Fictional Conduit

Staying cooped up in that tiny apartment was starting to take its toll on Mason. The dim light of the computer screen, the constant crunch of data, the hours spent watching and waiting—it was all beginning to feel like a slow burn. He needed to stretch his legs, clear his head. Gotham's criminal underworld wasn't going to take down itself, after all. So, he decided it was time for a little excursion. 

He'd been preparing for this day, but now it felt real. There was something about stepping out into the night, fully geared up, that made it all sink in. 

Mason had put on a full black leather motorcycle kit, one that hugged his frame and allowed for quick movement. The armor was more than just for protection—it was part of the image. With the helmet snugly strapped on his head, he'd taken extra care to make it resemble Batman's iconic cowl. The sharp lines, the pointed ears, the subtle yet unmistakable aura of menace—he was practically wearing Gotham's night itself. 

He strapped two short crowbars to his waist, choosing them over traditional weapons because they were easy to wield, versatile, and utterly effective for what he had in mind. They also had a more personal connection to the raw, gritty nature of Gotham's streets—something Batman would have appreciated. No need for flashy gadgets or weapons that screamed "I'm a hero!"—this was about intimidation and efficiency.

He revved the engine of the sleek black motorcycle, the sound of the engine's growl almost like a growl of its own. Gotham had always been a city of shadows, and tonight, those shadows were going to get darker. 

With the engine's roar fading into the distance, Mason rode through the empty streets, his focus on the destination. His mind was already calculating the route he would take, the places he'd need to be. He had no time to waste. Gotham was filled with crime, corruption, and violence, but all of it was just part of a much larger machine. It was time to introduce a wrench into that machine. A wrench that would break the crime families apart, piece by piece.

He rode through Gotham's back alleys and narrow streets, the city alive with the hum of chaos beneath the surface. From a distance, Gotham looked like any other city at night, but Mason knew better. This was a city that thrived on fear, one where crime ruled the night and justice was nothing more than a rumor. He would change that. He wasn't here to be the traditional hero Gotham so desperately needed. No, he was here to make the criminals afraid again.

His first stop was a small, nondescript warehouse near the docks. It wasn't big, but it was a known spot for the Riley family's drug dealing. Word on the street was that the Rileys had been using it to launder their cash, running their operations with a mix of smuggling, extortion, and basic brutality. Mason had been watching it for a few days now. It was time to make his mark. 

He killed the engine a few blocks away, cutting the lights and letting the bike roll quietly into the shadows. From here, it was all on foot. He moved with purpose, the sound of his boots muffled by the wet pavement. His breathing was steady, his senses heightened by the newly acquired skills of Batman. This was his city now, and he wasn't going to let anyone forget it.

The warehouse was heavily guarded—two goons standing at the front, one more watching from a catwalk inside. Typical. Mason smiled beneath his helmet. It was almost too easy. He stayed in the shadows, watching for a few moments, waiting for the perfect moment to strike. The crowbars would do the job, but tonight, Mason wanted to make a statement. The Rileys needed to know that they weren't safe anymore. And Gotham's criminals needed to understand that the streets belonged to him now.

Without a sound, he moved, darting forward and closing the distance in mere seconds. One crowbar swung out, knocking out the first guard with a swift hit to the back of his head. The second guard never saw him coming—his own crowbar caught mid-swing, the guard's weapon falling uselessly to the ground. A quick strike and he was out cold.

Mason didn't even pause. He scaled the outside of the warehouse with a practiced ease, finding the lower level windows, breaking the lock with one swift motion, and slipping inside. His eyes quickly adjusted to the dim light as he surveyed the room. Several crates lined the walls, bags of what Mason knew were illegal substances stacked and stored in the corner. A couple of low-level criminals lingered by the back of the room, talking.

No. Not anymore. 

With a practiced movement, Mason silently made his way to the closest goon, and in one motion, he brought the crowbar down on the back of the man's neck. A sickening crack followed, and the man crumpled without a sound. The second was even easier. He tossed the crowbar with precision, knocking the gun out of the man's hand before landing a quick blow that left the criminal unconscious in seconds.

"Time to get to work," Mason muttered to himself as he turned toward the remaining crates. He wasn't here for a small victory. No, he was here to disrupt the entire system. 

He moved with the precision of a predator, tearing into the warehouse and leaving nothing untouched. He found the ledger with all the criminal dealings and the secret stash of guns that would make Gotham's underground tremble. But most importantly, Mason knew the true prize lay ahead—the key to bringing the Riley family to its knees.

"Truly, how can one be so stupid!" Mason laughed to himself while tucking the ledger book into his jacket.

Suddenly, he turned, his left hand already taking a pen lying on the table and set it flying behind him. A sickening sound of soft flesh being pierced echoed followed by a body hitting the ground, echoing all over the building. In a second, he was already on the body, taking his pistol, arming himself.

His sharp senses could already hear the others becoming alert and how they were immobilizing each other to search for what caused that sound. Mason nodded to himself, steeling himself as he knew what was going to happen then! He checked the gun, nodding to himself before connecting to his power and getting the abilities of Bullseye, one of the most dangerous assassins from Marvel with the ability to never miss! He felt the ability to be an aim bot get downloaded into his body and he smiled.

In a speed no human could follow, he sped to the closest people, swung his crowbar towards the first person's head, making it explode in a shower of gore. His two companion froze, their brains trying to comprehend what just happened but Mason did not stop, shooting twice in close succession, blowing both their brains out.

The other, now alerted by the gunshots, started converging on the location, not knowing they were moths to VERY big flame. They never knew what hit them, all they saw was a blur before carnage started. Like a sentient shadow, Mason moved fast, killing them with a chilling efficiency. By the time their flight or flight mode told them to flight, it was already too late, most were dead and only one of them was remaining, paralyzed by fear.

That was when he finally saw their assailant, when he threw aside two pieces of a corpse he had tore apart with his bare hands! All strength left him, making him fall to the blood soaked ground, his mind trying to comprehend was was happening. The human monster walked towards him, making his heart threaten to rip out of his chest and when it squatted in front of him, he soiled himself. There wasn't even a drop of blood on his pristine black clothes, a concept he couldn't comprehend!

"So, what shall we do with you?" it asked and he fainted almost instantly!