“Your marksmanship is quite impressive—to be able to make that shot right into this gun’s barrel. Like he cost me my arm, you also wish to take this one,” the man growled, his thick accent wedging through the static tension in the air.

Jason tilted his head slightly, unbothered. The cracked fluorescent light above flickered, throwing shadows across the walls of the half-destroyed room. 

The smell of gunpowder mixed with the faint scent of expensive perfume and blood. “Dude,” Red Hood said dryly, “you have a fucking gun for an arm. Don’t wrap me up in whatever beef you’ve got with Batman. Leave me out of it. I’m my own man, and I’m here for Black Mask. That’s the only business I’ve got tonight—not fighting some half-robot psycho out for vengeance because he got his ass handed to him by someone else.”

“Either way, orders have been given,” the brute replied coldly, his single organic eye narrowing with murder in it. “Red Hood’s death is already inevitable. Encountering one of his boys… is just an appetizing bonus. The Beast shall enjoy th—” He never finished. 

In a flash of movement, Red Hood drove forward, planting his boot and twisting his hips into a thrust aimed right for KGBeast’s heart. The air split with a high-pitched metallic shriek as a solid yet retractable blade shot out from beneath the Beast’s cybernetic arm, deflecting Jason’s sword mid-lunge with a shower of sparks.

The impact sent a metallic echo through the narrow hall, the force vibrating through Jason’s forearm. He was shoved back, his boots skidding across the cracked tiles as KGBeast retaliated with a brutal swing from his mechanical arm. 

Jason tried to sidestep, body instinctively coiling for a counter—but his right leg didn’t respond fast enough. Pain lanced up his thigh like lightning, locking his movement for a crucial second.

The blade came down with a brutal whoosh, and Jason barely managed to block it with his sword, the clang ringing through his skull. The weight behind KGBeast’s arm was monstrous—the gun, the metal, the sheer mechanical density—it all made every swing hit like a sledgehammer. Red Hood parried it, but the effort rattled through his bones.

He grit his teeth, switching tactics. Raising his pistol in one hand while steadying his sword with the other, he fired off a series of quick, controlled shots. 

The muzzle flashes illuminated KGBeast’s masked face and metal plating. But the brute deflected the bullets with terrifying precision, sparks scattering like fireflies as he deflected each round with his blade before lunging again.

Jason caught the movement, but this time he was slower—his balance off, his footwork sluggish. KGBeast’s diagonal upward strike was too fast to evade. Jason raised his blade to block, but the motion left him wide open on his flank.

He tried to pull the trigger again—to shoot the bastard point blank—but KGBeast’s attack came first. The metal arm connected with the side of his helmet in a crushing blow. 

The world tilted violently. Jason’s shot went wild as pain exploded behind his eyes. Before he could recover, KGBeast’s heavy boot slammed into his chest, launching him backward.

Jason crashed through the bathroom door with a deafening crack, shattering ceramic tiles and splintering the mirror behind him. Shards scattered across the floor like glass rain. He groaned, pain crawling up his ribs as he lay amid the wreckage, his breathing ragged inside the helmet.

‘The longer this fight goes on… the worse it’ll get,’ he thought, forcing himself up with one arm. He glanced down at his leg. The makeshift bandage from earlier had already failed; blood seeped through the fabric, dark and wet. His emergency patch-up wasn’t holding anymore.

Footsteps echoed from beyond the doorway—heavy, deliberate, and sounding like bad omen.

KGBeast’s shadow stretched across the tiles before his frame appeared, filling the narrow entryway like a statue.

“Your old man put up more of a fight,” KGBeast sneered with his voice low and guttural. “To think you could face the Beast in that condition… pathetic. Either you’re too cocky to run, or you really do have a death wish. Either way, tonight shall be the end of the Red Hood.”

He advanced slowly, the dull metallic thuds of his steps mingling with the faint dripping from the busted sink. The air felt tighter with each stride, heavy with the smell of gun oil and dust.

“Come out, boy,” he mocked, tilting his head. “It’s too cramped in there. This fight could end much quicker if the Beast were to bash your skull against the tiled wall.” His voice oozed arrogance, his grin attempting to break through and cause Jason to fall into despire.

Jason exhaled through his teeth, his voice calm and casual. “Don’t get too cocky. If not for my busted leg, this would’ve been over ages ago. Old man.”

He wasn’t bluffing—just stalling. Shooting directly at KGBeast now would be useless. The bastard could react fast enough, interrupt his aim, or just block it entirely with that metal arm. Every bullet would just be wasted unless he used them smartly—like bait. That was how he’d managed to disable the gun-arm earlier: by catching him off guard with precise aim. But now the bastard knew better.

Jason’s gaze flicked briefly to the arm, realizing the faint mechanical hum had changed pitch.

“Hah… much better,” KGBeast’s voice came again, low and confident. Then the sharp, mechanical click of a reload broke the silence.

Jason’s eyes widened beneath his helmet as he realized—the son of a bitch had fixed his weaponized arm.

The sound of rapid gunfire tore through the night air, ripping apart the tense silence as red-hot bullets shredded the bathroom walls. Dust, plaster, and broken tile burst outward in violent sprays while smoke clouded the room . Each impact echoed with a sharp metallic ping, the noise reverberating through the building’s narrow halls.

KGBeast finally stopped firing after what felt like an eternity. The smoking barrel of his cybernetic arm hummed with heat, faintly glowing beneath its scorched plating. He exhaled slowly, lowering the arm with mechanical ease. The silence that followed was unnerving—only the faint hiss of settling dust and the distant hum of the city beyond the shattered window filled the air.

He started toward the bathroom, boots crunching over debris. He leaned his weight against the doorframe, cautious, his single eye scanning the ruin inside.

Was it over? Did he finally put the Red Hood down for good?

He expected to see the vigilante sprawled across the floor—bleeding out, maybe twitching from shock, or at least hiding behind the busted tub. But instead, the room was empty. The mirror was shattered, the sink cracked in half, and fragments of porcelain littered the floor. Water trickled from a broken pipe, collecting into small puddles that reflected the faint glow of the room’s light.

Red Hood was nowhere in sight.

The floor was clear. The window—far too small for any grown man to crawl through. That only left one possibility.

“Above…” KGBeast muttered under his breath.

His instincts kicked in a split second too late. As he tilted his head upward, his one good eye met the faint red glow from Red Hood’s visor. Jason was pressed flat against the ceiling, muscles strained as he held himself up. His injured leg braced against the upper frame of a cabinet, the other foot dug into the wall for leverage. In his right hand, he’d jammed a crowbar halfway into the tiled wall, using it as a handle to suspend himself.

The moment their eyes met, Red Hood’s body shifted. His left arm moved off the wall and went straight for his pistol.

Both men drew their weapons at the same time—but Jason was faster. Two sharp cracks split the air, muzzle flashes flaring like small explosions as bullets ripped toward the mercenary’s head.

KGBeast jerked back, his metal shoulder scraping the doorway as he narrowly avoided the rounds. Jason fired two more shots through the wall before dropping down. His boots hit the ground with a heavy thud, sending another wave of dust into the air.

The mercenary pressed his back against the opposite wall, breathing hard as he adjusted his grip. The doorframe beside him was riddled with bullet holes. Jason stepped out of the smoke with a pistol in one hand, sword in the other, his stance sharp and steady despite the pain in his leg.

Three small pellets rolled across the cracked floor toward KGBeast. He barely had time to register them before they burst open with a hiss—thick black smoke flooded the room, swallowing everything in sight.

“You’re a trained assassin, aren’t you?” KGBeast called out, his voice echoing through the haze.

Two quick shots answered him, each pinging off his cover.

“What gave it away?” Jason’s voice came from somewhere in the fog, calm and teasing.

“Even with your wounded leg,” the mercenary replied, “the Beast cannot hear your footsteps.” He aimed at the sound and fired twice, bullets cutting through the smoke.

Jason smirked beneath his helmet. “Well, this is quite the matchup—the Soviet lapdog versus the bloodthirsty assassin.”

“Within this smoke,” KGBeast said darkly, “the Beast has the advantage.”

“Oh yeah?” Jason ducked low and shifted positions. “Enlighten me.”

“The Beast has a cybernetic implant for a left eye. Meaning,” he fired again, rapid bursts lighting up the haze, “I can see you even through this smoke.” Jason’s heart pounded in his chest as he weaved between the bullets, taking cover behind a cracked partition. 

“That’s quite the coincidence,” Jason muttered, his tone steady as his helmet’s sensors flickered to life. “Because I see you too.”

The tension snapped as both of them stepped out of cover almost simultaneously, silhouettes glowing red and yellow in each other’s infrared vision.

Jason didn’t hesitate—he surged forward. His movements were sharp but controlled, putting all the weight on his good leg. The muzzle of KGBeast’s arm lit up again, filling the smoke with a strobing fury of orange light. Jason dodged, slipping between the bursts and returning fire as he closed the gap.

They met at the center of the ruined room, metal clashing against metal. KGBeast swung his bowie blade with his right arm; Jason caught it on his sword, sparks flaring where steel met steel. The Beast pressed his gun-arm to Jason’s ribs, ready to fill him full of holes—

But Jason reacted first. He drove his boot hard into the mercenary’s chest, using the impact as leverage to propel himself backward. The hit sent KGBeast flying, crashing into the far wall with a metallic crunch that cracked the plaster.

“You wear his symbol,” the Beast grunted, dragging himself up, “but you don’t fight or move like him.” He ripped a few shurikens from his belt and flung them. Jason deflected them midair, sparks glinting off his blade as the weapons shattered against the walls.

“Unlike your brother in arms, Nightwing,” KGBeast continued, pacing slowly, “you aren’t as nimble. Maybe it’s your leg… or maybe he’s just better than you.”

Jason snorted through his helmet, his voice dripping with mock amusement. “Oh, so you fought Nightwing? I bet that was a fun time. Lemme guess—he whooped your ass, didn’t he?”

The remark landed like a slap. KGBeast’s expression darkened, his jaw tightening beneath his mask. His rage was almost palpable. With a growl, he once again detached the bowie blade from his arm and gripped it by the handle, taking a stance. Jason’s quip had struck home.

The mercenary lunged first this time, swinging the blade in a vicious arc. Jason met it head-on, blocking and pushing back hard enough to make the metal shriek. He followed it with a roundhouse kick, his boot connecting solidly with the man’s faceplate and sending him smashing through the wall into the hallway beyond. The impact left a crater of cracked plaster and scattered debris.

“The Bat left me to die,” KGBeast roared, staggering to his feet, voice trembling with fury. “But I beat death and lost my arm! Nightwing cost me my first cybernetic arm and nearly my life. It bruised my pride. 

Tonight, I’ll have my revenge—and wear your bullet-riddled skull as my trophy!”

Jason sighed through his helmet, straightening his shoulders as his tone dropped to something colder. “You just can’t let it go, huh? Fine. You wanna project your issues onto me, go ahead. But if you’re so desperate for closure—then come and get it.”

He charged forward, ignoring the ache in his leg. KGBeast fired to stop him, but Jason weaved through the barrage, each step deliberate and measured. He closed the distance in seconds, kicking the merc’s cybernetic arm just enough to redirect the muzzle away from him before driving in with his sword.

The two clashed again—metal on metal, rage against resolve. KGBeast swung downward with his blade, Jason blocked and countered with a brutal headbutt that sent a dull crack echoing through the hall.

Then Red Hood drove his boot into the merc’s chest, forcing him back through another wall, debris raining down around them as they crashed into the hallway.

“To be this worked up about Batman and Nightwing,” Red Hood said as he stepped through the doorway, deliberately avoiding the hole he’d made, “They must have really done a number on you, huh?”

His voice was calm and mocking. But beneath the helmet, his eyes burned fiercely—focused and done with the games. He has to end things quick.

Source: Webnovel.com, updated by NovelKeep