Slipping out through the back door of the house, they walked the nighttime streets of the Temple Quarter. Angoulême kept her eyes on the target, her expression conflicted.
"Captain… can't we just walk up and start hitting them? I honestly think it's stupid to warn someone before you beat them."
With his face covered tight, the only thing visible on the boy was his mouth, lips moving up and down. "But it makes me happy. And anyway, we're wearing masks—no one will know."
A flawless, unassailable reason. The girl let out a long, silent sigh and gave up on her final attempt to persuade him.
"D-don't come any closer… If you come any closer, I'll scream!" said the lone woman who was heading home late.
The drunk, wearing a leering smile, replied, "Heh heh heh… You can scream your lungs out and no one's coming to save you!"
"Help! Help! Someone save me!"
"Haha! You came out at night because you wanted to be groped, didn't you!"
The one pretending to be drunk was a recently rising Salamandra "supernova" thug known as Red Dog. Since he'd come looking for trouble, he naturally kept an eye on his surroundings.
So when he noticed the woman in front of him suddenly stop screaming—her eyes no longer panicked, replaced by a confused look, as if something unbelievable had appeared behind him—Red Dog immediately turned around. Under the moonlight, he saw two lumps of pitch-black, unidentified shapes.
This wasn't filming a TV show or shooting a movie. Without proper lighting, two people dressed head-to-toe in black appearing out of darkness wasn't actually cool. It definitely didn't make villains collapse in fear. Victor experienced this disappointing truth firsthand… but it didn't stop him from saying the lines he wanted to say anyway.
"You must release this lady. What you're doing is not what a good citizen should do. You have betrayed this city!"
Ignoring the nonsense, Red Dog glared hard at the two of them. Once his eyes adjusted, he could see a lot more clearly. Those two black "things" were actually people—just dressed in a way that was both bizarre and disgusting.
In the medieval world—fantasy medieval included—there was no such thing as a skintight leather suit, let alone something like a bat-themed outfit that carved out every single line of a boy's muscles. Up close, it was genuinely hard to look at.
Red Dog hurriedly turned his head toward Catwoman. It was a bit vulgar, but in that instant, he **, and then let out a bloodcurdling scream—because Catwoman drove a merciless kick straight into his ****.
Looks like bringing a Catwoman-style outfit into a medieval setting really was far too ahead of its time, Victor thought. What it brought clearly wasn't fear, but **. And this drunk—who looked young—had his ** noticed by Angoulême, so her knee reacted on instinct and snapped out in a kick.
To be honest, Angoulême's figure absolutely wasn't that good. It was just that her Catwoman "battle suit" had thick, soft padding **** in a lot of places—piled on by the boy, who'd forcefully built the classic shape out of **** just to recreate the look.
From that angle, you could even say Red Dog was unfairly wronged by the kick. He still didn't understand that in this world, your eyes can deceive you, your ears can deceive you—sometimes even your sense of touch can deceive you.
Fortunately, Catwoman still remembered Batman's instructions before they set out: no killing. She held back and didn't **** this guy, but tonight he definitely wasn't getting back on his feet with his own strength.
In the darkness, the other three Salamandra members surged forward together. Meanwhile, the men from Ramsmeat's gang—who'd originally been "working" the area—stood there dumbfounded. Two weirdly dressed strangers had just stolen the job that was supposed to be theirs, and they couldn't tell what was even happening anymore.
Two people in black versus three street thugs—an unfair fight, because Batman had prepared thoroughly for this brawl. The bat suit he wore was a real, one-piece molded leather construction, with excellent resistance to blows.
What did "one-piece molded leather" mean? It meant one hide, one outfit—no seams, no stitching. The entire set was a single thick layer of leather, fitted so closely it looked like it had grown out of the body. A masterwork worthy of Unfathomable Alchemy.
Even better: because he'd made it in "happy mode," Victor was still full of energy afterward. Like how someone can stay up all night gaming, but gets sleepy after reading for half an hour—same principle.
…
This one-sided, satisfying beatdown had Victor completely imitating the fictional character he was "playing," showing off all kinds of medieval-era "billionaire superpowers." The skintight leather suit, the gloves, elbow guards, knee guards, all the accessories—everything had been shaped by his own hands from purchased raw materials. Imagination was superpower, and Victor was delighted that he still remembered so many details.
How did that saying go again? The accuracy really is high.
In short, after the two of them beat the three unlucky gang members into the ground with zero suspense, the boy and girl casually slipped out of the alley and went searching for the next crime scene.
According to Victor's plan, running into about three incidents in a single night would be about time to call it quits. But unexpectedly, they hadn't gone far at all when Batman and Catwoman ran straight into a group of people—
A group of knights, holding torches aloft, wearing Temerian lily armor.
…
Time seemed to freeze.
The two groups stared at each other in sudden silence, their visual styles so violently incompatible that it felt unreal. Batman and Catwoman's strange outfits hit the noble knights like a mental shockwave—men and women alike. All of them got hit.
For example, the noblewoman protected at the center of the formation: lit by torchlight, her skin was snow-pale, her lips richly red. Her narrow, almond-shaped eyes locked onto Batman's outfit that shamelessly emphasized every line of a man's muscle—especially the boy's protected… vital area. Her gaze brightened.
Sensing danger, Victor immediately clapped twice. This was the prearranged signal with Angoulême: split up and run. Angoulême had her route, Victor had his, and the final goal for both was the same—get into the sewers, shake pursuit, then return home.
As the two costumed figures split and fled, the knights were still standing there in a daze, unsure what to do. But Princess Adda—who'd already been calculating—snapped out of it first and shouted an order:
"Catch the man. I want him alive."
Victor was a little surprised. He'd only taken two steps before that noblewoman reacted that fast. Taking advantage of a turn to look back, he saw that although the knights were mounted, the crowded street actually prevented them from simply charging at full speed.
As he ran, the boy couldn't help but complain internally: tonight, the people of Vizima probably wouldn't understand that they were lucky enough to witness—hundreds of years early—the kind of street chase scene that every big-budget action blockbuster absolutely needs.
And from the perspective of the medieval onlookers in the Trade Quarter…
"The one fleeing ahead is a man in skintight black leather, a bat emblem on his chest, muscles bulging in hard blocks—his protective… piece especially unforgettable at first sight. That kind of outfit is shameful to the extreme!
"And the ones chasing him are actually the Temerian Royal Guard!?
"It was already rare enough to dispatch them for a streaking weirdo—let alone have King Foltest's daughter, Princess Adda, personally riding at the front and directing the pursuit. She's also one of the closest riders to the costumed man."
This chase through the city's alleys missed none of the best-selling elements: knocking over stalls, shoving down obstacles, leaping over people's heads, sliding under wagons, squeezing through gaps—every dangerous, thrilling moment you could ask for.
With the support of his gadgets and finely made accessories, Batman—Victor—lived up to his self-proclaimed titles of "Kaer Morhen Parkour King" and "Extreme Fitness King." The knights behind him leaned on horsepower and stayed close, but no matter what they did, they just couldn't catch him.
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