A statue stood silently across from Gotham University, kneeling on one knee, gazing intently at Crime Alley. Where was its gaze fixed? The Wayne Memorial? The Boiler District? Or perhaps the East End Cathedral?

A blimp, swaying unsteadily, was flying straight ahead. Under the statue’s “watch,” it would collide with the East End Cathedral in ten to fifteen minutes, demolishing half the building and erupting in an explosive finale—releasing fireworks of madness into this lively yet desolate, joyous yet painful part of the city.

Uncle Joker couldn’t have been happier—this was just the kind of spectacle he loved to see.

Gotham was beautiful, dangerous, and filled with sin. Batman was a part of it, just as the Joker was. How could you love the beautiful side of the city and cast the Joker into the dark night?

Ha! He didn’t agree.

The first to sense something wrong weren’t people—but cats.

Sensitive nocturnal creatures, they noticed the strange lights in the sky and grew restless. Catwoman, who had been sleeping in a small loft atop the cathedral, pushed open the door without waking Millie. Instead, it was Sheila, in the bed next to hers, who stirred first.

Sheila had mentioned during a class project that her “sister” was doing charity work in Gotham’s East End, prompting her club and several other school groups to organize a volunteer effort to assist Millie White, who always seemed short-handed. About twenty Gotham Academy students were there, hoping to complete a service project during their holiday break.

Rat Catcher, the stealthy woman known for her quietness, opened her eyes. One person, one cat—each made their choice.

Sheila woke Millie, while the cat let out a low growl. Nearby, all the cats seemed to heed some invisible call, their piercing cries waking almost everyone. Then came the sound of rats scurrying beneath the floorboards—

The cats and rats, usually mortal enemies, had united in this moment. They didn’t attack one another. Anyone with a bit of experience would have thought: was it an earthquake?

Millie didn’t have time to think. She ran barefoot down the stairs. Everyone was awake, and they immediately began evacuating, though there were no tremors. It was only then that she had a moment to look up at the sky—

“Oh my God,” Millie screamed, her voice nearly tearing. “Get the children! Get the children out first!”

Maintaining a fragile peace was hard, but destroying it? So easy.

She saw the blimp hurtling toward them.

She wasn’t sure they had enough time. Aside from children and street urchins, the shelter housed many homeless patients, and they were not easy to move.

In times like this, few were willing to stay behind to help her escort them. The longer they stayed, the more likely they were to die.

The second group to notice something wrong was the people working for “Violin.”

Due to the nature of their work—relying on money, fists, and the backing of powerful people—Violin had gathered a group of men willing to work for him as long as they got fed. After all, some other mob bosses wouldn’t even ensure they had enough to eat. Being a gang’s grunt wasn’t much more glamorous than being a labourer.

After a period of training, they started taking on simple, physical tasks, working in shifts. According to Miss Vivi, this was to ensure they were always fresh and efficient.

Violin himself was something of a night owl, and on this late night, he was practicing the violin at the top of the Iceberg Construction’s headquarters.

He had told Mr. C that this was his strength, and naturally, he had to excel at it.

Then, he noticed the Batman statue seemingly appear out of thin air, saw Vivi and Robin conversing, and watched the chaos erupt at Arkham and the lockdown in the East End. That’s when Violin knew something was wrong.

He woke the resting workers and sent them into the alleys of the East End.

It was then that he saw the blimp headed for a crash.

He made a split-second decision: “Summon our elite unit. Get them to the cathedral to help.”

He didn’t particularly care how many people might die, but it seemed that Vivi had a connection to the cathedral, and keeping it around made some of their operations easier. Doing a good deed wouldn’t hurt.

“All of them, boss?” one of his men asked.

He kicked the subordinate. “All of them? Those lazy idiots will just mess things up. Take only the ones we trust. Tell them to keep their hands clean!”

Next to notice the danger was City Hall’s security division, patrolling the area.

They immediately contacted Glenn Industries, demanding to know why their blimp was off course. But, of course, there was no one left to answer—the crew was dead. So, the security team fired warning shots, signalling for the blimp to change course.

They alerted City Hall and shared the information with the GCPD. Oracle intercepted the message, and her drone captured an image of the Joker’s face aboard the blimp.

The raid team had finally located the Joker. Vivi’s map displayed a purple circle where the blimp was, but everything already seemed too late.

Was it really too late?

In ten minutes, nearly all the children and women had been evacuated, their destination being the Iceberg Construction’s headquarters, where they would find temporary shelter.

But there were still people rushing into the cathedral. The bedridden patients wailed from their hospital beds, while those still conscious crawled across the floor in terror. Even the cats and rats had begun to act, but it wasn’t enough.

Fifteen minutes had passed. Millie leaned over, panting heavily, hands on her knees, staring out the window at the blimp. Through the glass, she saw the dead pilot, his body lifeless at the controls. She had forgotten to put on shoes, and her feet were cut and bleeding, but at that moment, her mind was blank.

There were still more people…

She remembered every face. She’d counted them. One person—there was still a child, a quiet one who always hid in the corners, only coming out at night to run barefoot on the carpet. Millie often found her hiding under cupboards or blankets.

She should be—

On the second floor!

Millie sprinted upstairs, hearing the walls groan under pressure. But suddenly, the groaning stopped.

Not because the wall miraculously held, but because someone had stopped the blimp.

White webs latched onto the blimp’s tail. A boy’s webbing was wrapped around a glowing streetlight, the other end anchoring the plane’s tail. Everyone knew who it was—Spider-Man—but no one said a word.

The boy’s arms were fully extended, and it was clear he had arrived in a hurry. He hadn’t had time to change into his suit, wearing only an oversized black jacket with the hood up, and a sweater pulled up over most of his face.

He strained to look up, his effort apparent to all. He looked like a figure nailed to a black cross.

Everyone recognized the web—it was unmistakably Spider-Man’s—but they all stayed silent.

People continued to evacuate, pulling patients and dragging children. Millie found the quiet little girl hiding under a desk in a small classroom. She was only four, frozen in fear, unable to understand she needed to run.

When Millie carried her out, Spider-Man could no longer hold on. His web snapped, and he plummeted from the sky. Millie noticed, in a fleeting moment, that his feet weren’t in shoes—but in Batman-themed knitted socks.

“Who is that?” the little girl asked, bewildered.

Millie stroked the girl’s soft hair. “A hero.”

She handed the girl to someone she trusted, saying, “Tal, take her to the Iceberg Construction. I’m going to find the cats.”

Half the cathedral had already collapsed. Millie clenched her fists, turning her back on the chaos as she ran into the frantic crowd.

Tal, the former assassin turned amnesiac, lifted the child onto his shoulder. The girl, copying Millie’s earlier action, patted his head. “Are you a hero?”

“I don’t know,” Tal replied thoughtfully. “But I can be.”

He handed the child off to someone from the security department, who had been patrolling the East End for a while. They were familiar faces, though they never exchanged greetings.

Then, Tal ripped a metal bar from a nearby fence, testing its weight.

He figured it would do, though some throwing knives would have been better. For now, he’d make do.

He charged forward, knocking out a thug in a Joker mask with one solid swing.

—The Joker had gathered his gang.

Now, Joker’s men were brawling with workers from the Iceberg Construction. One side wielded knives and clubs, the other hammers and crowbars. None had guns, thanks to the recent firearms restrictions that had even driven gun shops out of business—because Wayne had bought the stores and started selling Mexican cheese rolls instead.

After all, they couldn’t exactly beat each other with cheese rolls, could they?

In reality, the construction workers had the upper hand, fueled by anger. A hulking, tattooed man smashed a Joker thug to the ground, roaring, “Do you even know how long it took to build these walls? And who’s been cutting the grass here?!”

Tal, standing nearby, couldn’t help but mutter, “The kids take turns mowing the lawn.”

But the big man didn’t hear him, charging at the next foe in a fit of rage.

“Listen up, everyone,” a voice shouted as someone leapt from the blimp, which exploded behind him, causing further damage to the building. “I’m sure you haven’t forgotten who I am, right? Children, Uncle Joker has brought you a present. Wait… where are the kids?”

As he spoke, both sides in the fight froze, struck by fear or astonishment.

Joker stood there, crushing a patched-up rag doll beneath his foot with disdain, as if suddenly bored. “I brought you chaos and explosions, for one simple reason—no one did anything wrong. It’s just—”

He made an exaggerated gesture, pointing toward the distant statue, his face twisted in mock confusion. “You made a terrifying madman the symbol of this city, instead of someone more welcoming and fun—a clown! That’s just so disappointing…”

He clicked his tongue. “Tell you what, if you swap out that statue for one of Uncle Joker, I won’t blow up the bombs. Now, guess—”

“Where. Are. The. Bombs?”

Just then, a kitten with singed whiskers crawled out from under a piece of cardboard, disoriented and heading straight toward the Joker.

Joker looked down. “…A kitten?”

He poked the kitten with his shoe, almost absentmindedly, then lifted his foot—everyone knew what he was about to do—

Until a shadow darted out of the darkness, a whip snapping around Joker’s wrist. With a quick motion, the figure scooped up the kitten and delivered a sharp kick to Joker’s knee.

It was none other than Catwoman, Selina Kyle.

She had been transformed into a cat by a cursed medallion, but just moments ago, driven by a fierce protective instinct, she seemed to have unlocked something within herself. For a brief moment, she was able to turn back into a human—it seemed temporary, but it was enough.

As she attacked, Selina heard shouts of alarm from around her, followed by a frantic “Watch out!”

A shadow loomed over her from behind.

Harley Quinn raised her comically oversized hammer, ready to strike down. “No one hurts my Mr. J!”

Time suddenly slowed, every movement becoming a slow-motion blur, but Selina’s mind raced, searching for a way to dodge. Yet she realized something—

Click.

Clop.

Alongside the gasps and warnings, another sound emerged from the crowd.

It was the sound of hooves.

A green vine lashed out, wrapping tightly around Harley’s hammer and yanking it into the air.

Harley spun around in shock. “Ivy?”

She thought it was Poison Ivy, but as she turned, she realized it wasn’t!

The green vine held the hammer suspended in midair, while the girl on horseback pulled the reins tight, looking down at them with a commanding gaze.

^[1]TN: So cool!