Chapter 60: Chapter 61: The Alien in Gotham
Wayne Enterprises, Technology Division.
A crisp "verification passed" sound rang outside the door, and Bruce Wayne, dressed in a suit, walked straight in. The black man who had been engrossed in tinkering with a small circuit board at his desk put down his work and looked up.
"Ah, Mr. Wayne," he smiled, "is there something I can help you with?"
Lucius Fox, the head of the Technology Division at Wayne Enterprises, was something of a legend in his own right.
It's often said that half of Batman's gadgets owe their existence to Fox. He's one of the few who knows the identity behind Batman's mask and serves as Batman's primary technical advisor. He's an expert in medicine, chemistry, mechanical engineering, and other fields.
There's a common phrase to describe someone like him: **"Little Doraemon."**
Yes, that's pretty much the role Fox plays. His daily routine usually goes like this: Batman encounters some bizarrely powerful new villain, gets his ass handed to him but manages to escape with his life, then comes back to research countermeasures. And Fox always manages to develop some specific piece of equipment to deal with the problem, allowing Batman to turn the tables in the second round.
It's somewhat similar to the dynamic of Nobita coming home crying and pleading, "Doraemon, help me!"
"I heard about the Riddler incident," Fox said as he stood up. "I figured you might come by. I've already designed a new flood defense system, and the board is interested in taking over this project. I've roughly gone through the blueprint and identified several areas that could be reserved for Batman's use. Next time something like this happens, we'll have the upper hand."
"That sounds good, Fox, but that's not why I'm here today," Bruce interrupted.
"Hmm?" Fox raised an eyebrow. "Oh, so you're looking for an equipment upgrade? The new model of the grappling gun is still in testing... Oh, right, I've also finished tailoring your new cape. It can harden quickly when electrified and should perform well as a glider."
"No, it's not about that either, Fox."
Bruce shook his head.
"This time, I want armor."
Fox: "?"
"Status of the suit?"
"Energy index at 74%," Pal said. "Performance in the last battle was largely satisfactory, but there are a few minor tweaks recommended. The arm joints are slightly stiff, and the energy transmission efficiency in two of the channels still has room for improvement."
"Note that down for future adjustments," Shen You said.
The performance of the second-generation armor in this demon-hunting operation was satisfying. In addition to the built-in enhancements, a major contributor was likely the Nth Metal. Demons and devils are fundamentally part of the magical realm, and both Nth Metal and Amazonium are known for their anti-magic properties, which made their attacks feel like mere scratches against the armor.
In the end, the demon gang was successfully wiped out—a significant haul of experience points.
The surge in energy last night was also encouraging, but most of it came from the spectacle of pushing back the flood. A mere ten-second video of it had already gone viral online, and he had simultaneously grabbed all the headlines in both major and minor media outlets.
Even Batman's heavy-hitting news of apprehending the Riddler had been pushed aside. Interestingly, an insider revealed that when the Riddler was sent to Arkham, his mental state was quite poor. It seemed the incident of his flood being pushed back had dealt him quite a blow.
"Shall I execute a search for Rachel Roth?" Pal asked.
"You can, but lower the priority for now. Let's first see what's going on with this Kryptonian—or rather, someone who seems like a Kryptonian."
Clearly, this was more urgent.
After Krypton exploded, the few remaining Kryptonians were either members of the Super family with their inherent boy scout mentality, or villains—every single one.
It might even have something to do with Kara.
In the DC universe, databases like the Pentagon's, CIA's, and FBI's are essentially public restrooms—getting accessed ten or so times a week on average. Monday, Cyborg drops in for a look; Tuesday, Batman comes to poke around; Wednesday, a certain bald guy from Metropolis takes a stroll in; Thursday, several folks bump into each other and decide to sit down for a game of poker.
With so many people constantly coming and going, Shen You figured one more wouldn't make a difference, so he had Pal get him a membership card too, just to browse around and see if there were any insider scoops.
And there was indeed progress.
But this time, the information didn't come from official sources—it came from Gotham's underworld.
Naturally, Gotham has something akin to a "dark web," a seedy underbelly filled with gangs, hitmen, contraband, and even possibly Gotham's high-ranking officials lurking under pseudonyms.
It was in this dark corner that Shen You found a clue.
"An alien in Gotham!"
An anonymous post on a certain forum read.
Shen You clicked to read it.
The post talked about a low-level thug who, after having some drinks and karaoke with a few friends, was walking down the street with them when they suddenly spotted a beautiful woman.
The group's eyes lit up. In a place like Gotham, they assumed that any woman out wandering alone at that hour was likely looking for some excitement—ten out of ten times, a thrill-seeker.
So, they eagerly closed in on her.
Then they all got stomped.
"It wasn't a hallucination; she wasn't human, definitely not human!" The poster, clearly agitated, wrote. "She was strong as hell, like a monster! She snapped Mike's pipe in half like it was nothing! All the guys were down in an instant; it was too freaky, like she was a ghost or something. We didn't even see her move!"
Then a commenter below zeroed in on an odd detail: "You said 'pipe'—was it legit?"
"I meant the steel pipe! The one we use as a weapon. What are you thinking?"
Someone else questioned: "You sure you guys weren't just drunk? Maybe she was just trained in self-defense. This is Gotham; nothing's that surprising, right?"
"Have you ever seen a self-defense class teach you to shoot lasers out of your eyes?" The original poster shot back.
"If she's that strong, how are you still alive?"
There was a long pause before the poster finally replied, after what seemed to be a fierce internal struggle.
"Well… let's just say my kidneys and other organs aren't in the best shape, so I was at the back, watching the others, and managed to get away…"
"…"
After that, the thread went completely off-topic. Some expressed sympathy for the poster's situation, others shared similar experiences, and some even started pushing health supplements.
Super strength, incredible speed, and, most importantly, laser eyes…
Sounds pretty close.
"Track down the poster and find out his identity—he's our eyewitness," Shen You said.
"The poster is anonymous, and information is not publicly available. Initiating IP trace."
Pal worked quickly, the information on the display updating rapidly until it finally locked onto a result.
"Target located."
"The trace led to a casino on 92nd Street in Uptown, a front for illegal financial activities under Sal Maroni. The current casino manager is a low-level underboss of Maroni's named Oswald Chesterfield Cobblepot."
As he spoke, the screen displayed a photo and detailed information.
Shen You glanced at the name and squinted.
That ID seemed very familiar…
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