“Of course that bastard was too scared to show up in person,” I grumbled irritably as I landed on the edge of the collapsed asphalt.
One of the smaller bridges leading to Tricorner Island had ceased to exist.
The explosives had been placed professionally, right at the base of the supports.
Twisted metal and chunks of concrete jutted out of the murky water of Gotham Bay like the ribs of a dead whale.
Sirens wailed somewhere in the distance, but the emergency crews hadn’t reached the epicenter yet.
I raised my head.
On a huge advertising billboard mounted on the roof of a nearby surviving building, instead of an ad for some new smartphone model or cigarettes, a painfully familiar face was being broadcast.
Joker.
A ridiculously pleased, grotesquely grinning Joker, to be precise.
Even the fact that his blown-out left eye was now covered by a tacky dark-green pirate eyepatch didn’t seem to bother him.
The terrible image quality didn’t seem to bother him either.
“Batman just isn’t what he used to be!
Oh, he’s really not!” Joker shouted from the screen.
Apparently, he’d been monitoring the blast site through hacked street cameras.
After seeing me standing among the ruins in someone else’s costume, he’d drawn the obvious conclusion.
“But that’s even better!”
“Fresh blood!”
Of course it’s better.
You wanted to lure me here from the beginning, you damn clown.
I folded my arms across my chest, studying the composition of the broadcast.
And in your case, calling you a clown isn’t even an insult.
“I’ve always thought it was time to make way for the younger generation!” Joker continued, enthusiastically gesturing with his remaining hand.
He paced back and forth in front of the camera like the host of some deranged talk show.
“Old politicians clinging to power with their arthritic fingers!”
“Old, decrepit billionaires hoarding ninety percent of the world’s wealth!”
“Old, boring men in bat suits who simply can’t keep up with young, ambitious, and charming villains!”
Joker suddenly leaned toward the camera until his nose almost touched the lens.
“You, Charlie, wouldn’t waste your chance, would you?”
The villain winked at me with his one good eye.
“You’d spill some blood!”
“But me…”
“I’ve brought far too little Chaos into this world to die such a stupid, ordinary death just yet.”
He theatrically shook his head and clicked his tongue, pretending to be genuinely disappointed.
He’s afraid.
Which means he respects me.
I nodded to myself with satisfaction.
My enhanced hearing picked up the heavy, vibrating roar of the Batmobile behind me.
Of course.
Thomas couldn’t possibly miss this party.
He’d come after me to reclaim his toys from my body and prove who the real alpha male was around here.
“But I’ve gotten distracted from our grand premiere!” Joker suddenly shook his head, banishing his philosophical thoughts.
He pulled a small rectangular remote from somewhere off-camera.
The remote had been carelessly covered in poisonous-green marker.
“This little thing right here is going to make a big, loud BOOM in Gotham every hour!”
“Something like…
this!”
With sadistic delight, the clown pressed a random button.
Roughly a kilometer to my left, the sky suddenly lit up.
A second small bridge connecting the islands exploded, accompanied by Joker’s throaty, bubbling laughter.
“There are twenty bridges in Gotham!”
“But now there are eighteen!”
“Math is a cruel bitch, Charlie!”
Joker waved the remote around wildly.
“And I’m going to BLOW THEM ALL UP!”
“Every last stone!”
I shook my head in disappointment and deliberately tilted my face toward the sky.
Idiotic plan.
A typical citywide hostage situation.
Announcing your grand plan to destroy critical infrastructure in the middle of an open city…
When Superman is literally hovering above your head in geostationary orbit, equipped with super-hearing and heat vision.
Bruce, old man, there really isn’t anything left of your former tactical genius.
Just pure insanity.
High above in the clouds, confirming my suspicions, several dozen bright orange flashes silently appeared.
Clark Kent had no love for villain monologues.
He simply methodically located and burned away every explosive charge placed on the remaining bridges with his heat vision, completely stripping the clown of his primary bargaining chip.
Fast.
Efficient.
Boring.
Joker froze on the screen.
He looked to the side, apparently checking monitors displaying the status of his charges.
The expression on his scarred face instantly changed from manic excitement to a sulky, almost childlike disappointment.
“Or maybe I won’t blow them up…”
He lowered the remote.
The sadness didn’t last long.
The clown immediately perked up again.
A new idea had clearly occurred to him.
He raised one finger, preparing to deliver another punchline.
“But!”
“I’ve still got something up my sleeve!”
“Something like…”
“All right, that’s enough.”
“Your airtime is over.”
A cold, refined voice interrupted him.
A hand wearing a green glove suddenly appeared in the frame and unceremoniously shoved the indignant Joker out of view.
A new character appeared on the billboard.
A perfectly tailored dark-green tuxedo.
A dark-green felt hat tilted slightly to one side.
And a neat, dark domino mask concealing his eyes.
The Riddler.
The System immediately confirmed my visual deduction, rewarding me for meeting the iconic villain, even if the meeting was only through a screen.
Feat Completed: Meet the Riddler for the First Time.
Reward: 1 Bronze Ticket.
“Hey!”
“Enough?!”
“THIS IS MY SHOW!”
Joker’s voice roared from somewhere off-camera.
The sound of a chair falling followed.
“Your part was the opening act.”
“You were supposed to attract attention, and, well…
let’s say you managed that somehow.”
“Now we’re moving on to the main part of our performance,” Riddler calmly replied, without even glancing toward the raging clown.
He adjusted his bow tie, stared directly into the camera, and addressed me as though we were sitting across from each other at an expensive restaurant.
“Mr.
Kirkman.”
“It is an honor to meet you personally.”
“Allow me to clarify something immediately.”
“Several highly sensitive, professional microphones have been installed throughout the area surrounding this bridge.”
“So we can have a productive preliminary conversation, assuming, of course, that you’re willing to engage in civilized dialogue.”
“Are you fucking kidding me?!”
Joker’s hysterical voice came from off-screen again.
“All this time, I could’ve just talked to him?!”
“And you made me scream at a camera?!”
“You cold, boring bastard!”
“The plan.”
Riddler gave him a brief, icy look.
“Follow the plan.”
“All right, all right!”
“I get it!”
“I’m leaving!”
Joker grumbled indignantly.
“But I’ll remember this!” This chapter was copied from g.com without permission.
“I’m sure you will,” the other man dryly replied before turning back toward me.
His expression immediately shifted into polite, refined courtesy.
“I sincerely apologize for this inappropriate spectacle, Mr.
Kirkman.”
“Professionals shouldn’t expose the inner workings of their operation in such an ugly and vulgar manner.”
This is actually…
kind of funny.
I smiled sincerely beneath the Batman mask, though there was something slightly unsettling about it.
The contrast between these two is fucking magnificent.
Frrrshhh.
Ten meters behind me, the real Batmobile came to a hissing stop.
Before an enraged Thomas could climb out, approach me, and interfere with my little intellectual conversation, ruining my plans, I decided to seize the initiative.
I needed to strike first.
And I needed to hit his ego.
“I’m Batman, Eddie.”
I spoke calmly into the empty street, knowing the microphones would pick up every word.
“For you, I’m Batman.”
On the giant billboard, I could clearly see one of the Riddler’s eyebrows twitch beneath his domino mask.
His pupils widened for a fraction of a second.
Feat Completed: Surprise the Riddler by Knowing His Real Name, Edward.
Reward: 1 Silver Ticket.
Only Silver?
That’s pretty weak.
I shook my head in disappointment, although I understood perfectly well why the Gacha had assigned such a stingy reward.
First, I’d only revealed his identity directly to Nygma himself, even if through a video feed.
I hadn’t broadcast it across Gotham or the entire world like I had with Superman.
The scale simply wasn’t comparable.
Second, despite his considerable intelligence, the Riddler was still a secondary character.
During global events, he’d barely qualify as a tertiary player.
From the System’s perspective, he simply wasn’t one of the most valuable pieces on the board.
And third, I’d deliberately revealed only his first name.
I hadn’t given away his surname.
I’d done that intentionally.
I was keeping room for future maneuvering.
If I ever got the opportunity to appear on national television, I could always dump his complete dossier on some public forum.
Assuming Cyborg didn’t delete the post first.
“You’re not Batman.”
Thomas Wayne’s voice was cold and threatening.
He stopped several meters away from me.
His armor was dented.
His cape was covered in dust.
He still looked like a tightly wound spring, ready to snap at any moment.
“Tell that to my sword, old man.”
I didn’t even turn toward him.
With a casual motion of my right hand, the enormous black Dragon Slayer materialized from my inventory with a heavy hum.
I dramatically drove its blunt tip straight into the cracked asphalt beneath my feet.
Concrete groaned.
Cracks spread across the surface.
Batman instinctively took half a step backward.
“But let’s get back to you, Eddie.”
I turned toward the billboard again, leaning against the sword like it was a walking cane.
“I can’t stand long-winded villain monologues.”
“It’s a cliché.”
“But since you cowards are hiding in some rat hole and are too afraid to come into the light…”
I casually shrugged.
“I suppose, according to the rules of the genre, I’m supposed to listen to your incredibly complicated and convoluted demands?”
“Otherwise, all of central Gotham will be blown sky-high.”
Nygma didn’t even twitch at my cheap provocation.
His intelligence allowed him to regain control of his emotions almost instantly.
A thin, polite, coldly superior smile appeared on his face.
“And this time we’re not talking about the crude, primitive C-4 explosives my eccentric colleague favors.”
“Unlike him, I prefer to operate…”
“More elegantly.”
“And on a much larger scale.”
“Scarecrow.”
I nodded knowingly.
Considering who had escaped with them, it was obvious.
“And Dr.
Crane’s fear toxin as well,” Riddler confirmed.
He placed unusual emphasis on the phrase as well, tilting his head slightly.
He clearly wanted me to take the bait and start asking questions.
Fine.
I mentally shrugged and played along with this ridiculous game.
“Penguin?”
“Or Bane?”
I threw the names out randomly, carefully watching the pixelated face on the screen.
At the mention of the second name, Nygma’s domino mask twitched almost imperceptibly.
“Got it.”
“So you actually assembled a whole team of losers over little old me!”
I theatrically threw my hands into the air, addressing the morning sky.
“And all it took was turning a clown into a pirate and thinning the local reptile population!”
With a broad, openly mocking grin, I rested the massive Dragon Slayer on my shoulder and slowly turned toward Thomas.
“And they wouldn’t have assembled a team like this for you, old man.”
“They wouldn’t have had the intelligence or the nerve to cooperate.”
“So which one of us is the real, effective Batman now?”
Thomas’s response was low and bitter.
“You’re just as sick as they are.”
His eyes remained fixed on my left hand, confidently gripping the sword.
He was clearly registering something that shouldn’t have been biologically possible.
My severed fingers had miraculously regrown overnight.
“And you’re next in line for a bed at Arkham.”
“Funny.”
I actually laughed.
Then immediately stopped myself.
Batman wasn’t supposed to laugh.
“Ahem.”
“Anyway, Eddie…”
I turned back toward the billboard, catching the rising howl of police sirens from the corner of my ear.
The cops were surrounding the plaza in front of the bridge.
“I’ll play your game, whatever the hell that egomaniacal brain of yours has cooked up.”
I wisely kept the rest of my thought to myself.
Because farming System Tickets is extremely profitable for me.
“But!”
I raised one finger sternly.
“You have to solve a riddle too.”
“Fair is fair.”
Instead of giving him a traditional verbal riddle, I turned around and confidently walked toward a yellow taxi parked along the curb.
Without straining myself, I grabbed the steel body by the bumper, lifted the one-and-a-half-ton vehicle, and shifted it several meters forward.
Beneath the car was an ordinary gray boulder about the size of a human head.
The System immediately appeared before my eyes.
Do you really wish to remove this item’s System status?
Cooldowns, self-repair, and inventory functions will become unavailable!
When I summoned the Heavy Stone beneath the vehicle, I mentally confirmed the decision.
I wasn’t simply trying to free an inventory slot from useless junk.
I had just transformed what was essentially a System projection into a fully physical object belonging to the local reality.
An object I could hand to another person.
An object that would absolutely break Nygma’s brain.
“A stone?”
Riddler’s voice carried genuine, almost disgusted confusion from the display.
“A stone.”
“The famous stone from the classic paradox.”
“Can an omnipotent god create a stone that he himself cannot lift?”
“You can consider it your new favorite toy, Eddie.”
The sirens were now almost deafening.
Emergency lights painted the surrounding buildings red and blue.
“And now…”
“Lead the way!”
The next few seconds blurred into one violent movement.
Before anyone could react, whether it was the special forces surrounding the area, Nygma on the other side of the camera, or even Superman hovering in the stratosphere, I launched myself forward.
At full inhuman speed, without even winding up, I slammed directly into Thomas.
Beneath the reinforced Kevlar, his ribs, which had only just finished healing inside the medical capsule, crumpled with a sickening crunch.
The old man didn’t even have time to raise his arms.
Blood sprayed beneath his mask.
But they didn’t let me finish him.
Not that I’d planned to.
The air exploded from a sudden pressure shift.
Clark Kent materialized directly in front of me.
His eyes burned with a terrifying, scorching red light, ready to punch a hole straight through me at any millisecond.
One hand already had a firm grip on the limp Thomas.
“So he doesn’t get in the way.”
I calmly stared into those blazing red eyes, adding just enough arrogance and challenge to my voice.
“There’s only room for one Batman in this city.”
“Make way for the younger generation.”
“Deconstructing old symbols, all that good stuff.”
I casually shrugged and adjusted my cape.
“By the way, when he wakes up, ask him where Barbara went.”
I added the request almost as an afterthought.
“I don’t like how tense he gets whenever her name comes up.”
Unfortunately, Thomas had already passed out.
The combination of extreme pain shock from my attack and the strain caused by the sudden burst of super-speed had knocked him unconscious.
I waved dismissively toward Clark, already losing interest in him, and turned back toward the screen.
“Come on, Eddie!”
“Time’s running out!”
“The cops will cut your power any second now!”
“The Gotham Opera House at Robinson Park.”
“You have exactly ten minutes.”
Nygma’s voice was dry and emotionless.
I quickly calculated the distance.
I’d have to race across almost all of Old Gotham.
I gave a short nod.
“But there’s a condition.”
The Riddler’s eyes shifted toward the blue figure.
“Superman has to leave Gotham within two minutes.”
“He’s an unpredictable variable that doesn’t fit into our puzzle.”
“If he remains, the game is canceled.”
The transmission immediately cut off.
The billboard went dark, instantly replaced by an advertisement for Parliament cigarettes.
The timer had started.
“I completely agree with him, Clark.”
I gave a heavy, exaggerated sigh while watching the special forces close the circle around us with their shields.
“Thanks for saving those eighteen bridges and everything.”
“As the current Dark Knight, I would like to formally express my gratitude.”
“You.”
“Are.”
“Not.”
“Batman!”
Clark hissed each word through clenched teeth.
He stared at me with a heavy, unreadable expression.
The red glow in his eyes had already faded.
Well, at least he wasn’t trying to vaporize me on the spot anymore.
Progress.
The good boy from Kansas had managed to control his emotions.
“But this is my city.”
I shot back, completely ignoring his moral lecture.
“And I’ll deal with this opera gang of losers myself!”
“If Gotham gets blown up or poisoned because of your stubborn refusal to leave, I’ll personally remind you of it at the next League meeting!”
I shook a Kevlar-covered fist at the visibly stunned Kryptonian, then launched myself toward the Opera House.
As I ran, weaving between the special-forces barricades and disappearing into the shadows of the alleys, I dismissed the massive sword and materialized Bane’s regenerated serum from my inventory.
I tilted my head back and swallowed the green sludge in one gulp.
At the same time, a bonus notification flashed before my eyes.
Feat Completed: Stun Superman.
Reward: 1 Bronze Ticket.
Oh.
I actually managed to surprise Clark with my declarations.
Beautiful.
One of the many mothers from my past lives always used to say, “If you put on the skin, you better act like the beast.”
So that’s exactly what I’m doing.
Cleaning up problems that the hypocritically merciful Waynes created over decades.
I moved across the rooftops in enormous leaps.
Roughly two minutes passed.
I needed to make absolutely certain Clark had evacuated the injured Thomas and left Gotham’s airspace.
His absurdly righteous nature simply wouldn’t allow him to risk civilian lives just to prove a point.
Once I confirmed the sky was clear, I accessed my inventory during another particularly long jump.
Space tore open.
The futuristic Archangel fighter silently caught me in midair.
Over the next few seconds, its hyperdrive covered the remaining distance before hovering above the monumental Gothic Opera House.
Well…
Let’s see what our brilliant Eddie and his little gang of idiots have been working on all night.
Hopefully, I won’t be disappointed by something painfully predictable.
I released myself into free fall over the wide plaza in front of the main entrance.
My body immediately filled with energy from the absorbed kinetic force.
Several digital posters above the entrance flashed green in unison.
The Riddler’s projection appeared once again.
“All right.”
“The first riddle.”
The villain theatrically raised a cane topped with a question mark.
“What do you have in front of you, while I have behind me?”
I froze on the asphalt.
My mind immediately generated a ridiculous number of possibilities.
Hostages arranged inside elaborate traps straight out of a Jigsaw movie?
Cute Gotham University cheerleaders suspended above a vat of acid?
A Satanist’s Bible?
Or maybe, for fuck’s sake, a first-edition holographic Shadowless Charizard in mint condition?!
Come on, Nygma.
Surprise me.
“A bomb!”
Nygma announced with a smug grin.
I almost choked on air.
Even with the emotional dampening caused by being undead, a wave of profound disappointment still broke through.
“Fuck!”
“How the hell is that your answer, Eddie?!”
I snapped, rudely interrupting him while kicking at the air in irritation.
“I came up with a hundred more interesting possibilities in a single second, and a basic timed explosive wasn’t one of them!”
“You’re supposed to be the Riddler, you…”
I stopped myself.
Nygma was staring down from the digital screen with an expression of icy superiority.
I took a breath.
“Fine.”
“Let’s see what you’ve got.”
He smiled.
“Inside the Opera House…”