Gotchard in DC Ch 20

The inky black night blankets National City, with just a faint glow from the streetlights. The whole city's exceptionally quiet.

"Damn it, that guy called Goggles Armored Man—is he trying to take on National City's entire underworld?"

In a freight warehouse in the North City District, Julian, the Mad Dog Gang's boss, slams his fist on the table. He's angry, but there's a flicker of fear in his eyes, too.

Julian, a local boss in National City, has heard about what happened to the other gangs Isaac hit. Guys end up in the hospital, bosses get broken ribs, and everyone's stripped and hung on streetlights near the police station.

He almost joined them. If he hadn't changed the meeting location, the Mad Dog Gang would be in the same mess.

"Boss, how about we put a bounty on that guy?"

One of Julian's guys suggests, hoping to use a bounty to deal with Isaac.

Isaac's been hitting the Mad Dog Gang hard, taking down strongholds and messing with their business, especially the deal with some guy named Andre.

"Bounty? Good. Spread the word. I'm offering $550,000 for that guy's life! Alive, I'll give $1,000,000!"

Julian's rage boils over. Isaac's cost him money and forced him into hiding. Julian grits his teeth and slams the table.

The gang members nod, not arguing with their boss's choice.

Just as they're about to pull out their phones, the warehouse lights go out, plunging them into darkness.

"What's going on? Power outage?"

The darkness triggers a primal response. It’s a suffocating blanket, punctuated only by the metallic clicks of weapons readying for action.

Then, the screams start. Short, sharp bursts of terror that cut through the quiet, igniting a powder keg of paranoia. It is not just physical pain; it is something else, something that gets under their skin.

Panic takes root. Fear, a tangible thing, spreads like a virus. Men stumble, their bravado dissolving into whimpers. The darkness becomes a canvas for their worst imaginings.

One man cracks. He raises his firearm and empties the magazine into the void, the muzzle flashes momentarily gifting glimpses of terrified faces.

Others follow. The warehouse transforms into a miniature war zone, a symphony of gunfire and cries. The air is thick with the smell of gunpowder and blood. In the sporadic illumination, a shape moves too quickly to be tracked, a predator among prey. Each burst of fire is met with a fresh wave of shrieks.

The cacophony lessens, fading into ragged breaths and low moans. Finally, silence descends, broken only by the occasional whimper of agony. The lights flicker back to life. The scene is carnage. Bodies litter the floor, a grotesque mosaic of violence.

Julian risks a peek. Clutching his bleeding side, he surveys the scene from behind his makeshift barricade. He had reacted instinctively, diving for cover as soon as the shooting began. But even that wasn’t enough. A bullet found its mark, tearing through his flesh.

The impact is a jolt, a searing pain that courses through his body. His head smashes against the sofa's frame, and his grip loosens. The pistol clatters to the ground. A strangled cry escapes his lips.

A hand clamps down on his head, slamming it against the wood once more. His vision blurs, the pain intensifying. His other arm, still clutching the useless weapon, goes limp.

Julian's world swims. He can't focus, but then a figure materializes from the shadows. It's a silhouette at first, but as his eyes adjust, he sees the details.

The guy's wearing some kind of sleek, dark blue and black suit. It looks like armor, but flexible, like it's designed for moving around. There's a bird-like symbol emblazoned across his chest, stretching from shoulder to shoulder. And he's got a utility belt, of course, because every costumed weirdo has to have one.

Julian can't see his eyes, just the stark white of the domino mask. The guy isn't huge, not like some muscle-bound freak, but there's a coiled energy about him. It's like a panther ready to pounce.

"You... you're not that Goggles Armored Man! Who are you?"

The figure ignores Julian’s question, looming over him. "Tell me about your operations. Every drug deal, every protection racket, every dirty little secret. Start talking."

Julian coughs, blood flecking his lips. "Go to hell! I ain't telling you anything."

He tries to spit at the figure, but it just dribbles down his chin. Defiant to the end, that’s what he wants to be. He ain't no snitch.

The figure doesn't respond, simply reaching out a hand towards Julian’s remaining intact arm.

Julian's eyes widen, pupils dilating. "Wait, wait, I'll tell you everything!"

Under the warehouse's harsh lights, Julian sings like a canary. Every shady deal, every crooked cop, every name and number spills from his lips. He barters information for mercy, revealing all the Mad Dog Gang's sins to the bird-themed vigilante who listens intently, his expression unreadable.

"You better not be lying, or I'll be back. Remember, I'm Nightwing!"

After Julian's confession, Nightwing slams his head against the sofa's crossbar, knocking him out.

It's Dick Grayson, aka Nightwing. After gathering intel, he's taking action to find the missing minors and the girl from his dream.

The girl was last seen at the Shadow Gang's warehouse. He suspects she's connected to the kidnapping case.

"Oracle, you heard all that, right? I'm going to need your help again."

Nightwing claps his hands and speaks into his communicator.

"I recorded it, Nightwing. But be careful. This situation isn't simple."

A calm female voice, Oracle, sounds worried.

"I will."

Nightwing smiles and disappears into the shadows. Soon after, police sirens blare outside the warehouse.

"Achoo! Damn it, is someone talking about me behind my back?"

Lying on his bed at home, Isaac suddenly let out a heavy sneeze. After wiping his nose with a tissue, he seemed to narrow his eyes as if sensing something. He didn't know why, but he always felt as if someone had been badmouthing him just now.

Because he had been busy for too long helping Rachel organize her room and add items in the secret base, Isaac did not go out on patrol tonight.

Of course, the main reason was that the gangs he had originally targeted suddenly canceled their meetings, and the gang executives had hidden somewhere. Isaac needed to re-locate them.

And minor incidents like robberies had already been resolved by Smaphone Chemy remotely controlling alchemical creatures, which led to Isaac having nothing to do.