Chapter 95
The deal was sealed. Bruce Wayne's hand was still in Orion's, a silent testament to their newfound alliance.
CRASH!
Without warning, the large window shattered inwards, glass exploding across the room in a deadly shower of glistening fragments.
WHOOSH!
A high-velocity projectile screamed through the room, a blur of dark metal aimed directly at Orion's chest. Time seemed to stretch, the world narrowing to a single, lethal point. Orion's instincts, sharpened by his training, seized control. He raised his hand, his palm open and facing the incoming threat. A faint blue glow of Aura flared around his hand, shimmering into existence like a shield of pure light. The bullet, a cold, hard instrument of death, struck the shimmering barrier.
SHATTER!
The Aura fractured, a delicate pane of glass meeting an immovable force, absorbing a fraction of the bullet's immense energy. The deflected round, still carrying a deadly momentum, grazed Orion's shoulder. The fabric of his pristine suit tore, a thin line of crimson blood immediately blossoming on the white material. The sound of the gunshot finally registered, a deafening CRACK that seemed to rip the very air.
Pikachu was instantly alert, its small body tensing. Sparks crackled ominously at its rosy cheeks as it zipped forward, placing itself protectively in front of Orion. Valeria and Franklin reacted with practiced speed, their young bodies tensing, ready for a fight they hadn't anticipated. Bruce Wayne, despite the chaos, did not flinch. His eyes, sharp and calculating, snapped to the shattered window, his mind already piecing together the trajectory, the angle, the impossible shot. He knew this kind of precision. The extreme distance, the surgical accuracy, the single, high-caliber round. It was a signature.
"A sniper," Bruce stated, his voice a low, gravelly rumble, cutting through the ringing silence. "Only one man would dare."
The room, moments ago filled with the quiet tension of negotiation, was now charged with the electric shock of a sudden, lethal threat. Orion clutched his injured shoulder, his gaze following Bruce's to the distant, dark skyline of Gotham, a chilling realization dawning in his eyes.
Bruce's mind raced, identifying the impossible shot. "Deadshot," he stated, his voice a low, gravelly rumble, cutting through the ringing silence. "Only one man would dare."
CRACK!
Another shot screamed through the air, narrowly missing Bruce's head.
WHOOSH!
Franklin reacted instantly, a shimmering blue barrier of cosmic energy materializing in front of them, deflecting the incoming bullet with a faint ping. Valeria quickly knelt beside Orion, her expression serious.
"Are you okay, Orion?" she asked, her voice laced with concern.
Orion touched his shoulder, a thin line of blood staining his suit. "I am fine," he replied, his gaze still fixed on the shattered window. "A flesh wound, no more."
"Everyone, take cover!" Bruce commanded, his eyes scanning the room for potential threats and escape routes. "We need to evacuate."
"I'm going after him!" Franklin declared, his hands glowing with power, ready to charge towards the shattered window.
Valeria grabbed his arm, pulling him back. "No, Franklin, we need to protect Orion."
"But I can stop him!" Franklin insisted, struggling against her grip.
Orion placed a reassuring hand on Franklin's shoulder. "It is alright, Franklin," he said softly. "Someone is already on the move."
Orion closed his eyes, his Aura extending outwards, a wave of unseen energy sweeping across the city. He sensed a familiar, agile presence, a determined heart moving with incredible speed towards Deadshot's position. He opened his eyes, a faint smile touching his lips. He looked towards the shattered window, seeing the faint outline of a figure swinging through the Gotham skyline.
"Batgirl," Orion murmured, a hint of admiration in his tone. "She is already there."
* * *
Deadshot moved with the silent, predatory grace of a phantom. The assassination attempt on Orion Oak was supposed to be clean, a quick job for a hefty sum, but the target had somehow twisted out of the bullet's path at the last second. He thought the shot was perfect, aimed right for the heart, yet the projectile had only grazed the shoulder. A miss was not in his repertoire, and it rankled him. He dropped to a lower rooftop, seeking a new vantage point, but a soft whoosh of air announced an unwelcome arrival.
WHOOSH!
He pivoted, his hand already moving for a wrist-mounted pistol, but a dark blur sailed past his face. It was a batarang. The weapon spun, sharp edges glinting under the distant city lights. Deadshot dodged, the batarang whistling inches from his ear before clattering against a chimney.
"Fancy seeing you here, Deadshot," a confident voice announced from the shadows. "Looks like you missed your mark."
Batgirl landed lightly on the rooftop, her purple and yellow suit a striking contrast against the dark Gotham skyline. She moved with an easy athleticism, her red hair catching the dim light. Deadshot narrowed his eyes behind his targeting monocle. He hated complications.
"Batgirl," Deadshot stated, his voice flat and devoid of emotion. "Always a pleasure to be interrupted."
"Sorry to crash your party," Batgirl quipped, her escrima sticks already in hand, crackling with a faint electrical charge. "But I think you owe someone an apology, and maybe a new window."
"Just doing my job," Deadshot replied, his hand moving to his rifle. "Nothing personal."
"Everything's personal when you're shooting at people in my city," Batgirl retorted, her stance shifting, ready for a confrontation.
Deadshot aimed his wrist-mounted firearm, firing a precise burst. Batgirl reacted with practiced ease, throwing herself into a somersault. The bullets pinged off the concrete where she had stood moments before. She countered, throwing a batarang that arced toward his head. Deadshot ducked, the projectile missing him by a hair before embedding itself in the brickwork behind him.
"You really should upgrade your aim, Deadshot," Batgirl called out, her voice echoing playfully across the rooftop. "That's two misses."
"I never miss," Deadshot replied, his tone chillingly calm. "I choose where the bullet lands."
He drew his sniper rifle, its scope glinting. Batgirl threw herself sideways, diving behind a large air conditioning unit. A bullet CRACKED through the metal, leaving a jagged hole. Deadshot shifted his position, moving with fluid, deadly precision, trying to flank her. Batgirl, however, was already anticipating his move. She launched herself over the unit, surprising him with a direct assault.
She swung an escrima stick, aiming for his head. Deadshot raised his rifle, blocking the blow with the weapon's reinforced barrel. The impact CLANGED loudly. He retaliated with a swift kick to her midsection. Batgirl absorbed the impact, twisting her body to reduce the force, but the blow still sent a jolt through her. She landed lightly, her cape fluttering behind her.
"Nice try," Batgirl said, adjusting her stance. "But I've had worse from a rogue Roomba."
Deadshot fired another round from his wrist cannon. Batgirl spun, deflecting the projectile with an escrima stick. Sparks flew as the bullet ricocheted harmlessly into the night sky. She then used the momentum to close the distance, launching a flurry of strikes. Deadshot met her with brutal efficiency, each movement economical and precise. Their battle became a dance of lethal grace across the grimy rooftop, neither gaining a decisive advantage.
Batgirl knew she needed to change her tactics. Deadshot was too skilled, too precise, for a straightforward brawl. Her escrima sticks might sting, but they weren't landing the knockout blow. She needed an edge, a distraction that would throw off his legendary aim.
"Alright, Deadshot," Batgirl called out, pulling a sleek red and white sphere from her utility belt. "Time for a little backup!"
She threw the Poké Ball with a practiced flick of her wrist.
WHOOSH!
A flash of red light erupted, and from it, Froakie materialized, landing silently on the grimy rooftop. The small blue frog Pokémon, with its white foam cloak, blinked once with its calm, half-lidded eyes, assessing the situation. Deadshot paused, his rifle lowering slightly as he stared at the unexpected creature. His targeting monocle zoomed in, trying to identify the anomaly.
"What in the world is that?" Deadshot muttered, a rare flicker of surprise crossing his usually impassive face.
"That, my friend, is your worst nightmare," Batgirl retorted, grinning. "Froakie, Quick Attack!"
FROAKIE!
The Bubble Frog Pokémon vanished in a blur of motion. Deadshot barely registered the movement before a sharp THUMP echoed across the rooftop. Froakie appeared behind him, having struck with incredible speed. Deadshot stumbled forward, a grunt of pain escaping him as he struggled to regain his balance. The impact was unexpected, jarring him from his focus. He hadn't seen it coming, and that alone was enough to make him wary.
"Now for the follow-up, Froakie! Water Gun!" Batgirl commanded, her voice sharp and clear.
Froakie, ever agile, launched itself into the air. A stream of compressed water burst from its mouth, aimed directly at Deadshot. He tried to raise his wrist-mounted firearm, but Froakie was already moving. The Pokémon twisted in mid-air, a silent, blue streak, easily dodging the retaliatory bullet that PINGED off the parapet. Batgirl had trained him well in the Batcave, honing his evasive maneuvers. The Water Gun struck Deadshot squarely in the chest.
SPLASH!
The force of the water blast sent him sliding backward, skidding across the damp concrete. He coughed, water dripping from his mask and uniform, his movements sluggish from the impact. The sudden soak had short-circuited his focus, his targeting system momentarily flickering. He was disoriented, caught off guard by the combination of speed and elemental force.
"My turn!" Batgirl declared, seizing the opening.
She vaulted over the air conditioning unit, her escrima sticks humming with energy. She delivered a precise, powerful spinning kick directly to Deadshot's head. The blow landed with a sickening CRACK. Deadshot's vision swam. He crumpled to the ground, his body collapsing with a heavy thud, utterly unconscious. His rifle clattered beside him, harmless now. Batgirl stood over him, breathing heavily, Froakie landing silently at her side.
"Looks like this marksman finally missed his shot," Batgirl quipped, a triumphant smile spreading across her face.
***
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