dc with power of digimon

Chapter 7: Loot and Cleanup

Maroni struggled in Joshua's grip, his face twisted in rage and fear. Blood dripped from his busted lip, and his expensive suit was torn from the scuffle.

"You—You don't know who you're messing with," Maroni spat, his breath reeking of cheap cigars and desperation.

Joshua wasn't impressed.

"You're right," he said casually. "I don't care."

Then, he cocked his fist back and slammed it into Maroni's jaw.

CRACK!

Maroni's head snapped back as his body went limp. Joshua let him drop like a sack of garbage, the crime lord knocked out cold in the middle of his ruined operation.

The warehouse was his now.

---

Searching for the Score

Joshua took a deep breath, shaking the tension from his limbs. That fight had pushed him. His body ached, his knuckles were raw, but…

It was worth it.

The system pinged in his mind.

[Agumon Evolution Progress: 75% → 80%]

He grinned. Almost there.

But first—loot.

Joshua started searching the warehouse, moving through the dimly lit space with a predator's instinct. If Maroni was moving a shipment, there had to be cash somewhere.

And he was right.

Behind a stack of crates, he found a heavy duffel bag stuffed with cash. Thick bundles of hundred-dollar bills, neatly packed and untouched. Easily over $50,000.

Joshua whistled. "Damn, Maroni. You were gonna have a hell of a night."

He slung the bag over his shoulder. This money would go a long way. New gear, a safe hideout, maybe even some black-market weapons if he played his cards right.

But he wasn't done.

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Calling the Cops

Joshua scanned the bodies on the ground—half of Maroni's goons were either unconscious or too injured to move. He spotted a burner phone near one of them and picked it up.

He dialed Gotham PD.

"GCPD, what's your emergency?" a dispatcher's voice answered.

Joshua grinned. "Warehouse near the docks. Maroni's crew just got wiped. You'll find drugs, weapons, and a few guys who really need medical attention."

"Who is this?"

Joshua hung up.

He crushed the phone in his claws, tossing the broken pieces into a puddle of oil. No traces. No evidence.

He slung the duffel bag over his shoulder, taking one last look at the chaos he left behind.

The sound of distant sirens filled the night air.

Joshua smirked. Time to go.

---

End of Chapter 7

Chapter 8: The Detective and the Monster

Joshua's Side – A Moment of Rest

The neon glow of Gotham's streetlights flickered through the grimy motel window as Joshua stepped inside, duffel bag slung over his shoulder. The room was as rundown as he expected—stained walls, a flickering ceiling fan, and a bed that looked like it hadn't been washed in months.

Perfect.

Dropping the heavy bag onto the creaky mattress, he exhaled, feeling the weight of the night settle in his bones. His knuckles were sore from punching Maroni's men, and his ribs still ached from that brass-knuckle hit.

He checked the system one last time before resting.

[Agumon Evolution Progress: 80% → 85%]

So close.

Joshua smirked, tossing his jacket over a nearby chair before collapsing onto the bed. The adrenaline was fading, leaving behind an exhaustion that seeped into his muscles.

Maroni's operation was wrecked, and the police were probably swarming the place by now. He had cash, a place to lay low, and the satisfaction of a night well spent.

With that thought, he let sleep take him.

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GCPD Crime Scene – Gordon's Perspective

The warehouse was a battlefield.

Commissioner Jim Gordon stood amidst the wreckage, his eyes sweeping over the destruction. Spent shell casings littered the floor, bloodstains marked where men had fallen, and the unmistakable scent of something burnt lingered in the air.

It wasn't just gunpowder. Something else had burned here.

"Fifteen men, down," said a uniformed officer. "Most of them are still breathing, but they won't be walking anytime soon."

Gordon adjusted his glasses, stepping over a half-melted gun. Some of the enforcers had broken bones, others had burns—and then there were the claw marks.

Deep, jagged gashes cut through crates, bulletproof vests, even steel pipes. No human could've done this.

"Who called it in?" he asked.

A forensics officer held up a charred burner phone. "This. Male voice, no ID. The phone's fried."

Gordon frowned. Someone had wanted them to find this mess.

Bullock let out a low whistle as he surveyed the damage. "Gotta say, Jim, looks like someone's doing our job for us."

Gordon wasn't convinced.

If this had been Batman, the takedown would've been clean—no unnecessary injuries, no overkill. But this? This was primal. Savage. Almost like… a beast had done it.

Then, something caught his eye.

A hidden camera, partially covered by a stack of crates. Gordon gestured for one of the techs.

"Get that footage."

The technician nodded, carefully extracting the small black device. It was old but still active. Gordon had no idea who had set it up—Maroni, maybe? Or someone else keeping tabs on him?

A few minutes later, the footage loaded onto a small laptop.

And what they saw made Gordon's breath catch.

The video was grainy, but it clearly showed the fight. Maroni's men being taken apart by something… something small, fast, and deadly.

Then, the camera caught it clearly.

A creature.

Yellow scales, sharp claws, glowing reptilian eyes. A beast no bigger than a child, yet powerful enough to take down Gotham's most hardened criminals.

Gordon leaned closer. The creature—no, the thing—stood on two legs, almost like a miniature dinosaur. And it breathed fire.

This wasn't Batman. This wasn't even human.

Bullock let out a nervous chuckle. "Uh, Jim? You're seeing what I'm seeing, right?"

Gordon slowly nodded.

For years, Gotham had been home to freaks in masks, but this? This was something else.

Something… new.

And Gordon had no idea what the hell it meant.

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End of Chapter 8