Hollywood What If - Chapter 171

Hello, I'd like to ask your opinion on “Yukima Azuma”Kasumigaoka Utaha: I was here before... I taught him the things that couples do, but he used them to please other girlsSawamura Eriri: It would be better if I wasn't a tsundere, saying one thing and doing anotherYukinoshita Yukino: He's the light in my life, I might not have been able to bear the darkness if I hadn't met himYukinoshita Haruno: The bastard who ran away after sleeping with meHoshino Ai: My only true love, my white moonlightWhat's your relationship with him - ex-girlfriendSora Ginko: Oh, just a thieving catKato Megumi: Just a thieving catSagiri, Bocchi, Shinomiya Kaguya, Kirisu Mafuyu, Suou Yuki, Alya: A thieving cat!--------------------------------I do not own anything in this fanfiction----------------------------------The schedule is from Monday to Saturday 2 chapters a day and 1 on Sunday----------------------------------------English is TOTALLY NOT my language,So it's probably not very good, but I tried my best

“Could you become my daughter?”

I lived for you in the last lifetime, everything I did was for you, yet you wanted me to die; so, this time, life is mine to live! This world lied to me, betrayed me, and humiliated me, and I am back to change everything!

- Description from Novelupdates

war, blood, and betrayal carved him into something else. A legend. A killer. A mercenary whose name struck fear into both criminals and so-called heroes alike.But now, the world had changed. Lines blurred between right and wrong, between justice and vengeance. Should he step into the light, wear the mask of a hero, and fight for a cause greater than himself? Or should he embrace the darkness that had always been his home, a place where morality was just another illusion?“Don’t box me in with your shallow ideas of good and evil,” he muttered, his voice calm but edged with danger. “I do what I want, when I want.”The air was thick with tension as he moved like a shadow through the dimly lit room. The writer had no time to react—one moment, he was scribbling nonsense about legends and myths; the next, a cold barrel pressed against the back of his head.The figure smirked beneath his mask, eyes gleaming with something between amusement and menace.“You wanna write fiction?” he whispered. “Then let me show you how real legends are made.”A single gunshot shattered the silence.As the writer’s body slumped over the desk, the man holstered his weapon, stepping into the faint glow of a flickering neon light.“It’s that simple,” he said, his voice unwavering. “I’m Deathstroke.”