Ever since the Joker Gang's attack, Arkham Asylum had been in a state of constant chaos. Criminals had fled on a massive scale, an incident that immediately dominated the headlines of every newspaper in Gotham City. Panic spread among the citizens, who organized demonstrations demanding action.
Under immense pressure, the police department increased patrols, and City Hall repeatedly promised to provide more funding to improve Arkham's security measures. As for actually catching the escaped lunatics, well, that was a job for the Dark Knight. For a salary of two or three thousand dollars a month, the average cop thought, you expect me to fight the Joker Gang? Are the donuts no longer tasty? Has my heroism suddenly exploded?
Dean Sharp sipped his coffee and looked out the window at the workers installing a new power grid around the asylum, a disdainful smile on his face. What's the point? Electric fences, watchtowers, guns… it's all just for show. Blackgate Prison, right next door, had been broken into just last week, and dozens of vicious criminals had escaped. It would be better to round them all up and lock them in the Desert Ark, S.H.I.E.L.D.'s highest-standard prison.
Still, Dean Sharp was thankful for one small mercy. No matter how crazy the escaped patients from Arkham were, they were mostly just looking for trouble with Batman. The criminals from Blackgate were different. They would rob a bank on their way to the toilet.
"Dean, something's happened!"
Catherine, the heavyset nurse, rushed in, her uniform stretched taut around her like a life preserver, bouncing up and down with her rapid breathing.
"What is it?" Dean Sharp frowned, unable to imagine what could possibly be worse than the current situation.
"Alan is back," Catherine said, "but he ran away again."
"Back and gone again?" The Dean was shocked. He wasn't worried about Alan doing anything malicious, but the two big bosses at S.H.I.E.L.D. and A.R.G.U.S. had personally ordered him to pay special attention to this particular man.
"He heard the criminals had escaped and said he had to go catch them himself," Catherine repeated, relaying the message verbatim. "He said he might be back a little late, so there's no need to prepare dinner for him."
"…"
Dean Sharp glanced out the window just in time to see Alan climbing over the newly reinforced wall, carrying a bicycle. As he looked closer, he felt a strange sense of familiarity.
"Put down my bike, you asshole!" Dean Sharp stuck his head out the window and shouted. He was an environmentalist, he told himself, doing his part to reduce carbon emissions. It was only reasonable that he would choose to ride a bicycle to and from work. It had absolutely nothing to do with the fact that his recent divorce left him with barely enough money for rent after paying alimony and child support.
"No need to see me off! I'll be careful!" Alan waved, jumped off the high wall, and rode his stolen bicycle straight into Gotham City.
After a thirty-minute ride, he entered the smog-choked city proper. Wayne Enterprises controlled every aspect of Gotham. On the surface, it was a bright, modern metropolis, but in the corners no one cared about, homeless people gathered, and crime festered.
Riding through the streets, Alan familiarized himself with the environment. Shit, I forgot to grab my Batman suit. My combat power is reduced by at least fifty percent. He looked down at the League of Assassins uniform he was still wearing, a style that was totally inconsistent with his personality.
I have learned the skills to survive in the wild. Familiar with the stories of many successful people, Alan had already formed a complete plan in his mind. He wandered through the homeless encampments, looking for wild monster spawn points.
After two hours, Alan had gained a lot: two hamburgers, a sandwich, three cans of soda, a black, satiny eye mask, a small cotton blanket, and five dollars he found in an envelope.
He put on the eye mask and tied the blanket around his neck like a cape. Alan was very pleased with his new look.
Ding! Congratulations to the host for unlocking a new identity, Whip Woman. All combat attributes increased by 300%, attack speed increased by 500%.
The above was, of course, just Alan's imagination.
Night fell. The clouds covered the moon. The dark sky was like a curtain, and projected upon it was the symbol of a bat.
Commissioner Gordon stood quietly next to the searchlight, his hands in his pockets, waiting for the Gotham Knight to arrive.
Hiss…
There was a noise behind him. A deep voice asked, "Gordon, what do you want from me?"
He spun around and saw a figure standing in the shadows. Quickly drawing his gun, Gordon asked warily, "Who are you?"
"I am the Knight of Justice, Batman." As he spoke, Alan pushed his bicycle out of the shadows.
When Gordon saw the man's face clearly, the corners of his mouth couldn't help but twitch. A sexy eye mask and a small blanket. Could you please be more careful with your role-playing? In Gotham, there were plenty of passionate young people who pretended to be Batman. At least most of them looked eighty percent similar.
"Put your hands behind your head and lean against the wall, now," Gordon said seriously.
"You're not on Hell's Kitchen anymore. Did you switch to being a cop?" Alan said, unmoved.
"We are not the same person. He is a cook, and I am a detective," Gordon corrected. There were far too many people with the same name in America. After all, naming was a very brain-intensive task.
"Gordon, stop."
At that moment, a dark shadow descended between the two of them. His entire body was wrapped in a pitch-black battle suit, with only his mouth and chin exposed.
Seeing the real deal, Gordon put away his gun. He felt Batman was the best person to deal with this weirdo Batman.
Alan walked forward excitedly, baring his teeth. "Bat, is that you?"
"You have the wrong person," Bruce said, his voice low and gravelly as he looked at Gordon, pretending not to know Alan.
"B. L. S.," Alan uttered the three letters, and Bruce immediately, reflexively, held his mouth, hearing the abbreviation of his own name.
"Let's talk business," Gordon said, handing over a file.
Alan listened quietly as the two of them spoke. Commissioner Gordon had brought intelligence on the Joker Gang, detailing their stronghold. Generally speaking, Bruce didn't interfere with the gray areas of Gotham's underworld; they had their own order. But the Joker Gang was different. They didn't just want to break the order; they wanted to challenge authority itself. They were the main target. The Penguin and the Riddler were just in it for money and power; they could be dealt with later.
The information handover was completed, and Gordon left.
"Ah, Bat, you just pretended not to know me. You have no idea how sad that made me," Alan said, clutching his chest with a look of deep grief.
"I have too many enemies. My true identity cannot be exposed," Bruce said. He then asked, "I haven't heard from you in ten years. I always thought you disappeared in Silent Hill." He and Oliver had escaped and waited at the entrance for five days. They had called the police and even organized a search and rescue team, but they had found nothing.
"I came back directly from Silent Hill. Just silently prayed in my mind, and the system brought me back," Alan said truthfully.
"…"
Bruce didn't believe a word of his nonsense. If he hadn't had the near-death experience himself, he might have actually thought Silent Hill was a nice place.
"Father, who is he?"
At this time, a young man shot a grappling gun and landed on the roof. The red and black battle suit he wore identified him as the fifth Robin, Damian Wayne.
***********
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