Samuel's eyes welled with tears as the white screen materialized before him, though they were not genuine tears but rather a holographic illusion. The screen flashed with cryptic text, its words devoid of emotion yet carrying a tangible effect.
-Samuel used [Tearful Cry]! The opponent's Attack fell! The opponent's Sp. Atk fell!
The gang members, caught off guard by the unexpected phenomenon, faltered in their approach, their violent intentions momentarily subdued. Samuel watched as confusion flickered across their faces, their aggression tempered by an unseen force.
"What the heck... did you do to us?! You brat... You're a meta-human, aren't you?" one of them snarled, his tone tinged with both fear and accusation.
"I implore you to cease this unwarranted aggression," Samuel urged, his tone measured and refined. "I assure you, I am no meta-human. Let us not resort to violence, but rather engage in reasoned discourse to..." Samuel's voice trailed off, and his attempt at reason met with stubborn resistance as the thugs renewed their assault, charging at him with their weapons raised.
With no time to spare, Samuel's gaze flicked to Barbara Gordon, still unconscious and bearing the evidence of the thugs' brutality. Despite his disdain for vigilantes and their methods, Samuel couldn't stand idly by while someone was in danger. He knew that running away would only perpetuate the cycle of violence and injustice that plagued Gotham.
With a resolute determination, Samuel made his decision. He stepped forward, positioning himself between the thugs and Gordon, preparing to endure their onslaught.
And then, he 'Bided'. Samuel remembered that skill from his screen. If 'teary cry' worked, that'll most definitely mean that this would work too.
-Samuel used [Bide]!
With his slender, birdlike arms, Samuel braced himself against the relentless onslaught of the thugs' barbed wire bats. Each blow sent shockwaves of pain coursing through his body, his 'tearful cry' offering little defense against the sheer force of their attacks. Despite his efforts to shield himself, he could feel the sting of barbed wire tearing into his flesh, each strike leaving behind a trail of agony.
The thugs' taunts rang in his ears like a cruel symphony of malice, their words dripping with contempt and derision. "You... this thing reduced our powers! Kill him!" one of them snarled, his voice thick with anger and frustration. "He can't do anything by himself!" another jeered, his laughter echoing through the dimly lit alley.
Through the haze of pain, Samuel gritted his teeth and fought to stay conscious, his resolve unwavering even in the face of overwhelming odds.
"You...this thing reduced our powers! Kill him!"
"He can't do anything by himself!"
After enduring six brutal blows, Samuel felt something stir within him, a surge of energy building up like a tempest ready to unleash its fury. With a primal roar of determination, he tapped into a reservoir of power he never knew he possessed.
-Samuel unleashed energy!
A blinding stream of white light erupted from his being, striking one of the thugs with enough force to send him sprawling to the ground, unconscious. Exhausted and battered, Samuel sank to his knees, his breath coming in ragged gasps as the remaining thugs fled, their faces contorted with terror.
As the adrenaline began to ebb away, Samuel's thoughts turned to the aftermath of the confrontation. He knew that Batman and Robin would likely come searching for Barbara Gordon, their injured comrade. Yet, he felt no sympathy for the caped crusaders, their vigilantism a blight upon Gotham's streets.
With trembling hands, Samuel reached for his phone, relieved to find it miraculously intact. He dialed the emergency line, his voice steady but tinged with weariness as he relayed the situation to the dispatcher.
"There's been an altercation involving a vigilante," he stated, his tone measured and precise. "I believe they may be injured. The incident occurred in Park Row, though I cannot provide exact coordinates. Please dispatch assistance promptly."
The dispatcher assured him that help was on the way, and with a sense of grim satisfaction, Samuel ended the call. He knew he had to leave before the authorities arrived, his own injuries were too severe to risk getting caught in the crossfire.
And he definitely didn't want to meet the Bat-themed criminal.
Leaving a hastily scribbled note detailing the events that transpired, Samuel staggered to his feet, the weight of exhaustion bearing down upon him. But as he attempted to flee, a sudden wave of fatigue washed over him, his body protesting against the trauma it had endured.
"...Ah...The brain is growing roots to my feet."
Feeling extreme anemia, Samuel fell to his feet and sat next to the unconscious Barbara Gordon. He looked at her...she looked fine. No signs of injuries that were leading her to death.
...Samuel had a lot to think of. His abilities were real. He didn't know how, but...somehow he did this. He shot a giant energy blast like a meta-human, and he made the thugs weaker.
"...Right, the criminal..."
Samuel glanced at the thug who got shot by his blast, and luckily he seemed alive. Even though his body looked like he got 12 hits from a wired bat, he was still breathing. And as he tried to close his eyes due to extreme nausea...
The screen glowed once again. This time, Samuel didn't want it to pop up, but it just did.
Level 9→Level 10 Level up!
-Samuel learned the move [Recover]!
"...Quite convenient."
Samuel quickly opened his screen again, to check the skills. It was most definite that he could use the skills on the list of 'learned skills'. And if that 'recover' skill the same skill he imagined...
Current moves
Normal|Pound 35/35
Normal|Tearful Look 19/20
Normal|Rage 10/10
Normal|Bide 9/10
Normal|Recover 5/5
Samuel's gaze lingered on the screen, deciphering the enigmatic numbers that flanked each skill. They appeared to indicate the number of times he could utilize each ability. Though uncertain if these counts could replenish, the presence of maximum values suggested the possibility. How this rejuvenation occurred remained a mystery to him.
"...Now, to activate the skill..."
Samuel concentrated, delving into his memories to recall the intricacies of executing [Bide] and [Tearful Cry].
Thus, he 'Recovered.' With sheer force of will, he envisioned vitality coursing back into his veins, envisioning his flesh knitting back together...
-Samuel used [Recover]!
Instantly, his body responded to his command, undergoing a miraculous restoration as he envisioned. Samuel felt the warmth of vitality returning to his limbs, the pain and fatigue of his injuries gradually dissipating like mist before the sun.
Although Samuel could still see some lingering wounds, he took solace in the knowledge that they would gradually heal with time. Opening the screen once more, he inspected the HP section and confirmed his suspicions—it had only slightly decreased.
"-HP: 34/36
"So it recovers about half the HP. Hm," Samuel murmured thoughtfully, noting the rate of regeneration.
With a sense of reassurance, Samuel rose to his feet and cast a final glance at Gordon's trembling form. Despite the chill of the night air, he trusted that help would arrive soon, whether from the police or Batman himself, to ensure her safety.
Quietly slipping away from the scene, Samuel vanished into the shadows as if he had never been there. He had obligations to fulfill and a home to return to before bedtime. And though the night had been filled with turmoil and danger, Samuel knew that this wouldn't happen if he didn't wander around again.
...But with his newfound power, he needed to be cautious.
"Batgirl!"
"Hngh..."
Barbara Gordon stirred, her head throbbing with a fierce ache that threatened to split apart her skull.
"...Robin? What... What happened? Where are we?"
"We're in the Batcave, relax!"
Robin's reassuring voice helped soothe Barbara, who attempted to rise from her bed but found herself hindered by her injuries.
"What... happened? My head..."
"We found you unconscious in the crime alley. We were fighting against Joker's sudden attack... and you got separated."
As memories slowly trickled back into Barbara's mind, she recalled the chaotic skirmish with Joker's henchmen. Yet, the details remained hazy, obscured by the fog of unconsciousness induced by the gas attack.
"...But how am I still... alive?"
"Well..."
Robin gestured towards the shadowy figure of Batman, who sat stoically before a massive monitor, meticulously monitoring the city's surveillance cameras.
Batman's voice was grave as he spoke, his gaze fixed on the myriad screens before him. "We'll discuss that later. Right now, focus on resting and recovering."
As Batman meticulously scanned through the feeds from Gotham's surveillance cameras, his keen eyes narrowed in on a particular alleyway where the altercation had taken place. The footage revealed a group of thugs brandishing bats wrapped in barbed wire, menacingly advancing towards a lone figure.
The Dark Knight observed intently as the figure, shrouded in darkness, seemed to withstand the blows of the thugs with an unnatural resilience. The bats struck with force, but the figure took it all, a testament to some form of enhanced durability or resilience. It was special since it looked thinner than a regular person.
Then, the unexpected occurred. A sudden burst of light emanated from the figure, incapacitating one of the thugs and sending him crashing to the ground. It was a display of power that Batman had never witnessed before, raising more questions than answers.
As the injured figure, whom Batman could not identify, began to heal himself and walk away from the scene, the Caped Crusader's brow furrowed in deep contemplation. This unknown individual possessed abilities beyond the realm of normalcy, and their presence in Gotham posed a potential threat.
Turning to his protege, Robin, Batman engaged in a silent debate within his mind. On one hand, the silhouette appeared to be a formidable force, capable of defending themselves against dangerous adversaries. On the other hand, their mysterious nature and unknown motives left Batman wary of their intentions.
"Robin," Batman began, his voice low and measured, "We must tread carefully. This unknown individual possesses powers that we cannot fully comprehend. While they may have assisted Batgirl in her time of need, we cannot ignore the potential dangers they represent."
Robin, ever the optimist, offered a different perspective. "But Batman, they saved Batgirl. Maybe they're just a kid, trying to do the right thing."
Batman's gaze softened slightly at Robin's words, acknowledging the validity of his protege's viewpoint. However, his sense of duty and responsibility to protect Gotham from any potential threats remained unwavering.
"We cannot afford to take chances," Batman's voice resonated with unwavering determination, cutting through the dimly lit confines of the Batcave. His gaze, obscured by the shadow of his cowl, bore the weight of countless battles fought and adversaries vanquished. "Until we have more information, this individual remains a priority for investigation. We must determine their true intentions and assess the extent of their capabilities."
Robin, ever eager and optimistic, nodded in agreement, though a faint glimmer of dissent flickered in his youthful eyes. He respected his mentor's caution, yet couldn't help but feel a pang of impatience at the thought of leaving the mysterious meta-human unchecked.
"But..." Batman's voice trailed off, his steely gaze momentarily drifting away, as if lost in the labyrinth of his own thoughts. "...Since the Joker is being active again, I don't have time to spend with this unknown meta-human. I would like to ask for you to figure out who he is."
The significance of Batman entrusting him with such a task wasn't lost on Robin, his heart swelling with a mixture of pride and apprehension. "Wow! Really? My own mission?"
"Yes," Batman affirmed, his tone grave yet tinged with a hint of paternal warmth. "And it's because I trust you, Dick. But be careful."
"I will!" Robin's enthusiasm bubbled over, a contagious energy coursing through him as he absorbed the gravity of the responsibility bestowed upon him. His eyes darted back to the surveillance footage, scrutinizing every frame with laser-like focus.
As he replayed the pivotal moment when the mysterious figure intervened, a sense of familiarity tugged at the edges of his consciousness. There was something about the silhouette, a subtle nuance or gesture, that sparked a flicker of recognition deep within him.
"...Did I see him some where?"
The Joker lounged lazily on his throne, his maniacal laughter echoing through the dimly lit room as he idly twirled a playing card between his fingers. But beneath the facade of mirth lay a simmering fury, fueled by the absence of several of his henchmen who had failed to return from their latest mission.
"Where are the boys?" he snarled, his eyes narrowing into slits of manic rage. "Why haven't they come back with Batgirl? I heard that she was poisoned and was just about to be captured...I can't finish my punchline!"
His lips curled into a malevolent grin as a twisted idea began to form in his deranged mind. "Fetch me the ones who survived," he ordered his remaining lackeys, his voice dripping with malice. "We're going to have a little chat."
Moments later, the surviving thugs were dragged before the Joker, their faces contorted in fear as they awaited their fate. The Clown Prince of Crime regarded them with a predatory gleam in his eye, relishing the opportunity to unleash his sadistic tendencies upon them.
"Why didn't you come back?" he demanded, his voice laced with venom. "And where is Batgirl?"
The thugs quivered under the Joker's piercing gaze, their words stumbling over each other in a frantic attempt to explain themselves. "We...we couldn't catch her, boss," one of them stammered, his voice trembling with fear. "There was...someone else. A kid. He had...powers."
"Powers?" the Joker mused, his interest piqued by the revelation. "Tell me more."
As the thugs recounted their encounter with the mysterious figure who had intervened on Batgirl's behalf, the Joker's lips curled into a malevolent grin. The prospect of a metahuman prowling the streets of Gotham filled him with a twisted sense of excitement.
"Interesting," he chuckled, the manic gleam in his eyes intensifying. "Seems like we've stumbled upon something...delightfully unpredictable. Metahumans in Gotham? Now that's a development worth exploring..."
With a sadistic cackle, the Joker dispatched his lackeys with a swift and merciless end, their screams of agony echoing through the halls of his lair. As he pondered the implications of this newfound revelation, a wicked grin spread across his face.
After arriving home, Samuel swiftly retreated to the bathroom, seeking solace in the familiar routine of a hot shower. The bloodstains clinging to his tattered clothes served as a grim reminder of the night's events, prompting him to discard them without hesitation.
As he stood beneath the steaming water, washing away the remnants of violence and chaos, a sudden chill crept up his spine, sending shivers cascading down his back. It was an inexplicable sensation, a nagging feeling that something was amiss, lurking just beyond the edges of his perception.
Mindful of the security cameras that dotted the streets of Gotham, Samuel took care to conceal his face, ensuring that his identity remained shrouded in secrecy. Likewise, he made certain that Batgirl lay unconscious, her presence a potential complication that he could ill afford.
But amidst the whirlwind of thoughts and emotions, a single question echoed in Samuel's mind, demanding answers. Why had Batgirl, a seasoned vigilante with formidable skills and experience, been overpowered so easily?
As he pondered the implications of this revelation, Samuel couldn't shake the feeling that there was more to the situation than met the eye. Someone with power and influence had orchestrated Batgirl's downfall, someone who posed a threat far greater than the petty criminals that roamed the streets of Gotham.
Samuel's anticipation made him shudder.
Something, something was happening. Something that he never wanted. Something that can disrupt his peaceful life in mere seconds.
"For me, it's not really about winning or losing. I just want to survive. I want a peaceful life... I will have my happy life."
Quietly muttering, Samuel crept into his blanket.
The house felt so large and empty for him today.