SDC 77

The address Shady gave me led to a penthouse apartment. I spent a considerable amount of time scanning the building before I approached. Infrared goggles revealed nothing; the entire apartment was bathed in some kind of protection that prevented heat scans.

That immediately put me on edge. I tried calling Slim, but the call went straight to voicemail.

So, I turned to infiltrating the apartment. Predictably, it had stiff security. Military-trained men patrolled the entrance. State-of-the-art cameras peeked out of corners, and visitors had to be buzzed in.

This was either the most obvious setup in the world, or I was being tested.

You can guess the conclusion I naturally drew.

I slipped in behind someone draped in Cloak and a mask and went up the elevator, arriving at the designated floor.

The electronic lock was somewhat complex, but a careful look at the keypad showed me the most used sections on the screen. From there, it was just a matter of hooking it up to some rudimentary tech I'd picked up and letting an encryption program spit out the correct combination.

The door hissed open, revealing a well-furnished apartment. A woman in a stealth suit—and a revealing bust—regarded me coolly over the rim of her wine glass. Shade stood off to the side, an amused glint in his eyes.

Million-dollar paintings hung from the walls, accompanied by expensive vases, statues, couches, and a dozen other antiquities.

I scanned the space, unimpressed by the brazen display of wealth. This place was too poorly defended for any of it to be real. It was likely a safe house.

"I told you he was good," Slim said, amusement coloring his voice. Catwoman's lips curved faintly.

"I certainly didn't expect him to just waltz in," she said. Her gaze flicked towards the entry camera feed on a nearby screen. "But it's far more interesting that they just ignored him. The cameras are a problem, though."

"They were my next stop after I figured out if Shade had set me up or not," I said, cutting into their two-way conversation. I settled into a fancy chair. It was plush, the material cool under my gloves. "Erasing the last hour or so would've removed any evidence I was ever here."

"Wouldn't that have given you away?" she asked, leaning back with a languid grace and taking a delicate sip from her glass. Every movement and gesture felt calculated. Seductive. Designed to distract. But I wasn't here for that.

"The police would still have no idea it was me," I said simply. "And the people inside this apartment would've been dead."

"A bit bloodthirsty, are we?" Her tone was mild, but there was a flicker of curiosity in her eyes. "Maybe the whispers about you are true."

That last line was obviously a dig meant to elicit some reaction. I didn't give her the satisfaction.

"I asked Slim to set up this meeting because you're the best in the world at what you do, and I'm on my way to becoming that myself."

She tilted her head slightly, her smile sharpening with amusement.

"You're passable at stealth, and your brute strength might make you exceptional, but you have ways to go before you're a half-decent thief."

A quiet chuckle escaped me. "Who said anything about stealing? I'm more interested in the transport business."

I materialized a katana in my outstretched hand, then vanished it and replaced it with a gun. Then night vision goggles. Then a handful of ammo packs. Each switch-out heavier and more varied. By the time I stopped, Cat was staring openly.

My cursed inventory had grown a lot since I'd first gotten it months ago. Now I had nine slots and could carry over 2,000 pounds in each of them. Living things were still off-limits. For now.

Cat's gaze flicked to Slim, who simply gave a helpless shrug. He looked just as stunned.

"Don't blame him," I said, folding my arms. "Nearly no one else knows."

"This changes everything," she murmured, her expression thoughtful now. "You were supposed to be the muscle for tonight's little outing, but now I'm seeing you in a whole different light."

I glanced at Slim, narrowing my eyes. "What is she talking about?"

"We're going after one of Penguin's caches," he was slow to speak, probably still stunned by my display. "The old bird knew he might be charged sooner or later, so he prepared for it. He's got caches hidden all over Gotham, and Mrs. Kyle here has a lead on one."

I exhaled through my nose, unimpressed. "Penguin is pretty tight-lipped. How did you manage that?"

She only offered a sly smile, swirling the wine in her glass. "A lady has to have some secrets. We'd be willing to give you 25% of the take for your services."

I leaned back in the chair, considering. Her offer wasn't nearly good enough.

"I'm guessing you're expecting resistance. A lot of it if you need someone with my reputation," I said. "I'm not getting out of bed for anything less than 50%."

"Fifty?" Slim barked out a short laugh. "How'd you figure that?"

"Simple math," I replied with a small shrug. "I'm transport and muscle. Though I'll settle for 30% in exchange for smuggling contacts and information on a few meta-kids with decent skills."

Cat's eyes narrowed slightly, that easy smile vanishing for the first time.

"Don't worry. I just want to make them an offer. I know how you dote on orphans."

Silence stretched between us. Finally, she lowered her glass and set it aside. "20%."

"30%," I repeated evenly, my gaze locked on hers. "Unless you think you can beat whatever it is you've not told me yet."

Cat glanced at Slim, who only lifted his shoulders in surrender.

"30% it is," she said, leaning forward, her eyes glittering. "But expect to earn your keep. Security is tighter than ever. Penguin's trial isn't going so well. Sooner or later, he's going to have to make a break for it. His caches are his lifeline. It's not going to be easy taking it."

A slow smile curled my lips. "Wouldn't have it any other way."

Penguin's cache was in Ivy's domain, of all places. To his credit, the area didn't used to be.

The vacuum he left after his fall was rapidly filled by Ivy's expanding influence. Threats and promises of prosperity had apparently been enough to bring most of Penguin's goons over to her side.

The holdouts were being poisoned, mind-controlled, or driven out.

As violent as it sounded, the process had been surprisingly meticulous. Her moves were so quiet Batman and most of GCPD hadn't even caught on until it was too late. They were too busy dealing with the escalating gang wars in the Narrows. The competition for Black Mask's throne was as stiff and as it was bloody.

According to Cat's intel, the cache was in an abandoned section of Gotham's sewer system that Penguin had transformed into a vault. He'd somehow managed to sneak a massive bank vault down here and integrate it into a tunnel. It should've been nearly impossible to crack—if you weren't a world-class thief.

But even if you were, you still had to deal with Penguin's security.

Killer Croc.

According to Cat, the bird had struck a deal with the crazed mutant to have him patrol the underbelly of his territory.

Cat wasn't exactly sure what the terms were, but she was certain it had to be highly beneficial if Croc maintained his post after all this time.

I dropped down the sewer grate without a sound, save for the distant rush of water. Blocking out my other senses, I leaned into my sight and hearing, searching for something—a heartbeat, a shuffle of feet, a shadow.

Something. Anything to indicate we'd been made.

Nothing.

I bounded down the tunnel, peeking at intervals before finally spotting something disconcerting: roots. Sections of the wall had been penetrated by dark, pervasive taproots that set my teeth on edge.

Ivy's reach extended further than I expected.

Doubling back, I knocked lightly on the metal ladder leading down here.

"Coast is clear," I murmured, "but we got a problem."

"Aside from the giant mutant crocodile?" Slim asked from above.

"Roots. Lots of them. Ivy might know we're down here."

"She doesn't," Cat said, descending with a wrinkle of distaste as the sewer air hit her. "Not unless we disturb the plants." There was a ghost of a smile on her lips. "Ivy likes to play like she's omniscient, but she's not."

"You're on a first-name basis with one of Gotham's crime bosses?"

"'Course I am." She waved off the question, adjusting her belt. "You don't get where I am without making a few connections. Mostly good."

"Will those connections save us when she finds out about this?"

"If we cut her in, maybe," Cat said with a shrug. "But I think it'd be better for all of us if we didn't find out."

I nodded once. Cat would survive, no doubt. I probably would. Slim? Not so much. I really hoped it wouldn't come to that, but you couldn't plan for everything.

We navigated the darkness, and I kept one eye on the water and the shadows as Cat led us through a maze of tunnels. At regular intervals, I marked the walls in case I had to find my way back alone.

I didn't trust Cat much. Or Slim, for that matter. For all of our history, he was a pragmatist through and through, and he'd taught me to be the same.

That was why he hadn't been surprised when I showed him the list of things I needed to deal with Killer Croc.

With a predator as powerful as him, I had to take a proactive approach.

I certainly didn't set out to kill him, but that option was on the table.

It took some searching, but we eventually found what I could only describe as his den.

It was pitch black, but it stood out in the muted greens of our night-vision goggles.

I half-expected dead carcasses, bones, and a grotesque sight that'd put the fear of God in me.

But what I found was painfully mundane. An old station of the sewer, dry for the most part, filled with oversized clothes, beat-up electronics, pictures, and even paintings.

It looked like a typical Gotham apartment if you ignored the smell of sewage and the humidity.

"More taste than I expected from a sewer monster," Cat murmured, studying a faded painting on the wall. She stepped forward, but I shifted in front of her, blocking the path.

"We've risked enough coming this close," I said quietly. "Any closer and he might smell you. You've got your role, and I've got mine."

She glanced up at me, her gaze sharp, then inclined her head. "Don't take too long with the beast, Julius."

She gestured to Slim, and they slipped away, vanishing behind the bend. Off to crack the safe while I kept Croc busy.

Still, it was hard to ignore just how unpredictable Cat was.

She was everything I expected and more. And while this plan hinged on me, I had the feeling she had a few more tricks up her sleeve just in case I failed.

Not that I intended to.

I made my way into the strange apartment and got to work, planting dozens of custom bombs loaded with aerosolized sleeping agents, flashbangs, and tear gases. All were rigged for remote detonation, and I had a mask and goggles with thick lenses to make sure I was unaffected when they went off.

It took a few minutes to finish the setup. Now came the hard part:

Drawing Killer Croc's attention without getting myself killed.

Read ahead up to Chapter 81 Patreon.com/Artandcreativewriting.