189-191

Chapter 189: Kite-Man 

Disguise is a simple matter for Cody. 

He possessed Advanced Disguise Proficiency, so disguising himself wasn't difficult. However, before meeting the Riddler, he didn't use his disguise skills, for a simple reason—it's a technique for mixing in with the crowd, effective in most situations, but a fake is still a fake. Disguises can only get you into a crowd, but if someone inspects you up close, the disguise will quickly be exposed. 

To deal with the Riddler, it's best to use something unconventional, something unexpected. 

【Polyjuice Potion 

Price: Twenty Thousand Dollar Asset Points 

Note: Products from Professor Snape are guaranteed quality—it can only help you disguise yourself as another person. Students who like paper people, please do not try to use it to turn into catgirls; Polyjuice Potion cannot do that】 

Cody certainly didn't dare to use the potion haphazardly. He remembered in Harry Potter, when Hermione drank Polyjuice Potion with cat hair mixed in, she turned into a cat-headed human—she apparently stayed in the infirmary for two whole months before recovering. 

So he did indeed ask Batman to find a middle-aged guy in Gotham City (although, technically, he was exactly thirty, only a few years older than Cody). That guy's ancestors were also genuine Gotham old-timers. 

His parents were mobsters who died in gang warfare when he was underage. He himself was also a gangster and had recently been taken away by Batman during the Joker and Riddler's war. He wasn't married, didn't have much family or friends, and his real name was indeed Oakholic Saul. 

Cody instantly picked him out from the many orphaned identities, mainly because his name had a bit of a dream linkage feel to it. 

Using this identity, he finally became a member of the Riddler's faction. His specialties were marksmanship, cycling, and being a freak—as for other aspects like freezing or bird calls, he claimed they were the effects of Batman's magic gadgets and had nothing to do with him. He also stated that he had completely abandoned the light side and would have no further ties with Batman. 

The Riddler was noncommittal. He didn't fully trust Cody. This guy felt too much like that police officer who had messed with his head earlier. 

One day, the Riddler suddenly gave Cody a mission. 

"Biker Freak, I have a mission for you here." 

At this moment, Cody was playing coin toss with Two-Face. He turned his head and asked, "What kind of mission?" 

"Go recruit someone, or kill him—against an opponent like the Joker, the more cards we have, the better, and the fewer cards he has, the better." 

"Recruit who?" 

"An insignificant small fry, a loser, a sensationalist clown, an idiot who can't see the big picture, a target of everyone's dislike." 

"Nygma, I really think your rhetoric and intelligence are impressive, truly—but could you please stop talking in that drawn-out way and just say a name?" 

The Riddler was silent for a moment before speaking again, "Kite-Man." 

"Well, that settles it," Cody sighed. "Is there anything else I should look out for?" 

The Riddler ignored him, turned his head, and walked away. 

"Get the intel yourself. The Riddler isn't paying you that much to sit around," Mr. Zsasz, ever so quick to speak up, answered for the Riddler from the side. "As for weapons—didn't you have two pistols modified with submachine gun magazines before? If you like using knives, you can buy them from me, no rip-offs, hehe." 

He was shirtless, his body covered in dense scars, from his chest to his back, extending to his abdomen, grotesque and terrifying, giving Cody a bit of a fear of clusters. Looking at him, you could probably guess that his legs were likely covered in the same dense scars as his upper body. 

As a serial killer, he was also a pure freak. For every person he killed, he would carve a scar on himself. He did indeed gather his own killing intelligence, but he believed guns were unreliable, so he basically used knives for killing. 

"No need," Cody shook his head. "I'm not very good with knives; guns suit me better." 

Two-Face seemed oblivious to their conversation, fiddling with the black and white coin in his hand, lost in thought. 

Kite-Man was flying through the sky. 

He wore a pale green combat suit with a small backpack on his back. A massive green kite extended from the backpack, soaring and dancing in the cloudless night sky, lifted by the air currents. 

He slightly adjusted his posture, and backpack , helping him glide downwards. In just a flash, he shot several meters away. 

Chuck had combined his kite blueprints with a jetpack, ultimately creating this kite-backpack. The kite structure allowed for sustained flight using air currents, while the jet part could adjust direction, accelerate, and decelerate. 

This was his exclusive flying machine. The wind was his old friend of many years, and the kite was his favorite toy. He knew every wisp of airflow touching his skin. He flew agilely in the wind, piloting the kite-backpack, appearing calm and free. At this moment, he could fly anywhere he wanted to go. 

But he wasn't as happy now as he was during his previous flight. 

He looked at the city beneath his feet. This was now inside Park Row, and because his flying altitude was high enough and the air currents were strong, he basically didn't have to worry about being hit by bullets. 

The streets below were a mess. Lingering smoke drifted from the building debris, and a腥風夾帶著鮮血的味道(foul wind carrying the smell of blood) blew through every corner. The moon overhead still cast its light, only slightly dimmed and reddish, like dried blood. 

The myriad lights he saw that night had been extinguished into scattered points in just half a month. Only impregnable fortresses and heavily guarded outposts remained. 

Chuck flew alone over this city. This was already his countless flight, and with each turn, his mood grew heavier. 

Only after taking to the sky did he see even more tragedies on the ground. 

At this moment, he thought of what he had heard on television before. 

"We have to choose a winner—if we want the Joker gone, we have to help the Riddler; if we want the Riddler gone, we have to help the Joker!" 

His heart was undecided because he knew what both the Riddler and the Joker had done. Moreover, he wasn't a fighter. The reason he personally made this flying suit and this kite-backpack was simply to fulfill his past wishes. Thinking of this, he no longer lingered in the night sky. He was going home. 

The huge kite spiraled in the air, preparing to return. 

Just then, a blinding splash of bright red on the ground caught his attention. It was a small boy in a red shirt, sitting in the ruins, crying while holding a woman's hand. 

Looking at this scene, Chuck somehow thought of his own son and his ex-wife. 

So the kite slowly descended. 

Chapter 190: A Hero's Fate 

"Mom! Mom!" 

In the dead of night, the boy's cries were sharp, cutting through the darkness and carrying far. 

Suddenly, a whoosh of air by his ear. The boy, clutching his mother, stopped crying for a second. He turned back, scared, and saw a few figures in green uniforms, guns in hand, masks over their eyes. 

They all wore armbands with a big green question mark. The boy knew these guys. Just a few days ago, these guys were in a shootout with another group wearing black. His dad got hit by a stray bullet during their crossfire and died. 

Seeing them searching towards the direction of the ruins, the smart boy instantly realized how loud his crying had been, how dangerous. He desperately clapped a hand over his mouth, stifling his sobs and gasps, but tears of fear streamed down his face, wetting it. 

But the heavy footsteps were getting closer, making the boy even more desperate. He suddenly remembered there was someone behind him, so he turned back and frantically tried to push his mother into a gap in the rubble. 

"Boss, do we really gotta bother with all this? Sounds like it's just a kid anyway." 

"'Just'? Sounds like you're getting ahead of yourself. You forget the Riddler's orders?" 

"Patrol, grab soldiers, grab hostages..." 

"Kids and women are the important ones. If the women's husbands, the kids' fathers, become our soldiers, those women and kids are the best leverage to keep 'em loyal." 

"What if their dad got killed by us?" 

"They can still be hostages. Less chatter, search carefully. If we don't grab enough, our bonus is toast." 

In the war zone, the Joker's side was totally lawless, just like him. The Riddler's side grabbed women and kids, but didn't kill them 'cause they were useful. But don't get it twisted, the Riddler's soldiers would still shoot resisters without hesitation. 

Basically, your wife isn't a kid, and your son isn't a woman. 

At the end of the day, there wasn't much difference between the Joker's crew and the Riddler's. 

The sound of their talking got closer to the ruins, but the boy only managed to move his mother's body a little. He was just too small. 

Finally, the voices of the group reached the edge of the ruins. 

The boy was trembling all over, still trying to push his mother's body, but it was clearly too late now. 

"Speaking of which, why'd the crying stop?" 

"Dunno, maybe cried himself to sleep? Whatever, I think the sound was coming from right around these ruins." 

Soldier after soldier, guns ready, stepped into the rubble. 

The boy closed his eyes in terror. 

Graylick walked in, gun raised, scanning the ruins. 

He looked around. It was all collapsed walls, roofs, and other building materials and junk, piled up everywhere. On the ground, there were just a few bodies and smashed furniture and stuff. 

Didn't look like anything special. 

Just then, another soldier walked over. 

"Graylick, find anyone over here?" 

"Nobody here," Graylick shook his head. "Just a few bodies." 

"Alright, just put a couple more rounds in 'em for good measure, and let's check the other side." 

"Got it." 

Bang! Bang! 

On the ground, a woman's body twitched for a second when the shots hit, but that was it. Then she was still. 

"Guess there was one who wasn't dead after all. Too bad, shoulda shot for the body, then we could've grabbed her." 

Dark red blood flowed from the woman's body, slowly spreading and seeping from the ground into the collapsed building debris. 

"Quit the chatter and let's go see where that kid ran off to." 

Two pairs of shoes disappeared from view. In the cracks of the rubble on the ground, half the boy's face was stained red with blood from the ground. If a big hand hadn't covered his mouth, he would have screamed when the shots rang out. 

A moment later, Chuck's figure squeezed out from the ruins, dragging a passed-out woman and a tear-streaked boy with him. He felt his kite backpack; thankfully, it wasn't too bulky and he could just barely squeeze into the gap with it. Otherwise, it would have been a real pain to deal with. 

He secretly put a finger to his lips to the boy, motioning him to be quiet, then tiptoed to peek outside. 

Looks clear, Chuck thought. Good thing he landed fast and on the other side of the ruins, otherwise he would've had no chance to shove the boy's mother into the gap and then hide with the boy. 

"I'll get you two out of here," Chuck whispered to the boy. "But you gotta stay quiet. As long as those guys don't come back..." 

"Ha! Knew we missed one!" 

Just as he was talking to the boy, an excited voice suddenly came from behind him. Chuck froze. 

He turned around and saw two dark gun barrels. One soldier grinned smugly. "See, Graylick? Told you someone might be hiding in the ruins." 

Graylick next to him didn't look so happy. He seemed a little guilty, but his gun was held steady the whole time. 

"Hey, hey, we don't gotta do this. Listen, pal, I'll give you fifty grand, you let us go, and we promise not to tell anyone about this..." 

"Why so much talk? Fifty grand is only enough for your life, not theirs. Hand over the kid and give us the money, then you can leave." 

Chuck listened to the guy, and instinctively looked back at the boy. His face was a mess of blood, tears, and dirt, only his eyes still full of terror and helplessness. 

Just like little Charlie on the hospital bed. 

"No, no... Uh, how about this, fifty grand for their lives, and I'll go with you guys. I'm real useful, the Riddler could totally use me, I even worked for the Joker before..." 

Bang! 

A shot rang out, a bullet grazing Chuck's foot. The soldier didn't care about Chuck's offer at all. "I said, hand over the kid and the woman, pay up, and scram." 

Chuck was shaking all over. Compared to Deadshot that night, these soldiers were way more lethal, because they actually wanted to kill him. 

But he didn't have any more money. What he had left was all spent on the kite backpack. 

He gritted his teeth, his mind a little hazy. He didn't know what he was doing, his body just reacted on instinct. 

He pulled the boy behind him. 

"No," he said. "I'm not giving him to you." 

"Oh, looks like you're a hero after all." 

The soldier across from him sneered and raised his gun at him. 

"Too bad. Most guys who wanna be heroes only get one ending." 

Chapter 191: Fly, Chuck, Fly! 

Chuck stared down the barrel of the gun, a knot of fear tightening in his gut. But it wasn't the gun itself he was afraid of, not really. Back on the rooftop, holding the cigarette and pencil for Deathstroke, Chuck had already figured out he wasn't exactly terrified of a gun pointed at him, at least not like most folks. 

He could face down Deadshot’s muzzle and hold steady – maybe he'd gotten used to guns while working for the Joker, or maybe it was because he had nothing to lose anyway, so death didn't scare him. Whatever the reason, Chuck knew one thing for sure: he had some guts. 

But right now, he was scared, because there was a kid behind him, and a woman too. 

The kid was about the same age as little Charlie, and the woman... about the same age as his ex-wife. 

"If I get shot and killed here," he thought, "they're both screwed." 

So he couldn't die here. But what the hell could he do? What else did he have that could save them? 

"I'm giving you one last chance to answer, 'Hero'." The soldier's finger rested on the trigger. "Hand over the cash and walk, or die right here." 

Just then, a sudden gust of dust kicked up from the ruins, swirling around them. The soldier seemed oblivious, but Chuck felt something keenly. He cocked his ear. 

Whoosh – 

Wind. 

Whoosh, whoosh – 

Sand and stones flew, dust billowed. 

A strong wind. 

It brushed against his skin, and a sudden realization bloomed in Chuck's mind, unbidden. 

"Alright," he suddenly replied. "I'll give you the money." 

The soldier lowered his gun and smirked. "That's better. Being a hero or staying alive... oughta be an easy choice." 

But Chuck didn't reply. He focused on the wind against his skin – it was getting stronger, and stronger, almost pushing him to run. 

So he ran. 

Whoosh, whoosh, whoosh – 

The great wind rose. 

The sand and rubble in the ruins were whipped up completely by the powerful gale. The soldier had to squeeze his eyes shut, gripping his gun tight with both hands. Then he squeezed the trigger. He tried to shout a threat at Chuck but just got a mouth full of sand. 

Man, what a wind. 

Chuck closed his eyes, focusing on the surging current of air. He ran a couple of steps with the wind, scooping up the kid with one hand and grabbing the unconscious woman with the other. The green backpack on his back instantly extended, flattening out, transforming into a massive kite. 

Fly, Chuck, fly! Fly high! He seemed to hear countless voices from who knew where, carried on the wind, shouting the same thing as the strong gale, shouting the same thing his heart was shouting. 

They told him to fly. 

So he flew. 

The huge green kite suddenly lifted from the ground, soaring straight up into the sky. The strong wind pushed against Chuck's back, helping him fly faster, higher. Finally, he carried the two of them into the Gotham night sky, high above the clouds. 

Below them, the kid in the red shirt gaped, his eyes wide with astonishment. He stared down, mesmerized, at the city lights below. From up here, he could see every street, every single light in the city, and clearly see the stars and the bright moon overhead. The boy couldn't help but spread his arms, like a bird spreading its wings, feeling the air current lifting them as they soared through the sky – something he'd only ever dreamed of. 

"Get back here, you son of a bitch! Get back here!" The soldier yelled, furiously shooting into the sky. But Chuck was already flying high above. The soldier's marksmanship wasn't good enough to hit that huge kite at this range. Other soldiers, drawn by the noise, looked up at the kite in the sky, confused. They started shooting upwards too, following his lead, a curtain of gunfire starting to form. 

"None of you are going home tonight." A cold, hoarse voice suddenly echoed from the darkness. Everyone present instantly went pale with shock. 

"Batman!" 

"Open fire! Open fire!" 

In just a second or two, a dark shape dropped from the sky, tackling one of the soldiers straight to the ground. CRACK! The familiar sound of impact, the familiar stealth style. 

RAT-A-TAT-TAT – A few of them immediately opened up with their automatic rifles. The flashing muzzles lit up the dark figure. He moved like a phantom, formless and untouchable, flashing through the group. Every time he appeared, another soldier's bone snapped. 

The rapid gunfire and the sound of cracking bones rang out together, then started to thin out, until they stopped completely. 

After Batman finished dealing with the soldiers, he turned his attention to the low wall nearby. 

"Come on out," he said. "No need to hide anymore." 

So, a figure in a black robe and mask came out from behind the ruins, pushing a bicycle. 

"Good thing you were fast enough," he said to Batman with a smile. "Otherwise, I'd have had to take those two back with me." 

"I told you I'd be here within three minutes of your signal, no more than five," Batman replied. "How are things on Riddler's end?" 

"Same as always. Doing his usual thing – patrolling, going out on calls with every supervillain he sends out, buffing them up, eating, getting paid... Riddler actually pays pretty well." 

By now, Batman had figured out what Cody meant by "buffing them up." It seemed to be some kind of ability that made certain people unable to kill anyone for 24 hours. This strange power had already saved hundreds, maybe thousands, of Gotham citizens, perhaps even more. 

"One more thing," Batman asked. "That wind just now felt... familiar. Is that your special ability too?" 

"Oh, that? That's Clover," Cody shrugged. "Like you saw, it can whip up some wind. That's about it." 

After Chuck took the woman and the kid to the hospital, he went home alone. It was late at night by then. 

When he turned on the light, he suddenly noticed two bags on the living room table, along with a note. One bag had lollipops, and the other bag also had lollipops – but one was colorful, and the other was white. It looked like one was fruit-flavored and one was milk-flavored. 

Seeing the two bags, Chuck's pupils contracted sharply. Those two types of candy reminded him of his friend who'd vanished without a trace. Was this a gift he left for him? 

He picked up the note and read the words on it. 

"Chuck, I'm doing well, and I'm really glad to see you are too. If you plan on keeping helping the injured people in the war zone, take these two kinds of candy with you. If you don't want to keep risking it, just give them straight to Batman." 

Chuck looked at the piece of paper. He thought about Charlie groaning in pain on the hospital bed back then; he thought about what the Riddler had done to his own son; he thought about what Batman had said about the family of five the Joker had killed; he thought about the thousands of lights he'd seen while flying through the night sky, turning into scattered dots, and Gotham, scarred and broken. Finally, he thought about that kid in the red shirt, spreading his arms in the night sky, just like he had. 

So he reached out and picked up the two bags of lollipops. 

"I've been flying kites my whole life," he thought. "They were the coolest thing I knew growing up. And now, I can use a kite I designed myself to save a lot of people's lives." 

"That makes it even cooler." 

(End of Chapter)