"Oh? Is that so? Well, I have to disagree."
Standing on the passenger seat, Deathstroke didn't stop just because of Joker's comment. His aim might not be on par with Deadshot's, but as a top-tier mercenary, hitting a target at this range was nothing to him.
Behind the vehicle, Azazel kept blinking in and out of view as he chased them, using his teleportation to close the distance. He noticed Deathstroke raise his gun.
"You think you can hit me? How naive."
Though mutants had remained hidden from public view before Scott's exposure, Azazel was no stranger to combat. He had survived since World War II, been through countless battles, taken and dodged more shots than most people could imagine.
Charles had used telepathy to erase any trace of mutants from the memories of the world, but that didn't mean they couldn't fight.
Azazel was confident. The moment the man opposite pulled the trigger, he'd dodge with ease.
Bang!
Just like he expected, Deathstroke fired. But Azazel couldn't help but almost laugh. From what he saw, the bullet was way off—so far off, it wasn't even worth blinking away from. He didn't even bother dodging.
But Deathstroke didn't show any sign of disappointment. Instead, a faint, satisfied smile tugged at his lips.
"It's over."
His bullet wasn't meant to hit the mutant at all. The moment he realized the enemy could teleport, he abandoned the idea of landing a direct shot. His target from the start had been something else entirely—the fire hydrants lining the street.
The bullet was custom-made, an explosive round. The second it hit the hydrant, it triggered a small blast that cracked open the metal. Instantly, the high-pressure water inside found its release and shot out in a powerful surge.
And the spot it sprayed just happened to be where Azazel would teleport next.
In only a few seconds, while riding on a speeding car, Deathstroke had calculated everything—Azazel's blinking pattern, the blast radius, the timing, the water pressure, all of it.
By the time Azazel realized something was wrong, it was too late. The rushing water slammed directly into his face.
"Argh!!"
Knocked back by the force, he flew across the street and crashed near a trash bin.
"Perfect shot! You're a great teammate!" Harley shouted from the backseat, eyes shining with excitement. She raised her rocket launcher and aimed it right at where Azazel had landed.
"Here's a little gift for you, you red freak!"
A rocket shot out, trailing a colorful burst of fireworks as it flew straight toward the mutant, who was still struggling to get up.
Years of combat told Azazel that he needed to teleport away immediately. But the pain coursing through his body made it hard to focus enough to use his power.
The rocket struck the ground beside him. The violent explosion and shockwave added fresh waves of pain. It was only in that moment—at the edge of life and death—that he finally managed to focus.
'I have to get out of here! Now!'
At last, before his body could be torn to shreds, Azazel managed to blink away, vanishing in a cloud of red smoke.
"Sweetheart, you really need to upgrade your ammo. I had a perfect shot," Harley said, pouting.
Joker drifted his car to a halt on the side of the road, ending the chase with a dramatic spin.
"Alright, alright. I'll rebuild it. Consider it your birthday present this year."
"Really? I love you, puddin!"
Meanwhile, Deathstroke quietly stepped out of Joker's car. If his guess was right, this mission wasn't one where he should be sticking around with Joker too long.
Besides, the fight wasn't over yet.
Ignoring the couple's loud flirting, he adjusted his gear and sprinted toward where the battle between Killer Croc and the giant walking meatball was still raging.
...
On the other side, the fight between Killer Croc and Blob was nearing its end.
If 90% of Kingpin's 450-pound body was muscle, then nearly all of Blob's weight was pure fat. His ability was simple—he could control every part of his body freely. In fact, he could boost his body weight up to incredible heights and wield a level of strength that matched it.
Right now, Croc was locked in brutal hand-to-hand combat with this 2.23-meter-tall mountain of fat.
Croc's punches, powerful as they were, bounced right off the thick fat covering Blob's body. It was like punching a trampoline made of flesh.
Thankfully, he still had his razor-sharp claws. That was the only reason he could deal any damage at all. The milky white fluid oozing from Blob's wounds came from the fat layers beneath his skin, torn open by those claws.
But even with that, the battle was anything but balanced.
"Damn it, you fat bastard! Just die already!"
Croc's blood-covered face twisted with fury as he lunged, jaws wide, aiming to bite down hard.
But to Blob, such a direct attack wasn't a threat at all. He raised both arms and brought them down like sledgehammers.
Croc, who had leapt straight at him, ended up smashing headfirst into his fists. The blow drove him into the pavement with a thunderous crack.
"Gah!" Croc spat blood.
Back in the comics, when Bane famously broke Batman's back, Croc had once fought Bane head-on. He had cast off fear and even managed to go toe-to-toe with him.
So why was he now being completely overpowered?
Because Blob's strength wasn't limited to just his physical body.
Besides controlling his flesh, he also had another terrifying ability—he could manipulate the gravity around himself. Anyone who stepped within five feet of him would be caught in a field of crushing pressure, making it nearly impossible to move, let alone fight back.
"Green-skinned freak! Did you just call me fat?!"
Blob's fists pounded Croc again and again. Like most people who carried a lot of weight, he really hated being called "fat."
Under the constant pressure and the barrage of brutal punches, Croc felt like his insides were being turned into mush. Even with his regeneration, he couldn't muster the strength to dodge or resist.
Just as Blob's next punch was about to crush his skull, Deathstroke arrived.
His custom-made gun flashed as it fired, and an explosive bullet struck Blob right in the chest—dead center.
Boom!
The shell triggered a second blast on impact.
"Argh!" Blob finally let out a pained cry.
But when the smoke cleared, Deathstroke's eyes narrowed.
The bullet hadn't even pierced through the fat.
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