Lethal nutshots

"What the hell is going on?" Jason had lived in Gotham for years, so this wasn't enough to scare him out of his wits. He was just a little surprised.

"Hard to say..." Roland thought it over. There were far too many possibilities. A manhole cover lay nearby, so it could have belonged to a prisoner executed in Killer Croc's Underground Kingdom, a passerby torn apart by Solomon Grundy, or even the leftovers from a meal eaten by one of Doctor Hugo's test subjects.

"Should we call the cops?" Jason asked.

"Do you have a phone?"

Jason shook his head.

"Neither do I." Roland picked up the arm. "We're heading to the Police Station anyway. Might as well bring it along."

"Sure, Gotham City's subway security checks are basically just for show, but isn't carrying that thing in a bit much?" Jason was stunned. What kind of mental state did someone have to be in to come up with an idea that morbid?

"Wrap it in something?"

"Just put it back where it was. We can tell the cops about it." Jason pressed a hand to his forehead, speechless.

"That works too." Roland readily accepted the suggestion and put the arm back.

As they entered the subway, a foul, stagnant stench hit them in the face.

Roland frowned. "Did someone take a shit in here? Why does it stink this bad?"

"That's normal. This is Gotham, after all." Jason barely reacted. "Forget someone taking a shit down here. Even finding someone dead in the subway wouldn't be anything strange."

"Okay, that really is insane."

Jason led Roland over the subway turnstiles with practiced ease. The overweight security guard nearby turned a blind eye, with no intention of giving either of them trouble.

Since it was already late at night, few people were waiting for the train. Only a handful of outlandishly dressed youths leaned against a pillar, discussing something.

They looked about seventeen or eighteen, with hair dyed every color of the rainbow, oversized ear studs, and garish tattoos covering their arms.

"Those scene kids aren't with some Mob outfit, are they?" Roland asked quietly.

"No, they're just a bunch of punks," Jason said dismissively. "Keep your distance. Those guys aren't right in the head."

"That much I could tell."

The two discreetly moved away from the youths and boarded the train at the other end.

The carriage's fittings were badly worn. The faulty overhead lights flickered on and off, and some of the wiring was exposed.

"This place is really something. They won't fix it even when it's this bad?" Roland complained. "All that flickering is making my eyes swim."

"The mayor allocated funds to repair Gotham City's public facilities three months ago. This is what it looks like after the repairs," Jason said. "There weren't even any lights before. Count your blessings."

"Impressive, really..."

The church was on the outskirts of Gotham City, a short distance from the Police Department. Roland drifted off on the train without realizing it, until a gunshot rang out in the carriage.

"What the hell?" Roland's face drained of color. "Does this happen all the time too?"

"Sounds like gunfire. This is the first time I've heard it in the subway." Jason looked a little panicked too. "It must be those punks. Damn it, what are they doing?"

More gunshots followed, growing steadily denser. Cries for help and screams of pain came from the next carriage, making the two feel even more uneasy.

"Sounds like they're coming our way." Roland and Jason crouched beside a row of seats.

"We're in trouble. From the sound of it, they might have pissed off a gang. Ordinary people don't have that kind of firepower."

"Should 'firepower' even be a word you use to describe ordinary people?"

"No shit! This is Gotham!"

"Got it, so what do we do now? I feel like I'll get turned into Swiss cheese if I stick my head out!"

"How should I know? Let's see if we can slip out at the next stop."

The two held their breath, not daring to move for fear of drawing over a gunman who might shoot them while he was at it.

"Aha! That's it. I can feel the impact! Faster, my dear feathered friends! Don't stop!"

"What the hell is that..." Hearing the strange, deranged voice drawing closer, Jason broke out in a cold sweat.

"Those hat-wearing lunatics again..." Roland frowned, remembering the state Jason had been in earlier.

"Aha! There seems to be something here..." The voice drew closer and closer.

"Fuck!" Roland wrenched the armrest off the seat in front of him with a sudden burst of strength, then hurled it at the ceiling.

The armrest flew upward and smashed the flickering light to pieces, plunging the carriage into darkness.

"Ah, your stubborn persistence will be rewarded with pain!" A bizarre laugh rang out, and several bullets tore through the spot where Roland had just been hiding.

"Good thing I was quick..." Roland covered his mouth as he panted, biting the tip of his tongue to force himself to calm down. Then he closed his eyes.

Domain Expansion.

Word Spirit: Kamaitachi!

Sounds from the neighboring carriages flooded his ears and echoed through his mind: the friction between the train and the tracks, gunfire and rambling from the next carriage, the wounded moaning, and... two heartbeats not far from him.

The one lying on the floor was Jason. The one moving was the gunman!

Roland sprang up and tackled the gunman to the floor. They rolled together as Roland clamped down hard on the gunman's wrist, keeping him from aiming the muzzle at him.

"Get over here! I've got him pinned!" Roland growled.

"Okay!" Jason felt his way over and punched the gunman in the bridge of his nose, then followed with a string of elbow strikes that knocked him unconscious.

But the commotion drew the others' attention, and they all headed toward the carriage.

"This isn't good." Roland picked up the handgun and fired several shots at the ceiling of the next carriage.

His marksmanship was mediocre, but the volley still managed to shatter the lights next door, leaving both carriages with almost no illumination.

"Stay here and don't move. I'll deal with them," Roland told Jason.

"You don't need my help?"

"No. You can't see anything here. You'd just get in the way."

"Okay."

After that brief exchange, Roland crawled forward without making a sound.

Using the sounds relayed by Kamaitachi, Roland quickly pinpointed everyone's position.

...Sixteen? I don't know if I can pull this off. Roland burst into motion in the darkness, moving swiftly as he struck each target in the most vulnerable part of his lower body.

Rather than knock them unconscious, he chose to attack their groins directly. He had never practiced striking the back of someone's neck, after all. If he misjudged his strength and hit too lightly, they could raise a gun and shoot him.

Screams rang out. Roland's assessment had been correct. Even under the hypnosis of Mad Hatter's hats, they weren't immune to that kind of pain.

Three minutes later, sixteen people lay on the floor, howling in agony.

[Goodwill Value +160]