Walking down one of the dimly lit streets of Gotham City, Killian took in the sights and sounds of the local nightlife. And in this city, that meant listening to the sound of prostitutes plying their trade in nearby back alleys. Cries for help from desperate souls. Seeing a mugging or two. In short, it seemed like a haven for criminal activity.
'I should be about there…'
Killian wasn't just out to sight see. He needed clothing and some form of transportation. And while he could steal those things, he now had a few thousand dollars burning a hole in his pocket. With that in mind, he was now headed to the nearest part of the city that had places open at 2:30 in the morning. He was headed towards Gotham's East End.
'This should be it.'
The entirety of Gotham's East End was basically just one big red-light district, meaning it wasn't hard to spot. Neon lights were everywhere. Strip clubs and adult themed shops lined both sides of street, while prostitutes called out to passersby. Keeping his head down, Killian walked until he came across what appeared to be a motorcycle enthusiast's wet dream.
"Well now… this is more like it!"
'Way better than some stuffy lab.'
---
Walking into a two-story building filled with dozens of bikes from all around the world, Killian found himself thinking about his first life. He had been born into a poor family, but fortunately for him, he had a good head on his shoulders. And it just so happened that he had a strong passion for machines.
Killian would drive his parents' crazy by taking appliances apart, then putting them back together to see how they worked. Though… his curiosity wasn't always a good thing. His father literally tried to kill him when Killian took his old Harley-Davidson Softail apart. Nothing unusual when one considered his father's personality. Hell… it was hardly the worst thing the man had done.
His father was a drunkard. An abusive one, at that. And the abuse only got worse the older Killian became. In the end, Killian had enough of it. He graduated early, leaving home soon after. After pursuing an education, he went on to become an extremely skilled and highly sought-after mechanical engineer. Years went by, and he'd made a career of it.
Even after all that time, however, the irony wasn't lost on Killian that his career wouldn't have happened if he hadn't taken apart that shitty old bike. He even attended the estate sale for his father's belongings when the old bastard died.
The only thing he wanted was that old Harley. In truth… he had planned on blowing it up. One last "fuck you" to his father. But… he was no longer a child. He realized that destroying something his father loved wouldn't really give him any peace. So, he decided to repair it instead. In doing so, Killian hoped to fix what was broken inside of himself, as well.
After doing so, Killian immersed himself in a sub-culture that few people outside of said sub-culture understood. Riding that old bike had brought him a lot of joy. In fact, it was the last time he remembered being genuinely happy. Affording him a sense of freedom he hadn't had since. Not even in the MCU.
---
'Hm… something's not right.'
After stepping foot into the shop, Killian immediately noticed that several things were amiss. Firstly, the door was unlocked, and the lights were on… but it was quiet. Unnaturally so. After looking around, he saw why. There was no one around. No employees. No customers. Secondly, there was a metallic scent hanging in the air. The smell of blood.
Not liking the situation at all, Killian slowly backed up toward the entryway, while keeping his eyes open for trouble. Before he could reach the door, however, multiple gunshots rang out from the second floor. Having been shot twice in the chest, Killian staggered. Falling back on the floor, he heard a rough voice call out.
"Goddammit Billy… I told you to lock the fuckin' door! I swear to GOD, if you weren't my brother…"
Looking up, he saw three men bickering from the shops second story balcony. The angle of the impact had caught him a bit off guard, but the bullets themselves hadn't managed to make it through his muscle tissue. Sighing, Killian slowly got up and brushed the bullets off him, his chest bleeding slightly from where the bullets had pierced his skin.
Luckily, his assailants had only used normal bullets. He was durable, but he wasn't bulletproof. Not entirely, anyway. If they had used something like armor piercing rounds, it would have caused a lot more damage. And if such a round were to hit him in the head… it could even kill him. A cold smile crossing his lips, Killian spoke to his attackers.
"Yeah Billy… you really should have locked that door."
---
Standing on the second floor, Killian peered down at the three corpses at his feet. Once he reached his attackers, it took him five seconds to end things. Shaking his head, he decided to thoroughly search the shop. And… just in case there were any other surprises, he locked the "fuckin' door". Once he was back downstairs, he sighed.
"I should have killed them slower."
As he was searching, he came across two more dead bodies. One elderly man and a young woman, each with a single gunshot wound to the head. They had each been bound and their bodies showed clear signs of torture. Additionally, the woman's clothes were torn in certain places. It didn't take a genius to figure out what happened here. Especially once he noticed the open safe on the nearby wall.
'Judging by the fact that both bodies have signs of torture… they were after the safe code.'
Turning his attention towards the woman's body, Killian concluded.
'Then, instead of simply taking what they came for… they took turns with the woman.'
Determining that no one else was here, Killian walked back to the second floor. This floor had a wide range of apparel and gear for bikers. He still needed clothes, and these would do for the time being. Stripping out of the clothes he was wearing, Killian picked out a pair of blue jeans from a nearby rack and put them on.
'A bit tight in the crotch.'
Killian let out a low chuckle at that thought.
'Well… at least I lucked out in that department this time around.'
Searching the other nearby racks, Killian found another pair of pants that fit him better. He then searched through the shirts and jackets. He chose a grey t-shirt with the words "Live to Ride" stamped across it. He paired it with a dark-brown, zip-up leather jacket. He then grabbed a pair of boots that matched the color of his new jacket.
After he was done, he chose five pairs of alternative clothes, and another jacket from the racks. Grabbing a waterproof motorcycle backpack, Killian skillfully folded, then rolled each article of clothing into a tight bundle, allowing him to fit them all into the pack. Lastly, he grabbed a third jacket that was to his liking, a gloss-black helmet, and a pair of thin black leather gloves.
Killian walked over to his assailants, then after putting on the gloves, rifled through their clothing. Not finding anything of note, he looked around. Spotting a large duffle bag, he quickly walked towards it. Bending down, he looked inside.
'About fifty thousand in cash and… diamonds?'
Killian looked back at his former attackers.
'Did they rob a jeweler before coming here?'
"No… that can't be right. That would require a level of professionalism those three lacked."
Thinking of the body's downstairs, Killian came up with another conclusion.
'Motorcycle shops don't deal in loose diamonds. It's possible that they could have been payment from criminal clientele… or maybe they were being stored here by an outside party.'
"Sigh."
'Not that any of that matters now.'
Taking a deep breath, Killian reminded himself that it wasn't his job to figure it all out. Finding a stack of title papers in the bag, which is what Killian had been looking for, he flipped his way through them. It would allow him to legally purchase one of the bikes downstairs. It would take a bit of effort of course, but it would prove worth it in the end. Less questions all around and all that.
Roughly one hour later, Killian had done all the necessary paperwork to prove that the bike he chose was his. All that was left was to register his new ride with the proper authorities. That could wait, however… mainly because even after all these months here, Killian still didn't know this body's identity. He had used his own name for the title, but that wouldn't work for every situation.
"One problem at a time."
'I doubt anyone in this world knows the name Aldrich Killian anyway.'
Removing the appropriate set of keys from a wall hook, Killian gathered his new belongings and the duffle bag full that had belonged to his assailants, he opened the shops rear loading door. After making a brief phone call to the police to report the shop workers' murders, he started the engine to his new 1990 Model, Cherry-Red Harley-Davidson Fat Boy. Riding it out of the shop and through the adjoining alley, Killian contemplated his next move.
'Well… getting shot aside, I got what I came here for. Now I need a place to stay.'
Passing through Gotham's east end, Killian felt himself getting hungry.
'I could really use a steak… and a beer.'
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