Before heading back, Vivi decided to pick up her order.

She had ordered a batch of Batman-themed t-shirts and shorts from a New York manufacturer. The company had a reputation for making affordable and durable cultural shirts, and this batch was no different: plain white tees with a big black bat logo on the front and the phrase “I’m Batman” printed on the back. Simple but effective.

The delivery was set to arrive at an abandoned warehouse on Gotham’s docks, and Vivi could monitor the delivery progress in real time—no surprises there.

What did surprise her was watching a [Hitman] on her map quietly approach the warehouse, only for his title to flicker and change to [Courier].

Vivi: “…”

The side jobs that Gotham citizens took on were certainly diverse.

By the time she arrived, that red dot had already blended back into the crowd of other red dots. She couldn’t be bothered to track him down.

She packed the four hundred sets of clothing into her inventory. It was the fourth day of May, one of Gotham’s rare sunny days. The last rays of sunlight bathed the alleyways in a warm, golden glow, slowly sinking below the horizon, casting the city in a rich, reddish hue, as if to bake the city one last time, evaporating any lingering dampness or shadows.

Gotham’s citizens were preparing for their nightlife: most stayed at home, watching TV or keeping away from windows, while a select few ventured out, armed with either a knife or a gun tucked in their coats.

Vivi rode her motorcycle back to Blackgate, the cool ocean breeze brushing past her. Her assistant hurriedly followed behind, reporting three items of note.

First, in the psychiatric ward, Harley Quinn had requested to be placed in the same cell as the Joker. Joker himself wanted books, playing cards, and magic trick kits. Poison Ivy requested paper and pens—she wanted to write a thesis.

“Put Harley in the cell next to Ivy. Give Ivy her paper, and if she needs books from the library, have the guards fetch them for her,” Vivi said, willing to accommodate these requests.

“As for Joker…” She paused. “Books are fine, but the price is that the guards have to search him thoroughly and wash his hair—no matter what he says, don’t respond!” Make sure to use conditioner, too.

The second matter concerned the altercation between Penguin and Matches Malone.

Currently, Penguin was in the infirmary, while Malone was in solitary confinement. Penguin claimed he was just following the rules, deducting points when the other party was chatting and not focusing on their work. Then, he said, the thug just suddenly attacked him.

Vivi: “I’ll go see Matches Malone first.”

As for Penguin, well, getting beaten up wasn’t the worst thing. In the warden’s eyes, murderers should theoretically all be executed. They were just lucky that Gotham didn’t have the death penalty right now, giving them more time to live.

But she needed to figure out what was going on with this Malone character!

On the way, her assistant quickly relayed the third issue.

“Killer Croc has been getting agitated lately. He asked us to relay a message—he wants to know when you’ll let him out.”

Vivi: “…Where did he get the idea I would ever let him out?”

“Killer Croc said that you released Penguin and Deadshot, Floyd Lawton, so it’s his turn now.”

Ah, Vivi remembered. The three connected water cells without partitions probably weren’t great. It was always damp, and the daily activities of the two other neighbors would be visible to Croc. But didn’t he love underground environments? She had heard he used to live in the sewers.

“Fine, move him to the cell across from Joker’s room,” she said.

Thinking about the sewers, Vivi recalled an item recently refreshed in the in-game gold store:

[Magical Water Pipe, price: 300 gold coins]

[A one-meter-long pipe with a built-in valve that constantly refills with water. After 24 hours, it will store one ton of water and stop refilling. If buried in soil, it can automatically purify foul odors within a nine-cubic-meter radius.]

Despite the name, it wasn’t really all that magical.

Thanks to unlocking the [Store Calendar], Vivi no longer needed to buy things immediately. She could check the calendar for past items and purchase them when needed.

This pipe would be great for reducing the strain on Gotham’s sewage treatment plant and slowly improving the coastal environment—she could leave that to the THE1 Environmental Organization.

But just as she was thinking this, she asked, “How badly is Penguin injured?”

Her assistant hesitated. “Not too serious. Mostly sprains, but working will worsen his injuries.”

They arrived at the solitary confinement area, and Vivi motioned for the guards to open the door.

Inside, the man raised his forearm to shield his eyes from the sudden light.

Solitary confinement at Blackgate wasn’t just any single room—it was a pitch-black space with no windows, only a small ventilation opening. The room had no bed, only a single broken chair. If the inmate didn’t want to sit on the chair, they had no choice but to sit on the floor.

The floor, of course, had bloodstains and other indescribable marks.

“I hear you took down Penguin and held your own against multiple opponents?” Vivi flexed her wrists. She was currently using her Bella Warden card, which theoretically gave her the highest combat ability. “How about a fight? If you beat me, you can leave solitary.”

The man finally lowered his arm, revealing his slightly tanned skin and a scruffy chin with a hint of stubble. Though his appearance was fairly average, his physique was clearly strong beneath the prison uniform. His eyes, however, were a striking shade of blue.

“Are the rules in this prison so arbitrary?” Matches Malone didn’t respond immediately, instead, he asked, “You can just throw an ordinary criminal like me into the psych ward, then casually pull me out of solitary after I’ve assaulted another inmate?”

Vivi stared at him for a moment before she suddenly laughed.

“There are rules in this prison, sure, but I manage it in my own way. My goal is to make it better, safer,” she replied patiently. “The rules here, like Gotham’s laws, are garbage. According to the law, if you had money, you wouldn’t even have to be here.”

“Now,” she said, spreading her hands, “let’s have a fight. I’m curious about your skills.”

The others stepped back to clear the space in front of the solitary cell, and, per the warden’s orders, the guards lowered their weapons.

The man stood up, silently watching her movements. Vivi stretched out her hands and snapped her fingers.

Like an unleashed panther, Malone lunged at her, grabbing her wrist and twisting it behind her. But Vivi countered with an elbow strike to his chest and kicked at his leg, aiming to destabilize him.

However, Matches Malone didn’t budge. Instead, he caught her shoulder, trying to pin her down. Vivi adjusted, slamming her body into his midsection, executing a takedown that sent him to the ground, only for him to grab her ankle and fling her away.

This hand-to-hand combat, unarmed and raw, was something Vivi rarely experienced. While her skills allowed her to react swiftly and make calculated choices, she quickly realized that she hadn’t faced many opponents with equal combat skills. Much of what she did relied on instinct rather than planning.

After a few exchanges, she noticed that “Matches Malone” seemed to be systematically trained. He had precise control over the human body, and every strike aimed directly at her weak spots—without any flashy or unnecessary moves.

But he had a flaw.

His techniques were designed to subdue, not kill. In combat, he held back.

Several times, Malone had the chance to break her arm or dislocate her leg, but instead, he opted to merely disable her.

So, Vivi kicked him hard in the waist, using her strength and ability to ignore pain, and they eventually ended up in a rough draw. Vivi could tell that his combat skills were far superior to her own—he simply wasn’t going all out.

His fighting technique was likely on par with Black Mask’s torture skills, probably over level 10, and Vivi found herself really wanting to defeat him, just to see if she could.

“You don’t need to break someone’s bones in a sparring match,” Malone said, catching his breath and calming his breathing. “Now that we’re done, where am I supposed to go?”

Back to his cell—across from the Joker, next to Killer Croc.

Or back to solitary, to sit alone.

Vivi understood what he was really asking. Their earlier conversation made it clear that he wasn’t happy about being thrown into the psych ward, and after fighting him, Vivi realized that she had indeed made a mistake.

In Gotham, there were criminals like Killer Croc and Penguin, but there were also those with special titles like [Batman] and [Robin]. Of course, vigilantes wouldn’t be imprisoned, but [Matches Malone] seemed to have been given a title due to his exceptional skills, not because he was a typical criminal.

Suddenly, she asked, “Do you know how to operate an excavator?”

Bruce: “…?”

He thought back to his memories, realizing he’d never had such an experience, but somehow, he felt like he could do it—or at least learn quickly.

“I think so.”

Vivi gestured for him to follow. “Come with me.”

Bruce watched the warden closely. When the guards pressed their guns against his back, he decided to follow.

“Here’s the deal,” Vivi explained as she sat in her office, handing him a list through her assistant. “I want you to help train a group of people—teach them how to operate excavators, how to use cranes, how to transport construction materials efficiently. You don’t even have to know how to operate the machines yourself; you just need to get them to submit to you.”

Bruce flipped through the list and saw that it was full of heavy offenders, most with blood on their hands. He memorized the details quickly and noted that there were around 200 people. One of them was the man who had killed seven people. They all had something in common: they were physically strong and most were highly aggressive.

So, this was the reason for the warden’s adjustments—moving some of the toughest criminals into different cells so they could learn how to operate construction equipment?

Would the person he’d made contact with outside the prison be satisfied with such a simple explanation? The answer seemed almost too easy.

Cautiously, he asked, “You want me to train them because I can beat them, but why have them learn how to operate construction machinery?”

Aside from excavators, there were other, less complex machines listed.

Vivi didn’t give him the full truth this time. He wasn’t like Penguin, who had sold his soul to Mr. C—she didn’t know where this guy’s loyalties lay. Keeping a straight face, she said, “Most of them have no chance of getting out, and they’re troublemakers. Instead of letting them rot in their cells, why not train them to help repair Blackgate? Give it a try. Otherwise, they’ll just keep bullying the weaker prisoners.”

Bruce agreed with her reasoning.

Still, he felt like the warden wasn’t telling him everything.

…Training a group of tough criminals didn’t seem like too big of a problem, so he agreed.

“Hmm…” The warden pondered for a moment. “Your martial arts seem solid and systematic. To be honest, I’m thinking about having you train someone else for me, but we’ll see.”

Matches Malone’s combat abilities intrigued her, and the fact that his fighting was well-structured suggested he was good at teaching others—unlike Vivi, who, despite having a high-level skill set, could only perform well herself but had no talent for teaching.

Vivi wanted to enlist Malone to help train her true self in combat techniques. If she could manage that, she might even be able to fight on two fronts—having her real body and the controlled “corpse” fight together.

Still, she was a bit uneasy about having a criminal as a trainer.

She decided to wrap up the issue with the rose garden address tonight, and while she was at it, maybe find Batman.

—She wondered if he’d be willing to take on the role of her combat skills trainer.