VECTOR IN DC

[Tom Hendricks POV] 

The city was eerily calm, like the quiet before a storm, as I stood on the rooftop, overlooking the vast expanse of Gotham. To the eyes of the ordinary citizens, it might seem that the city was beginning to settle, the chaos abating. But I knew better. I knew that beneath the surface, beneath the facade of tranquility, fear pulsed through the veins of Gotham's villains. 

They knew. They knew the magnitude of what had transpired—the loss of Robin, the Boy Wonder, at the hands of the Joker. The news reverberated through the criminal underworld like a seismic tremor, shaking the foundations of their illicit enterprises. The villains, once arrogant and audacious, now cowered in the shadows, paralyzed by the thought of Batman's wrath.

As I surveyed the city below, a gust of wind whipped through my hair, the city's breath caressing my face. It whispered secrets of fear and anticipation, secrets only the night could reveal. The villains were right to be afraid. They were right to tremble in the wake of Robin's demise, for they knew that Batman, the Dark Knight, would unleash a torrent of vengeance upon them.

I had seen the lengths to which Batman would go to protect Gotham, witnessed the unwavering determination in his eyes. The loss of Robin, his protégé, his son, would ignite a fire within him—a fire that would consume the darkness and leave only justice in its wake.

But amidst the chaos and turmoil, amidst the pain and uncertainty, I found solace in my beliefs. I was not a religious man, per se, but I held a profound respect for the beliefs of others. Religion, to me, was a personal journey, a choice that individuals made to find solace in their own mental cages. It was not my place to question or doubt their ideologies.

Yet, I couldn't deny the existence of a higher power. My very presence in this bizarre world, this realm of fiction, was testament to the existence of something beyond our comprehension. Why I was given a second chance at life, why I was brought to this realm, I could not fathom. But I refused to dismiss the notion of a higher power, a guiding force in this intricate tapestry of existence.

The city's calmness belied the storm that brewed within Batman's heart. He was a force of nature, an embodiment of justice, and the villains trembled in anticipation of his righteous fury. 

I knew the kind of person Batman was. I had glimpsed the depths of his sorrow and the ferocity of his resolve. His grief was palpable, masked behind the cowl, but seething beneath the surface. He was a man tormented by the demons of his past, driven by a relentless pursuit of justice. And now, with the death of his protégé, his pain had become a raging tempest. 

In the stillness of the night, I couldn't help but wonder about the impact of this loss on Batman's psyche. Would he become consumed by vengeance, losing sight of the line that separated hero from villain? Or would he channel his grief into a renewed determination, a vow to protect Gotham with even greater fervor?

A mischievous smirk crept across my lips, the product of a devious thought that had taken root within me. With a confident leap, I gracefully descended from the towering rooftop, embracing the night's allure as I ventured forth into the haunting streets of Gotham.

As I strolled through the bustling streets, the echoes of distant conversations and the symphony of car engines formed a backdrop to my solitary journey. The lamplights above cast an amber glow, casting elongated shadows that danced along the pavement, intertwining with my own.

The fabric of my clothing flowed with every step, tailored to accentuate both comfort and style. A midnight-black shirt hugged my form, its soft fabric offering a subtle contrast against the urban backdrop. Dark trousers complemented the shirt, allowing me freedom of movement as I navigated the intricacies of the city.

A pair of polished, sturdy boots carried me with silent grace, their soles meeting the concrete with a muted thud. Each step felt deliberate, purposeful, as if I were a shadow traversing the labyrinthine streets, observing the ebb and flow of Gotham's vibrant heartbeat.

The cool evening air caressed my face, carrying with it the scents of the city—hints of rain, the faint aroma of freshly brewed coffee, and the occasional whiff of a tantalizingly decadent bakery. These fragrances mingled together, weaving an intoxicating tapestry that intoxicated the senses, heightening my awareness of the world around me.

The streetlights cast pools of light that scattered across the pavement, creating a dance of illumination amidst the darkness. I reveled in the interplay, navigating the shifting patches of light and shadow with an innate grace. 

As I ventured deeper into the city's labyrinth, my eyes took in the sights that adorned its thoroughfares. Vibrant storefronts displayed their wares, beckoning passersby with their enticing allure. Neon signs flickered and hummed, their vibrant colors reflecting off the rain-soaked streets, casting a mesmerizing kaleidoscope of light.

I observed the diverse denizens of Gotham as they moved with purpose and determination, each person a character in the grand tapestry of this urban metropolis. Their expressions, their stories, painted an ever-evolving portrait that unfolded before my eyes. Yet, amidst the bustling crowds, I remained a silent observer, a phantom figure slipping through the gaps in perception.

The city's cloak of darkness seemed to embrace me, its tendrils swirling around me like a whispering dance. Each step I took carried an air of purpose and intrigue, as if I were a shadowy figure in a grand play, captivating the audience of the sprawling metropolis.

Every corner I turned revealed a new tableau, a glimpse into the diverse tapestry of Gotham's inhabitants. People getting robbed with guns and knives, while the passersby quietly walked the other way so as to avoid being a victim or poking their noses in an incident that might cost them their lives. From a reasonable distance and without showing any interest in what was going on around me, I flicked my wrist and tossed the gun of a robber onto the hands of the terrified victim. 

"Oh, how the tables had turned." I muttered as a small chuckle escaped my lips and I continued with my stroll. 

The bustling marketplaces teemed with colorful characters, their hopes and dreams intertwining like a kaleidoscope of emotions. Elegant cafes and hidden speakeasies beckoned to me, promising clandestine encounters and whispered secrets in the depths of their dimly lit interiors. 

With each passing moment, the city's pulse thrummed beneath my feet, a heartbeat that pulsed with both danger and possibility. I was but a solitary figure amidst the ebb and flow of Gotham's restless tide, a witness to the dichotomy of light and dark that pervaded every inch of its urban landscape.

As I immersed myself in Gotham's captivating embrace, relishing its mysterious allure, a sudden shift in the atmosphere jolted me from my reverie. The rhythmic pulse of the city's heartbeat transformed into a discordant drumroll of danger. My instincts screamed at me, warning of an impending threat.

A chilling breeze whispered through the alley, and before I could comprehend the source, figures clad in black cloaks materialized, surrounding me with eerie precision. The darkness seemed to emanate from their very beings, obscuring their features and intentions. My mind raced, desperately trying to unravel the mystery that shrouded these enigmatic assailants.

'Who were they and do they want with me?' The thoughts that macerated me as I observed their movements. 

"Well I don't have anything to do right now and I was bored anyway." I said to the ninjas. "Okay I'll bite, at least entertain me a little bit and try not to disappoint." I said to them. 

Their silence echoed louder than any words spoken, and tension crackled in the air as they closed in. Without hesitation, they launched their assault, striking with swift and calculated movements. 

They've seen my face and I didn't know what they wanted with me. I tried to play it safe and not use my powers in a noticeable manner, at least until I figured out who they were. As usual, I reduced the radius of the field which protected me and made it cloak the surface of my skin like an invisible aura. 

I tapped my foot on the ground as I saw one charging towards me, nullifying the frictional force beneath their feet as he slipped before me. With a punch I knocked 'em out and took his sword, at least I assumed it was a guy. 

It felt like some kind of Prince Of Persia shit but I wasn't one to shy away from such a rare occurrence. My only experience with a sword was from the days I took fencing classes in my previous world and there was no way I could match up to their skills. So I had to use my head and powers. 

I calmly observed their motions and predicted the trajectories at which they swung their swords, making it easy for me to block and counter. Not like I needed to. 

The clash of steel against steel shattered the night's tranquility, sparking a symphony of danger that resonated through the narrow streets when a sudden idea hit me. It seemed like a good opportunity to practicalize the fictional sword-slash attacks I often saw on TV. 

As the second wave of assailants descended upon me, their dark-clad figures blending seamlessly with the shadows, I held my sword aloft, a beacon of potential amidst the encroaching darkness. Time seemed to slow, the world narrowing down to the pulsating energy that coursed through my veins.

With unwavering focus, I channeled the wind around my blade, feeling its invisible currents intertwine with the crackling electricity I added. The fusion of these formidable elements enhanced the sharpness and cutting power of the sword, transforming it into a lethal instrument honed by the forces of nature itself.

The ninjas, utilizing their stealthy 'ninja run,' darted towards me, their movements blurred by the cloak of night. But my senses were attuned to their presence, every subtle shift in the air betraying their position. Their shurikens whirled through the air, aimed with deadly accuracy.

In the span of a breath, I unleashed the power I had harnessed. The wind whipped around me, billowing my shirt and tousling my hair, as if mirroring the unleashed tempest within me. With a swift, fluid motion, I executed a solid slash, a convergence of wind and electricity that cleaved through the air.

The combined forces collided with the incoming projectiles, shattering the shurikens into fragments, their metallic shards scattering harmlessly around me. The slash-attack went on and dealt a direct hit on them. "I guess you could call me a swordsman." I jokingly whispered to myself before delivering more slash-attacks to the people who wanted to play Shinobi.

"Fuck, there's no end to these guys." I muttered, noticing the number of cloaked figures that still remained at the scene. 

Amidst the swirling chaos of the fight, my mind raced, attempting to unravel the enigma that surrounded my assailants. And then, like a bolt of lightning illuminating the darkness, the realization struck me with electrifying clarity. "The League of Assassins," I whispered, the words laden with curiosity. Their reputation preceded them, a clandestine order steeped in shadow and shrouded in mystery. 

Well, all I could say at this point was…"Bring it on!"

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