Marvel’s Dark Knight

Crouching across from the heavily guarded building, Wayne could clearly see the criminals inside, patrolling with utmost vigilance.

The thugs stationed outside were meticulously inspecting every possible hiding spot, leaving no room for intruders.

Even the rooftop—normally an overlooked access point—had snipers stationed, their sights locked onto any sign of movement.

This level of coordination was far beyond what an ordinary gang could achieve.

Yet, uniting all of Hell's Kitchen into a fortress-like stronghold wasn't something any ordinary gang could easily pull off either.

For Wayne, getting into that building and obtaining the supplies he needed through normal means would be next to impossible.

But from the start, knocking politely on the front door was never part of his plan.

After all, isn't the night the perfect time for a bat to hunt?

"Everything clear?"

A voice crackled over the sniper's earpiece. Calmly, he responded, "Nothing. Not even a ghost."

"Stay sharp. If anything goes wrong, the boss will have our hides," the voice on the other end replied, though noticeably more relaxed.

"Yeah, yeah. Just stay in your cozy surveillance room and enjoy your damn burger," the sniper muttered, chewing on his gum before yanking off his earpiece.

Laughter erupted from the surveillance room.

"Hahaha."

"Bastard," the sniper grumbled, frustrated. He was out here in the elements while the other guy got to sit indoors stuffing his face.

But that was just how life worked—unfair as always.

Refocusing, he steadied his breathing and pressed his eye against the scope, scanning the area once again.

Then, a shadow flickered across his narrow field of view.

Instantly, he swept the scope back and forth, searching for the fleeting figure.

Nothing.

It was as if the shadow had never been there.

Frowning, the sniper pulled away from his scope and shook his head.

"Even the best snipers in the world see things sometimes," he muttered, chuckling softly.

A low, menacing voice spoke behind him.

"Sometimes, what you see isn't just an illusion."

A chilling wave of terror crashed over the sniper.

His body, warm just moments ago, now felt like it had been plunged into an icy abyss.

He couldn't tell whether the presence behind him was human… or something else.

"What… what are you?" he stammered, trying to engage in conversation—anything to buy himself time.

Wayne stood behind him, watching his subtle movements with an impassive gaze.

"A criminal," Wayne said simply.

Then, in one swift motion, he clamped a hand over the sniper's mouth and nose, forcefully slamming his head against the edge of the rooftop.

A dull thud.

No scream.

Only the sound of a body going limp.

The sniper was unconscious.

His vantage point had allowed him to oversee everything—but for Wayne, it was of little use.

What mattered was the skylight just behind him, offering a clear view into the top floor of the building.

Inside, a group of men laughed raucously, clinking glasses in celebration.

One of them had an arm draped around a stunning woman, his hands wandering freely over her curves.

Stacks of cash were piled on the coffee table in front of them, while a heavy-duty safe sat nearby, no doubt filled with even more money.

Wayne had found what he was looking for.

As for why these men left so much cash lying around, the reason was simple—

To drug dealers like them, money wasn't the most important thing.

Their product was.

But to Wayne, their product was something that needed to be destroyed.

And their cash?

That would serve as the foundation for his own operations.

Watching the debauchery unfold below, Wayne waited.

All he needed was the perfect moment—

A moment when they were completely off guard.

When the first act begins, the second is never far behind.

The man below took a deep breath of pleasure after inhaling the white powder before him, then leaned back into his sofa with satisfaction.

Beside him, a woman knelt down skillfully.

"Ahh~ Hahaha!! This is the life we should be living!!!" The man, clearly intoxicated by the illegal substance, laughed maniacally.

No one around him mocked him.

Because they all felt the same way.

"Spider-Man? Superheroes? Just a coward who doesn't dare to kill! Hahaha! Well, good thing the boss finally took him out."

A man holding a whiskey glass spoke calmly, utterly indifferent to the situation before him.

"If it weren't for those guys being such a nuisance, we would've been living our best lives long ago."

Perhaps the mention of Spider-Man ignited his anger, as one of the men suddenly yanked the woman beside him toward him.

Just as he lifted his head, expecting the woman to serve him, he noticed a figure silently watching them from the skylight above.

"What the hell are you looking at?"

The man reached for his gun, ready to make the intruder mind his own business.

But Wayne moved first.

He leaped high, and as his cape blocked the moonlight, a striking bat emblem became visible.

CRASH!!

The sound of shattering glass sent a shiver through those who had not yet fully indulged in their high.

Before anyone could react, Wayne had already thrown a Batarang, shattering the brightest light in the room.

What remained was a dim, flickering glow, casting an eerie ambiance over the space.

And with Wayne's descent, one thing was certain—this was not going to be a pleasant night for them.

The man under Wayne's grasp tried to speak tough, "Son of a—" but was swiftly met with a fist of iron.

One brutal punch later, and the man's future meals would likely have to be liquid.

His face was covered in crimson blood, with scattered teeth still glistening with fresh stains.

He looked like…

A dead dog?

Except for the one who was too high to care, everyone else instantly snapped to attention, drawing their guns and aiming at Wayne.

But before they could pull the trigger, Wayne had already fired his grappling gun.

The sharp hook pierced deep into one man's thigh.

"ARGHHH!!"

His scream had no effect on Wayne.

Without hesitation, Wayne used the man as a weapon, swinging him like a ragdoll to knock down the surrounding thugs.

With another pull of the trigger, Wayne yanked the man back toward him and sent him flying with a punch to the chest.

Giving them no time to react, Wayne was already upon another target in a blur of speed.

At that moment, speed and strength were on full display. With one arm wrapped around the thug, he executed a thunderous over-the-shoulder throw.

Under Wayne's power, the man crashed into a nearby sofa, shattering it to pieces.

Meanwhile, the still-high man continued to laugh like a lunatic, completely oblivious to the fact that everyone he knew was already out of commission.

He even waved Wayne over. "Come on, man! I love a good threesome."

Wayne's response was swift and brutal—fist after fist rained down on the man's face until it was beyond recognition.

But Wayne knew one thing for sure.

That man wasn't dead.

(End of Chapter)

Want to read the chapters in Advance? Join my Patreon

https://patreon.com/Glimmer09