One Minute

"You're telling me you found Batman inside this totally ordinary van parked on the side of the road?"

"Uh, yeah, that's right."

"Then you thought he was fake, tried to rob him, and Batman turned his hand into a wheel and knocked you out?"

"That's exactly what happened."

"Ha!"

"Cousin, I know it sounds crazy, but..."

"Shut up! I think you've smoked yourself stupid. If there's really a Batman in there, I'll—right here and now—eat this crowbar!"

"Don't go, cousin! There really is a Batman in there!"

Knock knock knock!

The thug's cousin had just rapped three times on the van door when it swung open.

The thug watched as Batman stepped out, locked the door, and then—shwoosh—turned into some weird-looking Bat-off-road vehicle. Its tires spun, and in an instant, it was gone without a trace.

A gust of wind blew past, leaving only the thug and his friends standing there, dumbfounded.

After a long while, one of them muttered, as if in a dream:

"What the fuck! I've seen Jesus Christ himself! All these years, I thought Batman 'rode' the Batmobile, but I never imagined Batman 'was' the Batmobile!"

From every angle—front or side—Tattooed Man's aura had reached its peak.

Sensual tattoos, confident eyes—all of it radiated the vibe of a master.

Even Deathshot was starting to doubt himself. Had he misjudged?

But no matter how he looked, the guy's steps were loose, his movements sloppy. Sure, he was muscular, but he seemed simple-minded, even less intimidating than Slipknot had been.

Frankly, Deathshot thought he wasn't even as good as Captain Boomerang—at least that guy was an Olympic-level athlete, a multiple-time javelin champion.

Could someone like this really be hiding his true skill?

Tattooed Man stripped off his shirt, revealing a mess of tattoos—all kinds of things.

At that moment, he looked like nothing more than a low-level gang thug. But the tattoos on his back, writhing like living things, made it impossible to ignore him anymore.

Bane stopped what he was doing. He tossed Killer Croc aside like a dead dog and tensed every muscle in his body.

Cheshire Cat had returned. Thanks to her good landing posture and flexibility, she hadn't suffered any fatal injuries—just a bit dirty and disheveled.

She crouched low, recovering her strength as quickly as possible.

Gurgle gurgle gurgle gurgle gurgle gurgle...

It sounded like something crawling out of a swamp. Bane's expression turned grim as he braced himself.

Pain twisted across Tattooed Man's face. Then, right before everyone's eyes, a tiger tattoo on his body twisted, deformed, and crawled off him!

!

He was a superpowered individual!

Deathshot's eyes went wide.

It was a real Bengal tiger, with vivid stripes and terrifying fangs. This was straight out of a fantasy novel!

Bane assumed a defensive stance.

The tiger charged at Bane!

The tiger leaped and pounced!

The tiger opened its fanged maw!

CRACK—Bane slid into a tackle, and the tiger flew backward like a kicked teacup dog, every bone broken, its body limp.

Uh...

Ah, no matter—Tattooed Man conjured a mammoth! Impressive!

BOOM—the multi-ton mammoth was flipped over by Bane, who caved in its skull with a few consecutive punches.

Tattooed Man conjured a pack of wolves!

Wiped out.

Tattooed Man conjured a gorilla!

Same fate as Slipknot.

Tattooed Man conjured another...

"Damn it, I'm pulling out my big move!"

His face pale, Tattooed Man turned back to Deathshot and said, "Buy me some time."

Deathshot immediately agreed. Even though the things the Tattooed Man had conjured up were basically useless for the situation, the fact that the other party was a superpowered individual gave Deathshot confidence.

"I can probably stall this big monster for about thirty seconds," Cheshire Cat spoke up, her cool voice like a sliver of moonlight falling across the battlefield: "As long as I don't go head-to-head with him."

Deathshot chimed in from the side: "And if I provide interference, that time can be extended to at least a minute."

"I only need twenty seconds." The Tattooed Man was trembling, and Deathshot saw a Western Dragon tattoo writhing and struggling to tear itself free from his chest.

This couldn't help but boost Deathshot's confidence.

Boom!

Bane punched the ground, and the reinforced concrete floor burst apart like a spiderweb. Cheshire Cat dodged with movements that would make an Olympic gymnast weep with envy, fragments of rubble splashing against her, scaring her half to death.

"Cheshire Cat, can your jellyfish toxin work on it?" Hearing the employer's question in her earpiece, Cheshire Cat wrinkled her nose in confusion, though her nose and face were hidden beneath her mask where no one could see.

She replied sullenly: "I don't have any jellyfish toxin. And poison elements don't match with cats at all."

"Huh?"

Chen Tao was taken aback. In his memory, jellyfish toxin was supposed to be Cheshire Cat's most iconic trait.

But he quickly dared not waste any more words distracting Cheshire Cat, because Bane had already charged toward the Tattooed Man.

"Open fire!"

Deathshot scrambled and rolled, constantly trying to interfere with Bane: "Fuck, I knew this money wasn't going to be easy!"

He yelled curses: "Where's Ventriloquist? Damn old bastard, where did you hide this time? Get out here and join the fight!"

Bane was enraged by the bullets constantly aimed at his eyes. Deathshot looked up and saw a wrecked car spinning through the air like a thrown card, slicing toward him. He yelped and turned to run.

Finally! The Tattooed Man had finished charging!

A Western Dragon burst out from his chest!

Good heavens, this was a full-on fantasy creature. It had pitch-black scales, ugly wings, and could even breathe fire from its mouth. Deathshot was moved to tears. Finally there was—

Wait, but why was this dragon only the size of a dog?

"Woof!"

The dragon immediately sat down on the spot, snorted, stuck out its tongue like a dog, and made a rumbling sound.

???

"Bastard, are you kidding me???"

"I, I don't know what happened either..." The Tattooed Man was sweating profusely: "This is my first time tattooing something like this fantasy..."

The next second, this Fire-Breathing Dragon was stomped into paste by Bane.

"It's over."

Deathshot's heart sank, and he turned without hesitation to flee. There was no longer any possibility of victory.

His peripheral vision swept across the battlefield. The Tattooed Man had taken a solid punch from Bane, his limbs twisted like a broken ragdoll—basically done for.

Killer Croc was covered in blood, lying there like a dead dog. Can't save him. Farewell.

Cheshire Cat was hopping left and right like a monkey, dodging Bane's fists. Her imminent death was a matter of seconds.

"Deathshot, you have to save your teammates. Cheshire Cat and Killer Croc will lose their ability to fight soon. You must..."

Deathshot said nothing. He threw down his two submachine guns, rocket launcher, and the entire backpack full of shells and weapons onto the ground to make his escape faster.

He knew very well that if he ran, Cheshire Cat and Killer Croc would surely die. The entire newly formed Suicide Squad would be nearly wiped out here. That was definitely not something the person behind the scenes could accept.

And he, the deserter, might face retaliation, might damage his reputation, might suffer all sorts of serious consequences and trouble. But no matter what... it was better than dying on the spot!

"Hang in there a little longer!"

Deathshot heard the whistling of wind in his earpiece, as if the other party was riding some kind of high-speed vehicle.

"Hold on for one more minute. In one minute... reinforcements will arrive!"

Hearing such a ridiculous statement, Deathshot laughed in anger.

"Bullshit!" Without even realizing it himself, his voice was trembling.

He stared at the muscle-bound freak who was tossing car wrecks around like toys:

"What kind of reinforcements could deal with a monster like this? In Gotham City, who else could handle a beast like this?"

"Batman?"