The fetid embrace of the sewers clung to Samuel like a second skin. Each splash, each rustle in the oppressive darkness sent shivers down his spine. The memory of Killer Croc's enraged swipes was fresh, a stark reminder of the dangers lurking beneath Gotham's surface. Every groan in his stomach was a stark reminder of his dwindling supplies.
After what felt like an eternity, a faint glimmer pierced the gloom ahead. Relief washed over him – an exit. He clambered out, his muscles screaming in protest, and found himself in a narrow alley behind the imposing facade of Gotham Central PD.
But the relief was short-lived. The air crackled with a chaotic energy. The once pristine building was marred with scorch marks and shattered windows. Police cars, usually lined up in neat rows, were nowhere to be seen. A plume of smoke rose from a nearby building, painting the sky an ominous red.
Then, he saw it. The Bat Signal, a beacon of hope for Gotham's citizens, blazed defiantly against the darkening sky. But for Samuel, it was a chilling confirmation of his worst fears. The Joker wouldn't settle for anything less than a grand spectacle, and he was definitely trying to do something related to batman, and him. Gunfire echoed through the eerily silent streets, punctuated by distant explosions.
Panic clawed at Samuel's throat. He had gambled on the police station offering some semblance of safety, but it seemed the entire city was under siege. He had two terrible choices: face the unknown dangers of the city on high alert, or take refuge in the potentially compromised GCPD.
Swallowing his fear, Samuel decided to take a chance. The Joker's goons wouldn't likely ransack the same place twice, especially with the GCPD likely preoccupied elsewhere. He crept towards the building, the heavy oak doors hanging ajar like a gaping maw.
The interior was a wreck. Shattered glass littered the floor, overturned desks spewed paperwork, and the air hung thick with the acrid tang of gunpowder. Empty bullet casings crunched under his feet as he ventured deeper, the silence broken only by the distant sounds of the ongoing battle.
He tiptoed past abandoned police equipment, his heart hammering a frantic rhythm against his ribs. The jail section seemed like the safest bet. He found the holding cells, most doors hanging open, their occupants presumably taken elsewhere to deal with the citywide crisis.
Samuel settled himself onto the surprisingly cold metal cot in the jail cell. Exhaustion gnawed at him, but sleep was a precious commodity. He needed his 'moves' to be replenished for whatever tomorrow might bring. Despite the chaos outside, a primal need for rest washed over him. He closed his eyes, the rhythmic drip of water somewhere in the distance a strange lullaby.
Just as sleep began to claim him, a distant clanging sound pierced the silence. It came from somewhere deeper within the GCPD, a metallic echo that sent a shiver down his spine. His mind conjured images of Joker's goons ransacking the building, a second wave of chaos descending upon what was already a wreck. Sleep fled.
He strained his ears, the clanging growing louder, punctuated by the occasional muffled curse. Panic gnawed at him. His carefully constructed plan to wait out the chaos might be unraveling.
Suddenly, the sound cut out abruptly, followed by an eerie silence. What had happened? Curiosity, a dangerous companion, stirred within him. Maybe the goons were gone? Maybe…
Samuel froze. A soft scuffling noise came from the direction of the sound. Someone, or something, was moving in the darkened corridors beyond the jail cells. His heart hammered against his ribs, trapped in a cage of his own making.
He wasn't supposed to get involved. He was supposed to wait for the authorities to handle it. But the thought of another wave of violence tearing through the GCPD, maybe even reaching the defenseless cells, sparked a flicker of something akin to…responsibility.
He crept off the cot, his movements quiet and cautious. He had no weapons, no training, just a desperate hope that this wouldn't escalate. He peered through the bars of his cell, trying to pierce the darkness with his eyes.
There. A faint outline, barely discernible against the shadows, moved towards the armory, the location of the GCPD's weapons. Samuel's breath hitched. This wasn't just some random thug looking for trouble.
He had a choice – cower in the cell and hope for the best, or…
Samuel sighed. This was not his idea of a peaceful night. He clenched his fists, a decision hardening in his eyes. Maybe he couldn't fight, but maybe he could…distract.
The scraping sound sent a jolt through Samuel. He crouched behind the cell bars, peering into the darkness. Relief morphed into dread as he saw figures emerge – not hulking goons, but a group of kids, no older than twelve or fourteen. Panic flickered in their eyes, reflected in the flickering lighter held by a redheaded girl. This wasn't some Joker henchmen situation – this was a recipe for disaster.
Samuel clenched his fists. He couldn't stay silent. But shouting would likely scare them further, pushing them deeper into danger. He needed to act fast. He grabbed a stray metal cup from his cot and slammed it hard against the bars, the clang echoing through the corridor.
The kids froze, their faces pale and etched with terror. Samuel emerged slowly, hands held high in a placating gesture.
"Don't move," he commanded, his voice firm but not cruel. "This is a bad place to be."
The redheaded girl, her voice barely a squeak, stammered, "We…we just need weapons. It's bad in our neighborhood, the gangs…"
Samuel cut her off. "Weapons won't solve anything," he said, his gaze sweeping over the armory door. He knew the allure of firepower in a city teetering on the brink, but also the danger of untrained hands wielding deadly tools.
The lanky boy stepped forward, defiance flickering in his eyes. "What do you know? Nobody else cares about us!"
Samuel understood their anger. They were scared, desperate, and the system had failed them. But he couldn't let them make a grave mistake.
"Violence begets violence," he said, his voice low and intense. "Those weapons won't protect you. They'll make you targets. You think you can hold your own against trained thugs?"
His words hung heavy in the air. The children exchanged nervous glances. The defiance wavered, replaced by a flicker of doubt.
Suddenly, a loud explosion rocked the building, shaking the dust from the ceiling. The flickering lights sputtered and died, plunging them into complete darkness. Panic surged through the kids, their breaths ragged gasps.
Samuel knew this wouldn't be the last attack. The GCPD was compromised, a tempting target for anyone looking for weapons or chaos.
"We need to get out of here," he said, his voice a steady anchor in the darkness. "But it's dangerous outside too."
The silence stretched, thick with tension. Then, the redheaded girl spoke, her voice barely a whisper. "Where can we go?"
Samuel swallowed. He wasn't a hero, but he couldn't leave them defenseless. "There's an abandoned library a few blocks away. It might not be much, but it's better than this."
He ushered them out of the cell block, navigating the darkened corridors by memory. The clanging of distant gunfire and the wail of sirens filled the air, a grim symphony of chaos.
As they emerged from the GCPD, the city stretched before them, a hellscape of burning buildings and flickering emergency lights. Desperate screams mingled with the crackle of gunfire.
Samuel's heart pounded in his chest. This was a level of violence he hadn't anticipated. He had to find them shelter, and fast.
The stench of burning rubber and gunpowder choked the air as Samuel and the kids emerged from the GCPD. Sirens wailed in the distance, a mournful symphony against the backdrop of screams and explosions.
Just when they thought they'd escaped the worst, a cackle echoed from the alley across the street. Joker's goons, a motley crew of misfits clad in purple and green, rounded the corner, their faces twisted in sadistic grins.
"Well, well, well," one of them sneered, a greasy pompadour perched precariously on his head. "Lookie what we got here. A fresh batch of recruits for the boss!"
The children huddled together, fear paralyzing their faces. Samuel gritted his teeth. He knew violence wasn't the answer, but these weren't thugs to be reasoned with. Retreat wasn't an option. He had to protect the children.
Instinct kicked in – a surge of energy flowed through him, activating his "protect." A shimmering, translucent barrier materialized around him and the children, just as the bullets erupted from the goons' guns. They clattered harmlessly against the barrier, leaving small dents that shimmered and disappeared.
A holographic display flickered into existence in his peripheral vision – "Samuel protected himself!" Relief washed over him, but it was fleeting. He had to get the kids away.
"Run!" he yelled, his voice surprisingly steady despite the pounding in his chest. "Go to the abandoned library on Elm Street! Don't stop!"
The children, wide-eyed and awestruck by the shimmering barrier, barely needed telling twice. They scattered like startled birds, weaving through the chaos-filled streets.
Samuel knew this wouldn't be enough. The goons, surprised and frustrated, were also strangely excited. Joker's orders were clear – capture the metahuman with black hair. And there he stood, a walking shield deflecting bullets.
One of the goons, a scrawny figure with a purple mohawk, grinned with a touch of madness. "Don't kill him, ya dimwits! The boss wants him alive! But be careful, he can stop bullets!"
Samuel used this distraction to his advantage. He sprinted in the opposite direction, weaving through burning cars and fallen debris. He knew this was a gamble, but it was the only way to draw the goons away from the kids. Occasionally, he'd glance back, letting them see him just long enough to keep them hot on his trail.
Finally, a sharp pain lanced through his leg, a red flower blooming where a bullet had found its mark. He cursed under his breath. This was getting out of hand. He activated "recover," a warm wave washing over the wound, knitting the flesh back together. He glanced at the holographic display – just two "recovers" left. He had to be more careful.
With a renewed burst of energy, Samuel ducked into a narrow alleyway, the stench of overflowing dumpsters assaulting his nostrils. The goons' heavy footsteps echoed closer as they rounded the corner, their distorted laughter grating on his nerves. He had to find a way out of this, and fast.
Huddled in the inky blackness of the alleyway, Samuel forced himself to breathe deeply. The stench of overflowing garbage and the adrenaline coursing through his veins made it difficult. He checked his phone screen, the holographic display illuminating his grim expression.
Level: 13 Current Moves:
Normal | Pound (33/35)
Normal | Tearful Look (19/20)
Normal | Rage (9/10)
Normal | Bide (10/10)
Normal | Recover (2/5)
Ground | Sand Attack (9/15)
Normal | Protect (8/10)
Psychic | Agility (30/30)
A sliver of hope pierced through the fear. He'd managed to escape Croc, not through brute force(Though he did beat him up) but through a clever combination of his newly acquired skills. And speaking of new skills…
His gaze lingered on the unfamiliar "Agility" move. He hadn't noticed it before, the adrenaline of the fight masking its appearance. With a tap, a description materialized.
Agility: The user relaxes and lightens its body to move faster. This sharply boosts its Speed stat.
Samuel's heart pounded a little faster. Unlike the other moves he had, which focused on hindering opponents, this one offered a direct boost to his own abilities. Speed could be the difference between life and death in this situation. Without hesitation, he activated the move.
A surge of clarity, fueled by his newfound agility, washed over Samuel. The alleyway, once a claustrophobic trap, now felt like a problem to be solved. He peered around the corner, his senses picking up the sounds of the goons'
frustrated chatter echoing down the street. They were close, but their movements seemed cumbersome compared to his newfound speed. A plan, unemotional and logical, began to form in his mind. He couldn't afford another bullet wound. Agility was the key. With each use, he could create confusion and escape routes, not for dominance, but for a strategic retreat.
With a silent command, he activated Agility.
-Samuel's speed rose sharply!
The world sharpened; details he'd missed before became clear. He darted across the street, a phantom in the flickering streetlights. The goons, momentarily stunned, caught a fleeting glimpse of movement.
A flat affect colored his voice as he muttered, "There he is," pointing a shaky finger. But by the time they swiveled their guns, Samuel was already a shadow disappearing into the next alleyway.
He remained detached, observing the situation rather than reacting with emotion. It was working. They were disoriented by his sudden bursts of speed. He activated Agility again, the exhilarating feeling of weightlessness a mere physiological response.
-Samuel used Agility!
He reemerged on the other side of the goons, a whirlwind of motion. He used Sand Attack, flinging a handful of gritty holographic dust at their faces with a practiced flick of his wrist, temporarily obscuring their vision.
-Samuel used Sand Attack! The goons' accuracy fell!
Their frustrated roars echoed through the alley. They fired wildly, the bullets whizzing harmlessly past. He wasn't interested in a fight – he just needed to create enough chaos to ensure the children's escape.
He lunged past the goons, utilizing his enhanced speed to weave through them with practiced ease, dodging their clumsy swipes. He aimed for a fire escape ladder clinging to the side of a nearby building, his movements efficient and devoid of panic. With a final burst of Agility, he scrambled up the ladder, the world dissolving into streaks of color.
-Samuel used Agility!
He reached the rooftop, his breathing steady despite the exertion. Below, the goons milled around in confusion, blinded and disoriented. He had to find the children and get them out of this mess. Scanning the cityscape with a detached gaze, he spotted a figure emerging from a building across the street – a young girl, clutching a teddy bear, her eyes wide with fear.
But a flicker of something akin to concern crossed his features as he saw another figure emerge – a burly goon, the one with the purple mohawk, dragging another terrified child by the arm. He recognized the child instantly – it was the little redheaded girl from the library.
"Release the child," Samuel stated, his voice devoid of emotion, but with a hint of quiet authority that echoed across the rooftops.
The goon with the mohawk looked up, a cruel smile twisting his features. "Ah, there you are, meta-freak. Fancy joining the party?" He tightened his grip on the girl's arm, a glint of malice in his eyes.
Samuel's internal calculations shifted. He was trapped. He couldn't escape, not while they held the child hostage. He had...other ways, though.
Without a sigh, or any outward display of defeat, he spoke in a flat tone, "Very well. I surrender. Just…ensure the safety of the children."
Samuel, with an almost glacial pace, walked closer to the goons. The air crackled with tension as each gun in their possession pivoted towards him, a deadly ballet of aimed barrels. He remained a stoic figure, his emotions a carefully guarded secret. Only the one with the mohawk held the child hostage, the others seemingly waiting for his command.
Suddenly, a shimmering barrier materialized around Samuel, deflecting a hail of bullets that erupted from the goons' guns. Surprise flickered across the mohawk man's face, momentarily loosening his grip on the girl. The barrier, summoned by an invisible command, held for a few precious seconds before dissipating.
In that split second, Samuel's enhanced speed kicked in. He became a blur of motion, disarming the goons with lightning-fast kicks, the confiscated weapons clattering to the ground. He lunged at the mohawk man, who, regaining his composure, roared and thrust the gun towards the girl's head.
"Don't move!" he bellowed, voice laced with desperation.
Samuel didn't hesitate. With a deft flick of his wrist, he launched a burst of holographic sand, momentarily blinding the goon. The distraction was all he needed. A single, precise punch connected with the man's jaw, sending him sprawling unconscious.
He knelt before the terrified girl, his voice calm despite the chaos. "It's alright now. Run." He pointed towards the alleyway behind them.
As the girl disappeared into the shadows, a searing pain erupted in Samuel's shoulder – two bullet wounds. Gritting his teeth, he forced himself to focus, activating Recover. Green light enveloped him, the wounds knitting themselves together at an unnatural pace. The girl looked back at the sound of the weapon.
"Go!" he urged again, his voice strained. He had to prioritize the girl's escape.
Obediently, the girl took off running. Relief flickered across Samuel's face, fleeting as the rumble of approaching engines reached his ears. More goons, reinforcements on motorcycles, screeched to a halt, surrounding him.
He sighed, a sound heavy with resignation. He only had one Recover left, and facing this new threat was beyond his capabilities. Before he could react, a blow to the head sent him crashing to the ground, darkness claiming him as the goons swarmed around him.