[center][img]https://i.imgur.com/sg3M1Yo.png[/img][/center] [b]Elysian Fields Trailer Park 10 PM [/b] Little Walter could hear his heartbeat in his ears. For the first time in a long time, the big man was scared. He hadn’t truly felt fear since he was thirteen. He hit a growth spurt that summer and towered over all the boys in junior high. Even when he was a prospect for the Crusaders, low man on the goddamn totem pole, he was still the biggest and meanest son of a bitch in the room. He’d stared down Mexican cartel bosses, survived shootouts with rival MCs, been backed into a dark prison corner by a group of black power gangs. But through it all Walter never lost his cool. But now? Whoever or whatever the fuck it was that was out here was unlike anything Little Walter had ever seen. Motherfucker tore through their convoy like it was tissue paper, blew up their haul, and disappeared into the night like a goddamn ghost. He didn't think the bat was supernatural like some of the other morons in the MC. But that didn't mean the bat wasn't a serious son of a bitch. Walter double checked the assault rifle he was carrying before taking a few hesitant steps forward. He started down the small alley between two trailers. He stopped when he heard a thump and a crash from somewhere nearby. Walter squinted and tried to make out any movement in the darkness. He flinched when gunfire erupted. It was the rapid fire of an automatic weapon firing off just a few rounds. Someone yelled in pain as the gunfire stopped. And that was when the music started. It was coming from somewhere close, but Walter couldn't’ figure out where. It dawned on him and he pulled his phone out of his pocket. It was the source of the music. “The fuck?” --- The surprised biker got three shots off with his gun as Bruce rushed towards him. He felt the slugs whiz past his head and cape as he knocked the gun away with his left hand, his right hand punching the biker in the temple. His arm was wrapped around the dazed Crusader’s throat in a chokehold. The man tried to claw at Bruce’s face and eyes but his hands slid off the slick leather and body armor of Bruce’s cowl. The biker's struggling slowed before stopping altogether. He let the unconscious man’s body crumple to the ground. before he took off into the darkness. “Thermal vision,” he whispered as he climbed on top of a dilapidated single wide. His lenses flickered before switching to the eerie blue hue. He could see heat signatures of over twelve figures in the immediate area. Some cradled guns, others were unarmed. Overhead drone surveillance showed that there were a few more people near the entrance of the trailer park standing guard around the Crusaders' motorcycles. The closets armed man was just below him in the alley between two trailers. He was taller than Bruce by at least six inches, larger than even Blackwood, and he carried an assault rifle in his large hands. Bruce pressed a few buttons mounted on his left wrist gauntlet. In his HUD, he saw notifications confirming that every biker and a few of the junkies had cellphones. After a few quick taps, he connected with the phones and queued up Sinatra. [url=https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=BTOeRwIUnG0]Mood Music[/url] He watched as the big man fished the phone from his pocket and tried in vain to turn off the music. He watched the drone footage as the rest of the men with phones tried the same. A smirk appeared on Bruce’s face as he pressed a button. He sent out a signal to the phones that sent an electrical pulse to the batteries, turning each mobile device into a 50,000 volt taser. Bodies dropped across the trailer park and writhed in pain. He made his move quickly. He leapt from the trailer and hurried through the dark towards the exit. Those he could sneak past he did. Those he had to fight, he fought. One tweaker charged him with a rusty knife. He countered the attack before striking the heel of his boot into the man’s kneecap and driving his face into the ground. Another biker he landed on and spun him to the ground, an armbar breaking his left humerus and shoulder. He was now less than fifty yards from the exit of the trailer park. The only thing standing in his way: Blackwood himself. “C’mon on out,” Blackwood screamed into the dark. “You done took down everyone else, you son of a bitch.” Bruce stepped out of the dark. A smile appeared on Blackwood’s face when he saw him. The burly biker held up his shotgun and twisted it into a bow with his bare hands. “I don’t need no fucking shotgun to take your ass out.” --- [b]Camden & Young Industrial Electroplating Gotham Industrial Park 10:15 PM [/b] Selina felt the lock give a millisecond before it made the click. The hinges on the fire door squealed as she pushed it open. Through the door was a giant cavern of space. Selina slowly closed the door behind her as she entered. She imagined the space had once been filled with the machines of Camden & Young, machines that ran around the clock and manned by workers doing their part to keep the wheels of American industry turning. But that was a long time ago. The machines were long gone and only the sad, empty husk of the building remained. Across the open space was a flight of stairs that led up to a room thirty or so feet above the floor. Back in the day that was the supervisor’s office. Even from this far away she could see the soft glow of light from the door’s window. Whiz kid Stephanie was able to locate the source of the hacker to the industrial park, but even she was limited by technology. The closest she could narrow it down to was within a six block radius. That was when Selina turned to the riddle left after the hack. How do you spell candy with two letters? C and Y. Camden & Young. Selina pulled the snubnosed pistol from her purse as she approached the stairs leading up to the office. --- [b]Elysian Fields Trailer Park 10:20 PM[/b] Blackwood roared as he threw a heavy metal burn barrel at Bruce. The barrel tumbled through the air, fire and ash spilling from it. Bruce rolled out of the way just as the barrel crashed into the ground and exploded in a ball of fire. “Come on, motherfucker,” Blackwood yelled. He slowly strutted towards Bruce. “Show me what you got!” Bruce pressed a few buttons on his wrist and the drone swooped in from above, firing off missiles at Blackwood. They hit the biker flush and flew him backwards into a trailer. Bruce pulled a small disk from his utility belt and rushed forward. Blackwood pulled himself out of the wreck of the trailer and shakily got back to his feet. The drone buzzed near him and he reached out. He grabbed it and ripped it apart in a shower of sparks and metal. “Enough of this bullshit,” he roared. He ran towards Bruce as Bruce ran towards him. At the last second, Bruce dipped low as Blackwood tried to wrap his arms around him. He slid under Blackwood’s legs and popped up. He scaled the large man’s back and slapped the metal disk on Blackwood’s temple. It let out a high-pitched whine and Blackwood tried to reach it. He froze in place and collapsed to his knees in a spasming wreck. “Make it stop!” Bruce ignored Blackwood’s pleas. The disk was designed to send electrical impulses through the body. Low-grade impulses that stimulated the muscles in the body at such high speed and frequency that it incapacitated the person wearing it. For all Blackwood’s metahuman strength, he was still limited by human physiology as everyone else. Same nerves and same nerve endings. Sirens were beginning to ring out through the area. Bruce could see a fire truck on the overpass where the cargo van had exploded. Off in the distance a chopper was approaching. He saw the spotlight sweeping over the expressway. Bruce mounted Blackwood’s motorcycle, started it with a kick, and sped off into the night.