Days as a Spiritual Mentor in American Comics Chapter 5684 - 4708: Desperate Escape (41)

"Ambulance... Ambulance..." Greed weakly transmitted into the walkie-talkie, "21... 21... number..."

The communication channel fell silent for a beat. Greed sensed something was amiss. He was trying to reach Deathstroke, but it was Deathstroke’s first time on this assignment, and he might not be familiar with the procedures. Thus, Greed repeated, "The room... the room where the pulley block malfunctioned earlier..."

He opted for the walkie-talkie instead of the team channel because the mole was also present on the team channel. If this treacherous mole discovered Greed's location, they would undoubtedly move to silence him. The Battleworld channel was also unusable; Greed hadn't friended the Primary Universe Deathstroke, meaning they had no prior acquaintance, leaving the walkie-talkie as his sole recourse.

A crackling sound emanated from the communication channel, followed by a somewhat muffled voice stating, "That room, understood? I am en route."

A cold sweat broke out on Greed's brow. That was not Deathstroke's voice!

Two scenarios were possible: either Deathstroke had been incapacitated by someone—potentially the agent or Bruce. It was evident that the speaker was muffling their mouth, making their voice indistinct. Alternatively, Deathstroke, being new to this task, might have carelessly misplaced the walkie-talkie, allowing someone else to pick it up.

Greed cast another glance at the wall, which had already been slightly pried open. Gritting his teeth, he pressed himself against the wall and began to inch towards the inner side of the corridor.

As Harley had surmised, the exterior structure of the room was designed for simplicity. All maintenance rooms were interconnected with the energy room via employee-only corridors, each room having a single, direct path without any cross-connections or alternative egress points.

Consequently, if the individual with the walkie-talkie was currently approaching from the central energy room, there would be only one entry route. Escape would be impossible, especially with Harley providing an external blockade; there was nowhere else to go.

Greed compelled himself to advance into the deeper maintenance chamber. Indeed, after finishing the pulley block repair, Deathstroke had left the wrench there. Greed retrieved the tool and positioned himself at the corridor's entrance leading to the central energy room.

With one hand, he slowly unwrapped the jacket tied around his midsection, gripping the wrench firmly in the other, his body pressed against the wall.

A kaleidoscope of colors danced before his vision, enabling him to anticipate the approaching presence. Sensing a tangled convergence of thoughts drawing nearer, Greed tightened his hold on the wrench.

As the figure entered his sight, Greed did not immediately strike with the wrench. Instead, he forcefully flung the blood-stained jacket, shrouding the other's upper body.

The adversary was clearly taken aback but reacted swiftly. Rather than attempting to discard the covering, they dodged to the side.

The wrench, imbued with a force far surpassing that of an ordinary person, delivered a powerful blow. However, for unknown reasons, the impact was slightly askew, striking the arm instead of the head.

"Crack!"

"Ugh!!!"

A bone snapped audibly, and the individual stiffened in agony.

Greed did not hesitate, shoving the injured figure aside instantly before sprinting down the ensuing corridor.

Bruce ripped away the blood-soaked cloth concealing him and pursued down the corridor. At this moment, Harley had also breached the wall and entered the chase.

Within the chamber containing the lantern, Loki observed for a period before releasing a group of individuals. Concurrently, those under Thor's assault finally remembered to flee, each selecting a doorway for escape. Loki briefly pondered before deciding to follow Thor in pursuit of the Joker.

This individual had been the first to fall, suggesting they could not be the mole; they were likely an affluent figure deceived by the mole. Eliminating them first seemed a prudent course of action.

Following the emergence of Batman and Superman, Batman ascended to the platform housing the lantern. He initially employed an iron rod, inserting it into the seam of the employee corridor door on the floor and beginning to jiggle the constrained links. Once loosened, he used a crowbar to pry the door open. Ultimately, the chain snapped, allowing the door to be fully opened.

Batman also liberated a contingent of individuals, identifying them as Charles and Erik. However, after their release, they proceeded down the employee corridor, intent on uncovering the secrets lying beyond their current level.

After Charles and Erik exited, the room was now devoid of occupants, and the doorway to the subsequent stage stood ajar. They examined it briefly, concluding that continuing the established narrative offered less advantage than a swift advance. They initiated the release of the next group before proceeding to the next area.

The final individuals to emerge were Anatoli and Lucifer. Anatoli engaged in a moment of contemplation before randomly selecting a door, which coincidentally was the very one Stark had used for his escape.

The room fell into stillness after everyone had departed. Yet, one individual remained: Arrogant.

Once the others were gone, he let out a sigh. Stepping from his private space, Arrogant traversed the circular pathway leading to the platform. From there, he descended into the maintenance area below via the employee corridor.

A sweep of his surroundings revealed nothing out of the ordinary. He then proceeded towards another corridor, one that directed him to the central energy room.

Greed surged into the central energy room at his maximum pace. His physical reserves were depleted; a swift and effective response was crucial before his pursuers arrived. His immediate action was to rush to the lighting control switch and yank the lever downwards with force.

"Sizzle—"

All illumination across every level, including the staff passages, flickered momentarily before extinguishing. Darkness enveloped the entire area. In the blackness, Greed exhaled a breath of relief.

While darkness presented a disadvantage to most, for Greed, whose unique talents had reached their zenith, it was an immense boon – akin to possessing a full-map view.

This particular ability had lain dormant for some time. As the mastermind orchestrating events from the shadows, Greed had seldom found himself in such perilous circumstances, even critical situations were infrequent. His usual modus operandi involved resolving issues through conventional means.

However, it was now apparent that such methods were insufficient. With threats looming from both behind and ahead, failure to employ his full capabilities would spell his doom.

Greed channeled his focus and made a startling discovery – aside from the wounded Bruce and Harley, two additional teams were converging on his location.

Time was of the essence, and Greed couldn't afford a detailed assessment as Bruce was already closing in, arriving at the central energy room almost simultaneously. Fortunately, the complex layout, with its energy equipment, shelves laden with tools, and spare parts, provided cover, preventing Bruce from spotting him immediately.

Greed quickly realized, however, that Bruce navigated the space with practiced ease, his prior familiarity with the terrain allowing for a systematic sweep.

Remaining in the energy room was no longer viable. Greed drew a deep breath; his only recourse was to gamble on a passageway, hoping for an unoccupied route, and make his escape through an adjacent checkpoint room.

The choice of passage seemed inconsequential. Beyond the two confirmed occupied routes, others might soon be infiltrated. Greed selected one at random, stumbling into it.

Miraculously, the pressure applied to his wound had lessened the bleeding, and the scent was not overwhelming. Even with Bruce positioned behind a shelf, Greed managed to slip past undetected and enter the passageway.

As Bruce continued his methodical search of the energy room, a sudden rush of wind nearby prompted an instinctive dodge. His injured right arm struck the shelf behind him, eliciting a muffled cry.

The unseen presence seemed to halt its advance immediately. Bruce narrowed his eyes, raising his voice to question, "Who are you?"

No response came. In the complete absence of light, Bruce was unable to identify his assailant. Judging by the speed and power of the strikes, the attacker bore a resemblance to Batman.

But how had Batman located him? And for what reason was he being attacked?

In a flash, Bruce reached a conclusion. The deceitful organizer had outfitted him with a blood-stained coat, not only to impair his vision and facilitate an ambush but also to saturate him with the scent of blood. Consequently, when the lights were cut, others would rely on scent and touch to locate targets, and his strong blood odor would inevitably make him a prime target.

No, not every participant; it wasn't guaranteed that all would be aware of the organizer's severe injuries and profuse bleeding. However, one individual certainly knew: the one responsible for his harm.

So, Batman had indeed stabbed the organizer. A ruthless act, indeed. Bruce involuntarily took a few steps back. Despite not being the organizer, a sense of guilt washed over him.

He understood the chaos he had unleashed upon the Multiverse. If the primary universe's Batman were to discover his illicit participation in these games, he might face expulsion from the Origin Wall. He murmured, "I am not the organizer..."

"I can tell," Batman's deep voice resonated. Before Bruce could fully process this, a fist the size of a sandbag materialized before him.

Bruce dodged instinctively but was struck on the shoulder, precisely on his wounded arm, eliciting a gasp of pain. The attacker withdrew his hand and inquired, "You're injured?"

Bruce remained silent, gritting his teeth. Batman then lifted him with surprising ease, slinging him over his shoulder and moving to exit the passageway.

"Wait, wait, put me down!" Bruce implored, struggling persistently. "Let's talk this through like rational beings! We're in a cooperative game, you can't possibly—"

Before his outcry could fully conclude, Batman set him down, not on the floor, but upon an unoccupied workbench. Bruce regarded Batman with apprehension, fearing he might be subjected to dissection.

This was not mere paranoia on Bruce's part; he had no way of discerning which Batman he was dealing with. Based on his aggressive handling of the organizer, this Batman was certainly no paragon of virtue.

But then again, if he wasn't a 'good' type, wouldn't that make them allies of a sort?