POV Strange
As Strange inspected the temporal anomaly, he discovered exactly what was happening: the balance of the universe was shifting towards a better future. With his prediction magic, he was able to detect how a strange variable was exerting changes on the timeline. Unfortunately, the limitations of prediction magic were obvious, and although he could risk using prophecy magic, delving into the chaotic temporal currents, seeing that this variable did´t negatively affect the universe; he left it alone.
—I will mark this variable to inspect it later; if I'm not mistaken, in a week the moon will align in such a way that the divine realm of Khonshu will be overflowing with energy. Surely, in exchange for a small favor, I could convince him to lend me a bit of his divinity for a more powerful prediction ritual.
The concept of Khonshu's divinity primarily encompassed the moon and its phases. With a little help, the divinity of change would allow predicting the mysterious variables without causing serious problems for Strange.
So, returning to meditation, he continued replenishing his mental fatigue, promising to take charge of monitoring the anomaly.
POV Dark One
The water from the sewers cascaded into the common point; several channels emptied here, releasing all the processed water only to expel it through the left outlet to the sea.
Abruptly from the water, at the back of the common point, a black figure was shot out of the water; emerging from the water, ejected, a bloodied caiman shot out of the water, landing on the ground, quickly climbing up the steps and obstacles of the worn-out wall. He left the estuary channel, following the exit to the right, trying to escape from what was following him.
A little later, the nameless one emerged from the depths to stagger onto the walkway outside the channel.
—(Dumb lizards, I'm going to kill you all!) —he thought.
Fortunately, he had made a couple of discoveries underwater. The name of the place where he lay was called Gotham; it had an imposing name, and somehow he felt a cold shudder just by uttering the name; a strange sensation would run down his spine, which was unusual for an undead submerged in sewer water in the middle of the night.
—(It must be far up north in Alaska; that would explain the cold, the darkness, and the disturbed wildlife). —His borrowed memories found this amusing for some reason.
Thinking that the problems with the fauna and the city were over, he found himself caught up in other issues, aside from the fact that even underwater, the architecture of the place was maddening to navigate.
It was also plagued by hostile creatures: manta rays, deformed fish, some with mutations that gave them the appearance of a distorted human smile, called [Clown Fish], sharks of various sizes, all kinds of caimans, nightmare-looking plant life, the occasional marsupial that appeared to be sick. His power had been constantly notifying him of the strange names of the fauna.
Also, even with his reduced mental capacity, he had caught the hint in the names of the animals, no... Of the creatures!
—(Some kind of biological spill must have transformed them into what they are now.) The memories nodded as they continued laughing at his situation.
Even his power sent him notifications.
[For being exposed to more than 20 chemicals with different effects, you have earned Chemistry 1].
[For having seen more than 20 creatures with significant mutations, you have earned Biology 1].
[You have unlocked the Science section]
[The Talents you have will be assimilated in your next rebirth].
That was the only good point of the torturous expedition, understanding that this rebirth and these talents were useful in someway. Since the rest had been terrible; he had spent hours underwater looking for the exit with all those creatures attacking and ambushing him left and right to eat him.
And after finishing one, its blood would remain on him, attracting another, which only happened in the first place because when he turned a corner, he had bumped into the snout of a distracted crocodile that proceeded to try to kill him.
Taking a break, he began washing the blood off the bodies of the animals and what little that came from his own cuts.
— (Advantages of being dead: blood is not essential) —he thought.
The he looked around the room carefully; the treated water that still stank was channeled towards the sea, which exited on one side of the room, while on the other side there was an exit with a small trail of blood from the last crocodile that tried to harm him.
Recovering his standing, the nameless one entered the exit, observing a small hallway to the right, which allowed him to see at the end of it a door with metal bars that led to the closed door he saw before getting into the confusing labyrinth that was that aquatic cave.
Thinking that he could now find his way back, he continued his pursuit of the scaly lizard that had tried to eat him.
— (Crocodile leather boots, crocodile leather belts, crocodile leather bags—how many beautiful things can I make with you, damn lizard!)
Maybe it was the stress affecting him after swimming through dark waters, or maybe it was the vengeful resentment of having to endure several figths for hours, but the desire to fight the crocodile only gave him more strength to follow the faint trail of blood that was becoming more and more obvious.
[For having been chasing a special beast through its own territory, you have obtained the skill Strategy 1].
— (Special animal, what does that mean?) There was some important information there.
Remembering the albino crocodile skin, the nameless one realized that it had a black pet collar with a tag.
In that moment of enlightenment by the nameless one, he turned a corner of the sewer hearing a reptilian sound. As he turned his head, a surprising scene appeared before his eyes. The white crocodile was rubbing its snout face to face against a humanoid figure, who was inspecting its injuries.
Remaining astonished, the reptilian man focused his sharp eyes on the boy.
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POV Waylon Jones
A few moments ago
Waylon had just returned to his lair after a small feast from a successful heist at one of the many shops in the lower district; with his physical abilities, the hit-and-run maneuver had a much better meaning for him than it did for other thieves. With a simple tablecloth and a bit of research, Waylon had learned to rob anyone in moments. Normally, he didn't do such low-level heists, but today was different: the bat was busy, fighting with the rest of Gotham's regulars, thanks to the Penguin.
A small feast of celebration for a night without the bat was in order, so instead of organizing his usual gang of homeless people to steal food, he ordered his guys to wait for him at one of his usual spots. Quickly, breaking the store's electrical control box, he entered and knocked out the owner in one move while he began stuffing his oversized sack with anything he could eat in the store. He quickly fled to avoid gunfire from the neighbors and gang members, and later, he and his crew celebrated with a feast.
He threw himself onto the bed and began to doze off, only to be awakened by the sound of Estella's cries for help. His only pet was growling nervously, calling for help. Quickly heading towards the noise, he saw his beloved pet covered in blood and cuts. Heading towards her, he tried to calm her down.
—{Help, danger, enemy.} Estella communicated this to Waylon urgently.
Shortly after, a boy appeared around the corner from where Estella had come. He was naked, slightly bloodied, with multiple wounds of various kinds. In one hand, he held a blade.
—It seems that a chick has fallen into my territory. This is the first time a tourist has come this far. They haven't told you who owns the ground in Gotham.
The boy remained motionless. The gaze was fixed on Waylon without a hint of doubt, but with a hint of fear.
—(A new Arkham psychopath?. No, he doesn't seem to be as messed up in the head as the others.)
Thinking about the rest of the Arkham lunatics and their bad habits and their twisted games, this boy looked to inexperienced in his movements to be one of them.
Maybe he was some kind of idiot; even he, with his nickname Killer Croc, wore minimal clothing and hated most of the clothes he ended up stealing
— (Whatever, I don't like killing kids, but at least he's going to get a Gotham-style welcome).
Setting aside his human side,Waylon let the beast inside him take over, releasing a primal roar that shook the air in the sewers. The boy ran away while Waylon began to warm up his muscles at a slow pace. This was a game; there was no need to take it too seriously with a kid.
Following his biological instincts while tracking the boy's scent, the hunt ended up being merely a game of cat and mouse, making it more exciting; he started to overtake him, screaming to scare him, leading him to the common point.
Unfortunately, while he was cooperating with his inner beast, some dark thoughts began to occupy his mind.
—(Hunt the meat bag)
—(No.)
—(Kill him; he has come from above to disturb your home. Show him, show them all who you are).
—(NO!.)
—(He has attacked Estella, his death will wash away his sins.).
—(He's just a kid... and I'm not going back to what I was. Never again.)
The irritating voice in his mind returned—the same one that always surfaced whenever his reptilian instincts took over, dredging up the darkest corners of his childhood. To suggest that he should return to his old habits: dead people, cannibalism, violence, crime... .
In one of the fights with the stupid bat, after almost beating him, he had agreed to make a compromise: Selina, Ivy and him would reduce their activities in Gotham in exchange for treatment.
Normally, he would have dismissed the bat's stupid ideas, but that day had been too much. The Joker had been up to his usual tricks, manipulating him into inhaling Scarecrow's fear gas; it had been a massacre in an entire neighborhood. Batman had been too busy with the Joker to stop him, and the Gotham police paid the price trying to apprehend him.
He hated people, knowing how repugnant most of the people of Gotham really were.But he always held some hope that not everyone was terrible and it was true not everyone living in Gotham was evil. But they always ended up dying just like that, all the people in that neighborhood.
That day Waylon discovered that his dream, his desire for revenge, to earn the respect of the people, and maybe one day go back to society had died. He was a beast and could never associate with humans.But that day he decided to leave the streets, accepted the bat's medicines to control his psychosis, and moved underground, away from people, setting up a network of contacts formed by vagabonds whom he sheltered underground.
This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.
While he was thinking, the chase had come to an end; the common point where the water flowed into the sea was right in front, although to the his surprise, the boy had tried to hide in the hallway at the entrance of the common point.
Approaching the entrance, he saw how the boy was crouched against the wall, trying to go unnoticed, thinking he wouldn't notice. Waylon laughed internally at the boy's innocence.
—(You are to young if you think you can fool this old man).
The boy, with a small nervous laugh, said to him:
—Hello. I think I have the wrong address. Could you direct me to an exit, kind sir?
With a deep voice, Waylon replied, gradually increasing its gravity.
—Of course I can, but you see, I think as a good resident of Gotham you should experience the city's specialty robbery with a beating.
The boy looked around at the threat, searching for an escape.
—It's a shame you're naked, the only thing I can steal from you is the knife you used to attack my pet.
—It's not fair, it ran straight into me and tried to eat me.
—Nothing is fair; my Estella only eats pests and rats. And yet look at her; she is injured, and I have her well-trained to defend herself and hide, unlike you.
—Like father, like son. The thing is, you're terrible.
Waylon paused for a second at the comment.
—(Fucking hell, he is a fucking kid; he doesn't even know how to insult, although maybe it's a disguise; he's setting a trap for me. I still don't see where he put the knife he had before-)
The boy took out the knife he had on his back.
—Take this!
The blade flew straight to Waylon's heart; his skin had withstood even chainsaws, a small blade wasn't going to do anything to him, which made it even more unexpected that, instead of receiving the blade, the handle was what hit Waylon.
—....
—....
—You're not very competent, are you?
The boy made a concentrated face that clearly indicated he didn't immediately understand the word he had been told. Once he understood it, he proceeded to try to punch him, which ended with him receiving a blow that knocked him out from Waylon.
— (This is disappointing.)
The urge to hunt that he had felt throughout the fight had vanished instantly; he had expected the kid to at least have the level of a typical Gotham teenager, but he had been left unsatisfied. The toy he had chosen (the nameless one) had been terrible in every way: no skill, no muscle, no plan; he fought worse than the Gotham street kids.
Waylon, disappointed, grabbed the knife, threw it to the back of the common area, left the unconscious boy on the beach littered with Gotham's remains, and returned to his lair to heal, tend to Estella, and sleep.
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POV 3º Person
A truck passing by the beach was driving with a couple of Scarecrow gang members inside, nervously looking at the views while crudely commenting on their situation.
—Damn it, Big-D, we told you not to bother the Boss with your nonsense; now we're up to our necks in shit.
—I just mentioned that he looked intimidating; I don't know why he got in a bad mood.
—The boss isn't looking to be intimidating, especially you say that he has flow and style, idiot. He wants to terrify his victims!
This group of gangsters belonged to the Scarecrows, the brutal madman who pretended to be a doctor with his mental delusions. They were part of his "material collection" group; they brought him recent remains or, in some cases, test subjects for his experiments.
Unfortunately for them, they had been very troublesome and useless as of late. To their boss, they were a group made up of the most dispensable member of the gang. And as luck would have it, they had annoyed the Scarecrow just on the day he was starting his first experiments with a new toxic brew.
The boss, quickly trying to calm the Scarecrow, promised him more test subjects than the usual daily quota; that's why he gathered a group with the four most useless members and sent them out early in the morning to capture test subjects. In case they didn't find any good subjects, if they were lucky, one of the four would survive the Scarecrow's tests.
While they were discussing which poor unfortunate they could find in an hour before their boss finished off the subjects, one of them, looking at the beach, exclaimed:
—Shit, look! A naked bum.
The van stopped as a guy with a rapper's appearance pointed at the nameless body lying peacefully on the beach, naked and unconscious.
With a knowing look, the four criminals got out of the vehicle with a huge cloth sack, putting the nameless one inside; they carried him by the shoulders and feet between the four of them to the truck, while doing a celebratory dance for having saved themselves from suffering their boss's torture.
Giving each other pats on the back, they quickly went to the abandoned chemical warehouse to try to save their skins with the vagabond as a gift for their boss.
The nameless one, still unconscious, did not yet know the pain that awaited him, the bad luck he was having, nor the notifications he had not yet been able to see with his power, but soon he would discover why Gotham was the city closest to hell.
[You have emerged from the Gotham sewers alive. (More or less) + 100 DP]
[You survived the blow from a combat master with superhuman characteristics (though he was going easy on you), you have unlocked the Combat section, you have gained Defense 1].
[You have met an important person in the Waylon Jones (Killer Croc) + 1000 DP].
POV Batman
The Batcave, 7:00 a.m.
Batman was entering the events of the night into his computer; he had the personal files of the Penguin and The Riddler open.
Today's ambush had been demanding for the vigilante; the Penguin had tried to smuggle a shipment of military weapons into the city: an entire shipload of mortars, machine guns, and enough arms to cause a small war in Gotham.
The Penguin had covered his operation by alerting Batman about a cocaine shipment arriving at the Gotham docks. The Penguin knew that the masked man had filled one of his common distribution points with listening devices, so the Penguin took the opportunity to make a risky move, letting Batman know that he was going to handle two operations at once: one at the dock carrying narcotics and another in the slums carrying weapons.
Batman couldn't overlook both, but first he had to stop the weapons entering through the slums, letting the drug shipment pass until he finished.
That's what the Penguin was counting on to set a trap for him; Batman already suspected it, but unfortunately, he couldn't send anyone to stop the shipment of narcotics at the dock. Black Canary was in Blüdhaven on a joint mission with Nightwing, so he had to manage on his own.
When raiding the weapons convoy hidden in the warehouse, Batman realized just in time that it was a trap: it was too much of a coincidence that the convoys were parked so symmetrically. They were worn out like any typical Gotham truck, but it was too perfect. Searching for clues around him, he noticed several peculiarities in the factory and, with his knowledge of architecture, realized that there were several hidden mechanisms activating his visual sensors to analyze the structure and weight distribution of the building. He knew he had fallen into the trap.
With a huge explosion, the trucks flew through the air, and a Machiavellian symphony began to play; a screen descended from the ceiling as all the entrances blew up, being blocked with debris while other electrified bars came down, sealing the warehouse. The Riddler, appearing on screen, began to expose the deal he had made with Oswald to trap him; ignoring his disturbed philosophy, Batman humiliated him just as he had finished giving all the necessary information to track the Penguin by acknowledging his existence through the conversation.
— (He loves to stroke his own genius too much.)
Telling him exactly where the secret chamber where he had hidden to observe him, while he commented that all his plans were obvious.
Batman and Robin quickly began to explore the deadly maze he had created in the basement of the warehouse; it had hundreds of rooms filled with deadly traps, a mix of the Penguin's direct attack style and the twisted mentality of the Riddler.
While they dealt with the Penguin's henchmen trying to pass through the rooms that either ignored the mechanics of the puzzle and fell into the traps or accidentally shot their allies, they also solved the Riddler's puzzles or directly exploited certain weaknesses in the design to use the traps to their advantage, attacking the henchmen.
Upon capturing Riddler, Batman managed to extract from him, amidst screams (cries) of injustice (bad sportsmanship), the current location of the Penguin, who was moving the real weapons to another distribution point.
Deciding that Robin was not ready to deal with two supervillains in one night, he ordered him to stop the cocaine shipment at the dock, or at least to track it down to catch them later.
While Batman apprehended the Penguin, unfortunately, half of the weaponry was already hidden or distributed through the Penguin's shell companies; moreover, Oswald had returned to his Iceberg restaurant, using his business as a cover once again.
After stopping part of the shipment, Batman called Robin to inform him of the situation and regroup. To the Dark Knight's surprise, although only a few hours remained until dawn, the night was not over.
Robin, as he headed to the dock, observed how the cult killed an innocent woman and then disemboweled her. Stopped by fear at the sight of dark and bloody magic, Tim always believed he was prepared for anything, but that muerder had affected him. Filled with rage, Robin didn't think twice; with a clear mission, he decided to follow them to the ritual mansion, where he found the entire cult. Batman had told him to be cautious, especially against magic users.
But anger blinded him, he tried to stop the cult only to end up imprisoned. Fortunately for him, instead of deciding to kill him, the leader declared that he would make a perfect offering for the significance he brought to the city.
Luckily for Batman, he was rescued; now they were imprisoned in the dungeons of one of the magical families, sentenced to a lifetime of forced labor.
— (A permanent end for magical criminals. Mhhh.)
Bruce leaned back in his chair, thinking about the differences between the trial of the cultists, who would never see the light of day in the worst case, and Riddler's, who would end up going to Blackgate or Arkham.
Thinking about the prison where most criminals ended up, Batman could only think of a feeling more bitter than a bucket of lemons.
— (If there are no unforeseen events, there hasn't been a breakout in 4 months. There will probably be one soon).
The Blackgate prison, along with the Arkham psychiatric hospital and the justice courts, were a bad joke, and he knew it. Every so often, there was a supervillain escape, which meant that when they were caught again, they were judged as mentally ill or as criminals not dangerous enough for a sentence severe enough to keep them locked up for life.
In Arkham, there was always corruption that ended with many psychopaths being set free for stupid reasons; in Blackgate, criminals treated imprisonment like a vacation.
The reaction of the courts to the list of crimes: mental illness, insufficient collateral damage to condemn them for life or transfer them to a more capable prison, corruption in the institutions, threats from mafias and unions.
Although he strictly enforced various surveillance systems to monitor for escapes or corruption networks, it was impossible to keep up with everything with the government restricting him with laws made by corrupt members.
He had been pushing the legal system towards a safer Gotham even before Harvey... changed, however. The corruption in the system had ended up suffocating even him, pushing everyone to the limit.
— (Almost everyone...)
There was one person who had not yet given up hope in Gotham.Commissioner Gordon time has taken its toll on him, but he was still standing against the criminals. He had been a bit more distant since the incident .
Remembering the events of the Killing Joke from a few years ago was not pleasant; it had ended in the worst possible way. Commissioner Gordon's mind had been shattered to an irrevocable point; since then, his relationship with James had become complicated.
Barbara had regained her strength since the accident, having begun to learn how to be a pillar of support that Dick and the others could rely on. Now she was Oracle, coordinating while providing tactical support to the entire family.
Batman was left with that bitter-sweet thought that most secrets brought him as he finished his dossier on the investigation and the profiles of both criminals.
As he observed several of his surveillance systems deployed throughout Gotham, with his keen senses, a faint but noticeable sound of footsteps came from the elevator entrance.
— Ah, Master Bruce, I see that my role as a butler has changed. I am no longer the butler who serves you dinner, but the unfortunate provider of late-night breakfasts. If I may suggest, perhaps you should consider a bat-watch with an alarm to remind you that humans need to sleep... at least the normal ones.
Alfred carried a platter with what seemed to be a delicious sandwich.
— There was a problem with the attack on the Penguin's business; The Riddler showed up and I had to stop some cultists who tried to assassinate Robin.
— I had already heard something from young master Tim. It truly was a tough night.
— And more are coming. I have received information from my police contacts: the Penguin used the weaponry to distract me. Apparently, there hasn't been a drug wave as I thought; the only thing the authorities were able to recover from the tip-off I gave them were some containment boxes for volatile chemicals.
— Do you suspect anything then, Mr. Bruce?
— The list of chemicals included the typical components for the manufacture of high-caliber explosives. But there are also a couple of chemicals that stand out for their rarity compared to others.
Batman had a dossier printed of the possible chemical components that the fake shipment could contain; this information had been kindly compiled by the GPD to later be uploaded to their very fragile data caches.
— (The GPD is lucky that I upgraded their computer systems to improved Wayne Tech ones a while ago).
— Let's see, let me read... Hallucinogenic toad toxins, psychoactives derived from alkaloids, components for artificial adrenaline. This looks like a list for creating fear gas.
—Yes, I've seen some of Scarecrow's hired goons lurking around the Iceberg restaurant; maybe it's a way for Oswald to throw me off, but I think something is going on.They work together too well, I think someone is pulling the strings in the dark.
—You're right, Mr. Bruce.
—That's why I must keep pressing the Penguin, to track down the Scarecrow and
—That's why you should rest. Right now.
—The Scarecrow is out there equipped with resources to torture all the people of Gotham; I must go stop him immediately.
—Exactly, but a tired vigilante won't have the strength to stop him; you and the young master are exhausted, with multiple injuries that need time to heal.
—I can't.
—But of course you can, sir; in an hour the sun will rise and in seven you have an appointment to inaugurate the new Chinese-themed hotel. I would strongly recommend that, like young Robin, you go rest while you think about what you will do as soon as you wake up.
—...
—Take a break, Mr. Bruce; the city isn't going to burn if Batman takes a tiny break.
Reluctantly, Batman left his suit in one of the display cases, initiating the automatic maintenance process of the case to repair the worn parts of the suit.
—By the way, Mr. Bruce.There is something I think that should be brought to your attention.
—Tell me.
—I think you should talk to young Mr. Tim about the accident; as a mentor, you should ensure that your protégé feels safe.Especially after what he has told me.
Taking a quick bite of the sandwich Alfred had given him, he went into his room to sleep; throwing himself onto the bed, he began to think about Tim and how he had had a situation similar to Jason's.
—(I shouldn't have let him come with me... he wasn't ready).
With that thought, he wondered who he was talking about, Tim or Jason.