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After locking the man up, Vivi had the guard send her the file on this “Matches Malone.”
“Car theft,” Vivi murmured as she scrolled through the file on her phone. “His record seems… fine?”
Matches Malone’s life story wasn’t exactly exciting. His biggest offences were theft and robbery, though the statute of limitations had long expired on the robbery. The judge had only sentenced him for grand theft.
This guy hadn’t resisted arrest, hadn’t tried to escape, and had obediently gone to prison.
“Matches Malone” was apparently his nickname in the criminal underworld, though not a particularly famous one. It had been years since anyone had heard of him, and he hadn’t shown up much recently. It wasn’t hard to imagine how tight his life had become, going from a once semi-notable private investigator to being arrested for stealing luxury cars.
Compared to charges like serial killings, mass murder, mind control, terrorism, releasing homemade toxic gas, large-scale poisoning, or blowing up GCPD headquarters, this guy looked like a helpless little lamb among the Arkham inmates.
—So how did he end up mixed in with them?
If Vivi had more time, she might have gone to meet him in person, but she was busy at the moment. And since locking him up in the psychiatric ward hadn’t triggered any side quests, she decided to leave him alone for now.
He still had three years left on his sentence—no rush.
Plus, the psychiatric ward had private cells!
“Matches Malone,” Vivi instructed the guard over the phone, “keep him in the psychiatric ward but treat him like a regular inmate. He can have outdoor time and access to the cafeteria. I’ll deal with him when I get back.”
As she finished her call, the person she was waiting for arrived.
With Quincy Sharp, the Arkham dean, still recovering in Gotham Hospital after a recent incident, Vivi was meeting with Arkham’s head of logistics.
And what was this about? Naturally, it was an opportunity to “dispose” of some defective prison supplies while Sharp was away and the inmates were locked up elsewhere.
The logistics manager was a man who harboured a deep disdain for the psychiatric criminals.
“These mentally ill criminals serve no purpose to society,” the man said as he daintily sipped his coffee across from Vivi. “All they do is drain taxpayers’ money.”
Vivi didn’t comment. These criminals certainly did consume taxpayer money, but the real issue was that those funds weren’t going into the mayor’s coffers. So, keeping Arkham operational was actually beneficial—it kept a certain number of criminals off the streets. Things had been going fine last month, after all.
However, her real goal was to acquire a batch of devices used for psychiatric patients at a low price. With Sharp absent, the logistics manager had full authority to handle the sale.
Thanks to her [Honest Merchant] badge and [Penny Pincher] title, she negotiated an extremely low price, nearly emptying their stock.
After signing the contract, the manager seemed to realize something was off. Rubbing his forehead in confusion, he muttered, “I don’t know why, Ms. Bettywen, but I feel a strange sense of warmth toward you. I’m sure we’ll have more opportunities to work together in the future.”
Vivi stood up, shook his hand, and glanced at the clock. “Goodbye, sir. I have another appointment to attend.”
The manager was momentarily stunned—he had been planning to invite the warden out for dinner to build some rapport.
Her lack of social graces confirmed his suspicions that she wasn’t part of the upper echelon.
—Little did the manager know, they would indeed meet again soon.
That very evening, he would be reported for “embezzlement” and see Bettywen once more.
After all, when the mayor does business with you, do you really think you’ll be paid?
Not only was the money from this sale confiscated, but also all the funds he’d quietly pocketed from previous sales. All public assets were now happily back in the city’s budget.
However, as Vivi was leaving, there was a slight complication.
A worker approached her, relaying a message from a patient. Apparently, while working in Arkham, this patient had pulled the worker aside to deliver a note to Warden Bettywen.
“I don’t quite understand how he knew you’d be here,” the worker said, “but it’s quite the coincidence. The message he wanted me to give you is…”
“‘Your skills have deteriorated, Bella.’”
That was all the message said.
However, much like the odd case of Matches Malone, this didn’t trigger any special quests.
Vivi had expected something significant to happen but was met with nothing. Shrugging, she made a mental note of the message and moved on to complete the tasks she had set for herself that day.
Vivi had decided to use her “Bettywen” identity to hire a coach for “Vivi White.”
She realized that the skills she learned through her character cards were tailored to the characters themselves, but not necessarily suited to her real body. The skill upgrades she earned as quest rewards were often unreliable.
Since she rarely fought anyone when using her real body, relying mostly on brute strength and bizarre tools, and since no missions were triggered to upgrade her skills, she decided to find a proper martial arts trainer using her money.
Her plan was simple: hire someone under the guise of Bettywen, an “adult with a job,” to train “Vivi.” And, of course, she could “spar” with them under the pretence of being the parent of the child. After all, any martial arts coach she hired should at least be able to defeat Bella Bettywen, right?
Currently, the warden’s skill list, ranked from highest to lowest, looks like this:
Only level 7? It should be enough, right?
Gotham’s NPCs took just one afternoon to prove her wrong.
After flipping the last Muay Thai coach onto the ground, the warden was clearly bewildered.
She stood there for a few moments, stunned, then checked her phone. A message had come from the other coaches she had booked appointments with, all of them declining the job. The funny part? She hadn’t even fought them yet—or sparred with them, to be exact.
“Looks like you all have a network…” she muttered. “Who else is on the list?”
The Muay Thai coach, lying on the ground, overheard her mumbling to herself but didn’t dare speak, only thinking bitterly to himself—
“What kind of parent signs their kid up for over ten different courses at the same time? Is this even something a normal person can learn? Just getting through one round of classes would take 22 hours straight without sleep! You’re just finding an excuse to pick fights, aren’t you?”
Only after the woman walked out and rode off on her motorcycle did the coach dare to slowly get up, clutching his side and groaning as he headed for the doctor.
Meanwhile, Vivi scratched “fitness coach” off her list of options in her mind. The next idea was the military: she could use her mayoral status to hire security trainers or, as Bella, reach out to SWAT teams like Winstead’s or well-trained prison guards. It all seemed like good options.
But Vivi remembered their performance in previous battles—
The “green names” on her map didn’t show any skills impressive enough to catch her attention, and she couldn’t even access the “red names” to assess their skills.
“This seems like a waste of time…” The setting sun cast a warm glow on her motorcycle as she sped through the skyscrapers. Her thoughts drifted from prison guards to prisoners. If she was going to seek out a criminal, why not just ask Batman to train her?
—Though she wasn’t sure Batman would take on that side job.
Eventually, her motorcycle stopped at the entrance of the highway leading to South Hinckley Town.
Aside from searching for a “skills trainer,” her other mission as the warden was to scout a suitable location for her rose garden.
The rose garden from her last mission reward finally felt like something from an actual game. As long as she had the materials and a plot of land, she could simply click on the blueprint to build it.
Materials: 7 litres of mercury, 3 kilograms of gold, 18 tons of any type of wood (higher-grade wood increases the garden’s hidden level), 300 kilograms of wormwood, 600 grams of corn, 700 grams of dandelion…
The materials were bizarre, almost… magical?
In any case, Vivi easily gathered most of the items either from her inventory or through online shopping.
She chose South Hinckley because the land there was cheaper.
In all of Gotham, South Hinckley had the lowest property prices, just a bit lower than Bristol. Both were on the outskirts, but South Hinckley was on an island, technically a self-governing county. It was also where Penguin once kept his warehouse.
The area’s security was also worse than Bristol’s.
Vivi’s identity was already sorted—”Vivi White” had her own social security number now. Though she wasn’t legally an adult, with a guarantor, she could still purchase land.
—Considering that the estate would likely spring up overnight, South Hinckley was the obvious choice.
…
At that moment, Matches Malone was also finishing up his day.
After being locked in the psychiatric ward, Bruce had carefully considered whether to break out—he vaguely sensed that if he wanted to escape, this prison wouldn’t be able to hold him.
But his sense of morality held him back. Between breaking out and securing a bail release, he chose the latter. Escaping would make him feel like… an actual criminal?
Ironically, he was a criminal now, and that was Bruce’s most significant internal conflict.
Why on earth had he stolen those Wayne cars?
What was the real reason he was locked up? Had the contact outside the prison betrayed him, selling him out?
As Bruce pondered these things, the prisoner across from him continued making irritating noises.
That criminal was none other than the Joker, who was trying to negotiate with the guard walking by: “…Why was my request denied? Poor Joker here just wanted a book to read!”
The guard’s brow twitched, clearly wanting to flee but forcing himself to stay professional: “Your request was denied on the grounds of ‘ensuring the inmate’s safety.’ The warden said she’s concerned you’ll use the book to commit suicide.”
With that, the guard hurried away, ignoring the Joker’s unsettling laughter.
Then, the guard turned toward Bruce.
Bruce raised an eyebrow.
The guard stopped in front of his cell, staring at him. It was the same guard who had led Bruce in under the pretence of work and then locked him in.
The guard seemed conflicted for a moment before finally speaking: “A07S1771, would you like to participate in tonight’s optional labour?”
Bruce chuckled softly. “Cleaning the psychiatric ward again?”
The guard cleared his throat, leaned in, and muttered into his comms: “Not exactly. The warden says you’re to remain in this area, but you’ll have the same privileges as those in the regular cells. You’ve just been given a private room.”
“So…” The guard seemed a little puzzled by the warden’s orders. “You’ve completed your cleaning assignment, so you can head to the cafeteria for dinner. After that, you’re free to visit the library.”
Bruce paused for a moment. “What exactly is this optional labour?”
The guard nodded. “This is part of the extra work time available to prisoners. You can choose to give up your rest hours to work for the prison. This work is factored into your overall evaluation and can help reduce your sentence—it starts after 8 PM.”
Really? Bruce remained impassive, though his mind was filled with doubt.
Work after 8 PM? Yet no mention of how long the work would last. Was this really labour, or just a trap?
But for now, it was mealtime.
The other prisoners in the psychiatric ward couldn’t go to the cafeteria, but since Bruce wasn’t classified as one of them, he was still allowed to go.
At the cafeteria, Bruce found his former cellmates from the six-person dorm. After chatting with them for a bit, he discovered it was now down to five occupants. They seemed quite disappointed when they saw him—apparently, they had assumed Bruce had escaped when he didn’t come back, figuring he’d already broken out.
Who would’ve guessed…
He had just been moved to a single cell.
After Bruce left, the group exchanged glances: on his first day in prison, a common thief with a minor offence had been moved to a private cell?
Tsk tsk.
EasyRead[Translator]
Just a translator :)