When the gunman rushed in, there was no one left in the house. His target, that damned red-haired little girl, had been rescued by someone. Whoever it was had moved too swiftly; he had not even caught a glimpse of them.
The television in the living room was playing the news. On the screen was Ball's face, beaten into a bloody pulp. But there was also a video.
From a first-person perspective, two fists alternated as they pounded Ball's face until his skull shattered and his brains spilled out.
At first, Ball could still scream. Later, there was only meaningless twitching. In the end, he fell completely silent.
There was no question about it: this was a brutal killing.
The young man who had beaten Ball to death was clearly well-trained. Not only was he exceptionally strong, but his punches were skillful as well. His identity was soon made public. He was an underground boxer named Hick.
Hick's life story was simple enough. Both his parents had died, leaving him and his younger sister dependent on each other. His grades had been fairly good, but something happened to his sister while he was in high school, forcing him to drop out and fight in illegal matches.
His sister had apparently been in a Car Accident and was left completely paralyzed and bedridden. For some reason, they had received no insurance compensation, and he had needed to earn her medical expenses through underground boxing.
A very typical Gotham underclass citizen—a poor bastard who should have died unnoticed on some rainy night.
But no. He had appeared in the suburban villa of Ball, Gotham's steel industry tycoon, and shattered his skull with those powerful fists, beating him to death alive.
What was more, he had recorded the whole thing, handed it to