Master of the Hunt, Part XX

All parts linked here.

1500 hours, Gotham City

Huntmaster was out of his element.

Civilians thronged the streets, every square foot of pavement bearing a car, an individual, a vendor’s cart or an open air table. Even in the early afternoon, flashing lights assailed him from all directions. Hailing from an era where public transit was all but mandatory, he could hardly navigate, let alone fight the crowd. He was swept along an all but meaningless path the second he found his way out of the hotel.

No wonder the Dark Knight preferred to work after hours.

Eventually he managed to snatch a tourist pamphlet and slip into a dark alley, away from the crowd, and orient himself. After steeling himself again, he shoved back into the street and forced his way toward the harbor where he had just gotten himself beaten.

“They don’t know…” he thought to himself. “They don’t understand the importance of the fight that is about to take place.”

Eventually he found his way into the subway and towards the harbor, ignoring the confused stares. A pick-pocket tried something, and Huntmaster deftly broke the kid’s finger.

No one touched him again.

The gravity of the situation pressed Huntmaster’s spirits. Whoever won today… He lost.

He shook the thought off.

He glanced around. Everyone on the train deserved to live. Perhaps they weren’t great people, but surely they had families, maybe friends and neighbors, all things that he had long lost. He couldn’t sanction the thought of these people losing theirs. After several minutes he emerged from the subway in a less crowded area, pushing ever closer to the harbor.


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