Chereads / SHAPESHIFTER (DC) / Chapter 6 - What Is My Goal?

Chapter 6 - What Is My Goal?

Nathaniel rubbed his nose in annoyance; he was dressed in a plain black t-shirt and gray joggers that rested just below his waist. He perched on a column, savoring a steaming bowl of ramen noodles he had just pilfered.

Lost in contemplation, Nathaniel couldn't shake the feeling of emptiness that came from lacking a purpose. He had been given a second chance at life; he could attempt to track down those who had wrongfully had him arrested and condemned to death, but it would be futile and only attract unwanted attention to himself.

"Life wasn't supposed to be this confusing." he pondered, flinging the cup into the air before glancing down at the happenings that had captured his interest.

Nathaniel understands one truth: Gotham's criminal underworld is not just a collection of thieves; it's a powerful organization, a mafia, where trust is rare, and actions speak louder than words.

Two vehicles arrived at the secluded location, one a black 1995 BMW 750iL and the other a red 2001 Jaguar XJR. Three men emerged from the black car, clad in black with their faces concealed by white masks, while three others stepped out of the red vehicle, their features revealing their Italian heritage.

"Do you possess what we asked for?" one of the masked men inquired, his hand resting in front, a single ring gleaming with a prominent ruby, its deep red hue catching the faint light of the moon like a drop of blood.

One of the Italian men, his demeanor authoritative, snapped his fingers sharply, and the bigger of the three stepped forward, a large duffle bag slung over his shoulder. With a grunt, he dropped it onto the ground, the thud resonating in the stillness of the night.

The two masked men exchanged a brief, wary glance, their bodies betraying a flicker of surprise at the display. The third, however, remained unfazed, his focus unwavering as he stepped forward boldly, reaching down to unzip the bag with deliberate intent.

"It appears everything is accounted for, but could I inquire how you managed to acquire such a significant amount of Miraclo?" The question hung in the air, heavy with implication.

The three Italian men stiffened, their expressions hardening as though a switch had been flipped. Silence enveloped them, thick and palpable, while one of the men edged his hand closer to his waist, fingers twitching slightly as if contemplating the need for a weapon.

A chuckle escaped the masked man's lips, a sound that sliced through the tension like a knife. With a casual flick of his wrist, he called forth the other, who stepped forward to reveal a briefcase. As he unlatched it, the metallic click echoed ominously in the night, unveiling a neat stack of cash, its crisp edges reflecting the moonlight like the promise of power and danger.

Passing the briefcase and grabbing the duffle bag, each man exchanged determined nods before racing back to their respective vehicles.

Nathaniel grinned, a wild glint in his eyes, as he descended into the fray, his body shifting and contorting into a fearsome wolf-human hybrid. The cacophony of his transformation cut through the air, drawing the immediate attention of the men who had been poised and alert.

In a heartbeat, guns were drawn, the metallic clinks of safety catches disengaging echoing ominously in the night. Shots rang out, sharp and jarring, as Nathaniel, now a blur of fur and muscle, dropped to all fours and surged forward, sprinting toward the masked figures with a primal ferocity that sent shivers down their spines.

A bullet struck his forearm, but he snapped and contorted his muscles to take on the texture of scales, strengthening his wolfish form.

With a powerful leap, he slashed outwards, his claws slicing through the air and catching one of the men on the arm. A piercing scream of agony erupted from the man as he staggered back, clutching the wound. Seizing the moment, Nathaniel twisted his own arm, driving his talon-like claws deep into the man's chest, feeling the warm rush of life beneath his grip.

Gunshots rang out, yet none found their mark. Nathaniel smiled in contentment before utilizing the man's body as a shield, hurling it at another one of the assailants.

The Italian men, their faces ashen with a mix of fear and desperation, noticed the lack of damage on the creature's body and rapidly retreated to the car. Panic set in as they scrambled to get inside, before the others could even process what was happening, the car's tires screeched as it sped away, abandoning the rest to fend for themselves amidst the carnage-strewn landscape.

Nathaniel's wolflike ears twitched, keenly attuned to the sounds of the mayhem surrounding him, yet he paid no heed to the men who drove off in the chaos, their frantic escape a mere afterthought. With a surge of adrenaline coursing through him, he rushed forward, his powerful arms buckling and straining under the weight of his intent before he flipped the car, sending it hurtling toward the remaining men in a deadly arc.

"BOOOOOOOOOOM!!!"

The car collided violently with the ground, squashing one unfortunate soul beneath its weight. A deafening explosion erupted, flames licking hungrily at the wreckage as they enveloped the bodies, limbs, and the slick, dark blood that stained the area, creating a grotesque tableau of destruction and despair.

Nodding to himself in satisfaction, he took the bag filled with Miraclo and turned to leave, his eyes scanning the periphery of the carnage-strewn scene before his ears picked up a faint whirring sound and he twisted, barely dodging a batarang that nearly connected, its sleek edge slicing through the air mere inches from his cheek, the wind from its passage whispering a deadly warning in his ear.

"Where are you going, tall and ugly?" a boy's voice sounded out, followed by a swift kick that connected to Nathaniel's jaw, though it did no damage, the force behind it made his head turn slightly, his eyes narrowing but he ignored the boy as he took in the sight of the next intruder, a lean figure clad in a suit of dark, armor-plated Kevlar, the iconic emblem of a bat emblazoned on his chest, his eyes gleaming with a fierce intensity behind the mask that obscured his face.

Nathaniel grinned, his teeth glinting like polished ivory in the dim light. "Round two," he huffed, a thrill of challenge coursing through him. With a sudden, fluid motion, his body twisted and pumped with a raw power that seemed to surge from deep within. Moments later, he towered as a massive reptilian figure, scales shimmering with a menacing elegance.

"RRROOOOOOAAAAWWWWWWRRR!!!" The noise burst forth from him, a raw, instinctual growl that welcomed the prospect of combat.