Dead branches, gray and twisted like skeletal hands, crawled across the courtyard walls. From time to time, strange and unsettling screams echoed from inside the building. The walls themselves were scarred and weathered, their peeling surfaces stripped away by years of wind and rain, leaving behind patterns that looked disturbingly like grotesque paintings drawn by some demonic hand. From the inside out, the entire structure radiated an oppressive and eerie atmosphere.
This was one of the oldest buildings in Gotham.
Arkham Asylum.
It functioned both as a mental hospital and a prison, a place where individuals suffering from severe mental illnesses and violent criminal tendencies were locked away from the rest of society.
For reasons no one could fully explain, Gotham itself seemed cursed. The city produced an unusually high number of criminals with psychological disorders, as if madness grew here as naturally as weeds. In other cities, pickpockets might celebrate if they managed to steal a hundred dollars in a day. In Gotham, the streets bred criminals of a far more dangerous kind.
Inside the asylum, a dark figure watched silently.
Batman stood hidden in the shadows, leaning against a metal railing near the roof. His cold eyes scanned the scene unfolding below.
He had come here to investigate a suspicious shipment of chemical raw materials at the docks. At first, he suspected someone was secretly manufacturing a new narcotic that could send thousands of people to prison.
But the truth appeared to be something else entirely.
The large warehouse beneath him looked less like a drug lab and more like a pharmaceutical factory.
Workers dressed in sterile pharmaceutical uniforms moved back and forth methodically. Under the direction of a man wearing a white lab coat, they prepared barrels filled with a fine white powder and dumped the contents into water pipes that ran through Arkham and connected to Gotham's municipal water system.
The man overseeing everything looked like a scarecrow left standing in an empty field. He was tall and painfully thin, his posture slightly hunched. A pair of glasses sat on his nose, giving him a gentle and scholarly appearance at first glance, but there was something unsettling about the faint madness hidden in his eyes.
A nameplate was clipped to his chest.
Jonathan Crane.
Attending Physician.
"He's the chief physician of Arkham Asylum."
Bruce Wayne frowned slightly behind the bat mask.
Clearly, this doctor wasn't satisfied with spending his days treating unstable patients. Instead, he had found a far more disturbing project to occupy his time.
Bruce's gaze shifted toward the pipes where the white powder was being poured. Thick residue stains had built up along the metal edges, evidence that the substance had spilled repeatedly during previous transfers.
Judging by the accumulation alone, the operation had been running for several days.
"Someone is poisoning the entire city?"
Bruce's eyes narrowed.
But something didn't add up.
He himself drank Gotham's tap water regularly and hadn't noticed anything unusual.
So whatever was being introduced into the system wasn't a conventional toxin.
Batman silently adjusted his stance, preparing to descend from the rooftop. His plan was simple—disable the workers with brute force, stop the operation, and then hang the thin doctor upside down somewhere dark and isolated until he explained everything.
But just as he was about to move, a message crackled through his cowl.
"Alfred?"
"Master Wayne, someone has come to visit you."
Alfred's calm voice carried a hint of urgency.
"It appears your bat mask may have been exposed. I suggest returning immediately to investigate."
Batman hesitated.
Using the roar of water rushing through the pipes to mask his movement, he fired a grappling hook downward. The tip dipped briefly into a patch of spilled powder near the corner of the room, collecting a small sample before retracting.
He sealed the sample quickly.
Then, like a ghost dissolving into darkness, Batman vanished into the shadows without alerting anyone below.
After his parents died, Alfred had raised him like a son. In Bruce's heart, the old butler was the closest thing he had left to family.
Within minutes, the Batmobile roared across the streets as he raced home.
…
A few minutes earlier.
On the streets of Gotham.
Pedestrians walking along the sidewalks were all talking about the same shocking event.
Carmine Falcone—the powerful crime lord who had dominated Gotham's underworld for years—had been publicly humiliated.
Someone had stripped him down to nothing but his underwear and tied him to a massive bat-shaped spotlight. The signal had been projected high into the cloudy night sky, forming a giant bat silhouette visible across the entire city.
Anyone who looked up could see it.
The once-feared godfather of Gotham's criminal world had lost all dignity in a single night.
The message was unmistakable.
For the first time in decades, someone had openly challenged the rotten, shadowy order that ruled the city.
As word spread, the mood across Gotham shifted.
Street thugs and gangsters who normally robbed stores or extorted businesses with casual arrogance suddenly seemed nervous. When they committed crimes now, they moved faster and glanced upward frequently, afraid that at any moment a dark figure might descend from the rooftops.
A bat-shaped shadow that swallowed criminals whole.
"Batman?"
A newspaper page caught in the wind smacked directly into Clark's face as he stood on the street, staring up at Gotham's towering skyscrapers.
Clark pulled the paper away and glanced down at the headline printed in bold red letters.
"Under the Bat Signal: Roman Falcone Captured."
The article included a photograph of the scene along with a silhouette sketch of Batman gliding between skyscrapers with his cape spread wide like wings.
Clark blinked.
For some reason, the outline of that figure felt strangely familiar.
"Is this the person who knows where the Lazarus Pool is?"
Clark turned in confusion.
Standing beside him was someone he barely recognized.
"Who are you?" Clark asked, staring suspiciously. "Why are you wearing Victor's clothes?"
Victor had naturally returned to his normal appearance after leaving the town earlier. But coming to Gotham meant he couldn't reveal his real identity.
"Where's your blue hood?" Victor asked calmly.
"Victor? How did you turn into this person?" Clark exclaimed in shock. "Is this another one of your abilities?"
Recognizing his brother's height and build, Clark quickly understood what had happened. Still amazed, he pulled out the blue hood Victor had mentioned and placed it over his head.
"So where are we supposed to find this Batman?"
Victor thought for a moment before answering.
"Creatures like bats are nocturnal."
Ignoring Clark's curiosity, he added calmly.
"Let's check his house."
Even Batman needed to rest. Nighttime was when Gotham's crime rate exploded, which meant he might still be home during the day.
Moving at supersonic speed, the two crossed the city in seconds.
Soon they stood outside Wayne Manor.
A vast lawn stretched across the property. Ivy crawled across ancient stone walls, and a massive iron gate guarded the entrance. Beyond the gate lay a long avenue lined with statues and fountains that led toward a towering castle-like mansion.
"What a huge estate."
Clark stared wide-eyed through the gates.
"The Luthor family manor isn't even close to this big."
He looked around in amazement like a farm boy visiting the big city for the first time.
"So Batman lives here?" Clark asked. "By the way… what kind of powers does he have?"
The newspaper said Batman fought criminals and protected civilians throughout the city. Facing gun-wielding gangs with bare hands sounded impossible unless he had some kind of supernatural ability.
"You've already seen it," Victor replied.
"I have?"
Clark looked puzzled. As far as he could tell, this was just a giant old mansion.
Victor didn't bother explaining. Instead, he walked up to the gate and pressed the doorbell.
A small screen embedded in the stone pillar beside the entrance flickered to life. The face of an elderly man dressed like a traditional English butler appeared.
"May I ask who is calling?"
"Is Bruce Wayne here?" Victor asked directly.
"I'm sorry, the master is not at home," the butler replied politely. "Please return another day. If you would like to leave your name, I can inform him when he returns."
"Is Batman here?"
Victor ignored the rehearsed response and asked coldly.
Bruce Wayne had recently begun leaving psychological scars across Gotham's criminal underworld. Perhaps he was out continuing his crusade even during the daytime.
"Batman?" Alfred said thoughtfully. "Are you referring to the vigilante who flies around Gotham wearing a bat cape?"
Alfred recognized Victor immediately.
Batman had once displayed Victor's image on the Batcave monitors while attempting to gather intelligence. Alfred had also seen the astonishing footage of Victor firing beams from his fingertips and effortlessly eliminating armed robbers.
"This is Wayne Manor," Alfred continued calmly. "There is no one here matching the description you're looking for."
Then, with a polite apology, he ended the call and shut off the screen.
"What do we do now?" Clark asked, scratching his cheek awkwardly.
They had been turned away at the door, and time was running out. Should they just break in?
"It doesn't matter," Victor said calmly. "My objective has already been achieved."
"Achieved?"
Victor glanced toward the distant horizon.
"Right now, a certain bat should be rushing back to its nest."
Without waiting outside, Victor grabbed Clark and effortlessly jumped over the gate, entering the manor grounds.
…
Batman's Batmobile tore through the roads as he raced home.
He fired his grappling hook and silently climbed up to the second floor of the manor like a thief. Carefully peering through a window, he looked into the reception room.
Inside, two guests sat on the sofa while Alfred served them refreshments.
One of them looked very familiar.
Victor hadn't touched the coffee placed in front of him. Instead, he tapped the armrest of the sofa impatiently with his fingers, clearly waiting for someone.
Batman narrowed his eyes.
"This raptor hasn't left Gotham yet?"
"What could possibly make him this anxious?"
....
Join my P*atreon for 100 premium chapters ahead of the public release.
Link: pa*treon.com/MysticVerse (Remove the *)
Free members also get 2 advanced chapters for free.