Starting With Batman

The tentacle man slashed through the air with his barbed appendages, aiming to catch the elusive hero. Meanwhile, the scaly man, who had taken a hard hit from Captain America's shield earlier, finally staggered back to his feet. His reptilian eyes narrowed, immediately locking onto Captain America—the man who had dared to knock him down.

Rage simmered beneath his scaled skin.

How dare this puny intruder march into their lair, his shield gleaming like some righteous beacon, and act like he could take them all down single-handedly? The scaly man's muscles tensed beneath his armor-like skin. He'll regret that.

With a guttural roar, the scaly man charged forward. Each step was a heavy stomp, sending vibrations through the ground, and his eyes burned with hatred. His fists were clenched tight, ready to turn Captain America into a pile of broken bones.

At this moment, Charlie's main attention was focused on Spider-Man's battle, but Captain America was handling the scaly man with casual ease. To the scaly man, this was a battle for dominance; for Captain America, it was a simple act of defense, calmly taking on each attack like it was just another mission.

In action games, AI teammates generally fall into two categories. There are those overpowered companions that carry the player, plowing through enemies as if they're invincible—like a co-op partner in God of War. Then there are the weaker AI, the ones that seem more like liabilities than allies, forcing the player to manage everything alone.

Captain America's AI fit somewhere in the middle. While not perfect, he had one big advantage: his shield. That shield alone made him more than capable of withstanding most assaults, and his ability to block and counter made him nearly untouchable.

The scaly man swung a massive fist, putting all of his strength into it. His scaled knuckles glistened like steel as they sliced through the air. But Captain America simply raised his shield, and the fist collided with a loud clang. The sound echoed across the room, yet Captain America didn't even flinch.

The scaly man growled and circled around, his rage building as he swung again—this time a hook aimed directly at the Captain's head. But once again, the indestructible shield met the blow with a loud thud, and Captain America stood firm, as immovable as a mountain.

The scaly man, now beyond frustrated, moved quickly, throwing rapid-fire punches. Each punch was more powerful than the last, a brutal combination of strength and speed. But Captain America's shield was always there, absorbing every hit, deflecting each strike with precision. The sound of metal clashing with flesh filled the room as the scaly man roared in fury.

Captain America, calm and composed, showed no signs of struggle. His stance was solid, his grip on the shield unwavering. It was clear that no matter how hard the scaly man tried, he wasn't going to break through.

No matter which way the wind blows, I won't move.

With one final burst of energy, the scaly man's muscles bulged grotesquely beneath his scaled skin. His arms thickened with newfound strength, and he launched a final, devastating punch toward Captain America's shield, roaring with every ounce of fury he could muster.

The punch landed squarely on the shield, but instead of breaking through, it was instantly stopped. The force was absorbed by the shield as if it were nothing, and the scaly man's arm went completely limp, his muscles relaxing as a jolt of pain shot through him.

What is this thing made of? the scaly man thought, his expression twisting with pain and frustration. Some kind of magical metal?

Though phantoms like him were less susceptible to pain than humans, they could still feel the effects of repeated blows. Each punch he threw into the shield felt like punching a brick wall. The pain radiating through his arm told him that one more strike might be the end of it.

Sensing his opponent's vulnerability, Captain America didn't miss a beat. With a swift backhand, he swung his shield upward, catching the scaly man on the chin. The force of the blow sent the scaly man staggering backward, his legs wobbling beneath him.

"I could do this all day," Captain America said, his voice calm and confident, as he readied his shield for the next round.

The scaly man twitched, his body struggling to respond. Of course you could do this all day, he thought, nearly choking on his frustration. You've been hiding behind that damned shield!

On the opposite side of the lair, the tentacle man was facing his own set of problems. His tentacles, normally faster than the eye could see, were failing to land a single blow on Spider-Man. Every strike, no matter how fast or precise, was dodged with almost laughable ease.

And then something truly bizarre happened.

At one point, Spider-Man was mid-air, and the tentacle man's appendages had perfectly locked onto his landing spot. He was sure of it—Spider-Man couldn't escape. The tentacles shot forward, ready to strike the moment Spider-Man touched the ground.

But just before the tentacles made contact, Spider-Man seemingly leaped off thin air, elevating his body higher into the air, and somersaulted gracefully out of harm's way.

The tentacle man's eyes widened in disbelief. Did he just jump off the air?

The laws of physics didn't seem to apply to Spider-Man. It was as if the hero could bend reality itself, making moves that should be impossible. The tentacle man had never seen anything like it. Is this even real?

Newton, save me.

Spider-Man wasn't just dodging; he was making it look easy. After evading all of the tentacle man's attacks, Spider-Man shot out two web lines. The webs latched onto the tentacle man's body with a sharp thwip, and before he could react, Spider-Man yanked hard, pulling him off balance.

Spider-Man met him mid-air with a powerful punch directly to his face, then followed up with a swift flying kick that landed perfectly on his jaw. The tentacle man's body contorted as the force of the blows ripped through him. His barbed appendages flailed wildly, but they were no longer a threat.

Not content with simply knocking him down, Spider-Man landed softly, tied the tentacle man's flailing appendages into a tight knot, and then, with incredible strength, lifted him high into the air. With a powerful swing, Spider-Man slammed the tentacle man into the ground repeatedly, each impact sending shockwaves through the room. The floor beneath them cracked and splintered with every hit, debris flying everywhere as the tentacle man's body crumbled under the relentless assault.

Across the lair, the scorpion woman—who had been kicked across the room earlier—was finally recovering. She had initially planned to leap back into the fight, ready to assist her comrades. But after witnessing Spider-Man's devastating speed and the complete destruction of the tentacle man, she had second thoughts.

Perhaps... perhaps I should wait.

Slowly, she lowered herself back to the ground, pretending to be unconscious. This isn't cowardice, she told herself. This is strategy. Let the others take the brunt of the attack, and when the time is right, I'll strike.

She watched and waited as Spider-Man decimated the tentacle man with ease. Finally, after what felt like an eternity, Spider-Man stopped moving, standing still beside the beaten body of the tentacle man.

Now's my chance!

Her heart racing with excitement, the scorpion woman launched herself into the air, faster and deadlier than before. Her black, barbed tail curled behind her, ready to strike Spider-Man in the back, hoping to catch him off guard.

But without even turning around, Spider-Man casually threw a punch backward.

Thwack!

The scorpion woman's face collided directly with Spider-Man's fist, as if she had intentionally flown into it. Her face twisted grotesquely from the impact, her features contorted beyond recognition. As she was thrown back, dazed and disoriented, the only thought racing through her mind was: Does he have eyes in the back of his head!?

Charlie quickly shifted his attention back to Captain America, who had been handling the scaly man. The scaly brute was now pacing back and forth, his anger bubbling over, but he couldn't bring himself to throw another punch. The repeated impacts against Captain America's shield had taken their toll, leaving him exhausted and in pain.

Captain America, sensing the scaly man's hesitation, took the offensive. He charged forward, shield in hand, moving swiftly and with purpose. Startled, the scaly man threw a wild punch, but it landed squarely on the shield once again, sending another shockwave of pain through his arm.

With a fluid motion, Captain America retaliated. His shield slammed into the scaly man's chin, followed by a brutal strike to his stomach. The scaly man doubled over in pain, his breath leaving him in gasps, but Captain America wasn't done. He delivered a powerful kick to the back of the scaly man's knee, forcing him to the ground. With one final, explosive kick, Captain America sent the scaly man sliding across the floor, his massive body skidding to a halt in a crumpled heap.

Dazed and barely conscious, the scaly man lay flat on hisback, his vision blurred and spinning. When he finally regained focus, the first thing he saw was Spider-Man hanging upside down from the ceiling, grinning down at him.

"Hey, buddy, how's it going?" Spider-Man asked with a smirk, his playful tone cutting through the scaly man's fog of confusion.

The scaly man's heart sank in utter defeat. Desperate to salvage even a shred of his pride, he threw one last, wild punch at Spider-Man. But before his fist could even get close, Spider-Man casually caught it mid-air with his open hand, as if it were the easiest thing in the world. His grip was firm, almost like iron.

"Nice punch," Spider-Man said, tilting his head as he mockingly examined the scaly man's trapped fist. "I'd give it, oh, maybe... eight out of ten—if the full score were a hundred."

The scaly man's eyes widened in disbelief, frustration gnawing at him. He could feel his strength dwindling, drained from the relentless assault by Captain America and Spider-Man. Every muscle in his body ached, and his mind raced with one burning question: Who are these guys?

While Spider-Man and Captain America wrapped up their fights, across the room, the agents of the Ninth Special Service Division had their hands full. The infected enemies they had been battling were finally beginning to fall, though the strain was visible in every agent's stance. Sweat poured down their faces, but their coordination and discipline held strong.

One of the infected leaders, a phantom named Anti-Sonic, had been making it difficult for the agents, using his soundwave-based powers to disrupt their movements and create chaos. With every burst of sonic energy, the air shook, disorienting anyone within range. Anti-Sonic had hoped to use his ability to control the battlefield, but the agents had adapted quickly.

Ivan Petrov, one of the senior agents, had been waiting for an opening. The moment he saw Anti-Sonic lose focus, distracted by a red-cloaked phantom fighting nearby, Ivan raised his firearm and fired a single, well-aimed shot. The bullet sliced through the air, striking Anti-Sonic square in the side as he attempted to flee.

Anti-Sonic let out a grunt of pain as he tumbled through the air, hitting the ground hard. The red-cloaked phantom quickly seized the opportunity, moving in and restraining him before he could recover. Anti-Sonic, weakened and struggling, tried to break free, but it was no use. His power was fading, and his energy reserves were depleted.

It seemed like the battle was coming to an end. The remaining agents began sweeping the area, securing the fallen phantoms and infected enemies, while their comrades tended to the wounded and cleared out any potential threats.

But just as the agents of the Ninth Division were about to celebrate their victory, a shadowy figure emerged from the depths of the lair, stepping out of the darkness with an eerie, deliberate grace.

The figure's entire body was encased in a strange, biomechanical exoskeleton. It wasn't the type of high-tech armor one might expect, but rather something more organic, almost like a living organism fused with metal. The exoskeleton glistened under the dim lights, its surface covered in sinewy layers of armor that flexed and moved like muscles.

The room went silent for a moment as everyone—agents, heroes, and phantoms alike—turned to face this new threat. Ivan Petrov, still holding his weapon at the ready, narrowed his eyes at the figure.

"A new phantom?" Ivan muttered under his breath, preparing for another fight.

The mysterious figure stepped forward, his movements precise. As he approached, he slowly raised his hand to the mask-like shell covering his face, and with a metallic hiss, the mask slid open, revealing a sharp-featured face beneath. His eyes were cold, and his expression was one of pure determination.

As the mask opened, Ivan's eyes widened in disbelief. His heart skipped a beat as recognition dawned on him. The shock was evident on his face as he spoke, barely able to comprehend what he was seeing.

"Link...?"

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Posted up to chapter 159

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