Malphegor
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PIG V2 Ch. 35
🕑 Added 2026-01-08 02:26:39 +0000 UTCAll hell broke loose inside Wayne Tower.
Another window exploded outward. Crystal shards caught the firelight from below as they tumbled through the darkness. A body slumped against the window frame, head lolling at an unnatural angle, then slid backward into the darkness of the tower.
More windows shattered in rapid succession.
Muzzle flashes strobed behind the glass, illuminating the silhouettes of armed men firing wildly at something they couldn't see. Then those silhouettes would jerk, twist, and fall as something else moved through the darkness. Bodies came flying out of the tower. Some were tangled in rappelling lines or torn curtains, left dangling against the tower's exterior, swaying in the wind. Others weren't so lucky, they tumbled free, limbs flailing, mouths open in screams. The impacts when they hit the plaza were wet, meaty sounds that carried even over the noise of combat. Bones shattered. Skulls cracked open like eggs.
"Jesus Christ..." Darnell stared up at the tower, mouth hanging open. He'd stopped moving entirely, forgetting he was sitting in a vehicle in the middle of a firefight. "What the hell is happening up there?"
Marco spat rainwater mixed with cordite residue, eyes locked on the upper floors. "No idea. But someone's having a really bad night."
No sooner had he spoken than a ferocious engine roar thundered from afar, unlike any car he had ever heard. A jet-black war machine came tearing through the rain. Water and mud sprayed up as it smashed through the plaza's defensive barriers. The vehicle was massive and covered in armor plating that looked like it could shrug off anti-tank rounds. At almost the same moment, about twelve or fifteen floors up Wayne Tower, a dark figure stepped calmly to the edge of a shattered window. The figure wore some kind of helmet with pointed ears. For one heartbeat, the figure just stood there, cape whipping in the wind.
Then jumped.
His cape snapped open mid-fall, stretching like the wings of a giant bat and slowing his descent. The vehicle executed a powerslide. The rear end whipped around in a perfect drift, tires shrieking against pavement, bringing the vehicle around just as the dark figure dropped into the open cockpit. The canopy slid shut with a hydraulic hiss. Then the engine roared. Blue flames danced at the exhaust ports. The tires bit into the pavement, and the vehicle launched forward like it had been fired from a rail gun.
"The fucking Batmobile."
Marco couldn't take his eyes off it. The massive run-flat tires, the angular armor plating, the aggressive wedge-shaped nose... everything about it screamed violence. It wasn't a car. It was a weapon on wheels. He glanced at the E350 sitting next to him. Suddenly it looked like a minivan.
"Man," Darnell said. "How much you think something like that costs?"
"Don't even think about it. Even if you sold every—"
CLANG-CLANG-CLANG!
Bullets hammered the E350's armored side panels, and both men dropped instinctively, pressing themselves against the seats.
---
Across the plaza, Black Mask's remaining forces had spotted the Batmobile bearing down on them. One of the lieutenants screamed into his radio: "IT'S COMING RIGHT AT US! LIGHT IT UP! DESTROY THAT FUCKING CAR!"
Every gun in the convoy swiveled toward the oncoming vehicle. Assault rifles, submachine guns, a .50-cal machine gun someone had mounted on a pickup, all of them opened fire at once. Sparks flew off the Batmobile's armor. The bullets did exactly nothing. They didn't even leave scratches. The Batmobile didn't slow.
It just kept coming.
A Chevy Tahoe tried to block its path, the driver probably hoping the mass would at least slow it down. The Batmobile hit it doing sixty. The wedge-shaped ram on the front scooped under the Tahoe's bumper and lifted, flipping the three-ton SUV into the air. The Tahoe tumbled end-over-end, then crashed down behind the Batmobile. The fuel tank ruptured and ignited, adding another pillar of flame to the plaza's growing collection.
"HOLY SHIT!" someone yelled from the GCPD line. "DID YOU SEE THAT?"
Even some of Falcone's guys were cheering. A couple of Black Mask's own men, the ones who hadn't been totally brainwashed by whatever the hell Sionis was paying them, just stopped firing and stared.
But the Batmobile wasn't done. As it closed on the main body of Black Mask's convoy, panels slid open along both sides and the rear. Launch tubes extended.
THOOM. THOOM. THOOM.
A dozen canisters launched simultaneously, arcing through the air and landing in the densest concentrations of enemy forces. They detonated on impact and thick white smoke poured out in massive clouds. A multi-barreled rotary gun rose from the Batmobile's roof. It spun up with a whine that became a chainsaw roar as it opened fire.
BRRRRRRRRRRRT.
But the gun wasn't aimed at people. Tracer rounds stitched across the plaza, targeting every remaining light source. One by one, the last scattered sources of illumination died, plunging the entire area into smoke-filled darkness. Only the Batmobile's headlights remained, cutting through the haze, there one second and gone the next as the vehicle moved through the chaos.
"I can't see! Fuck, I can't see!"
"It's tear gas! Cover your... cough... cover your faces!"
"My eyes! My eyes are on fire!"
"Stop shooting! You're hitting our own people! STOP—"
Black Mask's formation disintegrated. Fear, magnified by darkness and chemical irritants, turned trained fighters into panicked animals. They fired blindly into the smoke, muzzle flashes giving away their positions. Return fire came from other Black Mask thugs who couldn't see who they were shooting at. The screaming got worse.
The GCPD and Falcone's people, by contrast, hunkered down and let the chaos play out. Some of the smarter cops pulled gas masks from their trunks. Falcone's enforcers just backed up to safer positions and watched the show.
Gordon's voice came over the radio: "All units, hold position. Let them tear each other apart. Prepare to move in for arrests when the smoke clears."
Marco pulled a gas mask from the E350's equipment locker and tossed it to Anna. "Think we're good for tonight?"
"Looks like it," Anna said, pulling the mask on. "Batman just did our job for us."
"Wouldn't go that far." Marco scanned the smoke. "Stay sharp. Prep for cleanup and arrests once this—"
"Wait." Darnell grabbed his shoulder, pointing into the distance. "What the fuck is that?"
"What are you talking about?" Marco followed his finger. "The Batmobile's still in the—"
Then he saw it.
On the roof of a two-story office building about fifty meters away, a box truck was rising into view. Like something was lifting it. The truck tilted backward, rear wheels leaving the roof, suspended at a forty-five-degree angle.
Then it launched.
Someone had thrown a two-ton box truck like it was a softball.
"LOOK OUT!" he shouted, though he knew Batman couldn't hear him.
The truck tumbled through the air, spinning end-over-end as it came down. The Batmobile's brakes locked with a shriek, the vehicle whipping into a ninety-degree skid, narrowly avoiding the collision. The entire frame crumpling on itself like a crushed soda can. The force of the impact turned the truck into shrapnel. Three of Black Mask's thugs who'd been hiding nearby turned into red mist.
The plaza went silent. Everyone stopped and stared at where the truck had landed. Heavy footsteps echoed in the darkness. Two massive shapes emerged from behind the office building.
They were giants. There was no other word for them.
Each one stood at least five meters tall, maybe closer to six. Their bodies were grotesquely oversized, covered in bulging muscle that looked more like tumor growth than normal human anatomy. Their skin was covered in thick, coarse hair, and their faces. Their faces looked almost human, but stretched and distorted like reflections in a funhouse mirror.
One of them was carrying the rear axle of another truck in one hand.
"What the fuck are those things?" Darnell's voice was very small.
"I don't know." Marco checked his weapons by feel, not taking his eyes off the giants. "But I'm pretty sure we're gonna need bigger guns."
"How tall do you think they are? Five meters?"
"At least. Maybe more." Marco glanced at the others in the vehicle. "Anybody bring anything that'll work on something that size?"
Silence.
"Yeah," he muttered. "That's what I thought."
