I walked calmly along the metal catwalk, keeping my hands visible. My voice, filtered by the modulator, sounded confident and arrogant. But inside... inside was another story. My heart hammered against my ribs like a trapped bird.
Without the protection of the "Gamer's Mind" skill, Batman's presence was suffocating. Even wounded and seated, Bruce Wayne radiated an aura of absolute danger. It was like being locked in a small cage with a wounded, cornered predator.
I stopped at a safe distance. "I am the Ghost," I continued, pointing to my mask. "Surely you've seen my logo in your recent investigations into arms trafficking. And surely you saw it last night, when my people helped Commissioner Gordon recover your unconscious body after your confrontation with Bane."
Bruce didn't lower the Batarang, but his eyes narrowed, analyzing the information.
"I only come to offer an armistice," I concluded.
Clack-clack. The metallic sound of Alfred cocking the shotgun resonated violently in the silence.
"An intruder in the cave..." said the butler with lethal coldness, his finger caressing the trigger. "Give me a single reason not to shoot right now, young man."
"Because it would be inefficient to stain the floor with blood in front of Bruce Wayne himself," I dropped the bombshell with absolute coldness.
The name echoed in the cavern, but the effect wasn't panic, but a dense, suffocating silence. Bruce didn't blink. There was no surprise on his face, not a single muscle tensed in astonishment; there was only cold, rapid calculation in his eyes. He had already considered that possibility.
With a minimal gesture of his hand, he signaled Alfred to lower the weapon. The butler obeyed reluctantly, lowering the shotgun barrel a few inches, though he kept his index finger firm on the trigger guard, ready to fire at the slightest sudden movement.
"You entered here bypassing thermal and motion sensors," said Bruce, analyzing the small figure in front of him as if he were a mathematical enigma. "You also used a loop in my own satellites' frequency to blind the perimeter security for exactly 40 seconds. That requires military-level encryption technology... or superior."
"This country's Army has very good toys for sale, if you know who to bribe," I replied with a calm voice. I walked a few more steps and sat on the metal railing of the catwalk, legs dangling over the abyss, trying to project an image of total relaxation. "Besides, Bane helped a lot with the power outages in the city. Your backup systems had a micro-lag."
I lied naturally, but there was truth in my words. My confidence didn't come just from the cutting-edge technology my company, Atlas Corporation, had secretly acquired from military contractors, or my map. My true security lay in my System.
I had spent a considerable amount of gold obtained thanks to the anarchy in Gotham to purchase a massive upgrade: [Stealth Level 5]. I still remembered with physical pain the moment I accepted the transaction:
[Transaction Confirmed: -2,400 Gold] [Skill Upgrade: Stealth Lv. 3.9 ? Lv. 5.0 (Living Shadow)] Classification: Master / Human Limit. Active Effect: [Bio-Digital Suppression]. Your body learns to regulate its surface temperature to match the environment (thermal invisibility) and redistribute weight so as not to trigger pressure sensors. Passive Effect: Your presence becomes "irrelevant" to the subconscious attention of others. Even if they see you, their brains take twice as long to register you as a threat. Side effect on stats:
-
Agility: 5.3 ? 5.9 (Muscle Control and Perfect Balance).
-
Perception: 5.3 ? 6.1 (Spatial Awareness and Augmented Sensory).
-
Intelligence: +0.05 (Slight increase in tactical processing).
This skill didn't just make me silent; it rewrote my understanding of the environment. It granted me instinctive knowledge of blind spots, electronic surveillance patterns, and tactical infiltration. The very anarchy that destroyed his city was what financed the skill that allowed me to enter his sanctuary.
Batman took a single step forward, but it was enough. The cold light of the monitors cast his elongated shadow over me, enveloping me in darkness.
"I haven't determined the exact composition of your mask yet; it's undetectable to conventional cameras, but you make a mistake: you leave traces in the invisible spectrum," he said in a gravelly voice. "I've been tracking the pattern of electromagnetic distortion you emit."
He paused for a moment, letting the tension build.
"That same residual signature was present at the District 4 precinct in New York weeks ago. It also appears at every location where my surveillance devices in Queens were surgically destroyed. And although you wore a different costume, I am certain you were the 'Ghost' who had the audacity to steal from Lex Luthor in his own home."
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He leaned slightly forward, his white eyes piercing my soul.
"You are not a veteran mercenary. Your movement patterns, your height, your physiology... You are a child. A child with genius-level intellect who is playing god in the underworld... And I got my final confirmation reviewing the police audio logs from that night with the junkie and the sonic weapon. A distress call from a child faking his voice."
I felt a shiver run down my spine. He wasn't guessing. He knew. He had connected the dots I thought were invisible. I didn't need to ask; it was clear he saw the distress call for what it was: a plan to get the weapon into a less secure location.
"So what if I am?" I replied, hardening my stance and raising my chin defiantly. "I'm here to make a deal."
I pointed to the screen showing the chaos in the city. "I control Bane's logistics. I can cut off the supply right now. I'll leave him without weapons, without his enhanced Venom, without reinforcements. In exchange, you leave my operations in New York alone and forget I exist."
Bruce stared at me, but then, something changed in his bruised face. The contained anger disappeared for a second, replaced by something I hated much more: pity. Recognition. He was seeing in me the distorted reflection of a lost Gotham child, or perhaps the ghost of what his own proteges could become if they took the wrong path.
It wasn't a baseless assumption. Upon entering the cave, I had noticed out of the corner of my eye a lit display case near the computers: a small suit of bright red, green, and yellow colors.
Dick Grayson. If the first Robin already existed in this universe, that explained everything. Batman had already crossed the line of recruiting children for his war. That's why he hesitated. He didn't see a monster in front of him; he saw a "Robin" who had gone bad
"Why?" Bruce asked, completely ignoring my tactical offer. His voice sounded tired, almost paternal. "I've analyzed the technology you use. You have the capacity to heal diseases and improve the body, to revolutionize transport, to change the world for the better... and you choose to use that gift to sell weapons and drugs?"
I let out a dry, cynical laugh. "The world doesn't change with good intentions or charity, Bruce. It changes with power and absolute control. Someone has to have the stomach to get their hands dirty and make the system work from the shadows."
"You are on a path that ends in a cell or a grave," Batman sentenced.
Then, he moved.
It wasn't a burst of athletic speed; his back wouldn't have allowed it. It was something more dangerous: pure economy of motion. A single calculated step, ignoring the pain that must have been consuming his spine, to close the distance that I, in my arrogance, had left too short.
My instinct screamed. I tried to pull a gun from my Inventory. My mind gave the command to the System, but Bruce Wayne's body reacted to my intent before my fingers could close around the materializing steel.
A gloved hand shot out like a cobra and caught my wrist in mid-air. There was no strike. There was no unnecessary brute force. Batman rotated his wrist and pressed an exact nerve point on my forearm.
"Ahhh!"
The pain was sharp, electric, and paralyzing. I felt an electric shock run through my arm, shutting down my muscles instantly. The weapon, half-materialized, fell to the metal floor with a dull thud.
My knees buckled, not from his strength, but from the involuntary reflex of pain. I fell to the ground, and Batman used my own inertia to keep me there, twisting my arm behind my back with a control technique that required minimal physical effort on his part, but immobilized me completely.
He held me there, forcing me to look him in the eye from the floor. I could see beads of cold sweat on his forehead; the movement had hurt him as much as me, but his discipline was iron.
"Let me go!" I hissed.
Survival instinct screamed in my mind. I remembered the lesson from the mafia: locking up powerful people drained my mental energy to a possible collapse. But then I remembered the available upgrade.
Level 7 didn't just increase my capacity; it promised to nullify that cost if certain conditions were met. It was my only hope to defeat Batman, that human limit who bordered on the superhuman, now that he was injured in front of me.
It was an all-or-nothing bet.
'System! Inventory Upgrade! Level 7! NOW!' I screamed in my mind with desperation.
[Transaction Accepted: -3,000 Gold] [Remaining Balance: 190 Gold] [Critical Evolution: Dimensional Inventory (Lv. 6.8) ? Dimensional Inventory (Lv. 7.0)]
Time seemed to freeze. I felt the dimensional space in my mind expanding violently, breaking its logical limits and reconfiguring my brain.
[New Functions Unlocked]: Capacity: 20 x 20 (400 Slots). Active Skill {Portal Hands}: You can create an invisible portal in the palm of your hand to throw or absorb anything. Combat Module [Dimensional Cage]: Allows forced capture without mental/physical energy cost of targets within a 2-meter radius if their health is below 50% or they are immobilized.
'I got you!' I thought with savage triumph. Batman was gravely injured (less than 50% health) and was within contact range. He met all the System's technical requirements for a free capture.
I looked into the white eyes of the Bat's mask. "Checkmate," I whispered.
I activated the skill with all my will. The air around Batman distorted; invisible cracks of dimensional energy tried to swallow him up to send him into one of my slots.
But then, the universe resisted.
It wasn't a physical resistance. It was as if reality itself refused to allow Him to disappear from the equation. The invisible cracks, which I could feel vibrating in the air, shattered like glass against a wall of conceptual steel.
Ding! [CRITICAL ERROR!] [Forced Storage: FAILED] [Target Analysis]: Bruce Wayne / Batman. [Status]: Key Entity / Pillar of Destiny. [Cause of Failure]: Universal Laws prohibit the storage of a Protagonist without their consent or prior death. His "Weight of Destiny" exceeds the containment capacity of your current Level. [Capture Requirement]: Inventory Level 10 (Divine) or Target's Will.
The blood-red message flashed before my eyes, mocking my expense. I froze, with my arm still twisted and my pocket empty.
I had spent a fortune to buy a cage, only to discover I was trying to lock up a storm.
At that instant, Batman seemed to sense the unnatural distortion in the air. His instincts fired, and he reacted by applying more torque to my limb. The pain ratcheted up a notch, bordering on a fracture.
There, with my face pressed against the cold floor of the Batcave and my arm about to break under the hold of a half-dead man, I understood my fatal mistake:
Gold can buy power, but it cannot buy the Script.
And now, I was at the mercy of the Dark Knight, poor and unarmed.
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