One Against a Hundred

"Slow your breathing. Dizziness often comes from taking in too much oxygen."

Stuart shielded William behind him, his right fist held at his chin.

Facing off against the gang from No Man's Land, the two slowly edged toward a roadside shack.

"Maybe we should try talking."

William suggested it because a fight now might alert Deadshot, and Stuart wasn't wearing any protective gear.

"That would only expose our weakness. Once these guys realize you don't want to fight, you're almost guaranteed to get a beating."

Stuart was right. It wasn't just the illegal residents of No Man's Land; in fact, most of Gotham's bastards thought that way. Their violence could stem from repression, from discrimination, or from nothing at all.

The only way to stop them was to fight back.

To make these blind fools realize that getting violent wouldn't do them any good.

A fat man with a nose ring stepped out of the crowd, bare-chested, kneading and pinching the fat on his belly.

"You Gotham people shouldn't be here! No Man's Land doesn't welcome-"

Stuart couldn't be bothered to listen to that swaggering nonsense. He kicked the man's kneecap, drove the heel of his palm into his nose as he doubled over, then hooked a finger through his nose ring and yanked.

Rip!

The bloody sight made William's teeth ache.

And that was merely dessert before the meal. Stuart's brutality hadn't frightened the enemy off; instead, it had given these lunatics a shot of adrenaline.

The shrieking crowd rushed them, rapidly squeezing away their room to maneuver.

Stuart kicked back the crowd charging from the front and used the recoil to leap backward, twisting his hips and whipping out an elbow to smash down the thug attempting to ambush him from behind.

Then he ducked low, dropping his center of gravity and locking his thick arms around another thug's legs.

Driving through his hips and legs, veins bulging on his arms, he hoisted the thug with brute strength and slammed him backward.

The vicious backward throw knocked down another swath of the crowd.

Rolling to avoid their stomping feet, Stuart grabbed a thug by the waistband and dragged him down, using him as a shield against the onslaught. Then he slipped out from beneath him and sent a right hook whistling into the enemy in front of him.

Teeth and blood sprayed through the air. The sight of blood whipped Stuart into a frenzy. He leaped off a thug's back, snatched two molars out of the air, and hunched behind his elbow to clear a path. The instant he landed, he seized someone's head and brutally stuffed the teeth in his palm into the man's mouth.

His deranged display left the surrounding thugs dumbfounded.

In the face of a genuine lunatic, even these tough guys had to weigh their chances.

Of course, if that alone could scare them off, how could they call themselves descendants of criminals with violence running through their veins?

"For No Man's Land!!!"

Someone shouted from the crowd, instantly dispelling the thugs' fear.

Stuart's eyes widened, his breathing quickening as adrenaline flushed his skin a dark red.

He seized a thug's head and drove it into his knee, then hurled the bloodied face into the crowd. Turning, he swept a backfist into the enemy behind him. In a spare moment, he glanced at William and found his teammate trapped in a corner, arms wrapped around his head as the crowd stomped on him.

Stuart cut into the crowd with a flying knee and hauled William off the ground.

"What you need to do is avoid getting surrounded. Find the weakest point in the encirclement and break through it first."

William was too angry to speak. He understood the theory, but the situation now was that he'd only just figured out the jump and attack buttons.

All right, you're a fully fledged hunter now. Try fighting your way out of a hundred-man encirclement.

"You're too tense. Muscles that tight can't generate power..."

Stuart kicked one man away, then turned and smashed a thug's front teeth with a vicious headbutt.

"Shake out your shoulders and relax. Leave the rest to instinct."

That advice worked. William tried shaking his shoulders and felt an indescribable relief wash through muscles that had been on the verge of cramping.

Strength returned to his body.

Yes, there was nothing to fear. His body had belonged to a top police academy student. He couldn't match Batman in physical prowess, but he certainly wasn't someone these scraps from No Man's Land could challenge.

With his back against a row house, William punched the enemies before him aside and inched toward the less crowded side.

His movements were a little clumsy, but he had grasped the essence of Stuart's lesson.

That allowed Stuart to concentrate on the thugs before him.

Stuart rolled his neck with a series of cracks and beckoned to the hesitant enemies.

The remaining thugs limped away. Most of them could no longer move at all.

Stuart crouched and grabbed a random lucky soul lying nearby.

"Talk!"

"I won't talk!"

Smack, smack! Two hefty slaps.

"I'll talk... I'll talk... but first you have to tell me the question before I can answer it. Isn't that right?" The unlucky man's cheek swelled high, tears glistening in his eyes.

After a whole morning's work, Stuart suddenly realized he didn't even know their target's name.

"Floyd Lawton Jr., alias Deadshot," William supplied from beside him.

"Oh... him. I don't know where he lives... don't hit me, don't hit me!"

Seeing Stuart raise his hand again, the man ducked his head and squeezed his eyes shut.

"But someone knows. Follow this road farther in, and you'll see a factory building made of sheet metal. The people inside are Floyd's friends."

Having obtained the key to the next stage and beaten down a whole gang of burly men along the way, William's confidence swelled to its limit.

Standing outside the factory, he pressed down Stuart's raised hand.

"Let me."

He felt the gun tucked behind his waist and pushed open the half-closed door.

As soon as he stepped inside, the stench of sweat hit him. Rhythmic grunts came from behind the rusty machinery. He slowed his steps and cautiously peered out from behind cover.

An open space came into view. Mats covered its center, where a dozen or so burly men were grappling.

These weren't real fights. The men's moves brimmed with wild imagination. Some repeatedly practiced spinning 720-degree flying elbow drops, some hoisted opponents onto their shoulders before leaping backward to slam them down, and others swung nonexistent folding chairs at their opponents.

Clearly, these were Professional Wrestling performers.

They could also be called actors dancing on a knife's edge.

Someone spotted William by the door. Gradually, the burly men stopped rehearsing and swarmed toward him.

"I'm not here to cause trouble. I'm just looking for someone."

"I'm very sure whoever you're looking for isn't here. Get the hell out, or I'll crush your skull!"

The man at the front stepped forward, striking a classic bodybuilder's pose as he slowly flexed his massive biceps.

William hadn't expected to run into such a difficult bunch. Unlike the rabble they'd dealt with earlier, these wrestlers all had hulking physiques and outrageous muscles. Just take the man threatening him as an example.

His height alone was a terrifying six foot eight, roughly 207 centimeters, and his shoulders were thicker than his head.

Without question, an ordinary fighter applying a chokehold could, at most, choke an opponent unconscious.

But this man might actually crush someone's skull.

Hearing the commotion, Stuart came inside too, his chin raised as he swept a contemptuous gaze over the burly men.

He could even spot a few men he'd defeated among them.

They noticed Stuart too, averting their gazes with faint unease in their eyes.

"Are you coming to die together, or one at a time?"

The burly man at the front was about to step forward when someone grabbed the back of his tank top.

"Don't. The East End's Underground Fighter, Stuart the Forgotten One, is no ordinary fighter. Wait for Coach."

The words had barely left his mouth when William suddenly felt the building grow dim.

The smile on Stuart's face gradually vanished too.

He sensed that something had appeared behind them without a sound. Its presence was more dangerous than that of any opponent he'd ever faced.

Far more dangerous.