Vincent’s legs gave up, and he collapsed onto the wet steel mesh.
He wanted to run, but his muscles were shaking violently, completely refusing to obey his brain.
A huge rush of adrenaline can send more blood to the brain, helping people think clearly in dangerous situations.
But right now, that natural survival response was screwing Vincent over.
*What the hell do I need a clearer mind for?
I need my goddamn legs!* In that life-or-death moment, a heavy leather whip dropped from the corpse of the first Bio-Human.
Vincent looked up and saw a battered, exhausted Bullock sitting on top of the dead monster.
The detective had already done the hard part.
Only the final step remained.
“Just…
a little more!
You’ve got the end of the whip.
Tie a tight knot, quick!” Despite his cynical attitude and dry manner, Bullock was someone you could rely on.
Seeing Vincent paralyzed with fear, he dragged his injured, bloodied body across the grate to do what Vincent couldn’t.
In the blink of an eye, the surviving Bio-Human reached him.
It lowered its body and leaned its shoulder forward.
Its massive, rock-hard shoulder muscle became like a battering ram as it charged straight at Vincent.
At that exact microsecond, the knot on the whip snapped tight.
“It’s coming!
Get the fuck out of the way!!!!” Bullock screamed, rolling across the mesh at the exact same moment Vincent threw his body sideways.
*Boom!* The two massive bodies collided with a sickening, deafening impact.
The scene looked less like a battle and more like a speeding dump truck smashing full force into an African elephant.
Yet, even that huge mass couldn’t withstand the force of the charge.
The impact literally tore the first Bio-Human’s corpse in half, and pieces of flesh were thrown dozens of feet across the pit.
A cold sweat ran down Vincent’s back.
If Bullock hadn’t stepped in, he would have been a dead man.
“What the hell are you staring at?
You trying to stay behind and go rounds with him?” Bullock slapped the back of his head, snapping Vincent out of his daze.
Looking down, Vincent finally saw that the filtration grate had been torn open, leaving a large, jagged hole.
The plan actually worked.
Catwoman and Gordon didn’t hesitate, diving straight through the opening.
Bullock went next, but when Vincent reached the edge, his survival instinct pulled him back.
Beneath the broken grate was a deep, pitch-black abyss.
The roaring sewage water rushed down into the darkness.
What was at the bottom?
Water, or sharp rocks that could shatter his bones?
As he hesitated, the Bio-Human started recovering from the impact and began moving again.
Vincent realized he had never really had a choice.
He closed his eyes and dived into the void.
He is lucky.
As he fell, the powerful current caught him and pulled him into the water.
If he had landed on a dry surface, the speed from a hundred-foot fall would have killed him instantly.
But it was too early to celebrate; the real nightmare was just beginning.
Within seconds, the drainage pipeline narrowed significantly, twisting into a series of jagged, violent turns.
Vincent was entirely submerged in the rushing filth, unable to breathe.
His head bounced off the interior walls of the pipe like a cue ball hit by a blind billiards player.
By the time he reached the end, his brain felt completely scrambled.
*Bang!* A deafening roar, like an artillery shell being fired, exploded in his ears as he suddenly felt weightless.
The cold, salty sea wind whipped against his skin, making his exhausted, starving body shake violently.
*Am I…
out?* He forced his eyes open and squinted.
In front of him, a bright red sun was rising over the horizon, turning the ocean red and orange like fire.
As far as Vincent could remember, Gotham’s sky was always covered by dark clouds.
The city was known for its damp air, mold, and dark Gothic buildings.
He hadn’t seen real sunlight in what felt like an eternity.
*It’s beautiful…* Vincent muttered internally, instinctively reaching his hand out as if he could catch the light in his palm.
But the brief feeling of weightlessness quickly ended.
Falling headfirst, Vincent slammed into the dark ocean.
The sudden impact forced him to swallow several mouthfuls of saltwater, causing a painful burning feeling in his throat and lungs.
Through the blurred water, Vincent felt a pair of arms wrapped firmly around his body from behind, pulling him toward the surface.
“Can you hear me…
Stay with me…” Selina’s voice reached him, sounding distant and muffled by the waves.
But Vincent was completely exhausted.
His eyelids felt incredibly heavy, and he desperately wanted to let go.
“I can’t…
hold on much longer.
Is anyone…
coming for us…” Selina’s voice was shaking, sounding hollow, frozen, and exhausted.
Vincent forced his eyes open just enough to see a thin slit of reality, catching a glimpse of her wrists, which had turned a sickly, frozen blue.
*Don’t waste your energy on me.
Drop me or you won’t make it either.* Vincent wanted to tell her to let go, but his jaw was locked tight from exhaustion.
Time lost all meaning.
He and Selina were slowly submerged beneath the surface again.
Vincent could feel the freezing seawater entering his lungs.
What a ridiculous, short reincarnation trip.
A bitter surge of resentment flared in Vincent’s chest.
He opened his eyes one last time, wanting to take one last look at the world before the dark took him.
Through the swirling, distorted water, the sky had turned a pale, bruised pink.
A tiny black dot was growing larger and larger in the sky above them.
It descended with perfect precision and hovered just above the water.
Only then did Vincent recognize its shape.
It was a tactical aircraft shaped like a massive bat.
*They say people hallucinate right before they die,* Vincent thought weakly.
*I’m only seconds away from drowning, and my brain is still imagining a dramatic grande Batman entrance.
I’m hopeless.* Because this Gotham didn’t have a Batman.
…
Vincent shot upright with a rough scream, waking up as suddenly as a sprung mousetrap.
His forehead missed a young woman’s face by less than an inch as she leaned down to adjust his IV.
“You’re awake!
Hold on, I’ll go get my dad!” The girl looked to be around seventeen or eighteen, her bright blonde hair pulled back into a high ponytail.
She wore a baggy, oversized T-shirt with a cartoon bear printed on the back.
“Where the hell am I?” The girl was already down the hallway before Vincent could even get an answer.
Stretching his neck, his eyes scanned the room until they landed on a framed family photograph resting on the nightstand.
James Gordon stood in the center, smiling tightly alongside his daughter.
*Gordon’s house?* Vincent let out a long, ragged breath, his shoulders dropping.
*Thank God.* This was likely the safest place in Gotham.
He instinctively reached up to run a hand through his hair, a nervous habit from his past life, hoping to calm himself down.
But instead of hair, his fingers touched the thick, rough gauze wrapped around his head.
Little by little, the terrible memories of the drainage tunnel came flooding back.
He spread his hands to check for nerve damage, threw off the blanket, and moved his legs to make sure they still worked.
Then he quickly checked the rest of his body.
Once he confirmed that all parts were still intact, Vincent collapsed back onto the bed with a long sigh of relief.
Surviving something that brutal with only a few cuts and some cracked ribs felt almost impossible.
Vincent couldn’t decide whether he was cursed or unbelievably lucky.
A few minutes later, Gordon stepped into the bedroom.
“You look awake.
Good to see your brain didn’t suffer any permanent damage down there.” “Yeah, well, you don’t look too bad yourself, Captain.
Actually looks like you aged backward since the last time I saw you,” Vincent quipped, the relief loosening his tongue.
“Keep that silver tongue in your mouth, kid.
I’m a bit too old to be swayed by sweet talk,” Gordon countered, a rare, genuine smile appearing on his tired features.
“How’s the rest of the crew?” “Bullock took the worst of it.
He is still stuck in a hospital bed, but the doctors say he’ll make it.
As for your friend…
she woke up a full day ahead of you.
Sneaked out the window before sunrise without so much as a goodbye.” “Good.
That’s good…” Hearing that Selina was safe pulled the remaining weight from Vincent’s chest.
But something in Gordon’s words suddenly caught Vincent’s attention.
As he stared out at Gotham’s pitch-black skyline, a cold feeling of fear and anxiety began to crawl up his throat.
“Wait a minute.
You said she woke up a full day ahead of me?
What day is it?
What time?” “It’s just past eleven PM on the thirteenth,” Gordon replied, confused by the sudden shift in Vincent’s tone.
“It’s been about two and a half days since we dragged you out of the harbor.
Why?
You got a hot date?” Gordon clearly didn’t understand the scale of the crisis Vincent was facing.
Midnight on the thirteenth.
One hour.
He had exactly sixty minutes left before Salvatore Maroni’s deadline expired.
“A hot date?” Vincent laughed.
“Yeah, Gordon.
My date is a demon from Hell.”