There was a big difference between knowing something logically and really seeing it.
I knew, logically, that uniting several gangs across Gotham meant I had thousands of people under the Union. But Lord almighty, that was a lot of fucking people.
The air was filled with music and chatter, the whole street practically vibrating as literal thousands of people walked around having a good time. With a few hefty bribes and some well-placed favors, we'd managed to secure event permits for the entire street. The surrounding roads and shops had all timed their grand openings with the event, every storefront filled to the brim with its own deals and attractions.
Carnival games, entertainers, and food stands had been contacted and commissioned for the event as well. A grand opening like never before. Even citizens with no connection to the Union were flocking to the festivities, curious to see what exactly was going on.
Iceberg Street was having an incredible first day.
The Iceberg Lounge itself had been suited up as a venue too, though a little more upscale than the chaos outside. Drinks flowed like water, with potion-mixed cocktails being passed around everywhere. Yet unlike the more casual street celebration, the Iceberg had a slightly different theme.
Cartoonishly exaggerated close-ups of the Joker crying. Painted hallways of the Joker running away in his briefs. Ice sculptures of the Joker desperately reaching for the sack.
Screens all over the lounge were playing the footage of the Joker and his grand loss. I didn't know exactly who, but Red Hood had an editor friend who had really gone balls to the wall with the humiliation. Somehow, there seemed to be a never-ending tide of new angles, captions, and memes making fun of the Joker.
It was a bit morbid to celebrate a man's cajones getting cut off.
But… well.
It was the Joker.
Plus, my membership was a bit more… brutish, to say the least.
"WOOOOO!"
I looked down from the balcony to see a motley crew of criminals of every type, all buddy-buddy and laughing as they replayed the clean cut on one of the screens.
Yeah.
This was Gotham, and criminals weren't exactly the sensitive type.
I chuckled as I stared out over everything—the crowds, the lights, the sheer amount of planning and effort that had gone into this.
[Feat Achieved! Successful Festival]
[+1 Bronze Gacha Ticket]
The Joker had been a symbol of madness and fear in this city for far too long.
Now his name was taking on a more fitting role.
I chuckled again as a small sense of vindication settled in my chest.
[Feat Achieved! Death to the Clown's Legend!]
[+1 Gold Gacha Ticket]
Nice to get confirmation at least.
I ripped the bronze one first.
[Rolling Bronze Gacha Ticket.]
[Dullahan's Deception]
|Uncommon Trait|
"Don't lose your head!" No, but seriously—don't. Your head is now capable of freely detaching from your neck and torso while still remaining connected in a higher dimension, meaning you can still eat, speak, and breathe. This also has the effect of making decapitation useless against you.
I felt a strange sensation along my neck.
That was… oddly niche.
But I'd take it.
[Rolling Gold Gacha Ticket]
[Reroll]
|Rare Ability|
"Lucky." When you roll this ability, whatever ticket you got it with is rolled twice and this ability is removed.
Oh shit.
That's a thing?
I heard a faint ding-ding sound, like you occasionally hear in casinos.
[Rolling Gold Gacha Tickets]
[Charming Smile]
|Common Trait|
Your smile is really charming, helping people feel more at ease and comfortable with you—or more attractive to your preferred partners.
Damn.
Not useless, but come on. For a gold ticket, I was hoping for something better.
[Lil' Simurgh]
|Elite Familiar|
Worm — Who shrunk down Simurgh? Who cares? Lil' Simurgh is a diet version of the Endbringer, around the size of a large dog with minor superhuman physical capabilities and exceptional durability. She possesses the ability to exert minor telekinesis and uses clairvoyance and psychic echolocation to gather data, processing it with incredible speed to calculate the future and the past to a much lesser extent than her full self. Unlike the real Simurgh, Lil' Simurgh does not draw energy from a Shard but instead from the user.
Holy fuck.
I take it back. I didn't even know what an Endbringer was, but that suite of powers sounded pretty damn good.
I willed the thing out of my inventory and was immediately greeted by the sight of a small angel.
Her body was a strange, almost surreal composition of wings. Feathered appendages sprouted in profusion across her form, placed asymmetrically and seemingly at random, many of them far too large for the tiny figure they surrounded. The wings were what you noticed first—layers upon layers of them, shifting softly as they moved. In comparison, the actual body at their center looked almost fragile.
She was barely larger than a doll, a waif-thin woman whose head only came up to my knees.
I bent down and gently ran a hand across the Simurgh's feathers. "Well, ain't you something."
A soft, melodic song slipped into my ears as her wings rustled beneath my touch. The sound carried a strange message with it, like a question being asked without words.
Hmm….
I gave the Simurgh a light pat on the head. "Go crazy, little fella. I'm gonna be a bit busy, so I can't really keep you company. Just do whatever you want to keep things running smoothly."
The Simurgh let out another quiet note before lifting into the air, her many wings carrying her deeper into the lounge.
Hmm. Most of my people had already gotten used to the gargoyles, so it would probably be fine.
I scratched my chin.
Was this a good idea?
Eh…. Fuck it.
People in Gotham were used to weird.
"Was that a fucking angel!?" Harvey's voice suddenly shouted from somewhere inside.
A moment later, he barged onto the balcony with a baffled look plastered across his face.
"What angel?" I asked, giving him the most innocent expression I could manage.
Harvey just rubbed his face and let out a long sigh. "Your speech is in ten minutes, I swear to God."
"Alright, I'm coming…"
—
Jason had to hold back a chuckle as he watched the fifth Joker edit Barbara had put together. This one had turned the crying Joker into a full vocal track, the clown's wails edited into an actual song. It was… honestly pretty well done.
He took a sip of his drink and leaned back into one of the couches. The second floor was noticeably quieter than the full-blown ruckus happening downstairs. It was filled mostly with private lounges and rooms that overlooked the main floor, the kind of place VIPs could relax while still enjoying the show from above.
And watching everyone collectively shit on the Joker from a full view was good fun in its own way.
Jason glanced down at some of his own guys laughing it up while feasting with a few other gang members. The sight was strangely heartening. Ignoring all their usual differences just to laugh at the Joker was apparently enough to get everyone buddy-buddy.
Jason had been worried that the whole thing might come crashing down.
But thankfully, the Joker's cronies had either scattered to search for the bastard or simply withered away. It was hard to respect a guy who had been beaten black and blue and left without any balls.
Jason had to hold in a snort at that thought.
Still, this wasn't the main show.
He couldn't wait for Bruce to get here.
They had already put the old man through the wringer over this whole thing, but that wasn't nearly enough. The ass thought it was over, but there was no way Jason was letting it go. He planned to keep joking about this for years, no matter how much Bruce groaned.
The door to his room clicked open behind him.
Jason turned his head. "Took you long enough—"
"There's the good stuff." The crotchety form of John Constantine had already locked onto the private bar Jean had set up.
Jason sighed. "Of course you're fucking here, John."
The raggedy magician froze mid-step and slowly turned, sending Jason a wan smile. "Well, if it isn't Hoodie Boy. Long time no see…"
"For damn good reasons," Jason replied.
John laughed awkwardly. "Haha, you wouldn't hold a grudge during a party, would you, mate?"
"Why're you even here, John?" Jason shot back. "It better be good, or I'm gonna kick your ass."
The bastard had the nerve to start rubbing his eyes like he was about to cry. "Ah, it's a tragic story, lass. You see, my doctor told me—"
Jason calmly unholstered his pistol.
"Jesus! Alright, alright!" John threw up his hands. "I just had a bit of a knacker for some booze after I got a taste of the good stuff the kid gave me."
"You swear?" Jason asked flatly. "No demons or angels you're dragging into the house?"
John blinked. "What do you take me for?"
"An asshole," Jason replied.
"Didn't have to be so blunt…" John muttered.
Jason clicked off the safety.
"Fine, fine! I swear!" John raised both hands higher. "I really am here for the booze. Was just gonna pop in and pop out with some. Not like you lot are gonna drink it all…"
John reached toward a silver chalice holding the Moscow Mule.
"Not that one," Jason said immediately.
"Prick…" John grumbled, but he acquiesced and grabbed a different drink from the bar.
"You don't need to worry about demons anyway, at least for a while," John added with a snort. "Those bastards know better than to step on the big honcho's toes when he's in town."
He took a sip before shrugging.
"Besides, you overestimate me, Hoodie Boy. I haven't dealt with those fellas upstairs in years."
Jason was about to ask who the hell this "big honcho" was when he suddenly froze.
A pair of white wings was floating above John's head.
"Whew… the good shit," John muttered, taking another drink. "Kid really knows how to—"
"John." Jason didn't move. He just stared as the tiny angel slowly drifted toward the bar.
"I told ya, Hoodie Boy, it's just a little… ya know… should really—" John continued sampling the bottles like he owned the place.
"JOHN!"
"What!" John spun around, irritated. "Can't a man just—"
He stopped.
"Ohhhh shit."
The tiny angel was now hovering almost face-to-face with him.
"Ughhhh… if this is about Gabriel, I just want to say—"
John's words were cut off as the angel suddenly grabbed him and launched out of the room with him in tow.
"Fucking Constantine…"
Jason bolted out after them. His eyes swept across the floor, searching for where the bastard had gone, but the area was absolute chaos. Lights flashed across the crowd while music blasted from the speakers, and with thousands of people packed into the venue, he quickly lost sight of both of them.
Shit.
He needed to find Jean before Constantine's bullshit ruined—
"EVERYBODY having a good time tonight!"
Jean's voice boomed across the street as he stepped onto the stage.
A roar of approval answered him from the crowd.
Too late.
From the second-floor balcony, Jason scanned the entire area, his eyes sweeping from top to bottom as he tried to spot where Constantine had gone.
"For too long we've been afraid of what?! This pathetic idiot?"
Jason listened with half an ear as Jean continued his speech.
Wait.
There.
What was that?
Shadowed figures clung near the roof above the stage, hidden between the upper lighting rigs. If not for the angle Jason happened to be standing at, it would have been nearly impossible to see them.
Jason's eyes widened.
He opened his mouth to shout a warning, but it was already too late.
One of the figures dropped.
The assassin descended straight toward the stage, the fall revealing a strange owl-shaped hood as he drew a sword.
Jason could only stare as the blade carved a clean slash through Jean's neck.
The crowd below gasped as one.
Yet almost immediately, with timing so perfect that Jason could hardly believe what he was seeing, he spotted the angel and John.
John Constantine was literally thrown at the assassin.
It happened so quickly, Jason almost missed it.
A violent burst of motion and color exploded as the two collided, and to Jason's complete bafflement, Jean's freshly severed head shot upward into the air.
The head flew up like a missile.
Impossibly, perfectly timed, it sailed directly beneath a spinning disco ball.
And despite being a severed head…
It screamed.
"FUCK THE JOKER! LET'S FUCKING PARTY!"
The stunned silence lasted barely a moment.
Then the crowd below absolutely lost their minds.
Cheers erupted. Drinks were raised. The entire lounge exploded into a new frenzy.
Jason just stared.
What the actual fuck…
***
Comments and Thoughts would be greatly appreciated. Likes are like a drug to me and boost my creative juices.
I have advanced chapters on my Pa tre on/daisyberry if you wanna read ahead.