章節 157: Negotiation mishap
The Beast swam and swam, cutting through the black water with no target in mind—only the intoxicating promise of freedom.
He moved like something born for the ocean. a blur of muscle and instinct, his figure sliced through the bone-cold currents at speeds no human body could ever endure.
The water around him churned in his wake, frothing as he surged upward.
Eventually, the darkness lightened.
Shapes formed above him—shadows that hinted at a surface.
He kicked harder.
The water thickened, changing from the sleek chill of the abyss to a murky drag. Silt clouded around his limbs. Long weeds coiled around his arms and legs like grasping fingers, slowing him, choking his momentum.
A low growl rippled from his throat.
He thrashed once, twice, then began using the weeds themselves to pull forward—grabbing fistfuls, yanking his body through the mire until his claws scraped something solid.
Land.
The Beast hauled himself up with a wet snarl.
Mud sucked at his feet, clinging to his soles. He forced his way onto a bank, collapsing against the roots of a crooked tree. Water dripped off him in cold rivulets. His chest heaved.
Although he was silent on the outside, on the inside it was a different story.
'What will it take for you to give it up beast?" Nolan asked in a surprisingly calm voice
The beast looked at Nolan from his throne, 'Silence, you fool.'
Kieran rolled his eyes, 'You realize you're not the apex predator here right? Your ass just got kicked by some teenagers.'
The beast growled his eyes bulging with anger, 'You wouldn't have even lasted a second!'
'Oh no are you going to attack me I'm so scared.' Kieran laughed holding his hands up as if he was going to surrender
The beast tightened his grip on the thrones arm rest wishing with every fiber of his body he could jump out of the seat and teach Kieran a lesson.
Quentin decided it would be a good time to step in, 'You know the underpass is going to need help, we just took a loss yes not as big as the other players in the field but we took a loss. They will need help, and reassurance from their leader, that is us. You cannot do everything on your own.'
'I am the leader now, you weakling!'
'He won't understand, his pride is damaged.' Vey sighed while looking at Nolan, 'How are we going to do this?'
Nolan looked at the beast and felt envy, envy he wasn't that strong. Envy he wasn't that confident.
Envy he wasn't that scary.
He looked and thought while everyone waited.
He looked so hard a hue began to appear around the beast.
'A whole spectrum of Colors, are you seeing what I'm seeing?' He asked softly
'What are we supposed to be seeing?' Kieran asked softly trying to avoid the beast listening in
'Focus like you're trying to use the emotional spectrum thingy.' Nolan replied and they all immediately began trying to focus
Soon faint shimmers began to appear around the beasts and their allies.
'You see?'
'Uh uh.' Quentin replied in shock
'Pick one,' Nolan muttered. "Try something."
Kieran shrugged dramatically. 'Fine. Let's hit him with… sadness. Blue. Whatever blue means.'
They all began to focus blue on the beast.
A soft, cold blue mist drifted across the marble floor toward the throne.
The Beast sniffed the air, face curling in disgust.
'YOU THINK THIS CAN WORK ON ME IM YOU!' he growled.
The blue mist touched his skin.
His jaw clenched.
His breath hitched, just a bit.
Then he gripped the throne harder and snarled.
'PATHETIC.'
The blue color evaporated.
Kieran threw his hands up. 'Well that did nothing.'
'Try something warmer,' Quentin said. 'Gold? Maybe calm or… determination?'
Nolan gestured toward the swirling spectrum. 'Pick the damn color, Quentin.'
Quentin grabbed a strand of gold and flicked it toward the Beast like a rope.
The golden hue wrapped lightly around his shoulders.
The Beast's eyes widened.
His lips twitched.
His posture stiffened.
Then the throne vibrated under him — a warning, like the Beast was drawing strength from pure defiance.
He let out a furious roar—
—and the gold shattered like brittle glass.
Vey grimaced. 'He overpowers everything that isn't hostile.'
'No kidding,' Kieran muttered.
Nolan pointed. 'Try gray. That one looked like fear, right? Or guilt? Or something.'
Quentin nodded and cast the gray shade toward the Beast.
It slithered across the floor like smoke.
The Beast flinched before it even reached him.
A small reaction.
Barely noticeable.
But real.
The gray touched his leg—
—and he tore it off his skin with an animalistic shriek.
'ENOUGH!'
He slammed his fist into the armrest, splintering it.
The room shook.
Kieran backed up. 'Okay, so he doesn't like that one.'
'No,' Vey corrected quietly.
'It unsettles him. But it's not enough.'
The Beast rose halfway from the throne, claws scraping the marble.
'DO IT AGAIN,' he demanded. 'I WILL RIP YOU APART.'
That told them everything they needed.
Nolan whispered:
'Alright… then let's push the strongest one.'
The group looked up at the swirling fog.
A pulsing, violent red loomed above them like a heartbeat.
They didn't understand it.
Not fully.
But they knew one thing:
It was the loudest color.
Nolan pointed.
"Hit him with red."
All four reached up, grabbed the red strands, and hurled them at the Beast.
The effect was immediate.
The Beast's back arched.
His muscles spasmed.
Veins bulged in his neck.
His claws scratched deep grooves into the throne arms.
'STOP—STOP—STOP—' he roared, voice cracking for the first time but it was not in fear.
Red crawled up his body like wildfire.
He tried to stand.
Tried to fight it.
Tried to kill it.
To stop what he knew was impossible to stop.
But the red wrapped around his chest and yanked him forward—
Ripping him off the throne.
The Beast skidded across the marble, roaring in pure anger and mania.
He slammed into a column hard enough to crack it, collapsing to the floor on all fours like a wounded animal.
The throne stood empty.
And all four personalities stood staring, stunned.
'What… did we just do?' Kieran whispered.
Vey shook his head. 'I don't know."
Quentin swallowed, 'But it worked.'
'One small problem.' Kieran said backing up while looking at the rage fueled monster that began to walk towards them
'What are we going to do about that?'
***
Rain slicked the rooftop tiles, running in thin streams over broken vents and shattered antennae. Batman and Young Justice stood on the highest building overlooking the ruined blocks of Chinatown—its neon now flickering over a sea of armored trucks, flashing lights, and handcuffed bodies.
Below, GCPD and SWAT moved like a living tide.
Dozens of gangsters from every faction were lined up against police vans:
Falcone soldiers dragged out with zip-ties biting their wrists.
Cartel sicarios facedown in the street under rifle barrels.
Triad enforcers shoved into transport buses still stained with soot.
And here and there… Underpass fighters being pinned down, dazed, bleeding, resisting until batons forced them still.
Gordon barked orders somewhere near the barricades, his voice lost under the hum of helicopters circling overhead.
Batman watched it all with a stillness that made the team fall silent behind him.
Robin finally stepped forward, staff resting against his shoulder.
"…Will this get worse?" he asked quietly. "After tonight?"
Batman didn't answer immediately.
He kept watching the streets—watching the bodies, the stretchers, the ruin Chinatown had become.
Then he spoke.
"No."
His voice was low. Certain.
"It ends tonight."
Robin blinked. "Because we stopped them?"
Batman shook his head once.
"Because they stopped themselves."
He turned slightly, rain trailing off his cowl.
"The losses on every side are too severe. Falcone's numbers are gutted. The Triad lost its lieutenants. The Cartel lost half its command structure. And the Underpass…" he exhaled, "The underpass will come out of tonight victorious, especially if their leader returns."
Megan crossed her arms, "So they'll fall back?"
"They'll have no choice," Batman said. "With SWAT sweeping the district and checkpoints across the entire lower city… the gangs will consolidate. Regroup. They'll hide, they'll lick their wounds, and they'll try again when the opportunity arises."
Robin looked back down at the flashing lights, the rows of kneeling criminals, the chaos slowly tightening under law.
"So this war is over?"
Batman's eyes narrowed behind the lenses.
"Wars like this don't end," he murmured. "They pause."
He stepped back from the ledge.
"Tonight, they paused early."
Young Justice exchanged uneasy looks—but the rooftops stayed quiet except for the thunder and the distant echo of doors slamming shut on transport vans.
Below them, the last criminal was dragged off the street.
The night was ending.
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