His hand was numb. Colours swirled across his field of vision, and in his delirium, he was unable to make anything out. He felt a tinge of heat on his jawline, and it increased into a sizzle, which eventually burned brightly as pain, and slapped him from his state of hallucination.
The clone stepped back and laughed at the fallen hero. His sword dripping crimson red blood, his face contorted in a look of gleeful rage. Knightwing's hand went to his face, and he felt the sliced wound across his jaw. Blood leaked thoroughly through his fingers and down his neck. He scolded himself for being caught off-guard. It was disgraceful and no doubt Clue would hassle him about it later. If there was a later. He clenched his fists and got onto one knee, careful of being attacked again by the insane replica of himself. The clone watched him silently.
Knightwing took one deep breath.
In one fluid motion he unsheathed his twin-blades and slid through his opponents splayed legs, the sword missing his head by inches. He had clone-face on the other side of the coin, now. He rolled once as the sword impaled the ground behind him, and he leapt at a lamppost, rebounding off of it with agility enhanced skill, the clone falling for it and charging after him, he sliced through the post. Knightwing deftly cartwheeled out of the way and his opponent grabbed the post with both arms to keep it from crushing him.
"Who the hell are you, and what do... you want?" Knightwing asked the struggling foe, his voice failing him some-what. "You! I want you, and I want your life! And... T-Trust me! I.Will.Have.IT!" His clone lifted the post up high in the air and with one sharp throw, it soared straight into Knightwing's shoulder, slicing through the thin fabric and sending him reeling. He fell hard, and didn't have time to recover, as his clone stood over him once more, sword raised over his head. "You don't deserve this life. I DO. In my world, my father died months after my mother! I was left without family! I didn't have any Clue to save me! To train me and to house me! I was ALONE! ALL ALONE!" tears were streaming down the clone's face now, the pain of memory slicing through him sharper than any sword. "Can you even BEGIN to comprehend the hardship I went through? I was at sweatshops, workhouses, I was almost taken by a PIMP once... Do you know how afraid I was?! No, no, you DON'T! And you never ever will!" His face was a grimaces of pure hatred, dripping from his soul as the tears were dripping from his chin. "But I did have Hint... Yes, my great teacher, Hint. The caped Killer... The Dark's Knight. A psychopath, in his own right. He tortured me. Beat me. Insulted me. But in the end... He made me strong. FEARLESS. And then I killed him. Me...HIS GREATEST CREATION! HEEHAHAHAH! INCREDIBLE...ISN'T IT?!" he was beginnning to become unstable now, losing control. Knightwing worked out the options in his mind, half listening to the troubled young man's story, half not giving a rat's ass. "AND NOW HERE I AM... I'm going to take YOUR life... We'll merge... And I'll live happily... Ever... AFTER!" his muscles tensed and the sword came down, it hit hard, straight.into.the.cement.
Knightwing crouched behind him, clenching his shoulder with bloodied fingers. It took the mad-man a moment to realize Knightwing was not there, and he frantically tugged at the sword, but it was stuck in. Knightwing managed a triumphant smirk, before he stood up straight and walked toward him. "That was a cool story bro. Would you like a sticker?" His clone turned fast and sent two-fists his way, Knightwing stepped deftly between them and grabbed his forearms, pulling them toward him and sticking his leg out. The clone's breath was taken away as the heavy-metal boot smashed into his abdomen. Blood trickled down his busted lip, and a fist crashed into his jaw. His head was forced to turn from the momentum, and he didn't have a chance to look back at Knightwing before he felt a sharp knee to his spinal area. He collapsed to the floor and coughed blood all over the gritty cement. Knightwing revelled in his inevitable victory, looming in the ever present distance.
A flash of gold.
Bullets tore through his chest. The world went white as he fell. Whether he had hit the ground yet was unknown. The world was spinning constantly. His vision returned slightly and he glimpsed the grinning face of his clone, a large hand-gun pointed down at his face. Staring down the barrel... Lost... In darkness...
The placid moonlight shone down on his body, Casting a long dark figure out before him. The two men facing him had their own black silhouette's and stood still. Eyes darted around. Fists were clenched. It was a game of reflexes. The lone man smiled slightly at the thought, the dark red blood dripping from the corner of his mouth.
Lights.
An explosion nearby lit up the city sky and Knightwing was behind them. They didn't have time to react, and as one, their legs were swept. They fell hard, bones broken. A flash of silver and two shurikens pierced the air, embedding themselves individually in the chests of each man. They choked cries of pain and were silenced with a split-kick, taking them both out at once.
He brushed the blood from his lip and grunted with frustration. It had taken him longer than expected to incapacitate these goons, they were resourceful. Then again, billy-bat's weren't exactly considered "resourceful", but they sure as hell packed a punch. Stepping his way through the bruised trail of bodies, he made his way to the cobblestoned ledge, and his eyes swept the city with an observational perception that only a gifted few had. His eyes locked on a cluster of activity, near the pawn shop. London was running amuck tonight, and he was missing the game. He cursed softly as he dropped from the rooftop and landed in a crouched postition at the end of the alley. With a simple voice command his night-vision switched on, and he could easily make out the crowd of disgruntled Brits. Barely a moment later he was beside them, and with a deep authoritive voice, he enquired, "An' wass all this about, then?" The group of burly men turned to him and their faces increased with frustration. Curses flew but they were paid no mind. He folded his arms across his chest and glared at the men. "S'ppose ye think ye funny, eh? Think jus' cos you capes can hop around our city that ye can do whatever ye want?! Bloody hooligans!" Knightwing's confusion increasing rapidly, he held his hands out in a placating manner, "Hey Hey Hey! I don' even wear a damned cape! I'm afraid you sirs had better get a move on. Riots are not tolerated. " The men's faces contorted into looks of pure unprecedented fury, and angry whispers flitted about. Then, as one, they charged at Knightwing.
He sighed.
The world seemed to slow around him as the adrenalin shot through his veins. He gave an inward chuckle as he relished the chemical reaction inside of him. The first man arrived, and with a simple push to his ribs, he doubled over and fell face first, teeth shattering. Then came two more men, and Knightwing ducked as a golf-club broke the opposite man's nose. The wielder was confused for a moment and didn't see the punch coming. He was unconscious before he hit the ground. Knightwing set to work as the men surrounded him, using an array of hand-to-hand combat techniques to dispose of the assailants. He received an occasional jab to the chest or leg, but other than that, the fight was over soon. He was barely out of breath, but his knuckles ached. He plucked a stray tooth out of his glove and dropped it to the gutter. He shook his head at the unruly men and started to make his way to the center of the city when a sharp glint caught his peripheral vision. He tilted his head ever so slightly and a soaring blade impaled the wall. Knightwing wasn't fast enough to evade the oncoming boot, and his head exploded with pain. He was aware of himself lying flat on the ground, blood gushing from his nose and mouth. He opened his eyes.
A grinning version of himself was kneeling over his fallen body, and the sword was already back in his hand. He watched Knightwing with a scary amusement, and slammed his fist into Knightwing's vibranium enhanced costume, barely feeling the blow, he responded with a knee to the face, but it was deflected easily and an elbow smashed into his chin. He spat blood. "I know everything you're gonna do, before you do it. You wanna know why?" Knightwing kept silent as he inched his hand toward his opponents ankle. "It's because I am... You!" The sword tore through the glove and dug it's way through Knightwing's flesh, warm blood already beginning to trickle down his hand. He gasped once, and glared hard at his clone.
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