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DC Technomancer: Chapter 7
🕑 Added 2024-07-02 15:08:45 +0000 UTC“Since you want to be an asshole, give me everything in your wallet right now!” The taxi driver screamed at Victor as he brandished his revolver.
Victor raised an eyebrow unimpressed, “Are you trying to rob me?”
“No I’m asking you out to dinner,” The man snapped back sarcastically, “Now take out your wallet nice and-”
Before the taxi driver could react, Victor's hand shot out, jamming his finger behind the trigger before slamming the gun against the side of the window. There was a satisfying crunch and Victor felt the man’s grip on the gun slip letting him pull it away.
Flicking out the chamber Victor smirked seeing there was only one bullet loaded, “Can’t even afford five more rounds?”
“Argh you bastard you just broke my fucking finger!” The taxi driver wailed as he cupped his injured hand to his chest.
“Should have thought of that before you robbed me,” Victor said with a shrug as he pocketed the gun and walked away.
After a brief walk Victor made it to his actual destination, an old abandoned factory that from the outside looked just like another forgotten relic of the past. But the two bouncers posted by the door told Victor everything he needed.
‘Alright Nex time for you to take over.’ Reaching into his pocket Victor pulled out a balaclava and pulled it up so it was just covering his mouth and nose leaving the rest of his face uncovered. At the same time Victor pulled back, retreating in his mind and handing Nex the reins.
Victor was still in control but it felt strange, like he was piloting his body instead of actually living in it.
[I am currently micromanaging your body’s natural processes and movements. Any movement you wish to make as long as it is in the realm of possibility I can translate into the exact electronic signals your muscles can interpret.]
Nodding along Victor clenched and unclenched his fingers to get used to the sensation, ‘I think we’re due for a test run then.’
Walking up to the door Victor looked down at the hired muscle and he could tell just by their reactions they weren't used to being looked down at.
“Password?” The man on Victor’s right asked gruffly.
“Moscow Mule,” Victor replied with an emotionless voice staring the man down and daring him to do something.
After a tense moment the muscle grunted and stepped aside as he opened the door, “No fighting unless you’re in the cage, and all your dues must be paid before you leave.”
Victor didn’t bother replying and he moved past the bouncers. Dipping his head underneath the doorway Victor stared down at the rusty metal stairway before making his way down into the warehouse.
After a far longer descent than Victor initially thought he reached the bottom of the stairs, where another set of hired muscle waited, but this time the doors behind them were open and Victor could hear the sound of men roaring out in bloody murder.
The guards checked him out but didn’t bar him entry and Victor finally entered The House, an underground casino and fight ring frequented by most of Gotham’s low lives.
Looking around Victor couldn’t help but take note of how nicely everything was set up. There was an upper floor turned into a dedicated casino complete with roulette, slot machines, poker tables and waiters serving more than just food and drinks.
But that area seemed reserved for more privileged clientele, most of The Houses occupants were on the bottom floor crammed together in a mosh pit focused on the massive chain link dome and the two bloodied men inside fighting each other in a bare knuckled brawl.
Wading through the crowd Victor shouldered people aside and made his way to the booth set into the wall behind a thick layer of plated steel and bullet proof glass.
“Woah you're a big one aren't cha?”
Victor stared at the pot bellied man behind the glass who was sporting a pair of mutton chops, “I want to fight, what’s the split?”
The man grinned revealing he had more teeth missing than not, “200 hundred dollar entry feed, you and your opponent fight till one of you gets knocked out or can’t stand no more. If you win you get a twenty percent cut of all bets in addition to what you wager on yourself.” ‘
Victor nodded and he reached into his pocket holding out his entire money clip, “I got two thousand in cash.”
The toothless grin broadened as a deposit box opened next to Victor’s hand. Tossing the cash inside Victor watched the man make a quick note of something before looking back at him, “Looks like you're up next your in the left corner, also you got a name, big stuff?”
“Nex,” Victor replied before he turned away without another word. Making his way to his corner Victor grabbed the hem of his sweatshirt and pulled it up and over his shoulder exposing his muscular chest.
Reaching his pocket Victor pulled out a roll of tape and started to wrap his hands looping in between each finger before securing the roll around his wrist and cutting the tape with his teeth.
Looking up as he finished Victor watched as one of the men landed a vicious right hook spinning his opponent around with a spray of spittle and blood. The man hit the floor with a thud and the crowd went wild, people either cheering or jeering depending on if their bets had paid off or not.
Standing up Victor approached the cage as the door swung open with a buzz letting him step into the arena. The previous fighters had already been cleared and Victor looked across at his opponent, a skinny unassuming man covered in tattoos with a crazy look in his eyes.
“And for our next match we have Crazy Pete, a house favorite in the right corner, versus a newcomer Nex in the left corner. Place your bets now!”
