Malphegor
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PIG V2 Ch. 37
🕑 Added 2026-01-09 01:17:44 +0000 UTC"Alfred. Vehicle damage assessment."
Batman's voice was calm, too calm for someone who'd just been thrown through the air in an armored car.
"The propulsion system remains functional, sir. However, you'll need to flip the vehicle upright first."
"No time. Detaching grapnel projector in five seconds."
SNAP.
An alloy grappling hook shot out, trailing a high-tensile steel cable. It slammed into the roof of a nearby SUV. The winch engaged, and Batman's body was yanked forward, pulling him clear just as the remaining giant's fist came down where he'd been standing. The impact left another crater in the pavement.
Batman hit the SUV's roof in a roll, came up in a crouch, and his right hand flicked, the grapnel retracted. In the same motion, his leg whipped out, catching a Black Mask thug who'd been raising an assault rifle. The kick connected with the side of the guy's head with enough force to drop him instantly. Then Batman was airborne again, cape spreading as he dove off the vehicle. Mid-fall, he pulled two cylindrical devices from his belt and hurled them at a figure not far away. The target was easy to spot: a muscular guy in what looked like a modified stun-suit, holding some kind of electrified baton over his head. It was the Electrocutioner.
Batman hit the ground in a roll and sprinted toward the overturned Batmobile without looking back.
BOOM. BOOM.
The grenades detonated. A pale blue, semi-transparent ring of ultra-cold mist expanded outward at high speed, and the air itself seemed to crystallize. Ice crystals formed in midair. The Electrocutioner's upper body and the power pack strapped to his back were instantly coated in white frost. The layer of ice thickened rapidly, hardening into a milky shell that encased him like a statue. The crackling electricity cut off abruptly, sparks dying as the circuits froze.
For a moment, he just stood there, frozen mid-swing.
Then the ice cracked and the shell shattered. Black fissures spread across the surface, and he toppled over stiffly, hitting the pavement.
"That's it?" Darnell stared, mouth hanging open. "He's just... done? Back in Blackgate..."
"Batman doesn't fuck around," Marco said, watching the dark figure move. "And he's got better toys than we do."
Batman had already reached the overturned Batmobile. He vaulted onto the exposed undercarriage, pulled a launcher from a deployed side panel and aimed it at the remaining giant, which was lumbering toward.
THOOM. THOOM. THOOM. THOOM. THOOM.
Five metallic canisters launched in rapid succession, arcing through the air and detonating against the giant's body one after another. Each impact released more of that pale blue mist, and within seconds, massive formations of ice began spreading across the creature's form. The giant roared and tried to keep moving. But its left leg, which had taken a direct hit, was encased in ice up to the knee. The frozen limb locked to the ground like it had been set in concrete. Ice spread like a plague up its torso, covering more than half its body in a shell of frost that thickened with every passing second. The giant's movements became sluggish. It swung its arms, trying to smash the ice away, but the cold had sapped its strength. Each movement was slower than the last.
Batman didn't give it time to recover. Another grappling hook shot out, slamming into the giant's collarbone. The winch pulled, and he flew through the air, cape spread wide, landing on the creature's shoulder in a crouch. He pulled a bundle of small devices from his belt and jammed them into the back of the giant's neck, right at the base of the skull.
Then he jumped.
The cape caught air, and he glided away from the giant just as the charges detonated.
Boom!
The giant's head exploded. The body swayed for a moment, then collapsed. Batman landed lightly as the explosion erupted behind him, cape settling around his shoulders.
Marco whistled low. "And that's how you close a case."
"Told you," Darnell muttered. "We're gonna need bigger guns if we want to keep up with that."
"Forget bigger guns. We're gonna need a bigger budget." Marco grabbed his shotgun from the rack and checked the chamber. "Anna, you're on rifle cover. Darnell, keep the vehicle up front. We're moving in."
He keyed his radio: "All units, begin forward sweep. Engage any hostile who hasn't dropped their weapon. Remember your rules of engagement, if they're armed and haven't surrendered, you're clear to fire."
The remaining GCPD line began advancing slowly, officers shouting warnings as they moved through the smoke and wreckage. Black Mask's forces were in complete disarray now. Some were gasping for air, still recovering from tear gas exposure. Others were screaming, trying to flee or surrender. A few tried to resist, but without leadership or coordination, they were just firing wildly.
Marco saw a thug raise a pistol from behind a wrecked car and didn't hesitate. The shotgun boomed, and the guy went flying backward, chest torn open. He wanted to put another round into the Electrocutioner, but Gordon's people got there first. And judging by how completely limp the guy was when they checked him, he wasn't getting back up.
"Yes, sir!" Anna's voice was shaky, but she had her rifle up and was scanning for targets.
Marco glanced at her. Earlier, when she'd fired her first shots, she'd been almost excited. But now, as they got closer to the bodies, her face was getting paler. Her hands trembled slightly on the rifle.
"You good?" Marco asked.
"I'm... yeah. I'm good." She didn't sound good.
"You puke, you puke. Nobody's judging. Just don't do it on me."
By now, most of Black Mask's surviving thugs had given up. Some raised their hands in surrender. Others took advantage of the dying flares to bolt into the darkness, disappearing into Gotham's endless shadows. Ambulances and coroner vans that had been staged at a safe distance began rolling in, sirens wailing. Though a lot of the bodies wouldn't be going into body bags, they'd need shovels for cleanup.
"Look at this thing," Darnell said, stopping the E350 near the frozen giant's corpse.
The creature's feet were still frozen to the pavement. Everything from the knees up had broken off and toppled over, the entire body covered in a layer of frost. Its neck was a ragged stump. The wound looked frozen over.
"Did its head really just... explode?"
"Look at that," Marco said, pointing with his flashlight at a nearby lump of frozen matter. It looked like caviar, if caviar was the size of softballs and blackish-green.
"Urk..."
Anna finally lost the battle. She grabbed the roadside railing and vomited, her whole body heaving.
"You should count yourselves lucky," Marco continued, apparently immune to the horror. "This thing's probably not built like a human. If it was, with a brain that size exploding everywhere, the smell would've cleared out everyone in Wayne Tower."
"Ugh..."
Darnell yanked open the driver's door and joined Anna, doubling over as his own stomach rebelled.
"Hey, Marco."
Marco turned to find Gordon hurrying over. The detective's suit was soaked, covered in mud and what was probably blood, and he had a cut over one eyebrow that was still bleeding.
"Is that your anti-materiel rifle that took down the first giant?"
"What about it?"
"Good work." Gordon nodded, then his expression turned serious. "But you know the department isn't supposed to have weapons like that. Especially not..." He gestured at the carnage around them. "Especially not after something like this goes public."
He pointed toward Wayne Tower. A crowd of people holding emergency lights were streaming out of the building, screaming and cursing. The same dignitaries and VIPs who'd been inside for the gala, now looking significantly less dignified.
"Just don't let Barnes find out. I'm worried he'll make trouble."
"Who cares? Worst case we just..." Marco stopped himself, seeing Gordon's expression darken. He laughed. "I'm kidding. I'll be careful."
"Right now I'm more worried about the new commissioner than I am about you," Gordon said, but his tone suggested he was lying. He gave Marco a hard look. "Don't do anything stupid. If something happens, call me first. Don't act on impulse."
"Don't act on impulse," Marco muttered as Gordon walked away, the detective still turning back every few steps to give him warning looks. "Easy for you to say."
He looked down at the puddle of water at his feet, murky with blood and other fluids he didn't want to identify.
"Go tell that to the people who are already dead," he said quietly.
He patted Darnell and Anna on their backs. "Stop puking. This might be us someday. Has anyone seen Otis?"
"I think..." Anna wiped her mouth, still looking green. "I think he went that way." She pointed toward the tree-lined avenue at the plaza's edge. "But I wasn't really paying attention."
"Get back in the vehicle and be ready to roll. I'll grab him and we're leaving. Get out of these wet clothes before we all catch pneumonia."
Marco vaulted over the railing and headed deeper into the avenue, away from the lights and chaos. After about forty meters, he spotted Otis squatting on the ground with his back turned, shoulders shaking.
Marco's hand instinctively went to his pistol.
"Hey! Otis, you okay buddy?"
"I... I..." Otis raised a hand to wipe his face and turned to look at him.
Marco relaxed slightly. If he could still talk, he probably wasn't turning into anything.
He walked closer and saw what Otis was looking at: a large rat lying on the ground, covered in burns and wounds. The fur was singed away in places, revealing blackened skin underneath.
"Bastien?"
He reached out and touched it. The body was cold and stiff.
"It... it was burned. But... but the others... they helped it come back to find me... and then... then it died..."
Otis squatted there, sobbing uncontrollably. Marco looked toward the nearby storm drain opening. Several pairs of small, green eyes glowed in the darkness. He sighed. He bent down and squatted in the rain next to Otis for a long moment, not saying anything. Sometimes there wasn't anything to say.
Finally, he took off his jacket and wrapped Bastien's body in it.
"Come on," he said, putting a hand on Otis' shoulder. "I'll put in for a commendation. We'll give him a proper burial. He earned it."
