Chapter 21 Bring it on

Only then did he fully stand, his towering figure casting a long shadow. Slowly, he turned to face the remaining five men.

"That's Black Mask!" one of them shouted, panic seizing his voice.

Terror spread through the group like wildfire. One man raised his gun, his finger tightening around the trigger.

Too slow.

With a single stomp, Jaxon blurred forward, closing the distance in an instant. His arms coiled—then struck.

A silver arc flashed through the air. The blade's movement was so swift that ghostly afterimages lingered in its wake.

Two deep slashes carved across the man's gut. A gruesome spray of blood followed as he crumpled to the floor.

Jaxon's gaze snapped to the remaining four. They stood in a nearly straight line, guns trembling in their hands.

Without hesitation, his legs coiled, then—a dark blur shot forward.

To the watching officers outside, it was chaos, his sword moved too fast to follow, blurring into a continuous lethal rhythm. To the criminals, it was the last thing they ever saw.

Jaxon rematerialized behind the final man, sword still gripped tight.

Thud.

Four bodies collapsed at once, blood pooling beneath them.

With a sharp slice, his swords slid back into their sheaths.

He turned away, walking toward the exit until...

"Don't move!" a cop thundered, raising his gun.

The other officers moved in unison, weapons drawn. The sharp sound of cocking triggers sliced through the silence.

Yet, Black Mask remained unfazed.

His head tilted slightly to the left, already piecing together the unfolding situation. The last of the hostages dashed through the main exit, their terrified cries fading into the night as they ran for their lives.

Black Mask sighed. "That's right... I almost forgot—I'm a public enemy." His head slowly tilted forward "They're most likely not going to shoot now because of the hostages still in the building so which means I have until the hostages are all gone to escape judging from what I can see the hostages are all almost gone. In other words..." His fingers tightened around the hilts of his sword. A sharp slice cut through the air as he unsheathed them. "I'm out of time"

Relying solely on instinct, Black Mask stood motionless. A tense silence filled the air—cops waiting for him to move, while he waited for them to strike.

The only sound the cops could hear was the breeze whispering through the shattered windows. For Black Mask, it was the soft, rhythmic tapping of blood hitting the floor.

And then—

"Fire!"

Gunfire exploded. A storm of bullets tore through the air, shattering glass as they closed in.

Jaxon darted forward, barely evading the deadly hail. He sprinted toward the far end of the building, hoping to break free—

BOOM!

The wall before him exploded outward, a violent blast sending chunks of concrete and metal debris flying like shrapnel.

Black Mask was hurled backward, crashing to the ground. A cloud of white soot drifted down, settling over his dark costume as he groaned in pain.

When his eyes opened, he saw the gaping hole in the wall—and beyond it, a massive black van screeched to a halt. Armed troops flooded the area, surrounding the building with ruthless precision.

A cold wave of realization crept over him. He was boxed in. Trapped.

His head spun, vision still shaky. Slowly, he pushed himself to his feet, blades still strapped across his back, eyes darting from left to right. Dozens of rifles trained on him.

"Shit," he muttered under his breath, tension hardening his jaw.

Black Mask's eyes wondered looking for a way out at the last moment his eyes sparkled with intuition on seeing something but he had to act fast–

Black Mask's eyes darted across the chaos searching, calculating. Then, suddenly, they lit up. He found it.

A way out.

Without hesitation, he tightened his grip on both swords.

Then without hesitation he flung one high into the air, spinning fast like a silver boomerang, its gleam catching the overhead lights.

The soldiers flinched, heads tilting upward instinctively, tracking the weapon. That one second... was all he needed.

Black Mask bent low, stance wide, knees charged with power, his eyes locked on a small circuit board near the ceiling.

Then—thwip! A second blade shot from his hand like a silver bullet, a flash of brilliance and precision.

Crack! The blade pierced the board, metal clashing with wires.

Thup!

The sword dropped clean into his hand—his grip flawless, his stance unshaken. His glowing blue eyes pierced the darkness like twin flames, floating ominously in the shadows.

Fear gripped the troops. They couldn't see him, only those burning eyes.

"FIRE!!" a soldier screamed.

BOOM! BOOM! BOOM!

Muzzle flashes erupted like fireworks, orange bursts slicing through the pitch black.

But they were shooting blind.

A shadow zigzagged across the room. Their eyes squinted, trying to focus, trying to understand what they were looking at...

And then—

Silence.

He was gone.

The gunfire gradually slowed… then stopped. Silence crept in, thick and tense. Eyes darted through the darkness, searching. Breathing grew shallow, fingers tightened on triggers. And then—

BOOM!!

The flat side of Black Mask sword connected violently with the head troops gut his mouth burst open in a mist of air and saliva, and with a powerful thrust he sent the man flying backwards crashing into the wall with bone crunching force.

Panic erupted.

The remaining troops flinched, guns rising, but they were already too slow. Fear carved itself into their faces, teeth clenched as they squeezed their triggers—

But Black Mask was gone.

He darted sideways, a blur cutting through the shadows. Sparks lit the room as bullets collided with walls, with nothing.

He was always one step ahead.

****

A town near Gotham - Inside a bar

Red lights bathed the room, bodies swaying to a pounding beat that rattled the walls. Arms flailed in wild rhythm, laughter and chaos mingling with the blaring music.

At the counter, a man sat still—untouched by the noise, unmoved by the frenzy. A black hat shadowed his face, a long coat draped over him like a shroud. Jack.

"Umm… excuse me, sir, but you haven't paid for your drink" the waiter said nervously.

Jack's head rose slowly, one eye locking onto him. Sharp. Cold.

The waiter's voice cracked. "Y-you know what… take your time, okay?" He gave a shaky smile before backing away.

Jack's head tilted back downwards returning to his thoughts. "Where else am I supposed to check... He doesn't know much places and I've been to all the places he'd have known or is he somewhere else... somewhere new." Jack heaved a deep sigh, before slowly alighting from his chair turning around to exit. Eyes sharp fist coiled.

"I'm coming for you kid."

****

All around him, the bodies of troops and cops lay strewn across the ground. Some groaned in pain, others lay motionless—shattered by the storm that had just passed.

At the center of it all, Black Mask stood tall, shoulders rising and falling with each heavy breath, blades glinting under flickering lights.

His voice broke the silence, low and defiant.

"Bring it on."