Chapter 84: Chapter 84

Jason stood, his boots grinding into the blood-soaked dirt, a storm of violent intent brewing behind his eyes. If Stark was already Iron Man, suited up in that high-tech armor, Jason might’ve been out of his depth—outgunned, outclassed. But right now? Stark was just a man, a genius with too much money and not enough sense to stay out of Jason’s way. ’I’ve got a hundred ways to bury you, you smug bastard,’ He thought. His lips curled into a savage grin, the kind that promised blood.

He turned to Rhodes, who lay sprawled in the dust, his face pale, eyes wide with a mix of pain and dread. The colonel’s leg was a mess, blood oozing from the bullet wound in his thigh, staining the ground beneath him. “Don’t worry, Rhodes,” Jason said, his voice low and mocking. “I’m not gonna kill you. Not yet.” He crouched closer, his shadow falling over the injured man like a vulture circling its prey. “To the world, you’re just another replaceable grunt. But to me? You’re a fucking golden goose, laying eggs of intel and points.”

Rhodes’ brow furrowed, confusion flickering through his pain. He didn’t grasp the full meaning, but Jason’s promise of survival hit like a lifeline, easing the knot of terror in his chest. His breath came in shallow gasps, the relief almost palpable despite the agony radiating from his wounds.

Jason straightened, his gaze hard as steel. “When you crawl back to your bosses, deliver a message to Stark for me.”

Rhodes nodded eagerly, desperate to stay on this psycho’s good side. “What’s the message? I’ll make sure he gets it, word for word.”

Jason’s smile was a razor’s edge. “Tell him nobody fucks with me and walks away clean. He ratted out my hideout to the cops, and I don’t forget shit like that. Tell him to watch his back—every street, every corner, every fucking second. I’ll be there, waiting.”

Rhodes’ expression shifted, a flicker of surprise crossing his bloodied face. The raw menace in Jason’s tone wasn’t bluster—it was a vow, carved in stone. But Rhodes couldn’t wrap his head around it. Why pick a fight with Tony Stark? The guy was untouchable, a billionaire arms dealer with tech that made governments drool. Even with a freak like David—a sharpshooter who could drop fifty elite operatives without breaking a sweat—going head-to-head with Stark was like an ant challenging a tank. ’Suicide,’ Rhodes thought, a grim smirk forming in his mind. If Jason vanished into the mountains, the feds and military would spend years chasing ghosts. But if he was dumb enough to come for Stark? They’d crush him like a roach.

“Got it,” Rhodes said, his voice steady despite the pain. “I’ll tell him. Exactly as you said.”

Jason’s eyes narrowed, studying Rhodes’ face, catching the subtle twitch of his lips, the faint glint of defiance in his eyes. He laughed, a cold, barking sound that echoed across the desolate lot. “Oh, you’re thinking it, aren’t you? That I’m a dead man walking if I go after Stark.” He leaned in, his voice dropping to a dangerous whisper. “Forgot to introduce myself properly. We’re part of an outfit called The Joker.”

Rhodes blinked, the name hitting like a brick. “The Joker?” His mind raced, piecing it together, and then it clicked. His eyes widened, horror dawning. “You… you’re Jason Walter!”

Jason’s grin widened, all teeth and malice. “Fucking right. International superstar, baby.”

Rhodes’ face drained of what little color remained, his spine icing over. Jason wasn’t just a criminal—he was a legend, the first man to break out of New York’s Long Island Prison, a ghost who’d toyed with every law enforcement agency in the country. The bastard had the President himself signing his wanted poster. His threats weren’t hot air; they were death sentences. Those who underestimated him were pushing up daisies, their graves marked by their own arrogance.

“You were in New York,” Rhodes stammered, his voice barely a whisper. “How the hell…”

Jason snorted, his tone dripping with contempt. “You think those NYPD clowns could hold me? I’m a fucking shadow, Rhodes. They’ll never pin me down.”

Rhodes stared, his mouth dry, his mind scrambling for a response. He had to stay calm, had to survive. If he could get out of this alive, he could warn Stark, the feds, anyone who’d listen. Jason wasn’t just a threat—he was a goddamn catastrophe waiting to happen.

—

In the distance, the faint wail of sirens pierced the morning air, growing louder with each passing second. David’s head snapped up, his instincts razor-sharp. He sprinted to a nearby pile of rubble, vaulting onto a shattered concrete slab to get a better view. His eyes scanned the horizon, narrowing as he counted the approaching forces.

Jason jogged over, his pistol still in hand. “How many cops we got incoming?”

David’s voice was calm but urgent. “Boss, it’s bad. Looks like twenty to thirty armored vans—probably a hundred and twenty-plus officers. We need to move, now.”

A year ago, Jason would’ve bolted at the sight of that kind of firepower, disappearing into the shadows like a rat. But now? With David’s Level 10 Firearms Mastery turning him into a one-man killing machine and the system’s 10,000-point threshold within reach, those cops weren’t a threat—they were a fucking buffet. One hundred twenty heads meant 12,000 Villain Points, enough to level up twice. ’Run? Fuck that,’ Jason thought, his blood singing with the thrill of the hunt. This was a golden ticket, and he wasn’t about to let it slip.

“Harley!” He barked, turning to her. “Get your ass to the convoy. Grab every weapon and bullet you can carry. We’re fighting.”

Harley’s eyes lit up like a kid on Christmas, her grin wild and unhinged. “Hell yeah, boss!” She squealed, practically diving into the car. The engine roared as she peeled out toward the wrecked SWAT vans, eager to loot their arsenal.

David’s face tightened, concern flashing in his eyes. “Boss, if you want these cops dead, let me handle it. You and the girls stay back, watch the show.”

Jason checked his pistol’s magazine, slamming it back into place with a satisfying click. He shook his head, a smirk tugging at his lips. “David, you spent three years dancing with death, turning your aim into something goddamn supernatural. But I haven’t been sitting on my ass either. I’ve got a few tricks up my sleeve.”

David frowned, opening his mouth to argue, but Jason clapped a hand on his shoulder, cutting him off. “Save it. Get ready to fight. And try not to shit yourself when you see what I can do.”

With a thought, Jason summoned the system’s interface, the translucent panel flickering to life in his vision. The 9,070 points he’d racked up were burning a hole in his pocket, and he wasn’t about to let them go to waste. Superpowers were out of reach for now—too pricey—but he could juice up his crew and turn this fight into a slaughter. ’Time to level the playing field.’

Ding! [Spent 800 points on ’Firearms Mastery Level 7’ and ’Firearms Mastery Level 8’. Remaining Points: 9300!]

Ding! [Spent 800 points on ’Combat Mastery Level 7’ and ’Combat Mastery Level 8’. Remaining Points: 8500!]

Name: Jason Wood (The Joker)

Level: 10 (9070/10000)

Strength: 63

Agility: 50

Endurance: 50

Intelligence: 40 → 50

Remaining Attribute Points: 0

Reputation: 10119 → 17240

Accomplices: Christine, David… (Next recruitment requires 100,000 Reputation)

Points: 8500

Abilities: Combat Mastery (Level 8), Driving Mastery (Level 3), Firearms Mastery (Level 8), Cold Weapons Mastery (Level 2)

Store: [Click Here]

Ding! [Spend 1350 points to purchase ’Firearms Mastery Levels 6, 7, 8, 9, 10’ for accomplice ’Harley Quinn’?]

Confirm!

Ding! [Skills granted successfully. Remaining Points: 7150!]

Ding! [Spend 1300 points to purchase ’Firearms Mastery Levels 7, 8, 9, 10’ for accomplice ’Christine’?]

Confirm!

Ding! [Skills granted successfully. Remaining Points: 5850!]

A surge of energy ripped through the trio, their bodies convulsing as the system flooded their minds with knowledge and muscle memory. Harley, who’d felt this rush before, grinned like a maniac, her fingers twitching with newfound instincts, ready to unleash hell. Christine, caught off guard, staggered, her eyes wide with shock as years of marksmanship training poured into her brain. She stared at Jason, her gaze reverent, like she was looking at a god descended from the heavens.

Jason caught her stare and smirked, his tone teasing. “What’s with the bedroom eyes, Christine? Save that shit for tonight.”

Christine steadied herself, her voice trembling with awe. “You… you can really do this. Just… give us power like that?”

“Told you yesterday,” Jason said, his grin widening. “You didn’t believe me. Consider this your welcome-to-the-team bonus. The next upgrade’s gonna cost you.”

The sirens grew louder, a swarm of armored vans cresting the horizon, their lights flashing like the eyes of a predator closing in. Jason’s crew stood ready, their weapons gleaming in the dawn light, their bodies humming with the system’s gifts. The cops were coming, but they weren’t facing a gang—they were walking into a fucking meat grinder.

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