Persona: Hero x Villain System

Chapter 15: Dawn of The Bat 

Volume 1: Origins 

November, 23

Bullseye

Dran disconnected the call. Bullseye growled into the dead receiver—the new information complicated things. The rule of thumb, when he was on hit, was to utilize every modicum of information and be weary of the smallest of variables. 

He smiled mischievously. He did learn the kid had a soft spot for families. That little nugget could be used if they knew who he was. If he could grab the family, he could torture and kill them to make the boy make mistakes.

He stewed in contemplation. Dran wanted a full fallback of all operations against the targets tonight, namely the Red Hood. Based on their updated information from one of the other Assassins, the Russian brute Molot Boga had been defeated, and his death was imminent. He hadn’t likened the man from the get-go, claiming to be his superior. He would show The Hand he was the world's deadliest assassin, the man that never missed. 

He was Bullseye! 

Cabled inside, the copter bullseye leaned out the door, hand on the Stark Industries `Heat Heart’ Rocket launcher. It was a newer weapon he had no business having, but when had that stopped him? He would use anything to kill his target, even if that meant blowing up a major interstate. He smiled, cigar clung to his mouth in anticipation. 

“Come to daddy, boy.” He roared toward the night. 

Suddenly, a matte black vehicle or tank? Bullseye didn’t know which to call it, but it was big, and it wasn't very comforting. He could hear the silent whirling of its engine; it gave one the same sensation they would have standing near a fighter plane. 

The Tumbler thundered out of the tunnel; the cigar dropped from his mouth as he gawked. 

“How the fuck did he get that into the tunnel?” He asked rhetorically, screaming into the headset. The pilot, a hand operative, stared at the rumbling vehicle before flowing backward from the quickly approaching death.

High-caliber rounds did little to halt the tank. It was some form of military vehicle to be armored like that. Leaning from the side of Hawk as its cannons decimated the road and perplexed the armored vehicle, Bullseye released the rocket that ascended into the sky before breaking apart like a firework display, countless self-propelled miniature rockets scattered before descending atop the armored vehicle. 

He laughed loudly as he watched the rockets descend toward the armored vehicle. His laughter was cut short as the armored vehicle acted again. Hundreds of flares were spilled from the sides of the vehicle, causing the small rockets to detonate prematurely. 

Boom!

Boom!

Boom! 

‘That motherfucker has decoys?’ He didn’t like this. Who were they dealing with here?

Bullseye gripped the door of the Black Hawk, leaning out, his eyes locked on the approaching vehicle. He gestured for the pilot to take them up and away. His gut told him not to let the armored car get closer. The pilot followed directions and began to ascend. 

The armored vehicle was unexpectedly armed. Bullseye didn’t see weaponry on the vehicle because it was all hidden behind its sleek exterior. A hidden compartment slid open, and he knew they had miscalculated who they were dealing with. A barbed hook punctured through the tail end of the Black Hawk, halting it from escaping. 

Alarms rang inside the cockpit as the pilot attempted to wrestle control of the black hawk back. They heard it before it hit them, but the damn cable was more than a capturing tool. The copter stuttered as its screen began to flicker before completely failing, as the power was cut by the small EMP blast that emanated from the attached cable. 

Bulleyes roared at the pilot in agitation as he knew there wasn’t anything the two could do. He recalled Dran ordering them to retreat and regretted not listening. If he survived this encounter, he would be done with The Hand and their problems. 

Cole Stephens 

Moments earlier. 

The Tumbler shook but held as the rockets exploded overhead, the decoy flares doing their job, and only a handful managed to lock on, and those were cared for by the thick-plated special alloy that was propriety’s tech of Wayne Industries. 

Cole glanced at the interface before his eyes; it was the vehicle stability meter, confirming it was still green. He didn’t expect the assassin to have access to Stark Tech. ‘I suppose Obadiah was already selling advanced weaponry on the black market. His concern was what he sold and to whom. He would have to further his plans if he wanted to get ahead of Starla technology getting into the hands of criminals, and he didn’t even want to think about the aline and Asgardian tech that would start popping up soon.’

Cole chuckled as he drove through the conflagration of fire caused by the detonation. He was having fun. Unbeknownst to him, it was a dream of his to drive the batmobile; even though this one was the Dark Knights version, it still was quite fun. 

The seat rearranged him toward another screen. The Wayne Tech logo was displayed briefly before the counter options appeared. It was amazing how the system allowed his still-advancing Red Cowl to sync and control the technology end of gadgets. If it was powered, he could manipulate it with the helmet. He pressed the button, an option he thought was better, and he wanted that black hawk. He needed it to land and defeat its owner and just had to place his palm on it, and his personal Hammer Space would take care of the rest. He could purchase all kinds of aerial vehicles in the shop. Why would he waste millions if he had it when he could take it from his enemies? 

The black stalled above before falling toward the ground. He acted before the damage to the copter would get too expensive. Anything inside his inventory could be repaired at a cost; so far, nothing was overly expensive, but he didn’t want to push his luck. 

Cole slammed down on the brakes, the thick military-graded tires denting the asphalt as the menacing vehicle approached an assertive stop. 

The Butterfly door slowly opened as Cole emerged. Time was slowly approaching dawn, and he needed to make it back to the orphanage before Mother Carmichael came to check in on him. It wasn’t out of concern, but she hoped he had run away to sick her boys on him again. He doubted the last time would repeat itself, and when he did run, his wound led them to their death. 

Cole slowly approaches the plane. He kept his ears open, occasionally listening to the police scanner. It was easier to multitask when he technically was three people. It was hard to explain or put into words. His Persona System afforded him many things; some weren’t even showcased on his status sheet—bullseye lept from the crippled plane but not before blowing the pilot's brains out against the windshield. Cole stared at the gory sight and wondered how much cleaning would cost. 

“You should have blown me up, then face me, boy.” Sneered the assassin as the two circled each other. 

He halted as a prompt flashed before him. Radiant? Ahh shit! He groaned inwardly. He scanned it over, and his reluctance turned to excitement. What better way to grow than to be tempered by others? He would welcome each would be killer. 

System-generated Radiant mission: [Variable] The Hand has withdrawn their hand, bloodied, tired, and weary of your interference with their operations.

 A substantial reward has been placed on your head, dead or alive, and information about you has been disseminated amongst those in the know. 

Assassins will come for your head. Do you kill those that come for your head, or do you spare them only for them to return and try again with a better understanding of who you are? 

Reward(s): Host dependent. 

He understood that with all of his talents, he still couldn’t handle those that stood against the gods—heroes like Thor and villains like Thanos, who were oceans in potency and skill beyond him. 

He was still very much street level, but he would grow, and with each reward and upgrade he could pull from the system, he would consolidate his power; all he needed was time; time was his only real enemy. 

There would come a time when he would need to train himself to draw every point of proficiency from within. But, until then, he would break himself across those that crossed him; with a voice that reverberated into the oncoming Dawn, he called out to his next foe. 

“Benjamin Poindexter.” Said Cole, forestalling the assassin's footsteps. His intimidation ability flowed from him, unraveling like the leathery wings of a waking bat. The man's eyes grew significant as the sheer presence of fear itself stifled the air between the two. Cole smiled underneath the cowl. He would break himself against his enemies. He would see them that those that slink in the night should fear him. It was a long time for the bat to walk New York. 

“Show me.” he stepped forward, hands splayed out in a non-threatening way, but his presence alone made the man slowly backpaddle. “Show me what you have to stand before me.” He brought his ability back close to his skin, shielding the man from the embodiment of fear. 

Reading about the man reported never to miss and seeing him in action were two different things. Cole was peppered with twenty knives before he was pushed from the ground, and the two traded blows before they disengaged. 

Cole reached up and pulled a knife from his throat while his healing factory pushed other blades from his flesh. He was startled. Such an ability could be wondrous in his hands. Unfortunately, he couldn’t purchase abilities yet. The man managed to find every exposed spot in his armor that was, at best, a millimeter width and placed a dagger into it from several feet away. 

Bullseye had known fear before, but only at those above him. He feared The Hand for their network, not the man that ran it. He hadn’t felt that fear since his father; it made him remember when he was weak and defenseless, and he hated it, hated the boy for making him remember. 

His body tensed at the small show of indifference that was displayed. He placed ten knives into vital spots. An ordinary man would have bled out in moments. It amazed him how people thought armor could protect them and still allow maneuvering. Unfortunately, the man before him didn’t have that; his armor was a mask, and the monster under it was something else entirely. 

The two stared at each other before they pushed off the ground and met in the middle. Bullseye was optimistic he could beat the boy regardless of his healing ability. Let’s see him heal from being beaten to the brink of death repeatedly. And they wanted him to retreat? The kid was a fool to meet him face to face. 

Cole feinted and landed a devastating haymaker that flattened the assassin. The man gasped and cried out in pain at the sudden blow and the sheer power behind the blow.

To his amazement, the hand toward his shoulder thrummed, and he could feel his broken knuckles heal from the small cracks from the contact. Bullseye stumbled to his feet, almost punch-drunk. He leered at the rwd cowl enemy before spitting blood toward him, showing a crazed bloody smile. 

“My mom hit harder,” sneered the assassin as he lunged forward. 

“But you were able to kill her.” Cole mocked. Enjoying the glimmer of astonishment on the man's face as he was shocked at his identity earlier crimes being known. Bullseye had long ago secured the complete erasure of his identity. 

Unimpturbed, Cole launched at the man as they continued to trade heavy-handed blows. Cole had held himself back after he understood the assassin couldn’t tank his full-powered hits like the Brazilian mutant. 

A memory surfaced in his head. Adamantium reinforcement. He had forgotten the man somehow survived a lesser version of the surgery that even the likes of Wolverine suffered with, and he had the most cheat healing factor that was known. Well, Coles was almost identical, if not better; he could theoretically be brought back by a speck of blood, too, if the impression and flavor text from his healing factor was to be trusted.

He spat, mouth bloody from the blow he received from the Red Cowled menace. ‘He was angrier now. This “boy” was trained as a better martial artist than the Daredevil. Let’s not even talk about his connecting blows. He would need months of recovery after this. He took ragged breaths as he broke away from the fight. If not for his reinforcement. He would have been laid out already. 

“Got it easy, mutie,” snarled Bullseye pulling a gun from his leg holster. Did he think him unarmed? The two both moved at an almost identical pace as they circled, dodged, and pushed forward, shooting at each other in what could be called gun kata. Bullseye gun clicked empty before Coles fired into his thigh, causing the man to roar in pain. Cole grappled the man before bashing him in the head with the butt of the Glock pistol, whippin' the man into submission. 

Bullseye groaned on the ground as the Red Hood held him by his clothes. 

“Pointdexter, I won’t kill you, but I’ll offer you something better. Work for me.” He had unraveled his ability again, using the secondary aspect of chance as the man's body still in his vice grip, their eyes locked. “Your skills and other abilities are enough to be of use. Decide or don’t; the next time you show up before me, I’ll put you down before you see me coming.” He pushed the injured man back as he crumbled toward the ground.

He could barely manage not to scream. He knew something was wrong, but the kid reminded him of his father and the fear the man-induced on the younger him. 

Summoning strength, he spoke with misplaced bravado. “Do you think I do this just for the money? I do it because I’m a killer, and I enjoy it! 

“I've been gettin' paid for high-end jobs forever, kid? What makes you think I’ll just come crawling to you?” Spat the assassin, trying to lift himself off the ground. 

Cole shrugged his shoulder, stepping past the man toward the only thing he wanted. He placed his hand on the badly damaged black hawk before it winked out of existence, the pilot's body flopping to the ground.

Cole had begun to fill the exertion of the night's operation. He could continue, but he was out of time. He had pushed himself almost to his limits and had grown stronger for it. 

The police were coming, alerted by the calls of backed-up traffic and the explosions on the interstate. The Tumbler had vanished alongside the helicopter; dread began blooming in the psychotic mind of the bullseye. 

The sky was turning orange as night’s darkness began its flight. Unbeknownst to Cole, his shadow stretched across the pavement, a bat-like image trailed behind him. 

“You’re just a human,” he deadpanned. “Your upgrade is going to kill you one day. Adamantium wasn't meant to be melded to the flesh. He wanted to warn them man and cement into him the need to seek him out. 

His tone became one of warning. “I can already tell you’re out of commission for a while after your sad showing,” he cut his head toward, the sole steel-grey pupil absorbing the man in its gaze. “If I wanted, I could kill you now. Is that what you want, Pointdexter?” He heard and saw the man swallow at the cold words. 

He continued. "You're destined only to haunt them; come with me, and I'll show you a world outside this one!" Bullseye froze as he watched the man grab at the emerging sunset. He stood up, his hand gripping the pistol, Cole's back turned as he watched the sunset. He nodded his head, hearing the gun being holstered. 

“Smart man, Pointdexter. Please find our partner, listen to his orders as if you would mind, and do protect him. Whatever you need, he will facilitate it.” 

The doctor should be coming toward a good testing point for the serum. He tossed a card behind him already knowing the man would catch it. 

He smiled again, a new tab appearing in his status. 

Minions…. With the system insurance he was positive the man couldn’t betray him, at least without reason.