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June 3rd, Early Morning
In the past, Gotham’s East End at this hour would have been eerily quiet. Few shops would be open, and even fewer people dared to walk the streets alone, wary of sudden muggers. If luck ran out, a giant bat symbol might light up the sky—a signal that Batman was near, and that a crime had occurred somewhere nearby.
But tonight was different. Two days of festivities had turned the East End and the docks into the busiest areas of the city. Opportunistic entrepreneurs had set up street magic shows, plush toy ring toss games, and stalls selling snacks and flowers. The chaos was kept in check by city management enforcing permits and regulations, though it could have easily spiraled out of control.
Helping maintain order were the Gargoyles, stationed every hundred meters. Just a glance at these silent watchers was enough to dissuade would-be troublemakers. Looming nearby was a spectacular 30-meter-high illuminated tree, decorated with vibrant colors and wish cards.
Street performers had adapted cleverly. A magician near the tree had begun a side hustle: training pigeons to carry customers’ wish cards to the higher branches. However—
“Stuffed toys are a no-go. Especially this Batman plush—it’s too heavy!”
“He’s not heavy!” protested a customer. “He’s strong! Just strong! That means my plush is incredibly accurate.”
The magician sighed. “Then maybe you should get a Batman balloon instead.”
Across the street, the Iceberg Construction Company kept its lights on all night, along with other businesses eager to cash in during peak hours. Some tourists were even rethinking Gotham’s reputation, impressed by the city’s vibrant hospitality. Remarkably, none had encountered pickpockets or muggers during their stay.
In the symphony of music, horns, and lively chatter, the sound of breaking glass from the top floor of the Iceberg Construction Company went unnoticed.
Inside the Office
Violin sat slumped against the wall, panting heavily. He reached for his side, but even before his hand touched his abdomen, he felt the icy sting of cold.
He coughed, turning to the man beside him. “I know you’re stopping the bleeding, but do you have to aim that gun directly at my gut?”
“Apologies,” said the man wielding the freeze gun, his voice flat and unemotional. “Do you need to go to the hospital?”
Violin grimaced, trying to push himself upright. “Not yet—I can manage.”
The streets below were packed with visitors. If word got out that an elite assassin had tried to kill the Iceberg Construction Company’s owner, the incident would inevitably tarnish Gotham’s fragile recovery. Calling an ambulance would be like throwing gasoline on the fire.
In the room, alongside Violin and Tal White, stood an ice sculpture—a frozen female assassin clad in armor and a distinctive owl mask. She was from the Court of Owls, one of their infamous Talons.
Had Violin known that fewer than fifty Talons existed, and that he was the only non-meta individual in history to survive two assassination attempts by them, he might have felt more fortunate.
But this wasn’t the kind of luck he wanted.
When Vivi had warned him about possible retaliation, Violin had immediately done what any responsible Gothamite would do—seek help from the police.
Dealing with Gotham’s high-interest loan sharks wasn’t easy. Even with substantial evidence, unless someone influential backed the case, the process from filing charges to court proceedings could drag on for months. Violin had barely submitted his report and evidence when the assassin arrived later that evening.
Judging by her skills, Violin guessed she could match Batman in a fight. Fortunately, the East End police commissioner protecting him could do the same. Armed with a portable freeze gun—modified by Mr. Freeze himself—the officer managed to subdue the Talon. Apart from the two throwing knives she managed to land early on, Violin had been largely unharmed.
Now, with the Talon encased in ice, Violin pressed his frozen wound and muttered, “You people…”
Gotham truly was a city of extraordinary individuals. Violin couldn’t help but marvel at how so many people capable of going toe-to-toe with Batman seemed to gather here. It almost made him question whether his own subpar combat skills were dragging down the city’s average.
Warm night air breezed through the shattered window. A shadow flickered—a black cape briefly catching the light before vanishing.
Batman.
He stood on the stone ledge outside the building, surveying the scene. Violin stiffened instinctively, but Tal White glanced at him, then raised a hand in a crisp military salute.
Batman studied him for a moment before nodding. With a sweep of his cape, he leapt into the night and disappeared.
Violin: “…Huh?”
“I mean, this is a matter for the police,” Tal clarified. “Batman seems to understand that.”
Tal escorted Violin and the frozen Talon assassin discreetly to a waiting car. Meanwhile, Vivi stood at the docks, carrying a suitcase.
She was waiting for someone.
Having realized that Violin’s actions would likely provoke retaliation (the system’s warnings made that much clear), Vivi knew the Court of Owls would almost certainly send their Talons. Conveniently, she had just secured assistance from Mr. Freeze and his wife, Nora. While Mr. Freeze remained in custody, his renewed hope and desire to create a better life for his wife had spurred him into crafting innovations, including a portable freeze gun that required chemical packs for recharging.
With this weapon in hand, Vivi received an unexpected call.
The voice on the other end said, “You owe me a favor. Do you remember?”
Jason Todd had taken the fall for Vivi, blowing up Mrs. Rothschild’s hidden chamber to draw attention away from her. In doing so, he had placed himself in the crosshairs of relentless pursuit. Vivi had promised him fair compensation—a debt he could call in at any time.
There was a pause before Jason spoke again. “You know where the Joker is, don’t you? I want his location.”
“Looks like you’ve been digging for a while,” Vivi remarked at the time. “But blowing up a chamber and revealing the Joker’s location isn’t an equal trade. Relax—we’ll make it fair. Two-for-one. Meet me at the docks.”
The roar of a motorcycle broke through the stillness as the rider braked sharply in front of Vivi. Jason, forgoing his signature red hood for a more discreet motorcycle helmet, gave her a once-over. “What are you wearing?”
Vivi had opted out of her signature outfits, trading them for summer attire: short overalls and a light white hooded cape embroidered with purple floral patterns. She lifted her hood slightly, revealing a brown bear-ear hairclip that matched her hair.
“Get off the bike,” she said, tossing a suitcase at him. “You’re making too much noise. We’re sneaking into the circus through the back.”
“Don’t tell me your favor is dragging me to a circus for some kids’ outing.” Jason popped open the suitcase with one hand, his voice dropping to a whisper. “Freeze gun?”
“We’re not here to play,” Vivi replied. “Arm yourself. We’re going after a group of immortals.”
The circus wasn’t operational after midnight, but the surrounding area buzzed with vendors capitalizing on its popularity. Stalls sold jellyfish toys, kids’ trinkets, sparklers, and more. The streets were alive with activity despite the late hour, though Vivi paid it little mind, scanning for a specific location.
Jason raised an eyebrow. “Immortals? You mean… the circus performers?”
His mind raced with wild scenarios, but Vivi interrupted his thoughts with a single sentence. “Of course not. The entrance is beneath the circus.”
Thanks to her main quest rewards, Vivi had a map of the underground, though it didn’t directly reveal the Court of Owls’ base. However, the map’s blank areas helped narrow down their location.
Her undercover informant, Winston, couldn’t access the Talon ranks but had flagged several individuals with ties to the Court. Vivi tracked their commuting patterns and quickly noticed something odd: one individual’s movements abruptly appeared within the circus, specifically at the center of the combat arena.
It wasn’t teleportation but rather a miscalculation. Likely, the individual was traversing a hidden underground path, only to find themselves awkwardly beneath the circus’s arena before retreating. This confirmed that the circus stood atop an entrance to the Court’s domain.
Initially, Vivi planned to handle the matter herself. After all, the Talons were formidable and potentially numerous. But Jason Todd’s sudden appearance was a gift she couldn’t ignore—a convenient, skilled ally.
Stealthily avoiding the spotlight, the two slipped into the circus’s interior. Vivi explained as they went: beneath the circus lay the remnants of an assassin organization, its members effectively immortal and susceptible only to freezing. “As a virtuous Nightwatch, I decided to gear up and take them down.”
Jason: “…” He chose not to question why she hadn’t informed Batman. Clearly, they both had their reasons for secrecy.
“So, are you working for me now?” Vivi teased.
“Sure, whatever you say,” Jason replied, his tone impatient.
A more experienced Jason might have paused to scrutinize her words. A seasoned Tim Drake or Bruce Wayne would have caught on to the subtle manipulation in her phrasing. But Jason, at this moment, was less guarded.
“Language has power, Green-Named Sir,” Vivi thought with a smirk.
[Employment relationship established. You may now view the employee’s profile.]
[“Red Hood”]
[Evaluation: Exceptional strength, sharp reflexes, master of combat and assassination techniques. Resurrected from death, but influenced by the Lazarus Pit, leading to emotional instability and an unpredictable temperament. Trigger keyword: “Joker.”]**
[Not suitable for stable or repetitive work.]
Jason noticed the girl’s footsteps falter slightly. It seemed she could see perfectly in the dark. Meanwhile, he reached up to activate a night vision mechanism in his helmet.
Underneath the motorcycle helmet, Jason wore his signature red hood. Beneath the hood, a domino mask altered his appearance, ensuring even an old detective couldn’t identify him at first glance. He followed her gaze into the dimly lit space.
Amid the desolate, empty rows of seats stood a white goat, upright on its hind legs.
EasyRead[Translator]
Just a translator :)