The Gotham sewers always brought back unpleasant memories for Gordon.
Take the Lazlo Valentin case, for instance.
The bastard suffered from a severe, violent case of dissociative identity disorder, slaughtering dozens of innocent kids and hiding their mangled remains down in the sewers.
He possessed some crude, twisted medical knowledge, fully believing he could stitch the pieces back together to create an entirely new species.
Naturally, those grand, delusional ideas were doomed to fail, creating nothing but a horrifying monster stitched together from rotting flesh.
Gordon and Bullock had tracked the clues straight into the sewer lines, catching him without breaking a sweat, but the bastard’s psychiatric evaluation spared him the electric chair, landing him a lifetime reservation inside Arkham Asylum.
Gordon had actually visited him a few months ago.
Valentin had became quiet and intensely focused, wearing a cartoonish pig mask while staring at heavy surgical textbooks for days.
The psychotic butcher hadn’t abandoned his objective, he was learning how to weaponize his mind with advanced knowledge.
Compared to the wild lunatic they caught, Gordon found this version of Valentin to be far more dangerous.
“Thinking about something ugly, Jim?
Is it that bastard Lazlo Valentin?” Bullock barked, reading the sudden worry on his partner’s face.
“Harvey, you’re like a tapeworm inside my gut,” Gordon let out a weak chuckle, shaking his head.
Sweeping their heavy flashlights across the dark, the two detectives walked through the waist-deep, filthy wastewater.
Gotham’s sewers could be traced all the way back to the pre-revolutionary era, a time when French laborers were laying the initial bricks while the continental forces were busy fighting the British crown.
Using the blueprints left by those old French architects as a framework, the city’s sewage system had undergone dozens of reconstructions and renewals over the decades, transforming into a literal underground maze.
Even with a map in hand, the multi-layered structure and hundreds of waterways made it exceptionally easy for a rookie officer to be swallowed by this maze.
Fortunately, their guy had left plenty of clues behind him.
Those genetically modified predators lacked basic animal instincts, leaving deep, large claws carved into the iron pipes and concrete pillars.
Gordon focused entirely on finding a path through the map, while Bullock handled the navigation markers, drawing heavy chalk lines on the walls.
They moved with a silent, decades-old synergy.
Yet the moment they left, a small, lean silhouette emerged from the shadows, wiping away every single piece of chalk Bullock had left behind.
After wandering the concrete tunnels for nearly two hours, Gordon felt something was off.
“Something’s wrong, Harvey.
We’re running in circles.
I’ve seen that pipe layout before.” “No goddamn way, Jim.
i’ve been marking our path the whole time,” Bullock replied, scratching his head with a hand that held a nearly spent piece of chalk.
“The map says there should be left turn coming up, but there’s nothing here but a blank wall.” Before they could spread the map out against the concrete, the floor beneath them vibrated.
Gordon assumed it was a passing subway train, but as he pointed his flashlight down, he saw violent ripples spreading across the still wastewater.
“An earthquake?” A brief flash of panic crossed Bullock’s eyes.
He knew exactly what was coming.
Gordon drew his pistol.
“Stop lying to yourself, Harvey!” The words had barely left his lips when the ground trembled again, far more aggressive than the first, pushing a two-foot wave of dirty water straight toward their knees.
From the absolute darkness of the opposite tunnel, a heavy, growling echoed, draining the color from both detectives’ faces.
They were packing standard Ruger GP100 revolvers loaded with 357 rounds.
The effective range maxed out at a hundred yards, and if the trajectory was off by even a fraction of an inch, the bullet wouldn’t even penetrate a thick skull.
They had absolutely no chance against a massive, hairy predator that had ripped a secured casino apart.
They shared a look, one thought hit them both.
*Run.* Gordon didn’t have a backup strategy.
After all, the monster was tall and long-legged; if it truly decided to hunt them down, it would catch up in just a couple of seconds.
They splashed through the filthy dark water, Gordon’s grip slick with sweat.
If death was certain, he’d at least wound the beast, keep it from escaping into Gotham.
Yet for some reason, the monster never actually revealed itself, only heavy wet breathing that seemed to get close, then fade away …
over and over.
It was almost as if this creature possessed a high level of intelligence, deliberately leading them toward a specific location like cattle.
The realization hit Gordon instantly.
If he is right, whatever trap was waiting for them at the end of this tunnel would be far more deadly than the beast itself.
“Harvey, stop!” He screamed at his partner, but Bullock’s mind had already been completely consumed by blind terror, leaving no room for logic or reason.
Gordon lunged forward, grabbing the collar of Bullock’s heavy trench coat.
The sudden shift in weight caused both men to lose their footing entirely, tumbling sideways into a massive overflow pipe and rolling straight down into the secondary drainage level.
…
At that exact moment, down on the second level of the sewer system, Vincent and Selina were also running for their lives from the exact same threat.
Vincent was the first to notice that something was off.
His reasoning matched Gordon’s, but his ultimate conclusion was far more audacious.
It was the classic dragon-in-the-garage paradox.
If a man claims there is a fire-breathing dragon living inside his garage, but the beast is entirely invisible, floats in the air, leaves no heat signature, and cannot be detected, how do you prove its existence?
The answer was simple, you don’t.
Because the dragon doesn’t exist.
Any existence that lacks verifiable, physical proof can be treated as an absolute illusion.
Up until this very second, Vincent had not laid eyes on the predator.
The subterranean tremors didn’t necessarily come from a bio-beast, and that horrifying breathing could easily be simulated by a machine.
The vast majority of human terror was invented purely by imagination.
Vincent stopped running, his pupils widening as he stared back at the dark corner behind them.
He was completely done running.
“Are you out of your mind?
If we stop now, that thing is going to tear us to pieces!” Seeing Vincent freeze, Selina assumed his muscles had stopped up from exhaustion.
She reached out to grab his wrist to drag him along, but Vincent firmly pushed her hand away.
“I have a theory I need to test.
If I’m wrong, we’re both dead, so keep moving without me.” Vincent spat the words through clenched teeth, his throat vibrating with raw fear.
He was terrified, but he knew that if they continued to let an unseen enemy dictate their movements, they would eventually run straight into a bullet.
He was going to gamble.
He was gambling that the beast hunting them was nothing more than a ghost in the garage.
The heavy footsteps came closer and louder, causing bits of concrete and moss to fall from the ceiling onto Vincent’s hair.
He could already smell the creature’s horrible odor, which was so foul that it completely overpowered the usual smell of the sewers.
Vincent could feel it.
The predator had stopped right behind the concrete corner.
But why wasn’t it showing it’s face?
Right as he gathered enough courage to step forward and uncover the truth, Selina’s fingers locked around his hand.
“We go together.” Her hand felt incredibly soft, yet it was damp and cold from sweat, resembling a piece of wet konjac.
The two of them advanced toward the corner.
The short distance felt like a tightrope walk over an infinite abyss, Vincent’s heart pounding so violently against his ribs it felt as though it would burst through his chest.
He was terrified that the moment he stuck his head around the corner, he would slam straight into a monstrous face.
Honestly, a bullet to the brain sounded much easier than that.
They finally reached the edge.
The sickening stench had grown so dense it felt physical, tearing through his nostrils and overwhelming his senses even as he covered his mouth.
*Do I really want to look?* Vincent’s feet refused to take the final step.
While he stood paralyzed by hesitation, Selina peeked around the concrete barrier.
“There’s nothing here…
Vincent, you were right!” The moment he heared those words, a massive wave of relief washed over his chest.
The suffocating, rotten odor vanished into thin air a fraction of a second later.
Only then did he realize that the stench hadn’t come from a biological experiment, it was the literal smell of his own terror.
But before he could even process the victory, a loud, echoing crash rattled the ceiling grid.
two bodies dropped from the tunnel above, crashing into the filthy water beside them.
“Ahhhhhhh!!!!!!!”