DC & Marvel: This Guy Is Crazy

Chapter 148: Midnight Bruisers Makes His Grand Entrance

Allen and Morbius strolled out of the alley, arms slung around each other's shoulders.

The Black thug on the ground convulsed from the electric shock, foaming at the mouth—no one gave a damn whether he lived or died.

Allen was already setting his sights on the next recruit.

"I know where the guy you're looking for is," Morbius said seriously.

Allen beamed. "That's great news!"

…

West Coast, Retro Bar.

The place was a frequent hangout for Harley-riding biker gangs.

These rough and rugged middle-aged men, decked out in leather jackets bristling with metal accessories, hoisted beer mugs and boasted loudly.

But over in a shadowy corner, a man sat quietly drinking alone, looking completely out of place amid the raucous crowd.

Just then, the door creaked open and two figures stepped inside.

In an instant, the noisy bar fell dead silent.

"Hahaha… look who's here—Batman dropping by for a drink."

"You've got to be kidding me. This is the West Coast, not Gotham. Guy's clearly got a screw loose."

"Get Batman a beer—on me!"

…

The bikers burst out in unrestrained jeers.

The world had never lacked for idealistic youth who admired superheroes, but doing it in public like this? That only invited ridicule. After all, it wasn't even Halloween.

Clack!

Allen tossed a flashbang grenade onto the floor and bolted for the door.

Morbius vanished in a blur of crimson light.

"Shit!"

The man in the corner cursed, sprang to his feet, and smashed through a window to escape.

The bikers, now catching on, erupted into chaos.

Outside the bar, Allen watched calmly.

A blinding white light flashed inside, followed by a barrage of angry shouting.

"Long time no see, Russell," Morbius greeted.

"I'm surprised you're hanging out with Batman now," the man teased.

"He's not Batman," Morbius muttered, unsure how to explain Allen.

"Midnight Werewolf Russell," Allen said grandly, "I'm the Comedic Bat, and I'm here to invite you to join the Midnight Bruisers Superteam."

"This mission is extremely dangerous, and I need high-level talent like you."

"Not interested."

Russell rejected him flatly—he had no interest in getting dragged into another mess.

The curse of the werewolf often left him unable to think rationally, especially around the full moon, when he would transform and rampage uncontrollably. He usually had to flee deep into the wilderness to avoid hurting people.

Otherwise, he couldn't even guess how many lives he might take in a single night.

"The risk is high, but the payoff's solid. Some of the targets are Gotham elites. Earning a little extra on the side seems totally fair. Interested now?"

Everyone has their weaknesses—and Allen had thoroughly reviewed Russell's files. The guy lived like a vagabond due to his transformations, constantly on the move, diving into forests the moment he sensed a shift coming. No steady job, barely scraping by.

"I'd be happy to help," Russell said, making a total U-turn.

He figured if he could score a big payday, maybe he could finally settle down.

Who wants to live off greasy burgers and cheap beer forever?

Why not go for steak and red wine?

"Damn it, don't let them get away!"

"I'm gonna tie that bastard to the back of my bike and drag him through the streets!"

"Get my shotgun—I'll blow his damn head off!"

…

The exposed bikers grabbed their weapons, ready to hunt down the ones responsible.

But outside the bar, their targets were long gone.

…

Arkham Fortress.

Allen looked around at his assembled team and solemnly announced, "The Midnight Bruisers are officially formed."

Drake, Pharaoh Nick, Ocean Master Orm, Doctor Night Morbius, and Midnight Werewolf Russell—a veritable dark-mirror version of the Avengers.

"I object," Nick said first.

"We should be called a superhero team—'Midnight League' sounds more appropriate."

"Hahahaha! Everyone, laugh at him," Allen cackled.

He pointed around the room. "Look at us. What part of this screams 'superhero'?"

A vampire, a mummy, a tyrant, a mutated vampire, and a dark-creature werewolf—there was absolutely nothing heroic-looking about them.

Nick fell silent. He couldn't argue—it really did seem like he was overthinking it.

"What's your plan for dealing with the enemy?" Russell asked.

He figured Allen wouldn't have brought them all together without a game plan. He needed to know what role he'd play and how they'd coordinate.

"My plan… is no plan."

Allen raised a fist, brimming with confidence. "We just go in and wreck shit."

Everyone felt a chill—like they'd just boarded a pirate ship with no brakes.

"I'll take on Dracula," Drake said, crackling with battle fervor. "Between us, only one hybrid can be number one."

The two were legendary among hybrids—constantly compared against each other.

Unfortunately, Drake had been sealed away too early to prove himself.

"My powers are good for cover fire only," Nick admitted with a shrug. "I can handle humans, but against vampires and their healing… basically useless."

His sand mummy summons looked impressive, but were weak as hell. At best, they were useful for area control and distractions.

His only real asset was his undead body.

"Then I'll handle the small fry," Morbius said.

Thanks to the divine blood in his veins, his strength was likely on par with Drake's—but since Drake already had dibs on the boss fight, Morbius had to settle for crowd control.

"I'll do the tracking," said Midnight Werewolf Russell.

His sense of smell made him perfect for locating hidden enemies.

The Court of Owls, Count Dracula, and the pureblood aristocrats were all operating in the shadows. Without proactive recon, they'd be sitting ducks.

Everyone turned to the silent Orm.

"Make me a trident. I'll handle melee combat," he said.

Orm was a former king. If not for the favor Allen did in rescuing him, he wouldn't be caught dead with this ragtag crew.

"I'm proud of how far you've all come," Allen said, nodding like a proud father.

This mission to stop the Gotham crisis wouldn't rely solely on their five new allies—he and Nanaue would join as well.

Their first priority: find Bruce.

And if they could stop the descent of the Dark Multiverse, that would be ideal.

If not… things would only get worse.

On the eve of the operation, Allen quietly approached Russell.

The werewolf was waiting on a 3D-printed pair of Hulk-style shorts—he needed something durable enough to survive his transformations and preserve a shred of decency.

"Here, smell this."

Allen handed over a plastic-wrapped bundle.

Russell took it, puzzled. "What is this?"

"Batman's underwear. I want you to find him."

Allen added sheepishly, "And don't get the wrong idea—me and Bats have a totally pure relationship."

"…"

Bullshit.

I don't believe a word of that.