Chapter 18 Chapter 18 It is you who brought me a miracle.
"If you want to kill me, go ahead," Elio said weakly, "but as we agreed before, you have to buy me the largest and most luxurious plot in Gotham Cemetery."
"Shit," Graham cursed, but he was still sane. "Where would I get all that money?"
Elio looked at him in surprise. "I thought you had some savings."
The explosion beneath the ground continued to shake, and flames leaped high, threatening to burst into flames. But none of them moved. Graham gave a wry smile and rolled over to sit up.
"It's all dirty money," he said, gazing at the flames on the sea. "And after so long, it must have been scooped away by someone."
"…It hasn't been that long, Graham," Elio said softly. "It's been less than a month since you disappeared."
"Enough kidding," Graham said. "It feels like at least ten years have passed! Okay, that's an exaggeration. Five years? At least a year, right?"
Elio looked at him silently without saying a word.
"...less than a month?" Graham asked.
"I'm sorry, Graham," Elio said, "I'm so late."
If he had come sooner, perhaps things would have been different. Willow wouldn't have become the cold record of "Subject 19" on the page, disappearing without a trace; Graham wouldn't have become a weapon driven by the Templars, his consciousness sinking into the abyss at any moment.
They all suffered a lot.
Graham was silent for a moment as the explosions intermittently continued. The flames gradually died down.
"Don't say that, Elio." The firelight illuminated the gloomy face of the former Black State member. "This is all my fault. You don't know... I did something wrong, and more than one. I deserve this."
He had done so many wrong things. And by the time he realized it—when fate punished him for it—it was already too late.
Elio was about to speak when the ground suddenly shook. They staggered to their feet and saw a huge wave rising behind the fading firelight.
"What happened?!" Graham yelled.
"The research institute exploded!"
"Tell me something I don't know!"
“You’re so impatient!” Elio yelled as he ran. “It’s those damn Hydra and the Templars—they must have hollowed out the island, and now it’s collapsed!”
"Fuck them all!" Graham cursed.
The island slowly sank. The ground they ran across quickly collapsed, and the Atlantic followed closely behind.
Anyone who witnessed this scene would have no doubt that they were doomed. Just like Dean Neumann, who stood on the rooftop of Abstergo Hospital and lowered his telescope with satisfaction.
"I take it back," he said without looking back. "Hydra's self-destruct sequence is a good idea. By sacrificing a few unlucky individuals, we can eliminate certain potential threats—such as a persuasive assassin. Who is that? I hear there's a Tristan running amok around here."
"It's Elio Smith," his assistant replied, "according to the last data uploaded by Doctor Blackwood."
"who?"
"The university student who ran away from us a month ago, sir."
The dean pondered for a moment, still unable to recall who it was. He waved his hand. "It doesn't matter. He's only one step away from death. What's important is never the assassin, but our cause—proven that Isu bloodline can be manufactured. Combined with Hydra's brainwashing technology—it's perfect! Where's my champagne?"
The assistant followed his instructions and opened the champagne bottle. The cap came loose with a hissing sound, the aroma diffused, and with a pop, the champagne foam overflowed from the bottle.
·
In the darkness, the sea surged. Graham, his face slicked with foam from the waves, wiped it and was about to curse when he saw Elio stumble and fall beside him. Graham quickly grabbed his wrist, and in those few seconds, the sea surged towards them. But he didn't hesitate.
On the last piece of ground under his feet, he exerted all his strength, shouted loudly, and threw Elio out.
"Graham!"
Elio yelled into the air, reaching toward Graham. Graham also lifted his legs, waved his arms, and finally made a running motion toward Elio. The ground beneath his feet crumbled away, leaving only the space where his toes were standing.
Graham leaped high.
Elio's face lit up. He could clearly see his friend open his mouth, as if about to say something.
A wave came towards them and swallowed up the last two survivors of the explosion.
The Atlantic burped. The waves gradually subsided, and the island was completely obliterated. The water receded, then rose again, lapping against the shore as lazily as before.
Beneath the surface, Elio swam with all his might toward Graham. Graham, unaware of what was happening, flailed his arms in the turbulent current. Moonlight shone on the water, and Graham caught sight of a tiny glimmer of light, dappled in the water. For a moment, he thought he was back in Gotham.
The bat lights cast a shadow on the dark night.
Graham looked up at it. As the line between life and death blurred in the surging waters, he finally reached out to the bright light of Gotham, as if he could still walk toward the light, as if he could still grasp hope...
As if he could still salvage what was shattered.
But it was too late. Graham gradually lost his strength, his eyes blurred as Elio cried silently, and he fell heavily.
Elio grabbed Graham's dangling wrist. The assassin pulled him upwards as far as he could, the bubbles escaping his mouth and nose becoming increasingly rare. Finally, Elio, too, began to run out of oxygen. Drowsily, he let go of Graham's hand and drifted with the lapping of the water, further and further from shore.
His fresh wound oozed blood in the seawater. Elio, oblivious, bobbed up and down. A tiny wound at the back of his neck, seemingly joining in the fun, oozed thin, silky threads of blood.
In the assassin's lifeless pupils, a figure was reflected, reaching out to him like a swimming fish.
In the current, Nightwing scooped up the unconscious Elio and dragged him upwards. Moonlight shone like diamonds on the ripples of the sea, and with a splash, they broke through the waves.
"Hold on, Elio," Nightwing called out, "We're safe."
The sea water flowed down from the wet vigilante and assassin, imprinted on the beach, and was wiped away by the waves.
With the complete destruction of the island, the whole incident came to a temporary end.
Those who hadn't been exposed to any experiments were taken back to Gotham. After Batman confirmed they were unharmed, he quickly returned them to their eagerly awaiting families. The assassins who had been unfortunate enough to be experimented on were hospitalized—Gotham General Hospital for treatment, with Wayne's insurance covering the costs—only those with milder symptoms were admitted.
Being an "Assassin" or a "carrier of Isu blood" is not easy or pretty. It means hardship.
For those with more severe symptoms, the vigilantes and assassins regretfully precluded them from returning to their daily lives. This might have been cruel, but when the victims regained consciousness, they also decided that recuperating at Xavier's School for Gifted Youngsters might be a better option than risking harm to themselves or those around them.
Perhaps there, they would reconcile with their acquired "Isu blood" and become new, true Assassins. Or perhaps, they would eliminate this possibility and return to their original lives and the people they loved. In any case, it was their own choice.
As for now, Elio had a new question.
"Wait," Elio interrupted, "Xavier's School for Gifted Youngsters? Is that what I'm thinking of? The legendary school that specializes in recruiting mutants?"
·
Nightwing was the main reason the young assassin was still alive and well enough to ask questions. This time, he didn't miss Elio's hand and devotedly cared for him for a while. After escaping Hydra's pursuit, the assassin Alvin took the fledgling student from the Blüdhaven vigilantes. The latter was packing up and overheard their brief argument about "injuries" and "rewards," which ultimately ended with Alvin mentioning the "Continental Hotel."
Elio had no idea what the Continental Hotel they were talking about. He discovered that there were indeed many things he didn't know. Not only were there things like "Continental Hotel," "bounty," and "superheroes" all new to him, but there was also the Templar conspiracy, which seemed to be just beginning to unfold, and Subject 19, who had been transferred to an unknown location. He really hated that name, but it was the only keyword he could find in the Templar records: Willow Walker.
All of this made him anxious.
As for Graham, Elio rejected all messages related to this keyword, as if this would stop him from recalling that night, when he had finally rescued his friend, only to be ruthlessly swallowed by the sea. He no longer mentioned anything about Graham, and he crossed out the tracking task on the message board himself, but everyone could read the burning fire in Elio's silent eyes.
In the silence of the living, a new, empty tombstone stood in Gotham Cemetery, one of the "largest and most luxurious" cemeteries, as they used to joke about it.
Alvin patted his shoulder gently. In the rain, Elio pulled up his hood and turned. He followed his mentor's footsteps and embarked on the chosen path.
·
"It's normal that you haven't heard of it," explained Alvin, who was walking in front of him, "For various reasons, we rarely 'talk' about Professor Xavier and his school. But they have always existed."
Elio was silent for a moment.
"You know," he said suddenly, "when I was a kid, I always looked forward to getting an owl the summer I turned eleven."
"uh-huh."
"But I didn't. Then I learned about mutants, and I began to look forward to the day when Professor X would come to my house and tell me that I was a mutant and that I could choose to move in with him to the School for Gifted Youngsters."
"uh-huh."
"But still nothing. And then…" Elio paused. "Alvin. Are you listening to me?"
"Of course I'm listening."
Alvin brushed him off expertly. Before Elio could hit him on the shoulder, Alvin finally stopped and pressed a button into his hand.
"Press it," Alvin gestured.
Elio looked at the button in his hand in confusion, then looked at the dark warehouse in front of him. "What is this?" he asked.
"Why are you asking so many questions?" Alvin crossed his arms. "It's good stuff anyway. Press it."
Elio glanced at his mentor. The assassin was trying to appear inscrutable, but Elio had spent enough time with him to easily detect what Alvin was expecting.
All right. Elio pressed the button.
The alloy door swung open. A cold blue light filtered through the crack, illuminating Elio's surprised eyes. Alvin observed his expression and smiled slightly.
White mist billowed out, and the lights inside the warehouse flickered on. Display cases smoothly rolled out rows of weapons and props, while overhead light shone on a display stand in the center—a brand new matte black motorcycle sat there, its sleek curves and thick tires poised for action.
"You like it?" Alvin said proudly, "It's all yours."
Elio, still holding the button, slowly turned his head to look at Alvin. Without warning, he rushed over and hugged Alvin tightly.
"Thank you, Alvin," Elio choked up, "you brought me a miracle."
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