Chapter 24: The Welding Dog Hero
Gotham.
Dressed in a distinguished English-style trench coat, a civilized walking stick in hand, the Earl of Vertigo strode down the streets of Little Saint Priscillian.
While not the most wretched and impoverished area in Gotham, it was still far from prosperous or orderly. In normal circumstances, the Earl of Vertigo would never come to such a rough and vulgar, sinking district. However, the employer’s requirements for this mission…
Beep—beep—beep—
The Earl of Vertigo halted his steps, gazing at the driver beside him, who was spewing curses.
“Fuck you! Are you deaf?”
The enraged driver honked his horn again, emitting a deafening blast. Seeing that the Earl of Vertigo didn’t react in the slightest, he pulled a gun from his chest and pointed it at him.
“Get out of the way, or you want to get a few dozen holes in your body?”
This was a textbook case of mania. The Earl of Vertigo furrowed his brow, astonished that even in this city, maniacs could roam the streets openly, even getting driving licenses.
“Damn it, if you don’t move…”
Wooooooom!
In a flash, an intangible ripple swept across the driver’s mind. His head slumped, and with a plop, one of his eyeballs popped out of its socket, landing on the ground.
Amidst the raucous screams and the long horn blaring as his head hit the steering wheel, the Earl of Vertigo bowed slightly, performing a standard British courtesy, then turned and walked towards a dilapidated apartment building on the side of the road.
“Let me see the address… Number 52. It’s correct.”
He ascended the exposed concrete and cement steps, past the peeling red handrail, and reached the door of room 401. He extended his hand.
Knock knock knock—
“Come in.”
“Woah!”
The Earl of Vertigo exclaimed in mild surprise as he stepped into the room.
From the outside, it resembled an ordinary apartment building near the slums. Even the front door looked wooden, but once inside, it was a different story.
Behind the disguised wooden door was a genuine alloy metal airtight door, designed to effectively control air pressure.
The walls, ceiling, and floor were all made of metal panels, covered with explosion-proof paint on the outside and anti-corrosion paint on the inside.
This was a fully professional-grade blast-proof room. Even if the building collapsed, this room wouldn’t be destroyed.
All sorts of weapons were piled up in the corner of the room: grenades, rocket launchers, and even multiple-barrel explosives.
On the other side of the room was a table, with four people sitting around it.
The Earl of Vertigo recognized two of them: the infamous Death Shooter, whose shooting skills were as notorious as his nasty temperament; and the British mercenary, Miss Vick, who possessed a lethal killing ability that matched her alluring appearance.
The two he didn’t know were masked individuals: the younger female was relatively normal, wearing a smiling cat mask and carrying a long sword at her waist. The Earl of Vertigo guessed this was another assassin-type mercenary. However, the other one was quite peculiar.
This person sat in the corner, wearing a welding mask, the kind with a transparent, anti-glare visor that welders use.
He had two gas cylinders strapped to his back, was holding a welding torch, and was wearing a light gray tight-fitting shirt and overalls, along with a pair of long rubber boots.
Just from this aspect, he looked like an ordinary welder.
But what drew attention was that he was holding a dead dog in his left hand.
It was just an ordinary dog, looking like a Golden Retriever, except only the upper half remained. Someone had chopped the dog in half with something and taken away the top half.
The dog appeared to have died recently, even quite fresh. The internal organs were dangling, and just a glimpse was enough to make the Earl of Vertigo feel something churning in his stomach.
But that person’s left hand was simply poking straight into the dog’s back, completely ignoring the blood trickling down his arm.
“You…”
“Hello, my name is Welding Dog, nice to meet you, new friend! I just got here.”
Welding Dog spoke… wait, it wasn’t a human speaking, it was the dog.
???
It was really the dog speaking. The dead dog in Welding Dog’s left hand suddenly lifted its head. A dead, unblinking dog face, which actually displayed a hint of joyful smile.
“Are you here to participate in the mission too?”
This eerie and terrifying scene truly stunned the Earl of Vertigo, but he wasn’t a normal human, so he quickly recovered his aristocratic composure.
“Yes, sir, it’s an honor to work with you.”
He forcibly avoided looking at the dead dog in the other person’s hand and walked towards Miss Vick, performing a kiss-hand gesture. “Beautiful lady, your beauty shines like the stars in the sky.”
“Earl Dyr, old friend.” Miss Vick was a graceful blonde woman. She wore an eye patch and a red and gold tight-fitting suit, but her shoulders and one side of her chest were bare.
“You…”
“Enough, when will your elegant aristocratic games ever end?”
Death Shooter, who had been ignored the whole time, impatiently tapped the table. “Since everyone’s here, let’s hear what bizarre task our patron wants to give us.”
He nodded towards the Cheshire Cat, and the silent, masked cat pulled a radio out of the pile of grenades beside her.
“Ha, darling, am I seeing this right, a radio?” Miss Vick said.
Death Shooter ignored her. He pressed a button on the radio, pulled up the antenna, and adjusted it for a moment. Then, he said, “The employer wants us to turn on the radio after we’re all here. Be quiet, everyone. Just wait. I guess you’re all here for the money, right? Me too.”
So, the four of them waited quietly, and soon, a voice finally came through after a series of static:
“Sss… can you hear me?”
“We can, employer.”
Death Shooter replied. “What do you want us to do this time? Are we catching some arsonist firefly, or some other criminal popping out of a dusty corner, our righteous employer?”
“Neither.”
Death Shooter heard the employer’s voice become somewhat hoarse over the radio interference. He had checked, this radio was just a huge walkie-talkie, which meant was the employer nearby?
“I’ve assigned you a leader, you must follow his orders completely. Especially you, Earl of Vertigo.”
The Earl of Vertigo was not amused.
While he knew this mission wasn’t just him alone, he had never considered cooperating with anyone.
He was a lone wolf, a solitary hunter. He was already doing this mission with others for the sake of money, now you expect him to take orders from someone?
Who do you think this leader is, Batman?
(End of Chapter)
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