"Who are you?"
Bruce stood in the doorway of his office, studying the young man sitting at his desk. The intruder wore jeans and a hoodie, nothing remarkable about his appearance. But the fact that he'd managed to infiltrate Wayne Enterprises' executive floor without triggering a single alarm? That was very remarkable indeed.
Mario set down his food and grabbed a napkin, wiping his mouth. "Mr. Wayne, do you know what time it is? Two in the afternoon. I've been waiting since eight this morning. Does being the chairman mean you can just show up whenever you want?"
Bruce walked slowly into his office, closing the door behind him without alerting security. The intruder looked young, maybe mid-twenties, and didn't appear physically threatening. He was confident in his own abilities to handle the situation.
"If I can't decide when to come to my own company, then being the chairman is meaningless."
Mario paused, then nodded reluctantly. "You know what? That's a fair point. I got nothing."
He packed the takeout containers into a plastic bag and tossed them in the nearby trash can. Then he walked toward Bruce with a friendly smile, extending his hand.
"Hi, I'm Mario. Nice to meet you, Mr. Wayne."
After a brief moment of calculation, weighing the risks of subduing this intruder versus gathering more information, Bruce decided to play along. He shook Mario's hand, noting the surprisingly firm grip.
"What do you want from me? Don't tell me you broke into my office just to eat lunch."
"Of course not. I came to see you, confirm a few things. Now that I've met you, I'm pretty much done here."
Mario grinned, then snapped his fingers as if remembering something. "Oh, wait, I need an autograph. I'm actually a big fan. You're my second-favorite superhero."
He pulled a notebook and pen from his pocket, Bruce's own supplies, stolen from the desk, and offered them to the billionaire.
Bruce frowned slightly at the "superhero" comment but accepted the items. He signed his name, speaking as he wrote.
"I'm curious how you managed to get into my office. My security isn't perfect, but it's not exactly easy to bypass either."
"I walked in."
Mario spread his hands innocently. Walking while invisible still technically counted as walking. He glanced at the signature and immediately shook his head. "No, not that one. I want Batman's autograph. The Dark Knight himself."
Bruce moved. He tossed the notebook and pen at Mario's face and lunged forward. His plan was simple, distract with the throw, grab the arm, execute a shoulder throw, pin him to the ground.
Mario instinctively caught the flying objects, and Bruce seized his arm with both hands, pivoting his body to leverage Mario over his shoulder.
That's when things went sideways.
Bruce pulled. Mario didn't budge.
He adjusted his stance and pulled harder, putting his full weight and strength into the throw. Still nothing. It was like trying to flip a statue bolted to the floor.
Crack.
The sharp sound echoed through the office. Both men heard it clearly.
The intruder was far stronger than he appeared. His suit offered some protection, but he wasn't wearing the full armor right now, this was just reinforced business clothing, not the exoskeleton he used for serious operations.
Mario reached over with his free hand and patted Bruce's shoulder almost sympathetically. "You can stop trying. Strength isn't even my specialty, but I've got the equivalent of about twenty-five people combined. With what you're packing right now, you're not throwing me anywhere."
He flexed his arm slightly, breaking Bruce's grip. The billionaire immediately accepted the reality of the situation. But he also recognized something important: Mario had no hostile intent. With the kind of power he'd just demonstrated, he could have killed Bruce easily if that was his goal.
His face had gone pale, one hand supporting his lower back. That twist had hurt more than he wanted to admit.
Seeing Batman reduced to nursing an injury, Mario couldn't help but smile. He grabbed Bruce's office chair and rolled it over.
"Sit down before you hurt yourself worse. At your age, you should know better than to go picking fights without warming up first."
The condescending tone left Bruce momentarily speechless. He lowered himself into the chair, every movement sending sharp pain through his back.
"What do you want?"
His biggest secret had been exposed by a complete stranger. It felt like standing naked in broad daylight. Worse, he could sense something dangerous about Mario.
"I accidentally ended up in your universe," Mario explained with a shrug. "Honestly, I got excited. Couldn't wait to meet the actual Batman and see what you're like in person."
After seeing the Dark Knight face-to-face, he had confirmed his suspicions. This was definitely the Justice League universe, several years before the main timeline. Superman hadn't even made his public debut yet.
Every small movement sent pain shooting through Bruce's lower back. He studied Mario's face intently, as if trying to burn every detail into memory. Mario met his gaze without flinching, even offering a cheerful smile.
After Bruce finished the second autograph, Mario pulled a small glass vial from his inventory. The liquid inside looked suspiciously like blood. He popped the cork.
"Open your mouth."
He'd been carrying healing potions for months now, ever since learning proper healing magic. The potions had become redundant, gathering dust in his inventory.
Wonder if these things expire. Eh, time doesn't pass in the inventory anyway, so they should be fine.
Bruce stared at the vial. His hand moved toward the taser concealed in his jacket pocket, but he paused. Two options presented themselves:
One, pull the weapon and try to subdue this guy. Based on his calculations, the success rate was approximately twelve percent.
Two, drink whatever was in that vial and see what happened.
Before he could decide, Mario moved. He crossed the distance between them in a blur of motion, grabbed Bruce's jaw, and poured the red liquid down his throat before the billionaire could react.
Bruce saw nothing but a flash. He tried to struggle, but the liquid dissolved the instant it touched his tongue, transforming into warm energy that spread through his entire body. There was nothing to spit out even if he'd wanted to.
The sharp pain in his back faded to nothing. Even old injuries, accumulated over years of brutal training and nighttime vigilantism, began to heal. Scar tissue that had bothered him for months simply stopped bothering him.
The healing exceeded anything he'd imagined possible.
"Do you have more of this? I can pay whatever you want."
"You mean you're rich?"
Mario's tone was playful. Bruce froze, in his entire life, nobody had ever asked him that particular question with that particular tone.
"Not just rich. Extremely rich."
Hearing the defensive note in Bruce's voice, Mario's smile grew wider. "Oh, so you're the type who never worries about whether your friends have money, because no matter what, none of them could possibly be richer than you anyway. Am I right?"
Bruce actually considered the statement. It was uncomfortably accurate, he never thought about other people's wealth because the disparity was always so enormous.
But Mario's next words deflated whatever hope had been building.
"Too bad. I'm not interested in money."
He stood and headed toward the door. "Mr. Wayne, I've finished what I came here to do. Time for me to leave. Though I'm sure we'll be meeting again soon."
Before Bruce could respond, Mario simply vanished.He stared at the empty space.
Something big is coming to Gotham.
The premonition rose in his heart, leaving his mood in disarray.
Mario walked out of Wayne Tower and onto the sunny streets of Gotham. The rain from the previous night had been baked away by a full day of sunshine, leaving the pavement dry and warm.
Daytime Gotham was almost pleasant. People walked with smiles, going about their business like residents of any normal city. But he knew what happened when the sun went down. The transformation was legendary, Gotham at night made Hell's Kitchen look like a church picnic.
---
Night fell over Gotham, and the city's true face emerged from the shadows.
"Well, this is exactly what I expected."
Mario grabbed a thug by his collar and lifted him off the ground. The flames didn't burn the man's clothing, but they sure as hell terrified him.
The thug's eyes were wide. He struggled desperately, trying to escape the skeletal grip.
"Penance Stare."
"AHHHHH!"
The thug burst into flames like he'd been doused in gasoline. People steeped in sin burned so much easier, it was like they carried their own kindling inside them.
He tossed the burning body aside and watched it crumple to the alley floor. His square skull face showed no expression, but somehow conveyed a sense of disappointment.
"Shame I can't see the sins they committed."
A proper Ghost Rider should be able to witness the crimes of their victims. He could only feel the weight of their sins and decide whether they deserved the flame.
Maybe I'm not a proper Ghost Rider after all.
The screaming stopped abruptly.
[Souls: 72/10,000]
Mario walked to the now-still corpse and picked up the heart that had dropped as loot. The dead thug's face was frozen in an expression of regret, tears staining his cheeks. No terror remained, only what looked like remorse.
"Huh. Guess the Penance Stare makes them feel bad about what they did."
The body showed no burns or external injuries. The man looked almost peaceful, like he'd simply fallen asleep and never woke up.
He left the alley, leaving several similar corpses behind him. He toyed with the Ghost Rider medallion as he walked back to his motorcycle.
"Mephisto's a fraud. He can't even collect souls across dimensional boundaries."
He mounted the bike and tore off down the street, the familiar rush reminding him of hunting vampires in Manhattan. The engine's roar echoed between the buildings.
WEEEOOO... WEEEOOO...
His skull turned toward the sound.
A black delivery van was tearing down the street, four police cruisers in hot pursuit. Suddenly a man popped up through the van's roof hatch with an automatic rifle.
RATATATATAT...
Muzzle flash lit up the night as bullets sprayed across the pursuing vehicles. The police cars swerved wildly, trying to avoid the gunfire while maintaining pursuit.
Mario expected the civilians on the sidewalk to panic. Instead, they crouched behind trash cans, mailboxes, and street corners. Several even pulled out phones to record the chase.
"These people are professionals at being bystanders."
CRASH.
One police car's driver took a round to the shoulder. The vehicle spun out and slammed into a parked car, crumpling both front ends in a screech.
In that moment, he truly understood why Gotham was the way it was. Gordon had said it best in the movies: when the cops were still using pistols, the criminals had already upgraded to assault rifles. When the police got body armor, the criminals switched to armor-piercing rounds.
Watching from a dark alley, he felt purpose crystallizing in his mind. He'd originally planned to just wait around for Superman, Wonder Woman, and Aquaman to appear, then "invite" them to his lab for some blood donations and research.
Kryptonite's gotta be good for something, right?
But now he had a better idea. He twisted the throttle. His motorcycle exploded from the alley. The blue flames immediately drew gasps and screams from the crowd. That flaming skull head plunged everyone into silence.
Then the panic hit.
"AHHHHH!"
"OH MY GOD, WHAT IS THAT THING?!"
"IT'S A DEMON! RUN!"
The "professional bystanders" finally broke, scattering in all directions.
Mario ignored the fleeing civilians and gunned his engine toward the crashed police car. He dismounted and strode over. The driver was unconscious, slumped over the airbag with blood trickling from his scalp. The passenger seat officer was also out cold, his face covered in cuts from the shattered windshield.
Two officers in the back seat struggled to kick open the jammed doors. One had his arm bent at an unnatural angle. The other seemed relatively intact, just dazed and bleeding from a dozen small cuts.
The less-injured cop stumbled out of the wreckage and froze, staring at Mario with wide eyes.
"Oh fuck. I'm dead, aren't I? A burning skeleton? With a... square head?"
Mario's skull turned toward him. "You know, I was about to like you. Then you had to add that last part."
The officer snapped out of his shock and immediately drew his service weapon, hands shaking as he pointed it at Mario's chest.
Mario didn't even flinch. Expecting a 9mm pistol to hurt him was like expecting a squirt gun to extinguish the sun. Even ignoring his undead physiology in Ghost Rider form, the quantum armor's energy shields could tank anti-tank rounds.
"Put that away and help me get these guys out. Unless you want them to die."
As he spoke, he reached forward and tore the warped car door off its hinges. Metal screamed and twisted, and the entire roof section came away in his hands.