SDC 52
Black Mask held on longer than I expected.
It took five whole days to break him.
I went through my routine like clockwork. Pump his limbs full of lead, cut him up, and heal him just as he was about to bleed out, then cycle through the gauntlet I'd put myself through: poison, electric clamps, and acid.
All the while, I repeated the same questions.
"Who gave you that mask?"
At some point, asking became harder than pulling the trigger. The brutal monotony of it was all-consuming. And Sionas saw the weariness in me and mocked it.
"I wonder who'll break first. Me or you?"
I leveled an emotionless stare at him, driving my blade deep into his thigh, flirting with the femoral artery. Sionas grunted as I twisted and pulled it out.
Then, I repaired the damage with Reverse Cursed Technique. It came out scarred and half-healed, but it was decent progress for five days of practice. It was a while before he spoke again.
"The torture is changing you," he said in a husky voice. "I can see it in your eyes. How long until you're just as twisted as me?"
"Batman and I had this exact conversation," I said. "It didn't sound any smarter coming from him."
There was a vast difference between killing one-time offenders caught in bad situations and mass murderers like him.
"Your conscience doesn't care about smarts and logic," he said. His blood red eyes bore into me. It had been two whole days since I fed him. "It's stupid like that. My face will haunt your dreams, and it won't matter how insane you think I am."
I wanted to scoff, but I knew he was right. I'd made peace with that.
Trash was trash.
"I can stop this at any time. All you have to do is tell me what I want to know."
"You're a fool, you know. After everything I've done to you—after everything you know about me—the thing you're hung up on is the sorcerers?" He laughed, shallow and bitter. "I'll die before I tell you about them."
Those words stuck with me. And suddenly, it clicked.
My blade dug into the same thigh I shot him—the same one I'd healed dozens of times over during our little torture session, the same one that had never healed right once—and sliced the femoral artery. Blood fountained out, drenching me in copper. I used Reverse Cursed Technique to stem the bleeding and slowly repair the artery, then the muscle and flesh.
It was notably easier this go-around.
Reverse Cursed Technique Level 3
The notification told me why.
"You took a binding vow, didn't you?"
He grunted. "You mystical types drive a hard bargain. And I like my soul very much."
I knew little more about binding vows than what the earlier notification and dreams had told me. I suspected that was due more to my current sorcerer rating than the nature of the technique itself.
But from what I understood, binding vows were broad-reaching, virtually limitless, and hinged on sacrifice. They challenged motivation and limits.
What was I willing to give up to gain an advantage?
I frowned, thoughtful.
"So, you can't tell me about them directly. What can you tell me?"
"That they're powerful. Think Superman, but without mercy or understanding. And they've got plans for me," he said slowly, feverishly. "You think killing me won't have consequences?"
"I'm well aware. But the alternative is letting you live."
The conversation went on. Black Mask mostly wasted our time, offering nothing I didn't already know or suspect, even under pressure.
He finally cracked when I returned with food—burgers and drinks
He ravished it like it was his last supper.
The conversation turned contemplative as we ate, and I took his advice: I asked questions I'd always wanted answers to.
"Why did you come after me so hard?" I asked. "You could've let it go after that night."
"Would you have?" he countered, his dark eyes locking with mine as he chewed. "You stole from me, killed my boys, and tossed them in the Gotham River. Of course, I couldn't let that kind of disrespect stand."
I stopped mid-chew. My muscles stiffened. He had a point. I wouldn't have stood for that kind of disrespect either—but I would've broken bones, not killed them. Not if I could help it.
Black Mask grinned at my discomfort. Hilariously, he misjudged the reason for it.
"What? You think I didn't know about the car? Left it at the bottom of the river as insurance. Dragging it out would've caused more problems than it solved. Though, in retrospect, maybe I should've. Hindsight's a bitch, isn't it?"
"You could've lied," I pointed out.
"You'd have killed me anyway," he said. "Batman couldn't stop you even if he tried. I'll never know why you showed up to rob me without a gun."
"My friend didn't want me to," I admitted.
He laughed. "You should be thanking me, then. All that pain must've bred that kind of weakness out of you."
I scowled. "I'm fifteen. What's your excuse for letting a teenager outsmart you?"
Black Mask blanched, face twisting in something I'd never seen before. Half anger, half embarrassment. Strange, seeing someone I'd obsessed over—feared—look so ordinary. So human.
"That ungrateful bitch. When I found her and her junkie mother, they were on the street," he seethed. "I plucked them from the gutter. Made them what they were…"
He caught himself, but it was too late.
"You had to see it coming," I said. "Her mother is in Arkham because of you. You gave her complete access."
He snorted. "Angelica's mother would've died if it weren't for me. The cult gave her purpose. Control. Meaning. I never claimed to be perfect, but the bitch knew what she was getting into. And I've been nothing but kind to her and her daughter. And… and this is the thanks I get."
"You love her, don't you?" I said, putting the pieces together. "It's the only reason you'd let this happen." She was his blind spot.
He went rigid. His next bite was slower.
I laughed. "The king of the fucking underground broke the first rule of being a criminal: no weaknesses."
He huffed, indignant. "You think it's so easy. It sneaks up on you."
I didn't disagree. I thought of the hostages I'd saved. Strangers I'd risked my life for. What would I do for Artemis? For the others?
I crouched to his eye level.
"I'm going to kill her." My voice was calm, cold, and deliberate. The effect was immediate.
Confusion. Then fear.
"Y-you can't be serious. She's done nothing to you."
"She got you out of prison. Probably hired Deathstroke for you. That's enough for me. Maybe Batman's got her in a cell now, but if she's anything like you, she won't stay there long. I'll bide my time. And when she least expects it, I'll kill her. Unless…"
Black Mask scowled. "Unless I break the vow."
I shrugged.
"She betrayed me. Tried to kill me. You really think I'd risk it?"
"What was it you said about the conscience? It's a lot like the heart," I said. "Sure, you would've preferred not to be on the receiving end of the double-cross, but you've got to admit—it was impressive."
Mask grunted. We sat in silence for a while before he finally spoke.
"Make a vow to me. The same kind the sorcerers did. That you won't lay a finger on her. That you won't try to get her killed."
"I promise—as long as you tell me everything you know about the sorcerers. Leave nothing out."
"I will."
Sionas reluctantly nodded, and I channeled the new technique. The air crackled and twisted with power, thick invisible cords wrapped around us, sinking past our skin, muscles, and bones, settling on our souls.
My skin rippled with goosebumps, and Mask shivered.
"It is done," I said, my voice barely a whisper. "Now, start talking."
I'd been right about a lot of things, but ignorant about so much more.
The mask was indeed a Cursed Tool, but it wasn't given by Artisan. No.
It was by a Japanese woman with night-black hair, striking gray eyes, and tattoos. She was surrounded by dozens of formless spirits—some birds, others monstrous like wolves and snakes.
Sionas said she gifted him one of her spirits to cement their deal, which involved identifying and transporting certain individuals the spirit located.
I figured those people had the potential to be sorcerers but lacked the ability to harness cursed energy and an innate technique.
Or… they were ingredients for the ritual my father mentioned.
Mass human sacrifice. That was a terrifying concept to consider.
As if things weren't bad enough, I also learned that Sionas had been in contact with Shelim. He'd helped orchestrate Black Mask's release and had been his point of contact with the big boss for a while.
"Is their name Artisan?" I asked with bated breath.
There was a flicker of confusion in his eyes before it happened. Blood vessels swelled. His eyes rolled back. He slumped.
Dead.
I sat there for a while, swallowing hard.
At least I'd gotten my answers.
I just wasn't proud of what I'd done to get them.
And it confirmed something else: I was in even more danger than I realized. I needed to leave Gotham.
BATMAN'S POV
The mission ended up bloodier than I'd have liked.
Gordon's SWAT intercepted Penguin on his way to the meeting spot and showed up just in time to stop Deathstroke from killing his target. Robin and I caught up to Angelica and Shade on Gotham Bridge—with a third party present: Zatara.
Shade had carved through her security and loyalists, even heavily wounding Brendon, the lieutenant who handled Mask's real estate.
I hadn't flagged him as a turncoat. It was a welcome surprise.
Zatara bound Shade with a chain of light, anchoring him in the visible plane.
After being arrested, Angelica refused to hand over the password to her drives, but Robin was confident we'd crack them.
The real estate guy wasn't as stubborn. He flipped fast, offering intel on Black Mask in exchange for a lighter sentence.
Gordon took the deal over the phone. It was enough to get a warrant for Black Mask's mansion.
When SWAT arrived, the place was wrecked—half torn down, burning. Survivors didn't need convincing. They talked. Fast.
Apparently, Black Mask had summoned a demon, and some kind of vigilante showed up to deal with both, then vanished.
From the descriptions and weapons, I knew exactly who it was.
Negative.
"You don't think…" Gordon trailed off.
I met his eyes.
"I'll get to the bottom of this," I said, turning to leave. I already knew where to start.
Happy new week. I've looked at the survey, and I've made my decision. I'm choosing Clone Technique. Sure, it'd prefer for a more offensive option, but having the versatility of a full team with just one technique seems too great an opportunity to pass up. Plus, with his meta ability, his pure physicality is probably going to end up his greatest asset.