Alright, Todd, keep your damn temper in check. Don’t actually punch a girl in the face. You realized she was a little devil the moment you first spoke to her back in South Hinckley, didn’t you?

Jason hopped off the truck and hefted his motorcycle into the cargo hold—already packed with a pile of frozen bodies. The chill hit him immediately. Vivi strolled over, eyeing the limited space. “I forgot the bike doesn’t fit here. I’ll strap it to the roof for you.”

Without waiting for permission, she grabbed Jason’s bike with one hand, leapt onto the roof, and secured it using her trusty pipe. Jason swore he heard the truck’s frame groan in protest under the combined weight of Vivi and his motorcycle.

Jason: “…”

Once the bike was in place, Vivi slid back into the passenger seat, donned a baseball cap, and looked at Jason thoughtfully. “I suggest you take off the hood and wear this instead.”

She pointed to another baseball cap in the cab, likely left behind by a worker.

“We’re not that close,” Jason shot back. Even among his own network, Red Hood’s identity was a mystery. There were even rumors suggesting multiple people took turns playing the role—how else could he explain showing up freshly healed after brutal injuries to break drug dealers’ bones for selling near Gotham Academy?

“This city’s crawling with Bat surveillance,” Vivi remarked, peering out the window as they merged into traffic. Gotham’s oppressive humidity loomed under heavy clouds. Seasoned locals were already pulling umbrellas from their bags, while clueless tourists chattered away without a care. “Or are you saving the big identity reveal for Batman, Todd?”

There was a pause before Jason growled, “You should be grateful I have a steady grip on the wheel.”

If not, Vivi’s casual mention of his name would’ve sent them—and the cargo full of Talons—straight into the river.

How did she know? Oh, right. Jason scoffed internally. Magic.

Ten years of effort hadn’t changed Gotham, but a magician’s few small spells had transformed the city in less than six months. The absurdity wasn’t lost on him.

His forearms tensed, veins bulging as he fought to suppress his rising frustration. His voice remained calm, but his true feelings were anything but.

A hand reached over to pat his arm, accompanied by Vivi’s usual nonchalant tone. “It’s just a suggestion. Anyway, be careful. These killers need to be dropped off at South Hinckley—same spot, in front of Freeze’s warehouse. Though the area looks a bit different now…” She trailed off, then added cheerfully, “Oh, and don’t move them elsewhere, Todd.”

She grinned. “After all, that’d just be handing them over to Batman.”

With that, Vivi teleported back to South Hinckley.

The town looked much the same as before. In fact, even the attending physician who oversaw the professor didn’t know Vivi was now the mayor of South Hinckley. He still thought this bizarre little town was some kind of illusion—or perhaps a hidden reality show experiment. He repeatedly called his wife in London to confirm he hadn’t appeared on any absurd television program before finally settling his paranoia.

What truly eased his nerves, however, was seeing the town become more tangible. A supermarket now had real employees, and a woman had volunteered to serve as the new director of the Diamond Orphanage. She planned to bring back children originally from South Hinckley to fill its halls.

The transition from virtual to real was unmistakable, and for the first time, the doctor began to relax. That is, until his concerns shifted. “Excuse me, ma’am, but this place isn’t very safe. There are no police here—”

His words faltered when the woman smiled and replied, “But there are no criminals here either… for now.”

She pressed her lips together thoughtfully. “We’re rebuilding this town from scratch, erasing the South Hinckley of the past and the pain that came with it. But truthfully, we’re not starting from zero—we’re merely filling in part of the whole.”

She glanced into the distance.

Suddenly, the town’s public restrooms crumbled to dust, replaced by a new structure that seemed to expand as if alive. It grew rapidly, devouring the space left by the old restrooms. Perched atop a gargoyle, Vivi examined the new building and leapt inside through a skylight.

The doctor’s face twisted slightly. He still wasn’t used to witnessing such blatantly unscientific phenomena.

Nora blinked and quipped, “At least we won’t have to call it ‘Toilet Town’ anymore.”

Inside, Vivi opened each room’s door, affixing photographs of the Talons—photos she had pried off their coffins. After connecting a water pipe, she washed the pink rose sap from her fingers in the facility’s sink.

This wasn’t a warehouse or a freezing chamber. Vivi’s plan to keep the Talons in stasis wasn’t about preventing riots in Gotham—it was because a group of powerful, dangerous “children” might prove far more troublesome than assassins. Could Todd handle kids? She wasn’t sure.

The newly constructed building sat next to the Diamond Orphanage. It was now Diamond Retirement Home, upgraded to Level 2.

[Retirement Home (7/7), 140,000 sparklers in total. Upgrade possible.]
[Elderly residents enjoy a slower pace of life here.]
[Note: Healthy residents can care for themselves, but those who are ill require caregivers.]

[You’ve upgraded the retirement home to Level 2.]
[Residents will feel more at peace, with reduced risk of mental breakdowns.]

That was sufficient—for now. Otherwise, the “caregivers” wouldn’t be able to handle the superpowered “kids.”

Why “kids”? Because Vivi had fed the Talons a stash of enchanted roses while loading them onto the truck. Getting them to open their mouths had been a challenge in itself.

[Pink Fairy Tale Rose]
[Inhale its scent, and your heart will briefly revert to that of a carefree child, transporting you to the innocence of childhood.]
[But beware: lingering too long will leave you forever fantasizing about being a child.]

Perfect for turning a bunch of dangerous assassins into overgrown children.

As the roses grew in abundance, Vivi noticed she wasn’t getting any new “Mad Gotham” roses. Checking the system’s notification log, she found the explanation: “Only one exists in the entire rose garden, making it exceptionally rare.” She already had one in her inventory, entrusted by Batman to give to Harvey Dent. Since the system preserved items in storage, this singular rose hadn’t withered, and the garden wouldn’t produce another.

The system had thwarted her attempts to exploit it again.

Before long, a familiar truck pulled up to the retirement home. The driver parked it smoothly and stepped out—a nondescript man in a modest disguise.

It was Jason Todd.

Vivi assured him she hadn’t shared his information with Batman, though her track record of credibility was less than stellar. Their deal wasn’t over, so Jason chose to give her the benefit of the doubt one last time.

The two worked together to unload the “cargo.” Thankfully, the doctor wasn’t around; otherwise, he’d likely think they were unloading corpses—and he wouldn’t be wrong. Nora, having just finished assisting next door, joined them with her usual calm demeanor. Vivi filled her in on the Talons’ current state.

“You can treat them like kids to practice. You’ve never run an orphanage before, right? At least these guys aren’t as fragile as real children.”

With enthusiasm, Vivi outlined their “benefits”: “They don’t need much food or sleep, they’re durable, and they don’t get overly emotional…”

“They’re nothing more than living corpses,” Nora said gently. “Not unlike when I was frozen.”

Jason shot her a look.

Nora continued, “It seems I’ll need to hire a reliable team of caregivers—long-term workers with confidentiality agreements. If the mayor wants me to look after corpses, we can find people through the military. But if I’m to care for living beings, the caretakers must also be alive.”

The Talons were carried to their respective rooms. Nora didn’t ask many questions—she was too sharp for that. Instead, she focused on understanding their habits and the weapons needed to subdue them. The latter was no issue, given her husband’s expertise.

Once the Talons were settled, Vivi and Jason stood outside the retirement home, watching Nora assign names to the assassins based on their photos. When Vivi mentioned they didn’t have names, Jason asked, “You don’t really care how she treats them, do you?”

“I only care about the results,” Vivi replied, stretching lazily. “And right now, the results will be good.”

“Stashing a group of assassins in a remote town and treating them like children is your idea of a good result?” Jason couldn’t believe this had been her original plan. It felt as absurd as someone using the Spear of Destiny—capable of killing gods—just to hunt rabbits.

Vivi squinted at him.

“Everyone has value,” she said softly, the peaceful atmosphere—or perhaps the home itself—tempering her usual demeanor. “But that value isn’t fixed; it’s dynamic.”

“In someone else’s hands, assassins have zero or negative value. But here, in my town, they start to generate value.” She drew an imaginary line in the air with her finger. “At the very least, they increase South Hinckley’s population density. Soon, the economy will start to flow, stores will sell goods, and their care will require hiring more people to move here. If their value is only a ‘1’ right now, that ‘1’ will grow over time. Because—value is dynamic.”

Their current state was also dynamic. Reviving a group of obedient, childlike Talons was safer than unleashing a gang of deadly assassins, even if the latter might yield greater rewards.

It seemed the retirement home truly was a good place for reflection. Ever since his resurrection, Jason had been plagued by nameless anger and impulsive emotions—partly innate, partly a curse from the Lazarus Pit. But here, he felt those feelings walled off, as if a protective barrier separated him from the chaos.

For the first time, Jason found himself craving this sense of peace. No wonder magic could control minds.

His mind might have been calmer, but his intelligence remained intact. Jason’s sharp ear caught something in Vivi’s words. Her analytical tone revealed as much about her as it did about the situation.

“Why don’t you kill?” he asked suddenly.

Batman didn’t kill because he couldn’t allow himself to fall into darkness.

Robin, Nightwing, and the others didn’t kill because they followed Batman’s teachings, respecting his rules and Gotham’s unspoken agreement with its vigilantes.

Jason had assumed Vivi was like the others—a vigilante following some moral code.

Vivi glanced at him, her hands stuffed into her pockets, her tone calm. “The Joker and Scarecrow are locked in the old mine.”

With that, she fulfilled her contract with Jason, “informing” him of the Joker’s location, effectively ending their employer-employee relationship.

“I won’t try to talk you out of killing the Joker,” she said, waving with a cheerful smile. “But if you don’t succeed and the retirement home isn’t full yet, you can crash here tonight. Maybe even find a job.”

Jason gave her an unreadable look before mounting his motorcycle. The bike, as it turned out, was fine and roared to life, speeding away at a blistering pace.

Once he left the retirement home, the madness and hatred engulfed him again, dragging him back into the suffocating green waters of the Lazarus Pit—green, like her eyes.

He would kill the Joker. He would crush every bone in his body with a crowbar, an eye for an eye. It might not be the true purpose of his resurrection, but it was undoubtedly one of the goals he needed to fulfill.

If the Joker lived, Jason would remain forever trapped in that warehouse in Ethiopia, forever a prisoner of his past life.

The trees blurred past as Jason sped through the road. Then, suddenly, he hit the brakes. The bike skidded to a halt, and he found himself staring at a structure ahead.

At its centre stood a massive tree, its every leaf radiating golden light. The roots twisted and wound through jagged stones and broken concrete slabs, stretching far beyond the visible ground. The dense root system, three times the size of its sprawling canopy, was a testament to the sheer vitality of the plant. Beneath the roots lay a glass dome, elevated three centimetres above the soil.

Birds fluttered past. The place was serene, like a paradise untouched by the chaos of Gotham.

But Jason knew better. He knew exactly what that tree was—and what the “golden light” meant. It signaled an intense presence of fear nearby, emanating from deep beneath the tree’s tangled roots.

Could it be the Joker?

Jason approached the mine’s entrance. Its path was now blocked by several identical structures, lined up perfectly like sentinels guarding whatever lay within.