Scarecrow. Vivi had heard of him.

—One of Gotham’s special brand of villains who “clearly deserve the death penalty but just won’t die.”

It seemed this fugitive wanted to stir up some trouble, and Vivi found herself unsurprised. Though she hoped he’d just run off and plague New York by tomorrow, it was no shock that he was causing a scene in Gotham. Trouble was the norm here.

She scanned the area.

From her experience, a mission either activated after a prerequisite was met or when she encountered an important NPC. Catwoman had been by her side the whole time, yet no mission had triggered—so, Catwoman was a pass. Millie and Director Hogg were still on hold, but Vivi had ways to contact them, so no rush there. But if the mission’s key NPC was that green-named criminal, Red Hood, once he melted into the crowd, she’d lose track of him.

^[1]TN: Director Doug (道格) should refer to Director Hogg (霍格), but it looks like the author as written it as Doug instead. I’ll leave it as Hogg unless otherwise

…Then again, green names were pretty obvious in a city like this.

With that thought, Vivi leapt from her spot, striding confidently toward the man. She’d only taken two steps when she watched his green name change to red.

Vivi: “?”

Then, a small bubble indicating [Agitated] popped up over his head. He slammed his beer down, paid the bill in record time, and rushed out.

Vivi: “??”

At the door, he hesitated for a moment. Suddenly, his name turned green again.

The sound of a motorcycle roared, and in the time it took for Vivi to process what just happened, he vanished into the distance.

A soft, boneless hand snaked around from behind Vivi and gripped her neck. “You’re interested in him too? Red Hood. I’ve been hearing a lot about him lately. Apparently, he wants to become the underground king of Gotham and has already gathered a gang of drug dealers.”

Vivi’s expression didn’t change. She leaned into Catwoman’s embrace, whispering, “Do you think there’s any connection between the drug dealers and Scarecrow?”

Catwoman clicked her tongue. “Crane? Oh, that poor lunatic. If he wants to play his gas games on a large scale, he’d need loads of raw materials.”

“Chemicals,” Vivi added. “Since Penguin’s fall, getting those materials would be a lot harder.”

The Penguin—every criminal’s go-to pal, the man to see after a bloody crime scene. Because as long as the price was right, he wouldn’t mind selling nitrous oxide to the Joker—even though the Joker probably didn’t even need it.

“Millie,” Vivi said, returning to the table and leaning in closer, “keep an eye out for anything unusual. If something feels off, alert me immediately. Selina, I’m heading out.”

Selina’s eyes sparkled as if she suddenly had an idea.

If Vivi left, maybe she could keep up her human appearance a little longer.

Vivi raised a finger and wiggled it. “Contract.”

Catwoman: “…Tch.”

Vivi never got to drink that orange juice. After stepping outside and getting her bearings, she made her way toward Gotham University.

—Meanwhile, in a half-conscious state, Penguin opened his eyes. In the dim light, he found himself being escorted out of his nightmarish cell by guards. Standing in front of him was the familiar, unyielding warden who always made his blood boil but left him powerless to react. “What materials does Scarecrow use for his fear gas… He must be disguising his purchases, but you’re not stupid.”

Gotham University, one of the top institutions in America, has produced talent for all sorts of industries. The city’s top three chemical labs were housed there, at Wayne Enterprises, and at STAR Labs.

There was no need to force Penguin to talk, but Vivi quickly realized he was hiding something. Suddenly, an idea struck her.

“Maybe Penguin, as a criminal, knows exactly what other criminals are thinking. And with his past business dealings, there’s a lot of information he hasn’t openly shared with us yet.”

She smiled at Penguin through her small avatar. “We’re planning to capture Scarecrow, and you, Mr. Penguin, will provide all the intel you can muster. If it’s useful, maybe you can get a better cell.”

Penguin: “…” Under the contract with Mr. C, did he even have a choice?

But the thought of it was frustrating—just a better cell and not even a day off his sentence!

Vivi slipped into the university grounds. Gotham University’s security was tight, but her stealth teacher had been good. Unlocking the lab’s door code was a breeze. She stowed her tools, walked inside, and temporarily disabled the security cameras. Using the intel from Penguin, she compared it with the materials in her inventory, then grabbed two vials of green liquid from the shelf.

This long-named substance had once been one of the materials Scarecrow had purchased from Penguin, but due to low demand, he hadn’t stocked much of it.

Vivi left a handful of gold coins on the shelf to cover the price.

As she locked the door behind her, another intruder brazenly barged through just half an hour later. He clicked his tongue in annoyance, marched over to the shelf, stared at the empty space, and then glanced at the pile of coins. He picked one up and turned to leave.

Vivi, now armed with the chemicals and other materials Penguin had provided, went off to find the Violin.

Lately, Violin had casually mentioned that Gotham had a new group in charge of smuggling, but they were small-time—nothing like Penguin, whose years of effort had built a solid reputation. As a result, small-scale conflicts were breaking out.

—With Penguin in prison, someone had to meet the criminals’ demands. And where there’s a need, there’s always someone willing to risk everything to become the next kingpin. This was, after all, a lucrative market.

She knew that Violin was secretly keeping an eye on the situation because he believed his own lack of effort made him unworthy of meeting “Mr. C.” Meanwhile, Vivi, who logged in with new characters daily using Mr. C’s body thanks to its unique traits, couldn’t help but think: “…Honestly, your Mr. C has been cross-dressing all along.”

At 4:50 AM, she stepped into “Iceberg Construction.”

In just about half a month, the seven-story building located in the east district had undergone a complete transformation. It used to be a barren structure overrun by homeless people. The windows and exposed steel beams had been dismantled and stolen. No railings, no windows—people came and went as they pleased. The first time Vivi visited, the best service Violin could offer was a barely clean couch and coffee table in the lobby.

Now, however, the walls had been repainted, and every floor had railings and windows. To save on costs, the upper three floors were converted into housing for key employees, while the lower four floors were divided into meeting rooms, storage areas, and functional halls. According to Violin, he had recently tried to trick—er, invite—a reputable architect from Metropolis to join the company. Aside from government contracts, they could take on other projects too.

Violin’s experience was evident. After Vivi laid out all the materials in front of him, he had his secretary summon some old-timers who used to work under Penguin and called over the company’s head of security—who also doubled as their black market intelligence team.

It certainly had that unique flair of ex-gang members transitioning into a new line of work…

Vivi took the opportunity to organize a list of these drugs and materials, which she sent to Robin. Comparing information from both sides, they narrowed down three newly formed small groups, all of which had been dealing with these materials.

What surprised Vivi, however, was: “…None of Red Hood’s men are involved?”

Violin personally placed a cup of hot milk on the table in front of Vivi. Hearing her words, he said, “Red Hood? My people have been keeping an eye on him too lately.”

Vivi nodded. “Tell me more.”

“No one knows who he is. He suddenly showed up in Gotham and quickly took down several big drug dealers from the black market. These dealers were deeply hidden and usually managed to avoid law enforcement, but Red Hood somehow got them all together and intimidated them,” Violin furrowed his brows in thought. “Since then, his faction has become a loose organization, and he’s prohibited the dealers from selling drugs to teenagers. As you know, it’s impossible to fully enforce that… After that, he’s been restructuring the organization, and I’ve heard rumors that he’s even executed some of the worst scum.”

Prohibiting drug sales to teenagers?

As the milk steamed gently, Violin fell silent for a moment, then added, “But the name ‘Red Hood’… has a connection to the Joker.”

“Apparently, the Joker fell into a vat of chemicals while wearing a red hood, and that’s how he transformed from an ordinary criminal into the Joker…”

Vivi: “Hmm? Who says that?”

Violin’s expression twisted briefly before he sighed in defeat. “The Joker himself, that lunatic. He likes to tell his ‘origin story’ during his crimes, and he’s always changing the details. No one knows which parts, if any, are true… Just like no one knows the Joker’s real name.”

He was almost like the embodiment of chaos and evil. He didn’t even need a name—if people ever found out that the Joker was once just a regular guy, his followers and fanatics might lose their minds!

“It wasn’t the chemicals or the red hood that made him what he is,” Vivi glanced at her phone as she stood, not bothering with the milk. Robin had just messaged her. “He became evil simply because he was always going to be evil.”

Blame it on the game developers or the AI for randomly generating a character like that. Someone had to be the villain, the boss that players would eventually defeat to claim loot and gold.

However, if you really delved into the game’s backstory—yes, a terrible day could turn some people into villains, but others, no matter how much horror they endured, would never become a Joker.

Robin’s message mentioned that they, too, were investigating Scarecrow by tracing the source of the materials, but they hadn’t been able to enter Blackgate Prison to interrogate Penguin.

And one of the three small organizations they identified would be making a deal in two hours at an abandoned subway station in Gotham—

Ever since vigilantes had become active in Gotham, the smaller gangs had been conducting their trades at increasingly unusual hours. To avoid the attention of the heroes, they’d grown accustomed to braving the early morning chill, quickly finishing their business, and then yawning their way back home for some sleep.

Rose Manor.

Bruce was dusting a bookshelf.

Vivi didn’t actually require him to do any work. In her words, they had a fair deal: as long as he completed his afternoon tasks, he didn’t even need to take care of the roses… Vivi raised her hand and, with a single gesture, an entire field of roses outside the window collapsed. The flowers were carried by the wind and scattered across the grounds, decorating various parts of the manor.

Still, Bruce had developed the habit of staying busy, especially late at night, moving like a bat—restless in the daylight. He always felt like there was something he should be doing, but he couldn’t quite put his finger on it. This secluded life left him no opportunity to meet strangers, and even Nightwing, when he occasionally visited, was always “sent away” at a certain point. It seemed like he wanted to talk to Bruce, but never got the chance to explain.

Bruce was currently wiping down the shelf Nightwing had once rummaged through—

The study in the manor was a place Vivi herself rarely visited. It was mostly frequented by guests instead.

Bruce moved his gaze from right to left, scanning the titles of the books before him. Martha Gellhorn’s Short Stories, followed by Thomas’s Mid-Length Stories. His brow twitched slightly as he glanced at the next title.

Jason Pig and His Socks.

“Martha, Thomas,” he murmured. “Jason…”

He repeated the three names, faster and faster. Behind him, on the desk, a cluster of freshly received neon-yellow roses began to bloom, their light flickering faintly as if… something was breathing.