Lawrence “Crusher” Crock stares down at me in all his glory. I had been wondering when he would confront me. He is bigger than what the show would originally have you believe but then again that is to be expected when comparing the difference between a character from an animated show to a real person. A solidly built body with muscles that would make most weight lifters green with envy. 

Add on top of that an aura of danger emanating from him, a look on his face that just gives you hundreds of promises of violence to come for just crossing him. Like the few people I encountered in bad neighborhoods that I knew to steer clear of. Like staring down a pit bull. You might win against it, but you are going to look like you just went through one hell of a fight. And Lawrence seems to have gotten that down to a T.

And all I respond to him is this – “Okay…” Before I snort and start laughing at him. Hearing his hands clench as he exhaled with my hands on my knees and my eyes closed with the laughter getting stronger as time went on. 

A hand grabs my shoulder with a strong grip, my hair getting tussled by the brief gust of wind with my back meeting a brick wall. Barely even felt it continuing to laugh with that brief interruption while hanging off the ground.

My eyes filled with tears at the man as he looked at me not with just anger and contempt but something else that couldn’t quite be placed in his expression as his body got tenser along with veins starting to appear across his neck and arms. Bringing a hand up to wipe some of the tears with my laughter finally starting to die down. “You know you look adorable when you get all angry like that.” I tell him without a care in the world, making his expression darken.

His grip gets harder on my shoulder which might as well have been nothing to me. Walking closer to me with his shadow looming over my pinned form he lowers his head enough so his face is level with mine. “I will admit you have my respect for being able to laugh and insult me. Even more so when you can do that to my face.” His grip slackens a little bit along with his posture relaxing with the tension bleeding away.

Then quicker than most people would see, his hand is wrapped around my throat as he stares down at me with surprisingly calm eyes. “Or maybe you can do so knowing who I am and what I may very well do to you. That this might be the moment you die. Would help explain some things.” 

He says all of this not just calmly, but like he is just talking about some benign daily thing like grabbing some groceries from the store or whatever daily event has happened in the household. 

He notices the lack of fear for him despite what would otherwise be a terrifying situation. If this was my first encounter upon my arrival here in this city then yes I would be intimidated. But after all that has happened to me even without the powers, I wouldn’t care. Almost dying several times tends to do that to people. 

A small smile forms in response to his statement further making him tighten his grip around my throat. But he stops for a moment, finally having taken notice. A well-honed knife is currently just a hair's breadth away from his forearm and if cut with a clean slice he will be in trouble if he doesn’t immediately apply pressure. 

No change in expression when he looks at the blade briefly and then back at me. I’m unceremoniously dropped to the ground without a second thought from him as he backs away from me. A few bystanders stand off in the distance pretending to not see what is happening. Discreetly putting the knife back where it was since this seemed to be over. For now. 

“Because I can respect your lack of fear I will let you off with an order. Whoever is teaching Jade and helping her stops today. Whether it’s you or whoever it is will no longer be teaching her anything again. Ever.” He turns around to walk away.

Just as he takes a few steps my response makes him stop – “No.” His shoulders tense up with him whirling around pushing a hand into my diaphragm with far more force than he has used so far. Even with my Promethean physiology it still managed to knock some air out of me. Huh, guess just because I'm a superhuman doesn’t mean I am invincible. No point in dodging or attacking since the attack wouldn’t kill me.

“Listen up and listen good,” He growls out with his hulking form hovering over me, “Do as I tell you and you will have a much happier and healthier life here in Gotham.” 

Looking up at him while getting my breathing back to normal from the slight disturbance he made with that hit, “Or what? You're going to kill me?” I shrug at that, holding my arms out in a what can you do gesture, “Okay. Then what? Or is that all you got to threaten me with?” 

A sharp intake of air can be heard. Taking notice of his other hand balling into a fist looking ready to strike out at me. But his eyes wander over my body as if in anticipation of me pulling another weapon out.

But he doesn’t attack. He just stands there looking at me with a mix of emotions that doesn't matter to me to bother with trying to understand. He looks at me just as I do him for some time. He breaks the staring contest by stepping back from me with me getting back up, turning around, and walking away from him while dusting off my shirt. “This isn’t over, kid.” 

Not even bothering with responding to that and just casually walking away, seeing the look on his face. Something I had seen on a handful of occasions from people once a fight had finished and both sides were limping and bloody after walking away. Grudging respect. 

Crossing the street and seeing one of my businesses going at it. A white van with the name New Beginnings Cleaners with the image of the sun rising over a hill with trees on the sides of it. The backdoors are open with some men loading up containers of various chemicals. 

The others dressed up in company suits with the same sun logo on the backs as they wiped down the walls of the surrounding buildings taking off the graffiti one little bit at a time and seeing they have done a good job so far with a large portion of the building clean. 

Each scrubbing of the wall takes off wide swaths of graffiti. A simple company among others that is led by some of my Hunters with some people down on their luck who saw a chance to get back on their feet. Helps that the pay isn’t half bad by Gotham standards. And the gangs don’t harass them for removing the marks indicating their territory due to them being under my control now. One of the men turns to me, a Hispanic-looking man with a wrinkled face. He gives a subtle nod. Giving back a nod of my own to the Hunter unit. 

Walking into the apartment complex and gave a nod to Jed noting that Lawrence had left and this time he didn’t give my drones the slip. Bugging his apartment was useless because, for some reason or another, they didn’t work or function once getting near to his home. And the engineers themselves can’t figure it out either to their ever-growing annoyance. Having a faint idea of what it is. Magic. 

The engineers still haven’t figured out the rune's inner workings when used on the Hunter unit's skeletal frames, giving them some extra firepower in case they need it after all this time. So if it’s confusing them, then it more than likely is something of a similar nature once most other options were ruled out.

After coming to that conclusion my order was given for any further attempts to cease. Not even hacked cameras were capable of seeing anyone move about in the apartment despite me knowing better. 

Don’t know if whoever had protected his home with magic could trace the drones if discovered back to me and the engineers but it would be preferable to not take the risk. Especially if it was Klarion. If he finds me and he can’t be convinced to let me live then it’s game over as things stand. 

One of my biggest weapons is my anonymity. It will eventually happen where I must come out of the shadows. But that time is not now if I have anything to say about it. And I’ll be damned if some overgrown manchild trying to get his way will force me to do so now of all times. 

A strand extending from my finger hits the remote control turning on the TV with me sitting back and relaxing a little after having to manage so much. 

…

A lowrider with its headlights illuminating the surrounding darkness as it drives down a road filled with potholes like many others in Gotham. Followed by several other cars as they weave along the streets avoiding the holes while the quiet hum of the engines fills the empty streets besides the occasional homeless ever present on the streets.

“We comin’ up on the meeting Slab.” A man in the back says to the driver as he nods his head before seeing numerous cars parked outside a warehouse-like any other in this city. 

Turning and parking the vehicle before they all get out bang on the solid metal door before a slot opens and a pair of eyes looks at them before closing. The door opens after a few seconds ushering them into the meeting. Numerous eyes look at them. 

One of the men comes out with gold chains around his neck jeans and a tank top and walks forward followed by several others with guns holstered like many of the people at this meeting. Everyone is clumped together with their fellow gang members sticking close. 

Some were smaller in numbers whereas others had more than most of the people here. Several were bitter rivals to hated enemies that would attempt to kill each other on sight. Yet here they all are not even attempting to kill what was once their bitter enemy. 

Something most people would have said to be impossible. They all walked up keeping their distance in the surprisingly well-lit meeting area near the docks. The warehouse has seen better days but it will do for meetings like this. 

The new group coming to a stop just standing there awkwardly like the rest not trusting this in the slightest yet willing to give it a chance since no one else has attempted to do anything. Yet. All the heads turn to the sound of steps. A man walks forward with a normal face that you would easily forget in a crowd. Short brown hair and brown eyes, wearing a white T-shirt with jeans and some sneakers. 

“Glad everyone could make it-” 

“What the hell is the point of this meeting? A cease-fire?! You can’t be serious dog.” A man says at the front of one of the bigger groups as several other people across the room agree with him. His name is Jamal Jones. One of the few gang leaders that didn’t get killed during the incident with the ‘Court’. He and his men having some connections tend to have far better weapons at their disposal than the other smaller gangs in Gotham. Primarily dealing in drugs and smuggling.

“Cool it, Jamal. I’m willing to hear him and the others out, especially when no one has tried to pull a gun out yet.” A dark-skinned woman with her upper body covered in elaborate tattoos showing off a lot of skin. Shalice Dewit. The current leader of the Gotham Stilettos. A gang formed from ladies of the night that had enough of being poorly treated by their pimps and Johns. 

After some rather grisly murders of well-known women in those circles the gang formed and quickly grew in size but not enough to be a major gang in the city. Runs a portion of prostitution in the city but can’t get any bigger despite most of the workers agreeing with them due to the shakers and movers of the city not letting go of any of the power they have accumulated.

“You can’t be serious, Shalice! Half the people in this room have gunned down one of your own and mine too.” He states this while looking at everyone in the room waiting for something to happen. 

“As has your group. Sometimes unprovoked.” A man with a well-groomed beard in a suit says calmly while lighting a cigarette and taking a few puffs, “With what happened on that night I am more than willing to see if this can work. I’d rather deal with one of you than what is waiting in Gotham for all of us.” He says after letting out a puff of smoke. How can anyone forget what happened? Everyone has a flicker of fear cross over their faces before schooling their faces to hide it.

Many verbal agreements and nods are sent his way at the reminder of the myth that came out of the shadows and killing god only knows how many of them. The body count is still going up. 

“It would seem the Court has had enough of our stunts for once and decided to step in. I don’t know about the rest of you but when I see several hardened men that I have done numerous jobs with get sliced in half with the new drugs being used by them…” He pauses, taking a shuddering breath before a few more puffs of the cigarette as his hand is visibly shaking.

The shaking calmed down as he let out a long exhale of smoke, “Men who like any natural Gothamite have done some unsavory things. Maybe far worse than what others have done, armed to the teeth with submachine guns and assault rifles yet so easily and casually killed like they were nothing.”

“I had heard how bad it was but didn’t see anything myself. Can anyone else here vouch for what Tony is-” A Hispanic man cuts in. Miguel Hernandez. Current leader of his gang due to the vast majority of the veteran members being dead. Inexperienced and unsure of what direction to take like several leaders of what’s left of their already small-time gangs.

The sound of a gun being drawn is heard across the room with it leveled at Miguel's head with the sounds of numerous guns being drawn following shortly after, “Are you calling me a liar? I watched my cousins die to those monsters. The only reason I am here now is because those things let me live.” He all but snarls with rage evident in his eyes.

“Tony. Please lower the gun.” The plain man asks him, “And all of you as well.” He gestures slowly with his empty hand to nearly every person in the room who is ready to open fire.

“He called me a liar! After what I saw.” Tony growls out while his eyes have a haunted look to them. The man’s face takes on a sympathetic look seeing what Tony must be going through. Tony Marino is part of a smaller mob family dating back to the days of Carmine Falcone’s heyday in Gotham back when he was the big man in this city. Always a smaller mob group, however, they managed to survive and come back. 

The main sources of income are rackets, protecting businesses, smuggling, and prostitution. Have some type of agreement with the Stilettos about treating the women right and as a result have a pseudo alliance between the two but nothing truly substantial.

“I lost some people too. I understand your anger, but Miguel didn’t see any of it, and most of the people here may be in the same boat. And I know he didn’t mean anything by it as an insult.” He says calmly as Tony slowly drops his gun from Miguel’s head he looks like a ghost with how pale his face is at the brush with death he just had.

“Everyone please lower your guns, considering what we are dealing with the last thing we need is to make the Court's job easier.” He asks after seeing Tony had calmed down enough, putting his gun away and lighting another cigarette ignoring the many guns still aimed at him. The man looks at everyone, hands out in a calming gesture as the people slowly put their guns away.

“Alright I understand Tony’s anger but I also understand Miguel’s confusion. Lots of rumors get circulated in Gotham about one thing or another.”

“Like how Killer Croc eats anyone that goes into the sewers?” Someone asks.

“That one is a myth!” Someone shouts in the back.

“Bullshit. I know someone who witnessed him eat a guy.” Another says.

“Yeah probably because he was messing around on his turf or messing with one of the homeless people under his protection. So he made an example out of ‘em.” Jamal says turning in the direction of the last person to speak.

“Anyways, my point is the Court is real and incredibly dangerous. More than the already ominous stories could have ever prepared any of us for the real thing. One rumor that I had heard was that the Bat himself encountered them.” The man intercedes by dropping one hell of a bomb on those who gathered there.

“What?!” The entire crowd was dumbfounded by the other boogeyman that haunts them and met them as well. 

“Whoa whoa!” Shalice says, shaking her head, sending her long hair shaking, waving her hands in denial. “You mean to tell us that Batman battled the Court?” 

Everyone looks to him now. “Yes. Supposedly he did. It’s just a rumor, but considering how people had seen him and several gangs had been taken down by him that night when those monsters came out it’s quite likely he did. Would be out of character for him to not try and stop them, don't you think?” He responds calmly making everyone think for a bit and realize he has a point. 

Batman whether you liked him or hated him always managed to worm his way into some operation or another being run by the movers and shakers of the city. But then a creeping conclusion forms in all their minds simultaneously realizing something. 

“So then the Bat got beat and might be dead? Then what the hell are we doing here then! We need to get the fuck outta here and hide. lárgate de aquí .” Miguel says the last part to his men who all look petrified as he breaks the tense silence and speaks the first thing that most members in this warehouse would do. His men seem to snap out of it before starting to shuffle out of the crowd as other gangs now look like they want to leave too.

“Then what?” The man asks them all. “It would only be a matter of time before they find whatever hole we all crawled into and make their job easier. Tony and the others in here who saw what they were capable of with the super drugs at their disposal can attest to how dangerous they are. Running won’t do you any good and will only get you and everyone here killed.” He calmly speaks to them despite the incredulous looks they all give him like he is crazier than Joker for the mere act of suggesting not running and trying to hide.

“Look, I get hiding isn’t exactly appealing here,” Jamal steps in trying to be a voice of reason to what he sees as suicidal, “But as you pointed out with the things the criminals who had the misfortune of encountering the Court can attest to fighting isn’t an option either.” 

“You are somewhat right. Fighting as things stand would be suicide. We are all divided and only thinking of our interests and those of our respective gangs. It’s the whole reason I and many other newly appointed leaders of the smaller gangs that are left in this city were in talks and made this meeting happen.” The man says getting to the point everyone had momentarily forgotten in their fear of what will come for all of them. 

“So what? Do you suggest we all work under you and your gang? I might be saddened at the loss of my family and not exactly in the right headspace but I am not working for someone who is still weaker than me and my diminished gang. Never mind the fact that I doubt adding a couple of dozen meat shields will accomplish anything against the Court. In fact, why don’t you make me or Shalice the leader of this if that’s what you are going for?” Tony did not like the idea of working under someone who as far as he was concerned was a nobody. 

Assuming that is what he is going for. The big man who leads them all. In the few situations this has happened for the gangs in Gotham's history it’s always the stronger and more decisive leaders of the powerful gangs that take command. Jamal on the other hand looks at him in a new light having a faint idea of where he might be going with this.

“Far from it. I suggest we make this a joint leadership between each of the gang leaders here. We don’t attack each other and instead cooperate and ensure each other's survival. Shalice here with her ladies of the night,” He says gesturing at her and the women that make up her group having gotten the occasional gaze of the men in the room despite the tense atmosphere, “Jamal and Tony’s gangs along with Miguels and so forth.” He gestures to each gang within the warehouse.

Everyone looks at each person noting the weapons several of their members have that are much better than theirs. Not much of a contest when you compare a Glock to an assault rifle. “So what? Are we supposed to come to each other's aid? How are we supposed to trust anyone that’s not a part of our gangs?” Shalice says asking a good question. Everyone here has lived in Gotham long enough to know that you don’t trust anyone not a part of your group. Hell, there are times when even your group couldn’t be trusted. 

“That’s the thing. Trust doesn't come easy between gangs whether it’s the big leagues like Penguin and Black Mask or from small fry like those of us in here. But I do trust your sense of self-preservation if there's anything to truly trust in this city.” He stops after that as Jamal gets a serious look in his eyes as he thinks this over.

Miguel steps forward, “You are suggesting that we put our necks on the line for everyone here,” He gestures to all in the warehouse, “Because if we don’t then we won’t be long after them?” 

“Yes. That is what I am saying. Strength in numbers. We can’t hide or run. If we do, might as well point these guns at ourselves and save the Court the trouble.

“Oh really? What chance do we have working together when working with several people I have known for years who were far more experienced didn’t matter?” Tony interjects. Despite how he worded his question he looked like he was seriously considering it.

“For starters, the Court did a surprise attack on us all. Being wholly unknown is one of their strongest weapons. That and when they attacked most of the gangs that were battling were tired and worn out, but also vulnerable and didn’t have an advantage in the environment.” He responds making the crowd murmur.

He pays them no mind as he continues, “We know they are fast and dangerous. Moving so fast that even people with Jet in their system couldn’t keep up with hitting them. At first, that may seem too dangerous for us to handle, and had this been back when they showed up I would agree.” 

“What changed that line of thinking?” Jamal asks.

“Let’s say Tony’s men at the time they got attacked,” He says waving a hand in Tony’s direction, “Instead of being out in the open unaware of the threat that was coming for them were instead inside of a long narrow hallway with just enough room for two grown men to walk side by side and knew what was coming. Do you think those monsters could dodge with no room against a fully automatic rifle or several shotguns against an opponent who is aware of them?” 

The silence was his only response from the crowd. Tony starts to nod his head in agreement, “You have a point. There are some problems though. For starters, we don’t know the full capabilities of the Court’s soldiers. What weapons they may have in reserve in case they need to up the ante against something that can fight back.”

“Then that’s all the more reason we stick together and work alongside each other if not with one another. Even if some of the gangs here don’t have the experience like yours doesn't mean they are useless. So long as we are smart about this and stick together we can survive. Hell, maybe even properly fight back.” He says this and pauses for a moment as they all digest what he is saying. 

He continues, “It’s a gamble I won’t lie, but think about it. Do you like your odds with just you and what’s left of your gang that just got butchered on your own? Knowing what’s coming for all of us?” An eerie silence forms as everyone mulls over what he just said. All contemplating how good their odds would be against the Court when they decide to come for them.

“Fuck it. I’m willing to work with this.” Jamal breaks the silence stepping forward away from his gang behind him. 

“When you put it like that hun how can I or the girls say no.” Shalice steps up gesturing to the women behind her, all nodding in agreement while flashing some smiles.

After that like a dam breaking the voices surged forth all agreeing to an ‘alliance’ of sorts that they would hash out the details later on when they didn’t all feel like they were going to get killed at any moment in this warehouse. 

“Hey,” Jamal says to the man who was the voice of reason in the warehouse and was currently talking with his gang members who seemed happy like most of everyone else in the warehouse at this working out. “We never got your name.” 

He turns to face Jamal, “John Smith. But everyone just calls me Smith.” He says back to him.

“Jamal Jones. Be seeing you around soon Smith to work out the details and that sort of thing with this alliance.” After that Jamal walks off with his gang in line as the others in the warehouse start heading out themselves in their groups. A notable difference was that the tenseness that was around when they all arrived was now mostly gone. 

As most of the people get in their cars Smith walks over to one of the cars as another of his gang members walks up to him. “These people are pathetic.” 

Both get into the car driving off like everyone else along with the gang members under Smith’s control in their transportation. It galls Smith to ride in this lesser mode of transportation. “I couldn’t agree more. These things disgust me.” He no longer bothers to keep up the facade of emotions as his facial expressions melt away. It is annoying but necessary to put on an act. 

His brother also drops the act as he has now driven far enough from the other cars to not be capable of seeing their faces. Pausing for a moment as his face adjusts alongside his brother Mahogany as their skin bubbles and warps shifting into the faces given upon their birth. 

The clothes also change into suits reminiscent of workers of the government. The so-called Men in Black. Mahogany opens the glove box pulling out the black sunglasses for the both of them to wear. Not needed since their natural abilities gifted to them make them useless, but their father enjoys them being worn and that is good enough for all of them. That and the hunters have grown rather fond of the default ascetic they were born with, and it wouldn’t feel quite right to not complete the look.

Once done and everything was in place as it should be Smith focused back on the discussion, “So irrational, incapable of saving themselves let alone anything or anyone around them as they multiply and destroy everything. Like a plague. Their homes and this city itself are a testament to just how inept they are in the end even when faced with a common enemy they can’t even seem to work together without an outside force stepping in. They may as well be suicidal and the world done a great service with their annihilation.” Smith says this in a neutral tone of voice devoid of any emotion, but having an undercurrent of certainty to what he is saying. 

It’s something he has had time to think about and the more he sees of this city and its inhabitants the more disgusted he gets. A handful of notable individuals would be given an exception to this line of thought but for all their efforts the rest of their kind will undo all of the things they would achieve and bring about.

“That they are and I agree. But the humans will no longer need to fear or worry. Not with us and Father making everything right. Saving them and this world from themselves. One day in the future when everything is set right as it should be they will thank us.” Mahogany stares at a group of homeless that they pass by that look back at them and scurry away in fear at the sight of what looked like government agents coming to take them away.

Smith turned his head to gaze at Mahogany as his brother in turn did the same before Smith spoke, “Even if they are not there to see it. After all, you know that thing humans like to say about eggs and trying to make an omelet. Not that we or Father will make any mistakes, but there will be some bad eggs that will need to be removed. It’s for their own good after all.”

“I will admit, after browsing the internet and seeing the notable individuals among them there are some that have garnered my respect. So they are not completely hopeless.” His brother says having come to the same line of thought he had. If only the rest of them could follow the path that those people had made and maybe they wouldn’t need to do what they must. 

Smith didn’t show any sign of his inner thoughts, just maintaining a blank face as they drove on to their destination in companionable silence.

Want a bigger, better, badder copy of something you already have? Look no further. This allows you to permanently merge items together, even CP items, but the more dissimilar they are, the more potential power is lost in the merge. Two magic swords would usually stack their power, but a magic sword and a magic bow combining would be reduced to one form and reduce the power of the final item a fair amount, though it would still be more powerful than either original. 

You can't do more than double the power of the strongest original item merged in this way, but you could add lots of bells and whistles that don't directly make it more powerful such as additional elemental affinities. Items that are designed to be merged (like gems) do not have the limitation of doubling their starting power, so if you merge 64 level one gems, you will end up with a level 6 gem.