Falcone received insider information that Harvey Dent only had eight Titan-enhanced men under him, so he offered Deathstroke forty million dollars to take care of these Titans, and an extra forty million for taking out Hardy.
After confirming the information was accurate through his own intelligence network, Deathstroke agreed to the deal.
However, Harvey Dent was well aware that his gang had been infiltrated, so he devised a triple-layered security plan.
The first layer was to inform a select group that there were six enhanced men, the second layer said eight, and the third layer said ten.
This allowed Harvey Dent to narrow down the list of suspects after the fact, and in reality, he had prepared fifteen enhanced men.
With the faulty intel, Deathstroke increased his price on the spot due to the increased difficulty. Even now, the job wasn't finished, but he had already killed seven Titan-enhanced men.
At the previous rate, that was worth thirty-five million dollars.
The three men faced off, none willing to back down.
The wail of sirens still echoed in the air, but the sounds of gunfire were gradually fading.
"Batman, when you showed up, Harvey Dent and Carmine Falcone had some of their men cover their escape. What do we do now? Arrest Watt?" Gordon's voice came through the earpiece in Batman's cowl.
"The people you're looking for are already gone."
Batman's gravelly, low voice responded. Deathstroke simply gave Hardy a long look, memorizing his opponent, then turned and left without a word.
He was going to collect his payment from Falcone. If Falcone refused, he'd collect with blade and bullet.
Hardy glanced at the departing Deathstroke, then at Batman, and also turned away.
He knew that after tonight, Batman would never forget him—and would probably have ninety-nine contingency plans ready just for him.
"Aman, gather everyone. We're going after them—no matter what, Falcone must die tonight!"
"Batman…"
Gordon stood at the front of the police officers, looking at Batman.
Batman simply shook his head, raised his grappling gun, and fired it at a nearby building, pursuing Hardy and his men.
He couldn't let them keep wreaking havoc!
Gordon sighed, watching as Hardy, now back in his black-and-gold gear and leading his gangsters, left from the other side.
He understood what Batman meant.
This was the end—for now. If things kept escalating, many more would die.
The rest, as usual, would be left to Batman to handle.
...
Whoosh!
A black sedan sped down the streets of Gotham at full throttle.
"Fuck, fuck! Some 'world's greatest mercenary'—he can't even take out two gang bosses!"
Carmine Falcone sat in the back seat, pounding the upholstery in anger.
"You're just a gang boss yourself, Carmine."
Deathstroke's voice suddenly sounded from the roof of the sedan.
There, a nondescript walkie-talkie with a faint red light was taped to the car roof.
"Deathstroke! You've got some nerve to talk! This job—it's blown!"
Falcone snatched up the walkie-talkie.
"Are you sure?"
Deathstroke's voice came from two directions at once.
One from the walkie-talkie, the other from outside the car window.
The man in yellow-and-black armor was riding a matching motorcycle, right alongside Falcone's car.
Falcone suddenly realized—the walkie-talkie had a tracker.
"You've been tailing me from the start?"
"To make sure you don't skip out on payment."
Like a stuntman, Deathstroke stood on his motorcycle, kicked off, and flipped onto the car roof.
"You know I prefer to settle up on the spot, so I figured you'd have the money in the trunk."
Deathstroke drew his alloy longsword from his back.
"Hey… You didn't finish the job, you can't—"
The sword sliced open the trunk. With the back of his blade, Deathstroke flipped out a green duffel bag.
"Anonymous $10,000 checks from Wayne Bank? Solid currency."
He sheathed his sword and slung the bag over his shoulder, turning to look behind him.
A small truck was following, with the burly Black Gold standing on its roof.
Deathstroke sneered, leapt back onto his motorcycle, and sped off.
The truck couldn't keep up with the sedan, but fortunately, Hog United was in the auto business—Hardy and some veteran mechanics had modified the truck, so it was keeping pace for now.
"Shit! He shouldn't have taken so much! He didn't finish my job! There's a hundred million in there!" Carmine Falcone was livid, his face turning green with rage.
"Boss! Bad news! Watt from Hog United is catching up!"
The driver up front looked in the rearview mirror and shouted.
"What?!"
The next moment, Black Gold raised his arm and fired a small rocket at the sedan's tire.
A burst of flame and black smoke—the black sedan flipped over.
But as Falcone's personal ride, the car had been reinforced. Its defense was solid, so Falcone, the driver, and two bodyguards inside only suffered minor injuries.
It looked dramatic, but they'd only gotten some scrapes and bruises.
"Run them over," Hardy said coldly to the truck driver.
Through the glass, Carmine Falcone watched as the truck closed in fast—
Anxiously, he watched as his subordinates kicked at the truck door.
"Bang—!"
A black Batmobile burst out from a side street, ramming its body into the truck where Hardy was.
Fortunately, it was a truck—one that had even been modified. If it had been any other vehicle, a single hit from the Batmobile would probably have brought it to a halt.
Even so, this truck certainly couldn't withstand repeated collisions with the Batmobile, which Bruce Wayne had spent a fortune to build with WayneTech.
"You want to protect a criminal?"
Hardy sneered, maneuvering the Black Gold suit to leap onto the roof of the Batmobile.
With the pneumatic fists at full power, he hammered down with blows from both sides.
The car's balance was disrupted, and the Batmobile veered off course, unable to collide with the truck again.
At this moment, Carmine Falcone had already escaped from the vehicle, but was forced to take cover behind the truck and return fire after Aman, leaning out the window, unleashed a burst from an assault rifle. For now, Falcone couldn't get away.
"You're a criminal too."
Separated by a layer of glass shield, Batman spoke in a deep voice.
Inside the Black Gold suit, Hardy frowned.
WayneTech really was something else—even after all this pounding, the glass shield still hadn't shattered.
But it was already covered in cracks; it wouldn't last much longer.
"I'm not like him—dealing drugs, loan sharking, forcing women into prostitution. At the very least, people on my turf live better than those under other gangs."
Hardy spoke as he continued to pound away.
Under his deliberate restrictions, the dirty work done by the Hog United wasn't as dark as Falcone's gang.
He wasn't a good person—he was a ninja with blood on his hands, a gang boss, a criminal—but he was certain he wasn't scum.
Running a gang was just a means for him to gather fortune and strengthen himself.
In fact, just the assets of Hog United alone were now enough for self-sufficiency.
That was thanks to the accountant—after all, he'd studied economics, and the development of Hog United's businesses was going well.
It also helped that Hardy had gotten a lot of money and supplies from Two-Face; during Hog United's growth, they never lacked for funds or weapons.
"But you have no right to judge him, to execute him. That's what the law and prisons are for."
Batman looked at the Batmobile's screen, which displayed [Separation Self-Destruct Sequence], and continued.
"If the law could deal with him, if prison could hold him, he wouldn't be here today! You know that, Batman! Your very existence is the greatest mockery of the law!"
Hardy finally smashed through the glass shield with a punch.
But immediately, the seat beneath Batman began to retract and spin, the car's interior started to transform, and finally, Batman was ejected high into the air.
"Boom!"
The Batmobile exploded in a self-destruct sequence.
Sensing something was wrong a moment earlier, Hardy jumped clear of the car.
The Black Gold suit's pneumatic system also reversed, propelling him into the sky.
The Swallow and Bat Cape both unfurled, gliding through the air for a distance. The Black Gold suit's shoulder-mounted rotary gun barrels popped out, firing continuously at Batman. Yet the bullets were blocked by Batman's cape, which had formidable bulletproof capabilities.
Just then, a Batwing swooped overhead.
Batman fired a grappling gun, hooked onto the Batwing, and soared higher into the sky—while Black Gold could go no higher.
"Hmph! Damn Batman!"
Hardy snorted, maneuvering the Swallow into a 180-degree spin in midair, landing back near Carmine's position.
At this point, both sides were using their vehicles as cover in a gunfight. Carmine tried multiple times to escape, but never found an opportunity.
"Boss! I've called for backup! The others will be here soon!"
The driver, clutching a pistol and gasping for breath, spoke to Carmine, who was bleeding from his forehead.
"No… there's no chance."
Carmine stared blankly at the side mirror.
A tall, imposing black steel robot was folding away its black wings, landing not far from them. It raised an arm and fired a small rocket.
"Boom!"
An explosion rang out, and the gunfire ceased.
A few seconds later, Carmine shakily pushed the corpse off his head. He looked at his dead subordinate, eyes still open in death, and raised his head in despair.
"Your men are pretty loyal—even at the end, they tried to protect you. Unfortunately, all they could do was buy you a few more seconds of life."
With intimidating strides, the Black Gold suit walked toward Carmine. As Hardy spoke, he raised a massive steel foot and stomped down.
Carmine's head was instantly crushed—red and white matter splattering everywhere, mixing with the blood pooling on the ground.
"Boss!"
Aman, carrying his AK rifle, ran up to Hardy as if seeking credit.
"Well done. There'll be a reward when we get back. And while you're at it, come with me to settle the score with Harvey Dent!"
Inside the blood-stained Black Gold suit, Hardy grinned.
That guy had some nerve, daring to try and set him up!
He must be tired of living!