Chapter 4:

Good Old Gotham Hospitality

DC: The Infinite Villain

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Catwoman stared at the bars Damon had just pulled back into a narrower gap.

"Are you insane?"

"Got any meds?" Damon asked with a grin.

"You shouldn't be in Blackgate," Catwoman said. "You belong in Arkham."

"I'll visit if I get the chance," Damon replied with perfect seriousness, as if he had missed the insult entirely.

Catwoman decided she needed to stop talking to him. The bastard was sick in the head. Probably the kind of sick where he would die if he went five minutes without annoying someone.

She walked straight to the bars, turned sideways, and slid one leg through. Then she pulled in her stomach and began squeezing through.

Halfway out, she had to stop.

It was too tight.

Most of her could pass, but her chest caught against the bars.

The opening had clearly been wide enough before. He had pulled it back for no reason at all. Catwoman glared at Damon, only to find him watching her with intense concentration.

She looked down and understood exactly why he had made the gap narrower.

'This bastard.'

No wonder he had looked her over earlier. No wonder he had opened the bars and then pulled them back again.

'He did it on purpose.'

Furious, Catwoman forced herself through with one hard push.

She swallowed a groan and resisted the urge to rub the sore spot. Instead, she turned and shot Damon a vicious glare.

Clap. Clap. Clap.

Damon applauded with a light laugh. "You just proved they're the real thing."

'Who said they were fake?'

'Who asked you to test anything?'

Catwoman was angry enough to crawl back through the bars and fight him until one of them dropped, but at that moment, the guards at the end of the corridor finally saw her and started opening the door.

She had no time to settle things with Damon. She rushed them instead.

The door opened.

Several guards charged in with batons and clashed with Catwoman. Normally, a few prison guards would not have been worth her attention. But half her shoulder was still numb and aching, dragging her movements down. For a moment, she could not break through.

Boom.

A sudden explosion-like roar came from somewhere outside.

Shouts followed. Before the guards could figure out what had happened, a group of men stormed in from outside and dropped the other guards down the corridor. They carried guns, their faces bright with excitement and madness. They found the keys, opened cells, released the prisoners, and even handed guns to them.

"You've been liberated!"

"You're free!"

"Go get revenge! Go make the rich pay! Gotham belongs to you now!"

Give Gotham's criminals freedom and guns, and the result was obvious.

The prison erupted into a riot.

In all the chaos, the guards no longer had time to worry about Catwoman, but the crowd shoved and pressed around her so tightly that she could not get out either.

"You're free!"

A tattooed brute opened Damon's cell and tossed him a gun.

"Thanks."

Damon took it with a smile and gave it a look. He had never really had a chance to use one before, and he did not know how to shoot.

That was fine.

Later, he just needed to find someone who knew how and let them shoot at him.

Catwoman had been right. Damon really did belong in Arkham Asylum.

Looking at the chaotic corridor, Damon strolled out at an unhurried pace.

The corridor was packed, but with his stacked flexibility and reflexes, Damon slipped through the crowd with ease. When he passed Catwoman, he even smiled at her.

Then he ignored her furious stare and sauntered away.

Catwoman was agile too, but nowhere near as agile as Damon after several stacks. By the time she finally made it out of the prison, he was long gone.

And the street outside was chaos.

"Good old Gotham hospitality."

Damon walked down the street with gunshots, roars, screams, and pleas for mercy filling the air. Storefronts and mansions were being looted. Rich men and socialites were dragged out and tossed aside like trash.

Of course, some people fought back. This was Gotham. If you did not keep a few guns around, you were practically embarrassing yourself. When people opened fire, there was no hesitation at all. It was kill or be killed.

When Darkseid's Parademons descended on Earth, Gotham's people were the ones crazy enough to shoot back.

Man, monster, god, demon - it did not matter.

They opened fire.

Clouds smothered the sky, hiding any trace of the sun. Gothic buildings rose high over the city, all surface grandeur and rot beneath. Paired with the chaos around him, it finally felt like Gotham.

"Ah, Gotham," Damon murmured, straightening his collar. "Never change."

He walked up to a nearby apartment building. All around him, people were smashing, looting, and burning, while Damon pressed the doorbell like a gentleman.

Ding-dong.

The bell rang faintly.

No one opened the door.

"Forget it."

Damon lifted his foot and kicked.

Bang.

The door burst open.

Damon raised the gun and called inside, "Listen up in there. This is a robbery..."

The words had barely left his mouth when a gunshot cracked from inside.

A bullet flew straight at him.

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