Chapter Text
Minhkhoa sighed, rolling his shoulders until they popped. Reaching into his pocket, he pulled out a black handkerchief and flicked it open with practiced ease.
Calmly, he wiped the blood from his katana, standing amidst the bodies strewn across the warehouse floor. In front of him, the last man left alive trembled, bound to a chair, his panicked eyes darting between him and the corpses.
Minutes ago, he’d been barking orders. Now, his voice was gone, swallowed by terror.
The emotions in his eyes were easy to recognize. Minhkhoa had never felt it himself, but seeing the same look of fear flicker across a hundred faces tended to drill the recognition into your head.
Tilting his head slightly, he studied the man beneath his mask, gaze boring into him like a blade.
"P-please. Please spare me- I have a wife! And a kid- please my family, I have to-" The man groveled pathetically at him. He ignored his pleas, putting away his katana with an almost disinterested expression.
The bastard was banking on his 'empathy' to be spared. He certainly chose the wrong vigilante for that to work on.
He sneered, "You want me to spare you? Because you have a child?"
He nodded frantically, "Please- he's only three! He needs his father. My wife is sick, I'm the only breadwinner- h-he needs me-" His words were cut short by the loud chuckle that echoed in the room.
"Really?" He drawled, amused, "You want me to spare you because of your child and yet-"
He stalked forward, grabbing his chin and tilting it up towards him. The voice amusement had vanished from his voice, "And yet. Was it not just yesterday that you did unspeakable things to a 16-year-old? Hm?"
The man froze, stuttering as he tried to come up with a justification, "N-no please wait- I didn't know she was 16! I- she was just a prostitute! It- they-"
Minhkhoa scoffed in disgust. He pulled a small blade from his belt, twirling it in his hand before he plunged it into the man's shoulder, as close to the bone as he could without hitting it.
The man let out an ear-piercing scream.
"Who is your boss?" He asked in a calm, almost conversational tone. Whatever answer he might have extracted was lost as he felt a sudden movement behind him. His instincts kicked in as he pulled the knife away from the man and with one swift movement, he threw it towards the source of the noise, spinning around to face whoever was behind him.
Superman caught the knife and threw it aside, "Enough, Ghost-Maker. Step away from that man. Now." He commanded, frowning at him in what he assumed was dissapointment.
Minhkhoa felt his eye twitch in frustration.
Right.
The Watchtower had a file on him. The Boy Scout's narrow eyed look said it all- he'd read it and judged him already.
He breathed out slowly, gritting his teeth as he glanced at the man under him- who had the audacity to look relieved at Superman's entrance.
It was a shame that psychopathy got such a bad rep when men like him were arguably much worse for society, and faced none of the judgment he did unless their crimes were mentioned.
"Ghost-Maker-"
"This man." He glared at Superman, "Is a criminal who abused and killed a child yesterday and who knows the name of the second in command of the human trafficking ring that's operating out of Metropolis. Something you should know about. So unless you have anything to add here, you can scram and let me interrogate my suspect in peace."
Superman paused, re-evaluating the situation."...The Mideas Trafficking Ring. I'm aware." He nodded, pursing his lips and furrowing his eyebrows.
His eyes scanned the bodies on the floor with a distasteful look, "...I thought Batman's condition was that you wouldn't kill-"
"In his city, yes. What I do outside Gotham doesn't concern him." He answered, annoyed at the questioning. He wasn't the criminal here. Well, technically, he was. But not the important one.
"What you do in my city concerns me." He insisted. Moving forward to stand beside him. "Plus there are more humane ways of interrogation."
Minhkhoa felt his jaw grind painfully together, his hands twitched towards the Kryptonite in his belt. It wasn't enough to seriously injure the alien but enough to keep him occupied for the evening while he finished his business.
He refrained, purely because Bruce would be upset if he hurt his 'friend'.
"I don't particularly care about your opinion, Alien. If you don't like my methods, fuck off."
He saw the faintest twitch in Superman's jaw as he glared back at him.
The irony of the situation wasn't lost on him- both of them resisting the urge to throttle the other, holding back only for the fear of disappointing Bruce.
"Perhaps you'd like me to call Batman to help with the case? I'm sure he'll appreciate your methods." The smug look on his face was wiped out by Minhkhoa's next words.
"Go ahead. I'm sure he'll be impressed by how you missed the clues to the biggest human trafficking ring this side of the country while they were right under your nose."
Both of them glared at each other. A stalemate. They stared silently for a minute, then two. Minhkhoa refused to be the one who gave in first.
After the fourth minute of silence, punctuated only by the occasional squeak from the criminal's chair, Superman caved, sighing, "....I suppose the solution to this is that we work together?"
He huffed, "I don't need a babysitter. Go save some kittens from trees, Superman, I can get this done much faster without you being an unnecessary burden."
"You are not roaming around my city without supervision." He glared at the man, ready to make a snide comment but Superman stopped him with a raise of his arm, "It can be me, or Batman. You decide."
Minhkhoa sighed, turning to the man who was unsuccessfully trying to undo the knots on his wrist.
Fool. He had learned the art of making perfect knots from-
"So? Are we doing this or not?" Superman asked, impatiently.
...Asshole. Of course, he'd ruin his perfectly good monolog.
"Fine." He grit out. "Can I interrogate the suspect now or do I need written permission for that?"
Superman ignored his words, undoing his perfect knots with frustrating ease. Before he could protest, the man was done and had picked up the criminal by his collar and floated around 10 feet off the ground.
"You will give us the name of the man you are working for." He said, firmly. A command, not a question.
The man screamed and fidgeted in his hold, looking around in panic. He didn't look nearly as relieved as he did when he first saw Superman.
Minhkhoa leaned back against the chair, arms crossed as he watched the scene unfold. Amusement flickered in his eyes as he watched the scene unfold- this was almost entertaining.
The alien handled the interrogation with ruthless efficiency. He tilted his head, watching the criminal crack under Superman's gaze alone. No fists, no blades- just sheer presence.
He hated that it worked.
He could see why Bruce would befriend the man. He was most certainly not what the media portrayed him to be.
The man's lips loosened in the air and he gave them everything that he knew. Superman put him down on the ground and turned to him nodding slightly.
"We should turn him over to the police. They'll deal with him. We need to check out the intel."
And with that, all the respect he'd had flew out. He stared unimpressed at the man, "You're kidding. This man-" He was cut off, rather rudely, by the Boy Scout.
"I am aware. But he should be dealt with by the law. We can't just kill him, he-" He tuned out the rest of his words and sighed.
Yeah, he could see why Bruce got along with him…
He took back his earlier words, that man was just as 'golden-hearted' as the media portrayed him to be.
And it was annoying.
He turned around, ignoring his words and grappling up to the roof. He jumped down to his bike, starting it up and roaring off towards the docks where the ring was supposedly located.
He'd had the exact conversation with Bruce a million times. He'd talk about the futility and the inefficiency of the system and Bruce would say something like- blah blah blah murder wrong blah blah blah.
Okay so he'd never actually listened to the full spiel. Sue him for being bored by the same self-righteous lecture.
He did however know that these 'conversations' tended to end- in fights where they were at each other's throats.
The only time he had ever managed to shut Bruce up was when they'd been in the third hour of their screaming match and B had said something like 'You can't be the judge, jury and executioner for all criminals'.
He had been so frustrated that in a moment of sheer annoyance he'd taken a leaf out of Robin's book and yelled out 'Not with that attitude you can't.'
The resulting silence from Bruce and the tied up criminal at their feet was only broken by the giggle emanating from an eavesdropping Robin. B had simply sighed and turned around, lugging the criminal with him without a word.
Personally, he'd counted that as a win.
The streets sped past him as he made his way to the docks but a blur of red-and-blue movement caught his attention. Superman flew ahead of him and smirked, "Maybe you should go wave your sword somewhere else, I'm quite sure I can get this done faster without you." He teased, chuckling as he sped off.
Superspeed. Right.
Minhkhoa gunned the engine, "It's a katana, you asshole." He shouted after him.
Annoying.
Definitely annoying.