For a brief moment, something blipped on one of Control Freaks consoles. An anonymous signal, connected to the conversation for a only seconds before suddenly vanishing. It came from seemingly nowhere, no device or handle to be tied to it. It was a sudden communication that said nothing.
For someone of Control Freaks caliber, something weird like this only meant one thing.
Someone else was listening in, at least for a few precious moments.
--------------
"kkrrttztz...our Batman...krttztz..in every incarnation to tear down?"
"...Yes, the plan...krtztztz...kill Batman...krttzttz...what he had in our...krtztz...Gotham."
"...friends you have?"
The air within the hidden area was cold and choking, barely fit for human conditions despite being nestled deep within the supple soil and concrete of this pathetic rock hurling through space.
Where it was, it was preferable for all parties not to find out. It was a hidden place, far off from the reaches of human contact.
The structure of it was defined by dark, metal corridors winding through multiple damp rooms, decorated wall to wall with strange alien devices, sharp implements, or gruesome trophies of the Hunt, in the form of lifeless alien skulls nailed to a finely carved wall, decorated with ancient runes and strange alien symbols that flashed red, barely illuminating the room.
Some of the skulls were human, of many sizes and shapes.
And only one looked...fresh, a barely visible coat of red decorating the polished bone.
The quiet atmosphere was periodically interrupted by the hissing release of gas or heavy footsteps falling upon metal floors, as a titanic figure loomed through the darkness, barely illuminated by the glaring red console that sat in the middle of it all. The console only returned unintelligible alien symbols, occasionally spitting out garbled radio signals that formed together into human words-- conversations over many devices that were all being intercepted from one source.
"...Mm--mm--"
The looming figure made a noise, halting in its pacing and leaning down on the alien keypad. A rapid clicking noise followed.
"Mmmoth--"
"...fffuck."
"MotherFUUCKER"
*SMASH!*
A loud metal bang rang out through the whole area as it smashed its hand on the keypad, its attempt at vulgar language quickly followed by a clicking of the tusks and a grumbling sequence of noises, as if it was speaking some other language far beyond the understanding of humans.
It lowered its head and stared at the fresh wound on its side-- a nasty chemical burn that discolored its scaly skin and still sizzled, even now.
The Hunt was still on-- the cattle raise their alertness in fear of what had happened in that bright place, but this only makes the Hunt of more interest to the Hunter, the prospect of such glory to be gained from claiming the trophies of Earths finest game. The hunger for a righteous Hunt, a thirst for violence and blood spilled from worthy prey, it is a high like no other.
The head of The King will rest on his wall.
And, perhaps.
The Batman will join him.
