Bane's Assault

Knock, knock, knock!

Someone rapped on the window of Chen Tao's van.

Chen Tao rolled down the window and saw the thug who'd tried to shake him down earlier, now back with a bigger crew—knives and crowbars in hand.

"You really think just because you dress like Batman, you are Batman? You actually had me fooled for a—"

Chen Tao couldn't be bothered with his blather. He shot out one hand, which instantly transformed into a spinning off-road tire, and thwacked the guy right on the forehead before he could react.

"Scram!"

Using machetes and the physics-defying Second Robin's Holy Sword for a robbery in Gotham? How low-rent.

Watching the thugs scuttle away in a panic, Chen Tao switched gears and picked up the microphone.

"Testing, testing—can you hear me? Good."

He pinched his throat, speaking into the mic with Cheshire Cat's cool, clear voice.

"My dear mercenaries, good day."

Then he quickly swapped to Deathshot's tone:

"I'm glad there's been no conflict between you. Trust me, that's exactly what I wanted to see. Now, untie Killer Croc."

Deathshot kept his face neutral, not bothering with stupid questions like "Who are you?"

He weighed whether to keep wading into this mess.

He smelled a conspiracy—yeah, it always started the same way: some shadowy puppet master behind the scenes, luring in a green, clueless mercenary.

Mercenaries didn't take just any job—except for guys like Deathstroke, who had the skill and guts to kill any employer who tried to screw him over. He was a metahuman, strong enough to pull it off.

But under normal circumstances, mercs were still flesh and blood. A betrayed contract could mean instant death. So guys like Deathshot usually stuck to reliable middlemen and vetted employers.

For example, Ventriloquist had proven himself a decent, upright, rule-abiding crime boss, which was why Deathshot had shown up here.

But this unknown mastermind...

Ventriloquist untied Killer Croc's ropes.

The beast sprang up from the ground, claws bared, and at that close range, Deathshot's gun hung low.

But luckily, the big croc didn't attack them. His eyes lit up as he dove into the pile of cash, heartbrokenly picking each bill out of the dust and carefully stuffing it back into the van.

"Heheh! I've got 200 million dollars! Heheh!"

Captain Boomerang stood nearby, green with envy, his cells practically splitting apart. "Damn it, why's my salary only—"

Chen Tao switched to Boomerang's voice:

"Don't envy Killer Croc—he's just getting an advance on his base pay for the next four years."

"And me? I'm a generous employer. Finish the tasks I give you, and I promise—within a few months, everyone here will go home with hundreds of millions of dollars. This is a job like no other. It's up to you whether you've got the guts to take it."

"..."

Deathshot made up his mind on the spot. He was in this mess for the long haul. Not for the money—mostly, he just liked the thrill.

Chen Tao rambled on with a bunch of nonsense, which boiled down to:

Me, rich big bro!

Your loaded employer

Throwing cash

On the art of money-slinging

This pie? It's big and round

Truth was, Chen Tao wasn't much of a speaker. But it was a different story when his audience stood next to a mountain of cash.

With the obvious piles of money and Killer Croc as the bought-and-paid-for showpiece, plus the three others forming a clear, threatening bloc, Slipknot forced a stiff smile, Tattooed Man happily patted his belly, and the atmosphere quickly heated up.

Captain Boomerang chimed in from the side: "Ah, great employer! How generous you are!"

His groveling, like a Shakespearean opera aria, left Deathshot speechless.

"...Weren't you not taking any follow-up jobs?"

"I changed my mind."

Hah, spit. Money-grubbing scum. Deathshot sneered internally.

Chen Tao continued:

"Then the temporary squad is formed. I've already thought of a name for you: the Suicide Squad."

"That's a damn unlucky name."

"I'll add 100K to your pay."

"This name is absolutely fantastic."

Whatever. Flattery cost nothing.

Either way, Deathshot breathed a little easier. This current job was done. As for the next one—as long as he stayed cautious, he figured he'd make it home alive.

With $200 million, he might be able to retire and then with his daughter...

Behind the screen, Chen Tao also breathed a sigh of relief. Once Bane was dealt with, he might be able to retire and then with the air...

"When I've earned enough—$200 million—I'll go back home, buy a big villa, and then with my wife—"

Pfft!

Like crushing a bladder of horse piss. Captain Boomerang's blond head, still wearing its eyepatch, was squeezed apart like a watermelon by a massive hand. The boomerang in his grip clattered weakly to the ground.

Pfft!

Several kilometers away, Chen Tao spat coffee directly onto the livestream screen, then shot to his feet, smashing his head against the ceiling of the van.

Time seemed to slow.

Deathshot's eyes went wide as he heard Cheshire Cat's shriek, warped into a trembling, piercing cry: "Enemy attack!!!"

He saw that massive silhouette... the half-naked upper body, muscles knotted, veins bulging like pythons coiling across his entire frame.

Most striking of all were the bright green tubes connecting his head and arms, and that mask...

"Bane!"

Bane often felt as though he were falling through an empty void... the deep darkness gathering into an ocean.

This was his cradle, and also his tomb.

But that could never confine his thoughts.

His spirit broke through the coffin, wandering in a white night where deathly stillness and vibrant life coexisted.

He had to find that bat-monster. He had to stand there, in its shadow, defy it, and finally kill it! And his fear—it would die along with it—

Then all of Gotham would sing:

Hail, great hero Bane, who conquered the evil demon king—Batman!

Hail, Bane, you rule Gotham's four corners, exalted above ten thousand!

But a hero's journey is never so smooth... the demon king sent out his minions.

That beast with the green face and fangs, his former defeated foe. Crawling at the demon king's feet for money.

It bared its sharp teeth, trying to intimidate the mighty Bane.

But the hero would not be cowed.

He swung an uppercut that rocked like a pendulum. Killer Croc was sent reeling backward, crashing to the ground.

"I thought I'd broken you, beast... and now I have to kill you."

The monster leaped up from the ground, its fang-studded mouth spewing venomous breath... it roared, heavy fists slamming down on the hero's head, sharp claws tearing at Bane's flesh.

"You want to rule Gotham, huh? Without your juice, you wouldn't even be competition!"

Bane punched it in the face, sending it sprawling again.

Another punch. The ground around its head shattered, gravel flying.

Another punch. Half the beast's skull was driven into the cement.

Bane grabbed the wreckage of a nearby car and hoisted it high—

"I don't need venom to kill vermin like you!"

Bam!

"Because I am Bane!"

Bam!

"The nightmare of every obstacle!"

Bam!

"The calamity of every living thing!"

Bam!!!

Killer Croc screamed loudly as the wreckage deformed, twisted, and then shattered apart.

A gunshot rang out. Bane dodged the bullet, then turned his head.

His movements were as agile as a dolphin leaping from the water. In the white night where illusion and reality intertwined, his eyes blazed with light.

Ah... of course. The demon king had other underlings.