you talking about?"
"Don't play dumb."
Slipknot and Tattooed Man's eyes were growing increasingly dangerous.
Deadshot kept a close watch on them as he slowly backed away.
Even Captain Boomerang, dense as he was, sensed something was off.
He climbed out of the cash pile, standing beside Deadshot, while Killer Croc continued rolling in the money like a cat high on catnip.
Deadshot wasn't planning on starting a fight here. It wasn't that he couldn't take out everyone except Croc, but the feeling of being manipulated irked him.
It seemed the mastermind knew Deadshot had a family and wouldn't cause trouble, using him to suppress these unruly mercenaries. And if suppression failed, they'd use Deadshot to eliminate the unstable ones in the group.
Wait, Deadshot realized, the mastermind even anticipated that I wouldn't start a fight. So the idea that I'd kill everyone here and leave them without manpower was never a possibility. This is strange… How does he know me so well?
As for Killer Croc, if he tried to take the money and run, that 200 million would immediately turn into a bounty on his head, and the rest of the group would tear each other apart to claim it.
But if Croc agreed to the job, he'd have no choice but to stick with Deadshot to protect his newfound wealth. Together, they could easily wipe out the other three.
Then, once the mastermind sent Ventriloquist to offer incentives or threats, the other two would likely calm down and set aside their greed. This balance was impressive, but what if it all went wrong?
At that moment, Deadshot noticed Cheshire quietly moving into a flanking position, setting herself up against Slipknot and Tattooed Man.
Oh! A backup plan.
Had she already been bribed?
Damn it, why wasn't I bribed?
Deadshot ground his molars, completely ignoring his habit of jacking up prices at the last minute.
The tension vanished into thin air as Deadshot lowered his gun and glared at Ventriloquist.
"So, isn't it time for the real boss to show his face?"
Then he watched as Ventriloquist nodded and pulled out five earpieces from behind his back.
Damn it, the mastermind had planned even this. So frustrating.
---
Translator Note:
Add this work to your library and support with power stones!
Under the illumination of four giant searchlights prepared by the mercenary team, two large vans drove into the abandoned parking lot.
Slipknot and Tattooed Man stepped out of the vehicles, stone-faced and cold as they approached.
Like Deadshot, Cheshire, and Captain Boomerang, they were mercenaries hired by Nathan Blake.
Of course, in their eyes, it was the villain Ventriloquist who hired them, not the legendary Batman.
Slipknot, a strong Mexican man skilled in using ropes, was responsible for tying up Killer Croc earlier. He glanced at Croc, still bound on the ground, and a slight smirk crept onto his face.
Tattooed Man, just like his nickname, looked like an abstract painting splattered with bird droppings. He sneered as he approached, his voice dripping with sarcasm: "Ha! Our target's an idiot!"
With a loud *bang*, a puff of white smoke escaped from Croc's head.
The group worked together to drag Killer Croc to the back of the two vans. Tattooed Man couldn't resist a few more jabs, nearly getting his arm bitten off by Croc in the process, causing another round of chaos.
Humiliation.
Rage.
Killer Croc was seething with fury.
His anger surged higher than the gamma rays from the explosion of the Orion supernova; this insult trampled on his dignity, and not even all the waters of Europa could cleanse this shame.
The secrets of the universe, the reversal of space and time, the rotation of the sun and moon, none of it could quench his fury!
He roared at the top of his lungs:
"Unforgivable!"
His scream rivaled the cries of Prometheus as he stole fire from the gods!
"Unforgivable!"
It echoed like Jesus's rage from the cross!
"Unforgi—"
Thud! Nathan didn't bother with pleasantries. He simply opened the van's back door and dumped a literal ton of cash onto Killer Croc's face.
No tricks. It was all cold, hard dollars.
The pile of green bills collapsed from the van to the ground like a spilled roll of toilet paper.
Killer Croc's voice halted, like a duck's neck being squeezed shut.
"This is just an advance. If you agree, it's all yours."
"Un... unforgi—"
Thud! Nathan opened the second van, and another ton of cash rained down, slapping Croc's face with cold bills.
Croc's furious, green face turned red with frustration.
Stop insulting me with this money!
He wanted to yell something righteous. Killer Croc wasn't just a cold-blooded beast or a vicious freak; he wasn't someone who would just bow down for a pile of cash!
Does money make you all-powerful? Do you really think I'll grovel just because you throw cash at me?
Slap!
A bill stuck to his eye, blocking his vision.
"Unforgi... unforgi..."
For... give...
Forgive... you...!!!!!!!!!
Killer Croc swayed, mentally and physically dazed by the overwhelming amount of money crashing into his brain. Holding onto the bills, he said with the utmost seriousness:
"Dad!"
Deadshot: "?"
"Ahem, what I mean is..."
"I've wandered most of my life, regretting not finding a wise employer sooner. If you don't mind, I am willing—"
"Oh my God, there must be tens of millions of dollars here!" Captain Boomerang jumped into the pile of cash. "I'm gonna die!"
"Get off!" Croc roared in anger. "That's my money!"
"Sure, it's yours, but right now I'm the one rolling around with it!"
Furious, Killer Croc, despite being tied up, used his core strength to fling himself into the cash pile too.
"Mine! Mine!"
"..."
Deadshot was at a loss for words.
Under the lights, the bills seemed endless, making him dizzy.
Unlike Boomerang, Deadshot wasn't new to money. He could estimate amounts far better.
Tens of millions?
This was at least 200 million!
Damn it! He had no idea Slipknot and Tattooed Man's vans were stuffed with cash. They probably didn't know either.
For a moment, Deadshot considered shooting everyone on the spot and making off with the 200 million.
But his reason won out. If someone could pull out 200 million to bribe Croc, they could just as easily put a 200-million bounty on his head.
He had a daughter, and you can't run from responsibility. As tempting as the money was, it was no good if you couldn't live to spend it.
More importantly, the money weighed over two tons. Even if he managed to take it, there was no way he could get it out of Gotham.
He forced himself to look away, but not before locking eyes with Slipknot and Tattooed Man, whose red eyes sent a chill down his spine. He immediately drew his gun.
"Whoa, whoa! Calm down, guys."
Deadshot kept a wary eye on the two fools, prepared for any irrational moves.
"Ventriloquist, where are you?"
He stopped calling him the client now.
What? Ventriloquist is the client? Yeah, right.
If that balding, middle-aged man could casually throw around 200 million, why would he bother with Gotham's underworld?
Unprompted, Deadshot remembered the Batman puppet on Ventriloquist's hand, and a shiver ran down his spine.
Just thinking about that bat-like figure made his ribs ache.
The last time he'd come to Gotham, he fought Batman on a train and ended up with three broken ribs...
No, no, stop thinking about him…
Deadshot shook his head.
First of all, let's rule out Batman. He'd never do something like this.
So... who has enough money and could command a criminal like Ventriloquist?
Penguin? Two-Face? Riddler? It wouldn't be The Roman, he fled to Hong Kong... Maybe I should broaden the suspects...
What about Bruce Wayne?
Nah, no motive. Rule him out.
"Ventriloquist! Ventriloquist? Damn it—let the real boss talk to me."
"What are you talking about?"
"Don't play dumb."
Slipknot and Tattooed Man's eyes were growing increasingly dangerous.
Deadshot kept a close watch on them as he slowly backed away.
Even Captain Boomerang, dense as he was, sensed something was off.
He climbed out of the cash pile, standing beside Deadshot, while Killer Croc continued rolling in the money like a cat high on catnip.
Deadshot wasn't planning on starting a fight here. It wasn't that he couldn't take out everyone except Croc, but the feeling of being manipulated irked him.
It seemed the mastermind knew Deadshot had a family and wouldn't cause trouble, using him to suppress these unruly mercenaries. And if suppression failed, they'd use Deadshot to eliminate the unstable ones in the group.
Wait, Deadshot realized, the mastermind even anticipated that I wouldn't start a fight. So the idea that I'd kill everyone here and leave them without manpower was never a possibility. This is strange… How does he know me so well?
As for Killer Croc, if he tried to take the money and run, that 200 million would immediately turn into a bounty on his head, and the rest of the group would tear each other apart to claim it.
But if Croc agreed to the job, he'd have no choice but to stick with Deadshot to protect his newfound wealth. Together, they could easily wipe out the other three.
Then, once the mastermind sent Ventriloquist to offer incentives or threats, the other two would likely calm down and set aside their greed. This balance was impressive, but what if it all went wrong?
At that moment, Deadshot noticed Cheshire quietly moving into a flanking position, setting herself up against Slipknot and Tattooed Man.
Oh! A backup plan.
Had she already been bribed?
Damn it, why wasn't I bribed?
Deadshot ground his molars, completely ignoring his habit of jacking up prices at the last minute.
The tension vanished into thin air as Deadshot lowered his gun and glared at Ventriloquist.
"So, isn't it time for the real boss to show his face?"
Then he watched as Ventriloquist nodded and pulled out five earpieces from behind his back.
Damn it, the mastermind had planned even this. So frustrating.
---
Translator Note:
Add this work to your library and support with power stones!
Under the illumination of four giant searchlights prepared by the mercenary team, two large vans drove into the abandoned parking lot.
Slipknot and Tattooed Man stepped out of the vehicles, stone-faced and cold as they approached.
Like Deadshot, Cheshire, and Captain Boomerang, they were mercenaries hired by Nathan Blake.
Of course, in their eyes, it was the villain Ventriloquist who hired them, not the legendary Batman.
Slipknot, a strong Mexican man skilled in using ropes, was responsible for tying up Killer Croc earlier. He glanced at Croc, still bound on the ground, and a slight smirk crept onto his face.
Tattooed Man, just like his nickname, looked like an abstract painting splattered with bird droppings. He sneered as he approached, his voice dripping with sarcasm: "Ha! Our target's an idiot!"
With a loud *bang*, a puff of white smoke escaped from Croc's head.
The group worked together to drag Killer Croc to the back of the two vans. Tattooed Man couldn't resist a few more jabs, nearly getting his arm bitten off by Croc in the process, causing another round of chaos.
Humiliation.
Rage.
Killer Croc was seething with fury.
His anger surged higher than the gamma rays from the explosion of the Orion supernova; this insult trampled on his dignity, and not even all the waters of Europa could cleanse this shame.
The secrets of the universe, the reversal of space and time, the rotation of the sun and moon, none of it could quench his fury!
He roared at the top of his lungs:
"Unforgivable!"
His scream rivaled the cries of Prometheus as he stole fire from the gods!
"Unforgivable!"
It echoed like Jesus's rage from the cross!
"Unforgi—"
Thud! Nathan didn't bother with pleasantries. He simply opened the van's back door and dumped a literal ton of cash onto Killer Croc's face.
No tricks. It was all cold, hard dollars.
The pile of green bills collapsed from the van to the ground like a spilled roll of toilet paper.
Killer Croc's voice halted, like a duck's neck being squeezed shut.
"This is just an advance. If you agree, it's all yours."
"Un... unforgi—"
Thud! Nathan opened the second van, and another ton of cash rained down, slapping Croc's face with cold bills.
Croc's furious, green face turned red with frustration.
Stop insulting me with this money!
He wanted to yell something righteous. Killer Croc wasn't just a cold-blooded beast or a vicious freak; he wasn't someone who would just bow down for a pile of cash!
Does money make you all-powerful? Do you really think I'll grovel just because you throw cash at me?
Slap!
A bill stuck to his eye, blocking his vision.
"Unforgi... unforgi..."
For... give...
Forgive... you...!!!!!!!!!
Killer Croc swayed, mentally and physically dazed by the overwhelming amount of money crashing into his brain. Holding onto the bills, he said with the utmost seriousness:
"Dad!"
Deadshot: "?"
"Ahem, what I mean is..."
"I've wandered most of my life, regretting not finding a wise employer sooner. If you don't mind, I am willing—"
"Oh my God, there must be tens of millions of dollars here!" Captain Boomerang jumped into the pile of cash. "I'm gonna die!"
"Get off!" Croc roared in anger. "That's my money!"
"Sure, it's yours, but right now I'm the one rolling around with it!"
Furious, Killer Croc, despite being tied up, used his core strength to fling himself into the cash pile too.
"Mine! Mine!"
"..."
Deadshot was at a loss for words.
Under the lights, the bills seemed endless, making him dizzy.
Unlike Boomerang, Deadshot wasn't new to money. He could estimate amounts far better.
Tens of millions?
This was at least 200 million!
Damn it! He had no idea Slipknot and Tattooed Man's vans were stuffed with cash. They probably didn't know either.
For a moment, Deadshot considered shooting everyone on the spot and making off with the 200 million.
But his reason won out. If someone could pull out 200 million to bribe Croc, they could just as easily put a 200-million bounty on his head.
He had a daughter, and you can't run from responsibility. As tempting as the money was, it was no good if you couldn't live to spend it.
More importantly, the money weighed over two tons. Even if he managed to take it, there was no way he could get it out of Gotham.
He forced himself to look away, but not before locking eyes with Slipknot and Tattooed Man, whose red eyes sent a chill down his spine. He immediately drew his gun.
"Whoa, whoa! Calm down, guys."
Deadshot kept a wary eye on the two fools, prepared for any irrational moves.
"Ventriloquist, where are you?"
He stopped calling him the client now.
What? Ventriloquist is the client? Yeah, right.
If that balding, middle-aged man could casually throw around 200 million, why would he bother with Gotham's underworld?
Unprompted, Deadshot remembered the Batman puppet on Ventriloquist's hand, and a shiver ran down his spine.
Just thinking about that bat-like figure made his ribs ache.
The last time he'd come to Gotham, he fought Batman on a train and ended up with three broken ribs...
No, no, stop thinking about him…
Deadshot shook his head.
First of all, let's rule out Batman. He'd never do something like this.
So... who has enough money and could command a criminal like Ventriloquist?
Penguin? Two-Face? Riddler? It wouldn't be The Roman, he fled to Hong Kong... Maybe I should broaden the suspects...
What about Bruce Wayne?
Nah, no motive. Rule him out.
"Ventriloquist! Ventriloquist? Damn it—let the real boss talk to me."
"What are you talking about?"
"Don't play dumb."
Slipknot and Tattooed Man's eyes were growing increasingly dangerous.
Deadshot kept a close watch on them as he slowly backed away.
Even Captain Boomerang, dense as he was, sensed something was off.
He climbed out of the cash pile, standing beside Deadshot, while Killer Croc continued rolling in the money like a cat high on catnip.
Deadshot wasn't planning on starting a fight here. It wasn't that he couldn't take out everyone except Croc, but the feeling of being manipulated irked him.
It seemed the mastermind knew Deadshot had a family and wouldn't cause trouble, using him to suppress these unruly mercenaries. And if suppression failed, they'd use Deadshot to eliminate the unstable ones in the group.
Wait, Deadshot realized, the mastermind even anticipated that I wouldn't start a fight. So the idea that I'd kill everyone here and leave them without manpower was never a possibility. This is strange… How does he know me so well?
As for Killer Croc, if he tried to take the money and run, that 200 million would immediately turn into a bounty on his head, and the rest of the group would tear each other apart to claim it.
But if Croc agreed to the job, he'd have no choice but to stick with Deadshot to protect his newfound wealth. Together, they could easily wipe out the other three.
Then, once the mastermind sent Ventriloquist to offer incentives or threats, the other two would likely calm down and set aside their greed. This balance was impressive, but what if it all went wrong?
At that moment, Deadshot noticed Cheshire quietly moving into a flanking position, setting herself up against Slipknot and Tattooed Man.
Oh! A backup plan.
Had she already been bribed?
Damn it, why wasn't I bribed?
Deadshot ground his molars, completely ignoring his habit of jacking up prices at the last minute.
The tension vanished into thin air as Deadshot lowered his gun and glared at Ventriloquist.
"So, isn't it time for the real boss to show his face?"
Then he watched as Ventriloquist nodded and pulled out five earpieces from behind his back.
Damn it, the mastermind had planned even this. So frustrating.
---
Translator Note:
Add this work to your library and support with power stones!
Under the illumination of four giant searchlights prepared by the mercenary team, two large vans drove into the abandoned parking lot.
Slipknot and Tattooed Man stepped out of the vehicles, stone-faced and cold as they approached.
Like Deadshot, Cheshire, and Captain Boomerang, they were mercenaries hired by Nathan Blake.
Of course, in their eyes, it was the villain Ventriloquist who hired them, not the legendary Batman.
Slipknot, a strong Mexican man skilled in using ropes, was responsible for tying up Killer Croc earlier. He glanced at Croc, still bound on the ground, and a slight smirk crept onto his face.
Tattooed Man, just like his nickname, looked like an abstract painting splattered with bird droppings. He sneered as he approached, his voice dripping with sarcasm: "Ha! Our target's an idiot!"
With a loud *bang*, a puff of white smoke escaped from Croc's head.
The group worked together to drag Killer Croc to the back of the two vans. Tattooed Man couldn't resist a few more jabs, nearly getting his arm bitten off by Croc in the process, causing another round of chaos.
Humiliation.
Rage.
Killer Croc was seething with fury.
His anger surged higher than the gamma rays from the explosion of the Orion supernova; this insult trampled on his dignity, and not even all the waters of Europa could cleanse this shame.
The secrets of the universe, the reversal of space and time, the rotation of the sun and moon, none of it could quench his fury!
He roared at the top of his lungs:
"Unforgivable!"
His scream rivaled the cries of Prometheus as he stole fire from the gods!
"Unforgivable!"
It echoed like Jesus's rage from the cross!
"Unforgi—"
Thud! Nathan didn't bother with pleasantries. He simply opened the van's back door and dumped a literal ton of cash onto Killer Croc's face.
No tricks. It was all cold, hard dollars.
The pile of green bills collapsed from the van to the ground like a spilled roll of toilet paper.
Killer Croc's voice halted, like a duck's neck being squeezed shut.
"This is just an advance. If you agree, it's all yours."
"Un... unforgi—"
Thud! Nathan opened the second van, and another ton of cash rained down, slapping Croc's face with cold bills.
Croc's furious, green face turned red with frustration.
Stop insulting me with this money!
He wanted to yell something righteous. Killer Croc wasn't just a cold-blooded beast or a vicious freak; he wasn't someone who would just bow down for a pile of cash!
Does money make you all-powerful? Do you really think I'll grovel just because you throw cash at me?
Slap!
A bill stuck to his eye, blocking his vision.
"Unforgi... unforgi..."
For... give...
Forgive... you...!!!!!!!!!
Killer Croc swayed, mentally and physically dazed by the overwhelming amount of money crashing into his brain. Holding onto the bills, he said with the utmost seriousness:
"Dad!"
Deadshot: "?"
"Ahem, what I mean is..."
"I've wandered most of my life, regretting not finding a wise employer sooner. If you don't mind, I am willing—"
"Oh my God, there must be tens of millions of dollars here!" Captain Boomerang jumped into the pile of cash. "I'm gonna die!"
"Get off!" Croc roared in anger. "That's my money!"
"Sure, it's yours, but right now I'm the one rolling around with it!"
Furious, Killer Croc, despite being tied up, used his core strength to fling himself into the cash pile too.
"Mine! Mine!"
"..."
Deadshot was at a loss for words.
Under the lights, the bills seemed endless, making him dizzy.
Unlike Boomerang, Deadshot wasn't new to money. He could estimate amounts far better.
Tens of millions?
This was at least 200 million!
Damn it! He had no idea Slipknot and Tattooed Man's vans were stuffed with cash. They probably didn't know either.
For a moment, Deadshot considered shooting everyone on the spot and making off with the 200 million.
But his reason won out. If someone could pull out 200 million to bribe Croc, they could just as easily put a 200-million bounty on his head.
He had a daughter, and you can't run from responsibility. As tempting as the money was, it was no good if you couldn't live to spend it.
More importantly, the money weighed over two tons. Even if he managed to take it, there was no way he could get it out of Gotham.
He forced himself to look away, but not before locking eyes with Slipknot and Tattooed Man, whose red eyes sent a chill down his spine. He immediately drew his gun.
"Whoa, whoa! Calm down, guys."
Deadshot kept a wary eye on the two fools, prepared for any irrational moves.
"Ventriloquist, where are you?"
He stopped calling him the client now.
What? Ventriloquist is the client? Yeah, right.
If that balding, middle-aged man could casually throw around 200 million, why would he bother with Gotham's underworld?
Unprompted, Deadshot remembered the Batman puppet on Ventriloquist's hand, and a shiver ran down his spine.
Just thinking about that bat-like figure made his ribs ache.
The last time he'd come to Gotham, he fought Batman on a train and ended up with three broken ribs...
No, no, stop thinking about him…
Deadshot shook his head.
First of all, let's rule out Batman. He'd never do something like this.
So... who has enough money and could command a criminal like Ventriloquist?
Penguin? Two-Face? Riddler? It wouldn't be The Roman, he fled to Hong Kong... Maybe I should broaden the suspects...
What about Bruce Wayne?
Nah, no motive. Rule him out.
"Ventriloquist! Ventriloquist? Damn it—let the real boss talk to me."
"What are you talking about?"
"Don't play dumb."
Slipknot and Tattooed Man's eyes were growing increasingly dangerous.
Deadshot kept a close watch on them as he slowly backed away.
Even Captain Boomerang, dense as he was, sensed something was off.
He climbed out of the cash pile, standing beside Deadshot, while Killer Croc continued rolling in the money like a cat high on catnip.
Deadshot wasn't planning on starting a fight here. It wasn't that he couldn't take out everyone except Croc, but the feeling of being manipulated irked him.
It seemed the mastermind knew Deadshot had a family and wouldn't cause trouble, using him to suppress these unruly mercenaries. And if suppression failed, they'd use Deadshot to eliminate the unstable ones in the group.
Wait, Deadshot realized, the mastermind even anticipated that I wouldn't start a fight. So the idea that I'd kill everyone here and leave them without manpower was never a possibility. This is strange… How does he know me so well?
As for Killer Croc, if he tried to take the money and run, that 200 million would immediately turn into a bounty on his head, and the rest of the group would tear each other apart to claim it.
But if Croc agreed to the job, he'd have no choice but to stick with Deadshot to protect his newfound wealth. Together, they could easily wipe out the other three.
Then, once the mastermind sent Ventriloquist to offer incentives or threats, the other two would likely calm down and set aside their greed. This balance was impressive, but what if it all went wrong?
At that moment, Deadshot noticed Cheshire quietly moving into a flanking position, setting herself up against Slipknot and Tattooed Man.
Oh! A backup plan.
Had she already been bribed?
Damn it, why wasn't I bribed?
Deadshot ground his molars, completely ignoring his habit of jacking up prices at the last minute.
The tension vanished into thin air as Deadshot lowered his gun and glared at Ventriloquist.
"So, isn't it time for the real boss to show his face?"
Then he watched as Ventriloquist nodded and pulled out five earpieces from behind his back.
Damn it, the mastermind had planned even this. So frustrating.
---
Translator Note:
Add this work to your library and support with power stones!
Under the illumination of four giant searchlights prepared by the mercenary team, two large vans drove into the abandoned parking lot.
Slipknot and Tattooed Man stepped out of the vehicles, stone-faced and cold as they approached.
Like Deadshot, Cheshire, and Captain Boomerang, they were mercenaries hired by Nathan Blake.
Of course, in their eyes, it was the villain Ventriloquist who hired them, not the legendary Batman.
Slipknot, a strong Mexican man skilled in using ropes, was responsible for tying up Killer Croc earlier. He glanced at Croc, still bound on the ground, and a slight smirk crept onto his face.
Tattooed Man, just like his nickname, looked like an abstract painting splattered with bird droppings. He sneered as he approached, his voice dripping with sarcasm: "Ha! Our target's an idiot!"
With a loud *bang*, a puff of white smoke escaped from Croc's head.
The group worked together to drag Killer Croc to the back of the two vans. Tattooed Man couldn't resist a few more jabs, nearly getting his arm bitten off by Croc in the process, causing another round of chaos.
Humiliation.
Rage.
Killer Croc was seething with fury.
His anger surged higher than the gamma rays from the explosion of the Orion supernova; this insult trampled on his dignity, and not even all the waters of Europa could cleanse this shame.
The secrets of the universe, the reversal of space and time, the rotation of the sun and moon, none of it could quench his fury!
He roared at the top of his lungs:
"Unforgivable!"
His scream rivaled the cries of Prometheus as he stole fire from the gods!
"Unforgivable!"
It echoed like Jesus's rage from the cross!
"Unforgi—"
Thud! Nathan didn't bother with pleasantries. He simply opened the van's back door and dumped a literal ton of cash onto Killer Croc's face.
No tricks. It was all cold, hard dollars.
The pile of green bills collapsed from the van to the ground like a spilled roll of toilet paper.
Killer Croc's voice halted, like a duck's neck being squeezed shut.
"This is just an advance. If you agree, it's all yours."
"Un... unforgi—"
Thud! Nathan opened the second van, and another ton of cash rained down, slapping Croc's face with cold bills.
Croc's furious, green face turned red with frustration.
Stop insulting me with this money!
He wanted to yell something righteous. Killer Croc wasn't just a cold-blooded beast or a vicious freak; he wasn't someone who would just bow down for a pile of cash!
Does money make you all-powerful? Do you really think I'll grovel just because you throw cash at me?
Slap!
A bill stuck to his eye, blocking his vision.
"Unforgi... unforgi..."
For... give...
Forgive... you...!!!!!!!!!
Killer Croc swayed, mentally and physically dazed by the overwhelming amount of money crashing into his brain. Holding onto the bills, he said with the utmost seriousness:
"Dad!"
Deadshot: "?"
"Ahem, what I mean is..."
"I've wandered most of my life, regretting not finding a wise employer sooner. If you don't mind, I am willing—"
"Oh my God, there must be tens of millions of dollars here!" Captain Boomerang jumped into the pile of cash. "I'm gonna die!"
"Get off!" Croc roared in anger. "That's my money!"
"Sure, it's yours, but right now I'm the one rolling around with it!"
Furious, Killer Croc, despite being tied up, used his core strength to fling himself into the cash pile too.
"Mine! Mine!"
"..."
Deadshot was at a loss for words.
Under the lights, the bills seemed endless, making him dizzy.
Unlike Boomerang, Deadshot wasn't new to money. He could estimate amounts far better.
Tens of millions?
This was at least 200 million!
Damn it! He had no idea Slipknot and Tattooed Man's vans were stuffed with cash. They probably didn't know either.
For a moment, Deadshot considered shooting everyone on the spot and making off with the 200 million.
But his reason won out. If someone could pull out 200 million to bribe Croc, they could just as easily put a 200-million bounty on his head.
He had a daughter, and you can't run from responsibility. As tempting as the money was, it was no good if you couldn't live to spend it.
More importantly, the money weighed over two tons. Even if he managed to take it, there was no way he could get it out of Gotham.
He forced himself to look away, but not before locking eyes with Slipknot and Tattooed Man, whose red eyes sent a chill down his spine. He immediately drew his gun.
"Whoa, whoa! Calm down, guys."
Deadshot kept a wary eye on the two fools, prepared for any irrational moves.
"Ventriloquist, where are you?"
He stopped calling him the client now.
What? Ventriloquist is the client? Yeah, right.
If that balding, middle-aged man could casually throw around 200 million, why would he bother with Gotham's underworld?
Unprompted, Deadshot remembered the Batman puppet on Ventriloquist's hand, and a shiver ran down his spine.
Just thinking about that bat-like figure made his ribs ache.
The last time he'd come to Gotham, he fought Batman on a train and ended up with three broken ribs...
No, no, stop thinking about him…
Deadshot shook his head.
First of all, let's rule out Batman. He'd never do something like this.
So... who has enough money and could command a criminal like Ventriloquist?
Penguin? Two-Face? Riddler? It wouldn't be The Roman, he fled to Hong Kong... Maybe I should broaden the suspects...
What about Bruce Wayne?
Nah, no motive. Rule him out.
"Ventriloquist! Ventriloquist? Damn it—let the real boss talk to me."
"What are you talking about?"
"Don't play dumb."
Slipknot and Tattooed Man's eyes were growing increasingly dangerous.
Deadshot kept a close watch on them as he slowly backed away.
Even Captain Boomerang, dense as he was, sensed something was off.
He climbed out of the cash pile, standing beside Deadshot, while Killer Croc continued rolling in the money like a cat high on catnip.
Deadshot wasn't planning on starting a fight here. It wasn't that he couldn't take out everyone except Croc, but the feeling of being manipulated irked him.
It seemed the mastermind knew Deadshot had a family and wouldn't cause trouble, using him to suppress these unruly mercenaries. And if suppression failed, they'd use Deadshot to eliminate the unstable ones in the group.
Wait, Deadshot realized, the mastermind even anticipated that I wouldn't start a fight. So the idea that I'd kill everyone here and leave them without manpower was never a possibility. This is strange… How does he know me so well?
As for Killer Croc, if he tried to take the money and run, that 200 million would immediately turn into a bounty on his head, and the rest of the group would tear each other apart to claim it.
But if Croc agreed to the job, he'd have no choice but to stick with Deadshot to protect his newfound wealth. Together, they could easily wipe out the other three.
Then, once the mastermind sent Ventriloquist to offer incentives or threats, the other two would likely calm down and set aside their greed. This balance was impressive, but what if it all went wrong?
At that moment, Deadshot noticed Cheshire quietly moving into a flanking position, setting herself up against Slipknot and Tattooed Man.
Oh! A backup plan.
Had she already been bribed?
Damn it, why wasn't I bribed?
Deadshot ground his molars, completely ignoring his habit of jacking up prices at the last minute.
The tension vanished into thin air as Deadshot lowered his gun and glared at Ventriloquist.
"So, isn't it time for the real boss to show his face?"
Then he watched as Ventriloquist nodded and pulled out five earpieces from behind his back.
Damn it, the mastermind had planned even this. So frustrating.
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Translator Note:
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