Martin Variety in American Comics.

Chapter 15: Just as the martial arts fanatic left, another lunatic came (seeking support meow)

Blood dripped from the fatal wounds of the fallen corpses, breaking through the dust on the floor and gathering together to form blood-red muddy water.

Martin's mood now was as disgusting as the stench of blood emanating from the mud and water.

The moment Siwa reminded him, the name of the Assassin's League immediately came to Martin's mind.

As a martial arts fanatic, Shiva has never taken any action to establish an organization and only has a few followers around him.

The only large organization she has had contact with is the "Assassin's League", one of the largest talent exporters in the DC world.

But according to Gotham News, during the Arkham turmoil several years ago, the leader of the Assassin's League, Lars al Ghul, died in the fire in Arkham. Since then, the Assassin's League has fallen apart and has not been active for many years.

Could it be that Lars was resurrected after soaking in the Saralu Pool, or was there a more ruthless character who unified the scattered Assassin's League?

Martin really didn't know which of the two possibilities was worse.

But he knew that if the Penguin and the League of Assassins really colluded with each other, it would not be impossible to destroy Gotham.

"The time for going it alone is over!"

Martin mentally lamented his difficult enemy and prepared to tell Gordon and Batman what he knew.

He doesn't have any superpowers now, and facing the Penguin and the Assassin's League alone, he will only have one way to go, so of course he has to call for support.

Just thinking about the possibility of meeting the Penguin Man in the evening, he took out his tablet, slid his finger, and prepared to send an encrypted message.

But the operation had just begun when something like a sixth sense, a chill on the spine suddenly appeared. Martin sensed the danger and rolled on the spot, hiding behind a concrete wall, barely avoiding a series of bullets shot at him.

"Are there any masters?"

Martin leaned against the rough concrete wall, looking around for a way to escape.

He doesn't want to fight anymore.

"Come out!"

After being processed by instruments, only the cold electronic sound was left echoing in the unfinished building.

Martin tilted his head slightly, revealing one eye, and saw the burly man in black armor who had tried to stop Siwa that morning, holding an automatic rifle, nailed to the stairs like a nail.

Da da da!
The sturdy man noticed Martin's surveillance, turned the muzzle of the gun, and shot out bullets like water, hitting the concrete wall and splashing a lot of debris.

"Wow, what a cold-blooded fighting machine!"

Martin pulled his head back in time and dodged the bullet. He was impressed by the strong man's sharp fighting instincts and became more determined to slip away.

This guy looks difficult to deal with. We can't waste our time fighting him.

He listened to the approaching footsteps, fixed his eyes on the steel scaffolding on the outer layer of the building that had not yet been removed, pushed off the ground with his legs, and shot out like an arrow.

"Don't even think about escaping from me!"

The sturdy man looked at the shadow that flashed before his eyes, pulled the trigger at the scaffolding outside the building, and the bullet shot out from the muzzle.

He had scanned the structure of the entire building and planned all the ways to escape in his mind. He felt that he had played Martin into his hands and couldn't help feeling proud.

But Martin anticipated his opponent's prediction and took advantage of his arrogance. Halfway through the run, he suddenly braked, turned around and kicked his feet, raising a cloud of dust that covered the strong man's eyes.

As he approached, he crouched on the ground like a toad, dodging the strong man's bullets. He hugged his waist with both hands, twisted his body hard, and directly threw the strong man weighing more than 200 pounds in his arms away.

The sturdy man's armor was too heavy, and under the influence of inertia, it was difficult for him to stop for a while. Even though he used the spikes on his gloves to pierce the ground to slow down, he still almost fell from the building and hung on the edge of the balcony, looking like a big black bat from a distance. "Asshole!"

The sturdy man looked at Martin who ran out of the unfinished building, cursed him angrily, then let go and let himself fall from the third floor.

Boom!
Martin listened to the dull sound coming from behind and shook his head helplessly. Where did so many crazy people who were willing to die come from in Gotham?

He had just gotten rid of a martial arts fanatic and didn't want to be entangled by such a madman again, so he quickened his pace and soon rushed into an abandoned building from the last century.

The sturdy man followed Martin closely and kicked open the door, but he only saw a large number of homeless people lying in the waste paper boxes.

These people abandoned by society had no energy or spirit at all, lying in their waste paper boxes, doing nothing but breathing. Even if a stranger broke in, they remained indifferent, just moving their eyes, and then returned to lying like a corpse, lying in the darkness quietly waiting to die.

The sturdy man was walking among the homeless people, and the instrument on his helmet kept scanning the surroundings, but it was difficult to distinguish Martin's trace from the sea of life signals.

The stairs and elevator shaft leading upstairs were blocked by nailed wooden boards. Although there were gaps, it was impossible for an adult to pass through.

"Cunning boy!"

The burly man had no respect for Martin's identity, and after scanning him several times, he became increasingly annoyed.

He raised the gun several times and pointed it at Martin, as if to threaten his life and force him to stand up, but in the end he did nothing and just turned and left quietly.

Martin was indeed not among the homeless. He used a technique similar to shrinking bones to drill through the wooden board and ran to the roof.

There is a tall antenna on the top of the building. It was used to enhance the signal strength of radio stations in the past. With the development of the times, most of these antennas have been abandoned, but they have become repeaters for secret communication between underground forces.

Gangsters use it, Batman uses it too.

Martin used two iron wires to poke the lock on the wire door, opened the cover of the repeater, took out the tablet, opened the software to unlock the password, and slid his hands across the screen.

Countless numbers and letters jump around, repeating in endless arrangements and combinations, which is truly massive.

But with the software developed by Batman, this almost unbreakable digital combination lock was eventually pried open, and as numbers and letters were locked and selected one by one, the password was cracked.

"As expected of Batman, he can even come up with something like this!"

Martin marveled at Batman's inventiveness and continued to upload an encrypted file to the Internet.

After doing this, he restored the repeater to its original state, then left the building and went to a clothing store to change his bloody clothes.

The owner of the clothing store was not afraid when he saw Martin covered in blood. Instead, he enthusiastically recommended a suit that would not easily get stained with blood.

Martin's face was filled with black lines, but the boss didn't care: "Since decades ago, the Gotham gangs have never stopped. They can't stand customers like you, so they either run away or die. The rest of them have long been used to it."

Martin was now speechless. He changed his clothes and quickly left the clothing store.

As soon as he walked out of the store, he received a call from his secretary Candy:
"Mr. Martin, Mr. Cobert sincerely invites you to meet at the Bingfeng Hotel at 5 o'clock this afternoon. Please be sure to come!"

"I see!"

Martin replied coldly and hung up the phone.

He looked up at Gotham's gray sky and did not feel any relaxation. Instead, he felt as if someone was strangling him.

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(End of this chapter)