"You're saying you found Batman… inside this plain-looking van on the side of the road?"
"Uh, yeah. That's right."
"And then you thought he was fake, tried to rob him, and Batman's arm turned into a wheel and knocked you out?"
"Exactly."
"Ha!"
"Cousin, I know it sounds ridiculous, but—"
"Shut up! You've been watching too many videos. If there's actually a Batman in that van, I'll eat this crowbar on the spot!"
"Don't go, cousin! There really is a Batman in there!"
Knock, knock, knock!
The cousin rapped on the van's door three times—just before it swung open by itself.
The thugs watched in stunned silence as Batman stepped out, locked the door behind him, and in a blur the "ordinary van" transformed into a bizarre, armored Bat off-roader. The tires spun, kicking up dust, and in the blink of an eye the vehicle was gone.
A gust of wind swept through, leaving only the group of small-time crooks standing there, completely dumbfounded.
After a long silence, one of them finally muttered dreamily,
"Holy f***… I just saw Jesus Christ and the devil at the same time… All these years I thought Batman drove the Batmobile—
but turns out, Batman is the Batmobile!"
---
Meanwhile, back on the battlefield—
Whether from the front or the side, the Tattooed Man's aura had reached its peak.
Sensual tattoos, a confident stare — he radiated the air of a "master fighter."
Even Deadshot began to doubt himself. Could he have underestimated this guy?
But no matter how he looked, the man's steps were loose, his movements soft. Sure, he was muscular, but his posture screamed "airhead." He didn't have the menace of Livewire, nor even the discipline of Captain Javelin, who was at least an Olympic-level athlete.
Could someone like this really be hiding terrifying power?
The Tattooed Man took off his shirt, revealing a chaotic mess of tattoos — animals, monsters, symbols, all mixed together.
At that moment, he looked like a low-level gangster.
But the tattoos on his back began to writhe like living creatures — and no one could ignore that.
Bane stopped what he was doing.
He tossed the half-dead Killer Croc aside like a ragdoll and tensed his entire body.
Cheshire Cat had returned. Thanks to her flexibility and perfect landing form, she wasn't mortally wounded — just a little bruised and dusty.
She crouched low, trying to recover her stamina as fast as she could.
Gurgle, gurgle, gurgle...
It sounded like something crawling out of a swamp. Bane's expression hardened.
The Tattooed Man's face twisted in pain — and then, before everyone's eyes, the tiger tattoo on his body began to twist, stretch, and peel away from his skin!
He was… a metahuman!
Deadshot's eyes widened.
A real Bengal tiger emerged — fur shimmering, fangs gleaming. It was like something out of a fantasy novel!
Bane dropped into a defensive stance.
The tiger charged!
It leaped!
It roared—
CRACK!
Bane slid low like a soccer player — and kicked.
The tiger flew through the air, bones snapping like twigs, crashing into a wall like a kicked puppy.
Uh…
Never mind. The Tattooed Man summoned a mammoth next!
Incredible!
BOOM!
The several-ton beast was flipped over in seconds. Bane pounded its skull until it caved in.
The Tattooed Man summoned a pack of wolves!
All wiped out.
He summoned a gorilla!
Met the same fate as Livewire.
He kept summoning—
"Damn it! Time for my ultimate move!"
Face pale, the Tattooed Man turned to Deadshot.
"Buy me some time!"
Deadshot immediately nodded. Sure, the summons hadn't helped much, but the fact that this guy was a metahuman gave him hope.
"I can stall this monster for about 30 seconds," Cheshire Cat said, her cool voice like moonlight over the battlefield. "As long as I don't fight him head-on."
"With my interference, we can push it to a full minute," Deadshot added.
"And I only need twenty seconds," said the Tattooed Man, trembling as a massive Western dragon tattoo writhed and tore free from his chest.
Deadshot's confidence surged.
BOOM!
Bane's fist slammed into the ground, splitting the reinforced concrete like spiderwebs.
Cheshire Cat flipped away, her acrobatics so perfect even Olympic gymnasts would've cried — but the flying debris still grazed her, making her heart skip.
"Cheshire, does your jellyfish venom work on him?"
She frowned under her mask.
"I don't have any jellyfish venom. And poison doesn't really fit with, you know, cats."
"Huh?"
Chen Tao was stunned. In his memory, Cheshire Cat's poison was supposed to be her signature trait.
But he didn't have time to argue — Bane was already charging at the Tattooed Man.
"Open fire!"
Deadshot rolled, firing nonstop.
"F***! I knew this job wasn't worth it!"
He shouted, "Where's the Ventriloquist?! That damn old man — stop hiding and help!"
Bane was enraged by the constant bullets flying toward his eyes.
A chunk of wrecked car spun through the air like a throwing card — Deadshot screamed and ducked, sprinting for cover.
Finally, the Tattooed Man finished charging!
A black-scaled Western dragon burst out of his chest!
Good lord — a real fantasy creature, with hideous wings, gleaming scales, and flames spewing from its mouth!
Deadshot's eyes filled with tears. At last—
Wait.
Why was the dragon… the size of a dog?
"Woof!"
It plopped down on the ground, panting happily like a puppy, tongue out, making cute rumbling noises.
"???"
"Are you kidding me?!"
"I—I don't know what happened!" the Tattooed Man stammered, sweating bullets. "It's my first time tattooing something like—"
Before he could finish, Bane stomped down.
The little fire dragon exploded into a puddle of gore.
"…We're screwed."
Deadshot's heart sank.
He turned and ran without hesitation. There was no chance of victory now.
In the corner of his eye, he saw the Tattooed Man take a punch so hard his limbs twisted like a rag doll — completely done for.
Killer Croc lay bleeding out, limp as a dead dog. No saving him.
Cheshire Cat darted around desperately, but her death was only a matter of seconds.
"Deadshot, you need to save your teammates! Cheshire and Killer Croc will lose consciousness soon, you have to—"
Deadshot said nothing.
He dropped his submachine guns, rocket launcher, and backpack full of ammo — anything that could slow him down — and bolted.
He knew it. Running meant abandoning his team, guaranteeing Cheshire and Croc's deaths. The brand-new Suicide Squad would be wiped out here — a failure the people behind this mission would never accept.
Maybe they'd retaliate. Maybe his reputation would tank. Maybe he'd face all kinds of consequences.
But all of that was still better than dying right now.
"Just hold on!"
Through the earpiece, he heard rushing wind — his employer's voice trembling with speed.
"Hold on for one more minute! In one minute… reinforcements will arrive!"
Deadshot laughed bitterly.
"Bullshit!" His voice was shaking without him realizing it.
He looked at the musclebound monster tossing car wrecks around like toys.
"What kind of reinforcements could handle a freak like this? In Gotham City, who could possibly stand up to a monster like that?"
He paused — and the words came out like a whisper.
"...Batman?"