"Is that even humanly possible?"
The security guard at GoldHeart Hotel trembled as he watched a man vanish before his eyes.
In Gotham, monsters lurk around every corner, and you never know when you'll run into someone truly ruthless. Even the Penguin's men hesitated as they witnessed Martin disappear into thin air.
"What are you fools waiting for?" Big Mike, donning a Santa hat, barked from behind the door. He waved a pistol and urged his men. "Even Batman fears bullets! Shoot!"
He wasn't wrong. Even the world's finest martial artists couldn't outrun a bullet. But Martin didn't need to be faster than bullets—just faster than the man pulling the trigger.
With explosive agility, he weaved through the elaborate flower arrangements at the hotel's entrance, making himself a difficult target. The security guards, clearly lacking coordination, trailed his movements, shifting their guns haphazardly in pursuit.
By the time they locked onto him, it was too late.
Martin lunged, delivering a devastating kick to the nearest guard, instantly shattering his ribs. Blood spurted from his mouth as he crashed into two others, sending them tumbling into the hotel lobby. Martin grabbed the rifle from another guard, yanked it away, and struck him with the stock, knocking him out cold.
Using the rifle like a club, Martin struck at wrists, knees, and heads. The guards struggled to react. He moved too fast, always keeping one of them between himself and the rest, forcing them to hesitate. Within moments, they all lay groaning on the ground, clutching their injuries.
"What the hell?! This is insane!"
Big Mike, peeking from the door, nearly lost his hat as he watched over a dozen men fall in under three minutes. He cursed under his breath. "Another one of those freak fuckers?! What is wrong with this city?"
Knowing he was out of his league, Big Mike turned and ran to inform the boss. This was far beyond something a small-time thug like him could handle.
Martin stepped over the defeated guards, his boots clicking against the polished marble floor as he entered the hotel lobby. Though the space appeared empty, he could sense unseen eyes watching him.
Without hesitation, he raised his rifle and fired into the ceiling.
The crystal chandelier shattered, sending a storm of glass shards raining down. The destruction rippled outward—portraits were shredded, antiques toppled, and fine furniture was ruined. In mere moments, the opulent lobby became a wasteland.
Only Martin remained unscathed at its center.
His voice rang through the devastated hall. "I'll only say this once: Bring me Penguin now or you'll regret it."
Silence.
A minute passed. No one moved.
Martin scowled, discarding the rifle. "Fine. I'll drag you out myself."
Before he could act, a panicked voice rang out. "Wait! I'm just here for fun—I have nothing to do with the Penguin!"
Martin yanked a suited man from behind the counter. His expensive outfit was in tatters, and he scrambled to explain himself.
"Sure," Martin said, unimpressed. "But showing up at GoldHeart Hotel to 'play' at 8 AM? That tells me you don't live off honest work." He sneered. "Tough luck."
He was considering breaking the man's arm or leg to make a statement when hurried footsteps interrupted him. High heels clacked loudly against the stairs as a woman rushed down.
"Master Martin, please! Show mercy!"
It was Candy, Penguin's secretary—the same woman Martin had tracked on the ship the night before. He was mildly surprised she'd evaded Batman.
"I came for Penguin, not some secretary throwing around fake authority." Martin crossed his arms, his tone dripping with disdain. "Unless you're suddenly running things?"
Candy, unfazed by the insult, responded calmly. "I am Mr. Cobblepot's secretary, Candy. Right now, I speak for him entirely. Whatever you need, I can handle it."
Martin scoffed, looking her over dismissively. "Oh really? So tell me, pretty face, what do you know?"
She clenched her fists but kept a composed smile. "I know you're one of the world's top martial artists—undefeated since your debut. An absolute master."
Martin smirked. "Finally, someone with a brain. Better than the idiots outside."
Kicking the suited man aside, he puffed out his chest. "I hear Gotham has strong fighters. I want to challenge them. But I'm new here. Penguin can help. Maybe I'll solve some problems for him along the way."
Candy's eyes gleamed. "You won't regret choosing Mr. Cobblepot—"
"Already regretting it." Martin cut her off, his expression darkening. "A boss with useless henchmens isn't much of a boss. I don't work with losers."
He turned on his heel, ready to leave.
"Sir, please wait!" Candy hurried after him, pressing close. Her perfume lingered as she grasped his arm, emphasizing her curves against him.
"It was an unfortunate situation," she purred. "Mr. Cobblepot had urgent matters and deployed his top men elsewhere. Those guards weren't a reflection of his power."
Her voice was silky and persuasive, dripping with seduction. Any lesser man would be tempted to believe her.
Martin didn't play along with her. He put her hand away, scoffing, "You get my work done, then we'll see how competent Penguins' henchmen' are ."
He shoved her away, left his number, and strode out of the GoldHeart Hotel.
After weaving through the streets and losing his tail, Martin ducked into a quiet alley and let out a breath.
"Damn. Pretending to be a bad guy is harder than it looks, bunch of useless fuckers."
Before he could fully relax, a voice echoed from above.
"Challenging martial artists ? Didn't know you were such a great actor."
Martin stiffened, his hand instinctively reaching for a weapon.
He recognized that voice.