Chapter 61: An Alien in Gotham
Wayne Enterprises, Science and Technology Department.
A crisp verification sound chimed from outside the door, and a sharply dressed Bruce Wayne walked straight in. A black man, who had been engrossed in fiddling with a small circuit board at his desk, put down his work and looked up.
"Ah, Mr. Wayne." He smiled. "Is there anything I can help you with?"
Lucius Fox, the head of the Wayne Enterprises Science and Technology Department, and a legendary figure in his own right.
There's a saying: of all the countless pieces of Batman's tech, Fox is responsible for at least half. He was one of the few who knew the identity behind Batman's mask and also Batman's primary technical consultant, well-versed in multiple fields like medicine, chemistry, and mechanical engineering.
We generally use one name to describe such a person.
Doraemon.
That's right, Fox played pretty much that kind of role. His typical work routine basically involved Batman encountering some new villain with strange abilities, getting his butt kicked but managing to escape with his life, then coming back to figure out a counter-strategy. Fox would then invariably cook up some targeted equipment to solve the problem. The newly equipped Batman would then immediately turn defeat into victory, earning him the title "King of the Second Bout."
It was somewhat similar to the pattern of Nobita getting into trouble outside and running home crying, "Doraemon, help me!"
"I heard about what happened with the Riddler," Fox said, standing up. "I figured you might come by. I've already designed a new flood control system, and the Board of Directors is interested in taking on the project."
"I've taken a quick look at the blueprint and have already identified several operational points that can be reserved for Batman. The next time a situation like this occurs, we'll be able to seize the initiative."
"That sounds great, Fox, but that's not why I'm here this time," Bruce interrupted.
"Hm?" Fox raised an eyebrow. "Oh, so you're looking for an equipment upgrade? The new model of the grappling hook gun is still being calibrated... Oh, right, I've finished tailoring that cape we talked about. It can harden rapidly when electrified and should perform well as a glider..."
"No, it's not about any of that this time, Fox."
Bruce shook his head.
"This time, I want armor."
Fox: "?"
"Armor status?"
"Energy Index at 74%," Pal reported. "The last combat performance basically met expectations, but I recommend a few minor adjustments. The arm joints are a bit stiff, and there's room for improvement in the light energy transmission efficiency of two transmission channels."
"Make a note of that for me; we'll make improvements later," Orin Vale said.
The performance of the second-generation battle armor during this practical combat test against the demonic spirits was quite satisfactory. Besides its own performance enhancements, the main contribution could be credited to the Nth Metal. Both demonic spirits and demons are essentially magical beings, and both Nth Metal and Amazonian metal are known for their high magic resistance. Therefore, their attacks on the armor amounted to nothing more than a scratch.
In the end, the demonic spirit gang was successfully wiped out in one fell swoop, resulting in a huge harvest of experience.
The surge in light energy last night was also quite gratifying, though the main contribution came from his feat of pushing back the flood. A short ten-second video of the event had already gone viral online, and he had subsequently swept all the headlines in media outlets big and small.
Even the bombshell news of Batman subduing the Riddler had to take a backseat. Interestingly, an insider revealed that when the Riddler was locked up in Arkham, his mental state was very poor. It seemed having his flood forcefully pushed back had been quite a shock to him.
"Should I search for Rachel Roth?" Pal asked.
"You can, but lower its priority a bit. First, let's see what's going on with that Kryptonian—or rather, the person who looks like a Kryptonian."
Clearly, this item on the to-do list was more worthy of attention.
Ever since Krypton exploded, among the handful of remaining Kryptonians, aside from Superman and Supergirl—the family's legacy Boy Scout and the sweet, naive girl—every single one of the rest was basically a villain.
It might even be related to Kara.
In the DC Universe, databases like the Pentagon's, the CIA's, or the FBI's were basically public restrooms, with people going in and out ten or twenty times a week on average. On Monday, Cyborg would pop in for a look; on Tuesday, Batman would come in and rummage around; on Wednesday, a certain baldy from Metropolis would stroll in for a casual look-see; and on Thursday, several of them would inevitably bump into each other and just set up a table inside for a game of cards.
Anyway, with so many people coming and going all day, Orin Vale figured one more or one less wouldn't make a difference. So he simply had Pal get him an annual pass to browse around whenever he felt like it and see if there was any inside information.
And as expected, there was a development.
This time, however, the information didn't come from official sources, but from the Gotham Underground.
Gotham City naturally had its own version of the "dark web"—a dark corner of the internet filled with gangs, assassins, and contraband trade, a place where even high-level Gotham dignitaries might pop in under a pseudonym to get involved.
It was in this place that Orin Vale found a clue.
"An Alien in Gotham!"
An anonymous post on a certain forum read.
Orin Vale clicked on it and browsed through.
The gist of it was that some low-level street thug, after having hot pot and singing karaoke with his buddies, was walking back with their arms slung over each other's shoulders when they suddenly saw a beautiful woman on the street.
The buddies' eyes all lit up. In a place like Gotham, they basically assumed that any woman wandering around alone at this hour—nine out of ten of them—was on the prowl, looking for some fun.
So, the group eagerly made their move.
And then, the lot of them typed "GG."
"It wasn't an illusion! She's not human, definitely not human!" the poster wrote, exasperated. "She's strong like a monster, and she snapped Mike's pipe with a casual flick! My brothers were all taken down in an instant. It was too eerie, like a ghost. We didn't even see her move!"
Then a guy in the replies below popped up with a strange focus: "That pipe you mentioned, was it a 'proper' one?"
"A steel pipe! The weapon in my hand, what are you people thinking?"
Someone else voiced their skepticism: "Weren't you guys just drunk? Maybe she just knows women's self-defense. This is Gotham, nothing's that strange, right?"
"Have you ever seen women's self-defense that teaches you to shoot lasers from your eyes?" the original poster retorted.
"If she's really that strong, how are you still alive?"
This time, the reply was delayed by several minutes. It seemed the poster was having an intense internal struggle.
Finally, he replied: "Well... you see... my kidneys aren't in the best shape, so I was just watching my brothers from the back and didn't join in. That's how I escaped..."
"..."
And with that, the tone of the replies went completely off the rails. Some sympathized with the guy's plight, others shared their own similar experiences, and some even took the opportunity to advertise a certain small pill.
Immense strength, incredible speed, and most importantly, the ability to shoot lasers from her eyes...
It sounded very familiar.
"Help me find the poster, identify him. He's our eyewitness," Orin Vale said.
"The poster is anonymous, information not public. Tracking IP..."
Pal was extremely efficient. The information on the display changed rapidly before a result popped up.
"Target locked."
"Address traced to a casino in the Upper District, on 92nd Street. It's an enterprise under Sal Maroni, a front for illegal financial activities."
"The current casino operator is an underboss in a branch of Sal Maroni's organization, named Oswald Chesterfield Cobblepot."
As Pal spoke, a photo and a series of data points appeared on the screen.
Orin Vale glanced at the name and narrowed his eyes.
What a familiar ID.
(end of chapter)
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