Chapter 7 Chapter 7 He was reborn again.
"Who's Willow?" Baseball Bat muttered in confusion.
The thugs had guessed something and took a few steps back, feeling guilty. They couldn't catch anyone today, so they knocked out a pair of sisters walking down the street to make up the numbers. They hid in two separate cars, hoping the gang members wouldn't be so thorough. But now it seemed...
He had just taken a few steps back when a sudden force from above pulled him up. A red-hooded figure squatting on the roof, holding a rope in one hand, waved to him with the other, "Hi."
"ha?"
The thug shifted his gaze dazedly and saw a red bat printed on his plump chest muscles. Then, the Red Hood's hand holding the rope loosened decisively.
"ah--"
The whistling of the ropes was drowned out by the screams of the free fall. The rope tied between the punk's feet stopped him from hitting the concrete with his head, but it was powerless to stop the shock he suffered; the punk, hanging upside down under the gargoyle, rolled his eyes and fainted.
The vigilante's figure flashed between the rooftops.
"It's Red Hood!"
□□'s men were thrown into chaos. Gunfire rang out, and Graham Walker, who should have been giving orders and leading them, uncharacteristically pulled the driver out of the driver's seat and slammed the accelerator. Tires screeched as several rubber bullets whirled through the roof, the hit tires instantly deflated.
The heavy truck slid crookedly at the entrance of the alley and overturned helplessly on the asphalt road.
The passenger door was kicked open. Graham struggled to get out and started chasing after the van, which had already vanished at the end of the road. This apparent act of fleeing without a fight caught the vigilante's attention, and several well-aimed rounds followed, sending Graham stumbling to his knees.
As he fell, Gotham began to see the first drops of rain of the night.
There was a thud, and it landed on his face. No one heard it.
All they heard was gunfire.
“There!”
The quick-witted Black Gang members immediately turned their guns and aimed them at the rooftop. But compared to the vigilantes, their reactions were never fast enough. A few bangs and sparks flew across the rooftop, but the Red Hood, who had only briefly appeared, had already vanished.
"Where the hell is he?"
Baseball Bat reorganized everyone to search around until someone was like being nailed to the ground, staring blankly behind him with his mouth open.
"He's..."
"Behind you," Red Hood dropped from the sky, "little bastard."
Red Hood has been tracking this human trafficking ring for some time. After much investigation and evidence gathering (with Red's help, of course), he's zeroed in on Liam "Lucky" Quinn's newly formed gang in the East End.
According to his investigation, Liam is the youngest son of Dermot "Lucky" Quinn, the boss of Chicago's South Side gang. He survived the city-wide cleanup party initiated by vigilante Aiden Pierce a few years ago - perhaps he inherited a little of his late father's luck, but not much - and after escaping from Chicago, he came to Gotham after many twists and turns, trying to establish a criminal empire again and restore Lucky Quinn's former glory.
In this regard, Red Hood could only praise his courage.
After all, Chicago only had one vigilante at the time, while Gotham's number of vigilantes grew exponentially year after year.
It didn't take Red Hood long to dispatch this gang of underworld thugs. He deliberately stepped on the thug's fingers, then reached the front of the truck and untied the hostages one by one. They had been unconscious in the rollover, but were otherwise unharmed. After checking on the hostages, Red Hood opened the Batcave's communication channel.
"All hostages are out of danger." He counted the number of people, "There are still a few of Quinn's men..."
Red Hood stopped counting. One missing.
Next to the truck's driver's seat, a tall and strong member of the Black Gang who was supposed to be lying down had disappeared without a trace.
"Tsk," Red Hood muttered, "One of them got away."
This surprised him greatly. Due to the long-standing ideological war between him and Batman, the rubber bullets he used were non-lethal, but Red Hood was well aware of their devastating effects. Even though he rarely killed people on the spot, Red Hood would always find ways to ensure that they received the lesson they deserved.
Those who were hit would usually roll their eyes and fall unconscious, suffering from broken bones and numerous recovery complications. This also meant that getting up and continuing to move after such intense pain was not something that ordinary people could do.
Tick, tick.
Jason touched his hood and noticed that it was raining in Gotham.
It's raining again, he thought, terrible weather.
Inside the hood, Jason frowned without realizing it. Subconsciously, he still remembered those cold, hungry, rainy nights before being adopted by Bruce, especially the winters when he was short of food and clothing.
People often die quietly on such nights.
Tick, tick.
Blood from his wounds soaked through his clothes, dripping with the rain. Elio encountered Templar agents roaming the search area along the way. He managed to evade most of them, but was forced to face several battles.
Fortunately, he escaped.
After confirming that there was no red target following him, he finally slowed down his pace. But the moment he relaxed his vigilance, the pain and fatigue he had previously ignored immediately came back and crushed him to the ground.
With a thud, Elio tripped and fell in the rain.
He thought of many things. He thought of Willow, whom he hadn't been able to pick up, of Graham, who had praised his cooking, of Leopold, who had looked him in the eye and said, "I believe in you," of the sunshine on the lawn at Bludhaven University and the aroma of berry drinks, of the encouraging and hopeful smiles from the staff on the day he received the Wayne Scholarship, of the winter in the orphanage when they huddled together on a bed for warmth...
That winter was really cold.
The child huddled beside him held out his hand, and his soft voice sang, "Come on, Elio. You don't have to run anymore."
What am I running for? Elio wondered. He couldn't quite remember.
He saw the hand hanging in the air, waiting for him to shake it.
'Come, you don't need to struggle and suffer anymore. We will take you to a place of happiness.'
That hand was familiar. Short, small, and a cold pale blue.
Elio thought, I think I remember who he is.
'I am your friend, Elio.'
Elio obediently reached out his hand. He saw a brightly colored platinum light gently blooming in the air...
The next second, a hand with real human warmth came towards him and grabbed Elio's outstretched wrist.
"Elliot Smith!" he shouted. "Wake up!"
Elio didn't see what he did, nor did he feel the pain of the needle entering his vein. He felt a sudden surge of power filling his body. His heart instantly started pounding, and his entire body trembled wildly with the vibrations of life's most instinctive struggle, and he jumped up from the ground with a spasm.
He nearly leaped up from the excitement. But his previously exhausted muscles failed to obey his heart's command, and the added stress of his extreme weakness made it impossible for him to keep up with his movements. Elio gasped for breath and fell backwards uncontrollably.
He expected to fall back into the rain, back into the shards of glass, the pollution, the uncollected garbage—all the filth floating and lurking in the streets of Gotham—but someone caught him.
"It's okay, Elio," the steady, familiar voice said above him, "I've got you."
Elio raised his head with an effort and blinked. He saw the golden light gradually fade from the man, revealing a rain-soaked windbreaker and a pair of round, cat-like green eyes staring back at him from beneath the hood.
“…It’s you.” Elio recognized him.
It was Alvin Tristan, the mysterious customer during the day, the weirdo wearing green sunglasses indoors, and from now on, his mentor. Therefore, although this day was far from the happiest day in Elio's life, it became Elio's most memorable day, and this moment also became Elio's most memorable moment.
At this moment, Elio realized that he had been reborn again.
"I know you probably have a lot of questions," Alvin said, completely clueless about his thoughts as he carefully put away the used syringe. "But this isn't the place to talk."
“…I do have a lot of questions…”
Elio's dazed words were buried beneath the windbreaker Alvin had taken off for him. Dry, warm air enveloped him, and Alvin put the hood over him, then casually sank into the rain.
"You're injured," Alvin judged. "The adrenaline I just gave you will last for five minutes—conservatively speaking—just enough for us to get to safety. Can you walk?"
Elio nodded from beneath his hood.
The assassin's safe house wasn't far away. Elio cleaned himself up with the last bit of strength fueled by adrenaline. Alvin dug out the medicine box and tended to Elio's wounds, who collapsed on the bed after being exhausted.
"Those bastards with the red cross on their chests call themselves the Knights Templar," Alvin said as he bandaged him. "They've got you targeted. That company called Abstergo is a cover-up for their evil deeds. Remember to stay away next time you see them."
Only then did Elio realize the true identity of the enemy hiding behind the scenes and hunting him down. He punched the pillow in anger, but Alvin held his hand, "Don't move."
"Why are they targeting me?" Elio asked. "Why do you know all this?"
"The answer to both questions is the same." Alvin stopped what he was doing and looked him in the eye. "You're an assassin, Elio. So am I. That's why I came to rescue you. If you had any other options before, they're gone now. This may sound bad, but you're on their list. There's only one thing left: join us."
"I'm not," Elio argued with difficulty. "I'm not a 'killer.' Neither you nor those so-called 'Templars' must have mistaken me for someone else."
"Ah, that's a strong rebuttal," Alvin tilted his head. "Stand up, walk over to them, and tell them they've got the wrong guy."
Elio fell silent. He knew it was impossible. Whether mistaken or not, the Templars were clearly not going to let him go. They hadn't given him a chance to argue or reason.
"...but I didn't mess with anyone at all," Elio muttered, "I don't understand."
The author has something to say:
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Alvin: Hey everyone! I found a little black kitten!
ps Alvin's name for Oreo: kiddo
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