The air froze for a second.
Lee Harris blinked, then gave a wry smile: "You sure know how to joke. If I were good at acting, I wouldn't be in this situation."
"Perhaps." Barbara shot him a meaningful look. "Good night, Lee."
"Good night."
The door closed.
Lee Harris kept his harmless expression until her footsteps faded completely. He walked to the window and watched a motorcycle speed away below—Barbara's ride.
"Interesting."
He turned and dragged the body out. This time, without hesitation, he pushed it out the window. A few seconds later, a dull thud echoed from below.
Someone would find it soon, but no one would care. People died in Gotham every day; one more addict wouldn't make a difference, and one less wouldn't matter.
Lee Harris closed the window and sat back on the bed.
First contact, probing, a contest.
Barbara Gordon suspected him, but she had no evidence. This was normal—the Bat Family was paranoid, suspecting everything. As long as he was careful, he wouldn't slip up.
"System," he murmured in his mind, "show status."
A translucent panel appeared:
[Host: Lee Harris]
[Physical Fitness: 1.3 times that of an ordinary person]
[Skills: Shadow Manipulation Lv1, Street Fighting Lv1]
[Soul Reserve: 0]
Too weak.
In a world where gods clashed, his current strength was barely cannon fodder. He needed to grow stronger, fast, but without drawing too much attention.
Gotham was a good place; criminals were as common as rats, and no one would notice a few missing. But it was also dangerous—Batman's surveillance was everywhere, and then there was the Joker, that lunatic…
*Ding dong.*
His phone chimed.
Lee Harris picked it up—a message from the department group chat:
"Urgent Notice: Tomorrow at 8 AM, full Technical Department meeting. Mr. Bruce Wayne will attend to discuss the new project. Do not be late."
Bruce Wayne.
Playboy by day, Dark Knight by night.
Lee Harris lay back on the bed and closed his eyes. Tomorrow was a critical moment, and he had to play his part perfectly—valuable, but not too conspicuous.
This was a long game.
And he had just stepped into it.
Outside, the Bat-Signal still pierced the night sky.
On a rooftop, a cloaked figure overlooked the city.
"Alfred," Batman pressed his earpiece, "pull up everything on Lee Harris, the new employee at Wayne Enterprises."
"Is there a problem, Master Wayne?"
"Barbara just visited him. Her intuition is rarely wrong."
"Understood, Master Wayne. But I must remind you, you have a meeting tomorrow morning."
"I know." Batman leaped, vanishing into the darkness.
Meanwhile, Lee Harris's lips curved in his sleep.
At seven in the morning, Gotham was cloaked in a hazy mist.
Lee Harris stood before the mirror, adjusting his cheap suit.
His tie went crooked, then straight, then crooked again—he needed to look like a nervous newcomer, not a confident predator.
He had dealt with three more last night.
Two robbers, one attempted rapist. Their bodies now lay at the bottom of the Gotham River, never to be found.
The souls' nourishment had boosted his physical fitness to 1.8 times that of an ordinary person, and more importantly, he'd gained fragmented memories—intel on Gotham's underworld.
"Hmph."
He flashed a timid smile in the mirror. Perfect.
Wayne Tower's Technical Department was on the 52nd floor, and the conference room, built for two hundred, was packed.
Lee Harris took a corner seat, fiddling with his notebook, head down.
"Yo, isn't this our genius newcomer?"
A greasy voice cut through. Technical Department Manager Mike Stone, forties, pot-bellied, a walking mid-life crisis. He loathed young grads from top schools, always fearing they'd threaten his position.
"Good morning, Manager Stone." Lee Harris stood, smiling awkwardly.
"MIT, huh?" Stone raised his voice, drawing eyes. "You better perform today, kid. Don't embarrass your alma mater."
A few sycophants chuckled on cue.
Lee Harris lowered his head: "I'll do my best."
"Do your best?" Stone sneered. "Wayne Enterprises doesn't keep 'do your best' trash."
The conference room door opened.
Bruce Wayne stepped in.
A deep blue custom suit, every detail screaming wealth. He looked tired, faint dark circles under his eyes—probably from another late-night "party."
At least, that's how it looked.
"Good morning, everyone." Bruce flashed his playboy smile. "Sorry I'm late. Last night's charity gala was so dull, I fell asleep in champagne."
The room chuckled politely.
Only Lee Harris noticed Bruce's gaze linger on him for 0.5 seconds.
0.3 seconds longer than anyone else.
"Let's get to it." Bruce took the main seat. "The board's unhappy with our R&D progress. The AI project is six months behind competitors."
Stone jumped up: "Mr. Wayne, it's not our fault. The technical challenges are immense, and…"
"And what?" Bruce cut him off.
"And young people today are too impatient, not focused enough for real research." Stone shot a pointed glance at Lee Harris.
"Is that so?" Bruce mused. "Let's do a little test."
He snapped his fingers, and an assistant wheeled in a server.
"This is the core AI algorithm we're developing, but it's got a bug we can't crack." Bruce scanned the room. "Find it in an hour, and your bonus this month doubles."
The room buzzed. Technicians dove into their laptops, connecting to the server.
Lee Harris pretended to do the same, fingers dancing across the keyboard. But his focus wasn't on the code—something was off about this test.
Too simple.
For an MIT grad, a bug like this would take twenty minutes, tops. Bruce Wayne had to know that.
So, this was a trap.
Or rather, a screening.
He was looking for someone.
Lee Harris slowed his typing, analyzing the code while watching the others. Most worked diligently, but a few looked confused—they'd found the issue.
Fifteen minutes in, an Indian-American engineer raised his hand: "I found it!"
"Oh?" Bruce strolled over.
"Line 2847, the recursive function's boundary condition is wrong, causing…"
"Incorrect." Bruce shook his head.
The engineer froze: "But…"
"Keep going."
One by one, others offered answers, all rejected. Stone's face grew uglier, sweat beading on his brow.
Forty minutes passed.
Lee Harris knew it was time. He raised his hand slowly: "Um… I might have found it."
All eyes turned to him.