One year ago,
Kabal dropped onto the ceiling of a warehouse. He crept his way towards the single skylight of the building. He pulled out his binoculars and looked into the room. There were five men, two of which were on their knees, begging and pleading. The center man, short black hair, a goatee, leather jacket, held a gun to the left man's head. A single thought ran through his head. Kano. He pulled out a listening device and place it against the window.
Kano pulled back the trigger of his gun. The man fell to the ground, a bloody hole now formed on his head. The warm liquid puddled up around the man's body, a trickle running down his cheek. It wasn't a large hole by any means, but it was open enough. Blood stained the man's white collared shirt, as well as the black vest he wore. An expression of both shock and fear was etched onto the dead man's face.
Kano chuckled at the dead man for several seconds before moving on, pointing the gun to the next man. The quivering victim was silently pleading, his hands folded and begging not to be killed. He pleaded, "Please, please, please. I-I didn't mean it! I-I'll have the money for you by tomorrow, I promise!"
A grin appeared on Kano's face as he kneeled in front of the man. "Trust me, mate, I believe you. But the thing is, my boss, he doesn't like those who pay late. He needs to collect… interest." The Australian drawl was clearly present in his voice, as he took out a butterfly knife from the strap on his leg. He twirled it in his hands and said, "You see, I consider myself a nice guy." Kano noticed the quivering man looking behind past him. He turned his attention back to the corpse. "Oh, that." He looked back at the man. "You see, he just wasn't complying so I had to put that bullet in his head.
"You on the other hand, still have a small, insignificant chance of surviving." Kano trace the knife against the man's neck, drawing a droplet of blood. "Now, all you need to do is open that safe behind you…" He pointed to the picture next to them. "…open it, and then take out the money. It's that simple." Kano grabbed the man's hair, and pulled him closer. "Got that?"
The man nodded nervously. The Australian man threw him over towards the painting, where he slowly removed the picture from the hook on the wall. Silently turning the lock, the vault opened, revealing several large stacks of money. Kano whistled. "Nice, very nice." He smashed the back of his knife against the man's head, dropping him to the ground. "Alright, boys, get the cash, load it up, and get the hell out of here."
"Where are you going, boss?" One of the goons asked.
Kano turned to face the goon, a grin still etched on his face. "Just do it." He then moved past the goons and out the door.
Above the four men, Kabal slid one of his swords out, raising it. He brought it down on the glass.
A loud crash echoed through the room, yanking Kabal into consciousness. He shook his head, getting rid of the dizzy spell that had come over him. He looked out the window of the strange room he was in, noticing a group of teenagers destroying a car. Wait… Where was he? The last thing he had remembered was climbing on top of the building and then…
Oh.
Oh, no.
He looked around the room, noting the newspaper clippings and the map of Deacon with numerous pins poked into the paper. Sitting about ten feet to his right was a desk, an ash tray carrying a fresh cigarette, a coffee mug, and a name plate stating who the desk belonged to. Captain Jackson Briggs. Although the "-son" was etched off, only showing "Jacks." His arms and legs were tied, allowing only his hands and head to move around. Then, when moving his attention over the desk again, he noticed something rather important.
His mask.
A few thoughts ran through his head at that moment. First of all was that his identity would be released to the public, most likely forcing him to abandon his hideout. He also saw his blades in the corner. He looked around for anything that might help him in his escape. Another thought was how did he get here? Was it possible for that one cop to drag him from the rooftop all the way to DCPD headquarters?
When the door opened, he glared in its direction. A large, African-American man stepped through the doorway, holding a folder. He stopped when he saw Kabal awake. The man then slowly closed the door, walking over to his desk and sat down, taking a sip from his mug. He made a face into the cup and said, "It's cold."
"What?" Kabal asked, confused as to why the police captain would bring up something like that.
"The coffee," Briggs stated. He set the mug down and flipped through the folders.
"I know what you mean," Kabal replied. "Why am I here?"
Briggs took out a piece of paper, put his chin in his hand, and said, "Twelve counts of murder, thirteen reports of breaking and entering, and over fifty assaults. Now, most of these are aimed towards criminals, but they are still crimes."
"And I'm not in a holding cell because…?"
"Because I'm willing to make you a deal, Kabal." When the vigilante narrowed his eyes, Briggs smiled lightly. "Don't worry, I'm not going to release your name." He then took a look out the window as the sky seemed to be a blood red color. "Not that it would do any good anyways. Besides, you're still in shadow anyway. I haven't even seen your face. Only one of my men have."
He'll admit, Kabal felt a little better about that fact. But it still held that someone had seen his face. He would have to investigate further down the road. Instead he asked, "What do you have in mind, Captain Briggs?"
"I'm going to have a couple of my men work with you." He replaced the document in the folder and closed it. He looked back up at Kabal, continuing. "The three of you will go find this 'Anarky,' put a stop in his plan, and bring him in."
Kabal looked over to his swords. "And what do I get in return?"
"Freedom."
The vigilante looked to the ground. He growled something unintelligible before conceding. "Fine. But the minute this guy is in a prison cell, you won't get another chance to put me on trial, you know that. Right?"
Briggs smiled lightly. "We'll see about that." He took out a knife and cut the bonds that held Kabal to the chair. He handed the vigilante the gas mask, who swiped it into his hands quickly. He slid it over his face, and stepped into the dim light. Briggs handed Kabal the hook blades, who put them back into their holders.
"The commissioner know about this?" The now masked vigilante asked.
"Doesn't know a thing, and honestly, I don't plan on telling him. If he did find out about your identity, he would stop at nothing to kill you."
Kabal grinned under his mask. "I'm so happy you care about me."
"I don't," Biggs affirmed. "I just want to make sure you go to jail for your crimes. That's the way things are going to go down."
Staring out the window, Kabal sighed. "I used to be like you, once." He walked towards the window, looking down at a group of men beating the hell out of each other. "I used to believe in the system, like letting the criminals live meant I was different than them." Shaking his head, he continued. "But then, a man walked out of jail, free of charges, never to go to court. He was a convicted rapist, pedophile, and murderer. I put him there.
"And the evidence against him was damning. It should've put him away for life, if not put him in the chair. But your commissioner? He thought this man was too valuable to die, so he paid the judges, the juries, hell, the fucking lawyers to let him go. And you know what the piece of scum that I put in there did? He had the balls to claim he was rehabilitated. So, when he killed again, I found him, and I gave him a piece of his own medicine."
Briggs just stood there, unmoving. Kabal continued. "That gave me a wake-up call. These pieces of scum, they deserve to be put down like the dogs they are, and when my work is finished… I'll put myself down. But as far as I'm concerned, this won't be finished anytime soon, and I still have a lot of work to do."
Kabal, without another word, jumped down the window, and landed in between the warring group. He grabbed the nearest man, and threw him into another. Three others noticed this. Looking amongst themselves, they knew who the common enemy was in this little get-together. They rushed Kabal, who easily avoided the first punch, sending one of his own into the leader's jaw. He then blocked the next punch, kicking the man away. He grabbed the final man, tossing him over his shoulder to the ground.
By this point the rest of the group had noticed the masked lunatic. The ten men rushed him, but most stopped when he brandished his blades. Only two others actually tried to fight Kabal. He hooked his blade around the first man's leg, tripping him up. He elbowed the other man in the stomach before leveling his blade at his throat.
"You're going to go home now, aren't you?"
The man nodded.
"You're all going to go home now, right?!"
The rest of the group darted away from the masked man, leaving only the man underneath him. The man tried to crawl away, but Kabal pulled him back. "You're not going yet," Kabal hissed. He pulled down the man's shirt, showcasing an anarchy 'A' symbol. "You're going to tell me everything I want to know about Anarky, aren't you?"
Next to him, a group of window televisions flashed to life, or those that were not broken anyway, showing Anarky in his full glory. "Actually, Kabal, he is not. I predicted you would know which of these 'rioters' were my men, and I was not disappointed, let me tell you. You exceeded even my expectations, which is no easy feat, I guarantee. That being said, I put in a contingency effect. I'm sorry, Anarkist 874, but I'm afraid you've outlived your usefulness."
Underneath Kabal, the man began contorting violently. Foam began pouring out of his mouth, before the contortion stopped suddenly. "Ahaha, aaah, that always fills me with happiness when I watch a stupid man such as that die."
"You sonuvabitch," hissed the masked vigilante, dropping the now dead Anarkist.
"No need for that kind of language." Anarky then snapped his fingers, suddenly realizing something, "Oh, I forgot to mention something during my last speech. Hang on, Kabal." The hacker walked off screen for several seconds. He then returned, asking off screen, "Are we almost ready? Five seconds? Alright. Ahem."
His tone became more serious than before, announcing, "Hello Citizens of Deacon. I know I said I would be back in a week, but I needed to make a quick announcement. I can see everything. I can hear everything. I also know everything. I know about Mrs. Darby cheating on her husband, little Timmy stealing from the candy store last week, and I know that Ed Tobias has been keeping a lot of secrets as of late. So don't make plans that I'm not involved in making. I'll know, and I'll put an end to them before you can even finish. Goodbye."
Yet his image did not leave the television Kabal was viewing. "Are you scared? Feeling alone? Well, I hope not, as Officer Kurtis Stryker and Kenshi are going to assist you in 'attempting' to stop me. And to think, you almost had some valuable information had I not intervened. Anarkist 874 was my third lieutenant. I'm guessing you could've found something out about me, like my precious little hideout. I'll give you a hint."
The anarchist leaned in closer. "I'm in the city. But where? Information you will have to find out yourself." The televisions flickered off just before Kabal threw a fist into the center TV. He held it in there for a moment, taking several deep breaths.
When his fist exited the set, he walked away, placing his blade back in its strap.
High above the city, in a penthouse, was a man sitting at a table. He was large, balding, and dressed in a pressed tuxedo. His bow tie was bright red, and what little hair there was on his head was combed over. Sitting across from him was another man dressed in a purple suit, with a head of long, black hair tied in a ponytail.
To the right of both of them was a small waterfall display, making a light trickling sound. A large picture of the purple suited man sat behind against the wall, showing him smiling proudly.
Gor Roh grimaced. "It's getting to be too much, Rain. Three days. And we still can't figure out who this man is or where he is."
"This is bad for business, Gor," Rain announced with a slight Brooklyn accent. He stood up and walked over to his painting. "You need to find a way to stop him. Hell, I'll call in the National Guard if I have to. Just stop him."
"Like I haven't tried to call the government. That hacker was able to jam all communications. Briggs has been working his ass off just to find out a shred of evidence on him. All he's found is a name, and he's just assuming that."
Rain pressed his palm on a section of the wall. The area pressed inward, and soon, the entire wall unfolded to reveal a secret room. It was possibly the cleanest area in the entire city. There was a single swivel chair, but a large computer with blinking lights was present.
The crime lord walked in, followed closely by Gor Roh. "You're not seriously going to bring him here, are you?" The commissioner demanded.
Rain took a seat in the chair, swiveling around for a minute. "That's your problem, Gor. You don't think big. With his power, he can set this little problem of ours right as rain."
"That was a terrible pun."
"Deal with it, I'm paying you thousands." Rain took his purple jacket off, leaving himself in only a purple vest and a golden dress shirt with the sleeves rolled up. He flipped two switches before turning a knob. Three red lights went off above their heads.
Gor Roh snorted. "He might receive the message instantly, but how long until he arrives?"
Rain shrugged. "Could be days, hell, could be months. But, you and me, we just have to survive that amount of time."
"Where the hell are we going to do that?"
Rain chuckled lightly. "Look where you are," he proclaimed. "This place is a fucking fortress! Nothing is going to touch this place, got it?"
"Well, well, looks like a couple of overconfident morons," a voice called out.
Both men's attention snapped around the room, attempting to pinpoint the location of whoever called out.
The voice said, "Now, how exactly do you expect to survive when your biggest threat knows your location, hmm?"
Rain bolted into the meeting room, shouting, "Listen here, you little punk! I don't know who you are, nor do I personally care! You are going to die, do you hear me?!"
"No need to shout, Prince Rain," the voice claimed with a slight chuckled. "I could hear you and your little lackey over there when you were talking about bringing someone here. Now, who this is I have no idea, which is surprising. He must be quite the secret."
"I can tell you anything you wanna know, bastard! Just come to this room, and we can talk men to punk," Gor Roh piped in for a raving Rain.
"Hmm," Anarky pondered. "Well, as tempting as that offer is, I have a better one. We can discuss the future of this city in private, in my own headquarters."
"If you think we're going to go to your 'headquarters' alone, then you must be even more batshit crazier than I thought," Rain hissed.
"It's not like you have any form of choice in the matter, because if you don't, then I will happily blow your building up, with all of you, including Cindi, in it."
"Who's Cindi?" Gor Roh asked.
"The receptionist," Anarky called out. "And I have to admit, it would break my heart, as she is quite the looker."
"Which one of us?" Rain asked through gritted teeth.
"Both of you. Oh, don't get me wrong. You will both die. And soon, but, I am willing to free this city in exchange for your lives. That will redeem the both of you in the eyes of this city. You have, oh, I don't know, four days to decide. That seem fair? Good."
"You piece of shit!" Rain screamed at the top of lungs. "When I get my hands on you-!"
"I'll be in touch."
And without another word, a click resonated through the room. Rain was taking deep breaths, his shoulders move up and down. Gor Roh took out a handkerchief and rubbed his forehead with it. "Well," he mumbled. "This is an interesting turn of events."
Rain turned his head towards his lackey, his pupils as small as a pin. He pushed Gor Roh aside, before storming into another room.
A/N: Been a while since I've made an author note. Ahem. Anyway.
Just wanted to throw this out there. Technically (okay, there is no technically) Anarky is not mine. It's DC's. Partly. The name is ripped straight from DC, as well as the hooded porcelain mask from Arkham Origins. The red long coat is from me, though, since that Anarky was dressed in Winter gear. Clearly this doesn't take place in Winter. Plus, this Anarky is a genius hacker, yet slightly arrogant. That Anarky was a anarchist wanting to reform Gotham. While the two goals are the same, as well as the means, this one is far more sinister, as actually planning ahead instead of being an idiot and just planting the bombs early.
So, yes, Anarky is only a fourth mine. Still more than Revolver. Speaking of which, I should probably get back to his story... *eyebrows slowly raise as devilshly handsome smile appears*
Spino, out.