On the deserted streets of Audisburg District late at night, a heavy truck hauled its cargo through the city.
Carl held the steering wheel with one hand and a hamburger in the other, gazing out the window absentmindedly. This was Gotham at night. It was 10:05 p.m., and there were hardly any pedestrians or vehicles left on the streets. The empty roads had undoubtedly stirred his excitement, and he had pushed the truck up to eighty.
He was an old Gotham trucker, too. He had been running this cargo route for several years, and this speed was nothing to him.
Drivers in Metropolis might try to balance their speed against the safety of pedestrians, but in Gotham, Joe had long since realized one truth: only by smashing conventional thinking could you make money. Of course, when necessary, smashing a few pedestrians was fine, too.
After all, the reason he had managed to stay out of the Gotham Police Department all these years wasn't just his driving skill. It was also his speed—and a few good brothers who specialized in cleaning up traces.
And, to be fair, his driving really was pretty good. Over the years, he hadn't hit more than a few people in total. Sure, far fewer people passed through this route at this hour, but he didn't think that was his fault.
"Life will naturally find a way~"
He hummed indistinctly while gnawing on his hamburger, calculating that he hadn't hit a single person this year. In a way, he had finally started living a virtuous life.
"Woohoo—!"
Just as he was secretly basking in his smugness, a sharp cheer accompanied by a dazzling rainbow streak of light flew past the truck window.
The cheer seemed to contain forty percent excitement, thirty percent joy, twenty percent panic, and ten percent relaxation.
Damn that relaxation.
What the hell was that thing?
His eyes widened like bells. He tossed aside his hamburger, leaned forward, and stretched his neck as far as he could, trying to see the true form of that rainbow radiance. In that instant, countless possibilities flashed through his mind.
A rock-and-roll ice cream truck with rockets strapped to its rear. A terrorist's dazzling motorcycle bomb. A highway ghost racer from a midnight legend. A delinquent riding a flaming motorcycle. A psychopath in a skintight suit driving a homemade supercar.
"No, that's not right." He stared at the streak of light vanishing into the distance, his eyes filled with bewilderment and doubt about reality.
"Was that a glowing wheelchair?"
"Woohoo—!"
At the same time, Ma Zhaodi was experiencing the ultimate sensation of speed atop his heavily modified electric wheelchair.
One extreme modification, full power unleashed! A top speed of 120, paired with intermediate wheelchair-driving proficiency purchased with three hundred Asset Points. At this moment, you were the wheelchair version of Takumi Fujiwara on Mount Akina! Eighty miles per hour was the limit of this electric wheelchair, but nowhere near your own limit!
A dazzling blaze of color! The LED strips built into the wheelchair's entire body instantly transformed you into the brightest guy on the street! From now on, you would never again have to worry about the awkwardness of overtaking on the highway without anyone noticing. Even when sharing the frame with Ghost Rider, you wouldn't lose out in terms of special effects!
Thoughtful design, protecting you from wind and rain! Its streamlined body, comfortable shock-absorbing seat, seat belt, and airbags were all included, providing excellent protection for your body!
In just seven minutes, Ma Zhaodi had already driven the wheelchair out of Audisburg and was about to enter the East End. The few local toughs on the streets who saw a dazzling wheelchair speeding across the road also promptly lost any desire to rob or mug him.
Damn, who could hit something drifting at that speed with a gun?
Of course, Gotham City had never lacked lunatics. A few people confident in their marksmanship still aimed at the flaming wheelchair and opened fire,
Yet, as expected, the bullets missed. The streak of light merely swerved a few times, making their sights wobble wildly. Even the few bullets they managed to fire had no accuracy whatsoever.
Only a handful of people seized the fleeting opportunity to capture the flaming wheelchair in their phone galleries and upload the images to blogs and forums.
Thankfully, before it started moving faster than light, this at least allowed people to confirm through such methods that it wasn't an urban legend.
Ma Zhaodi sped off the road and into the cramped cluster of buildings in the East End, without slowing down in the slightest.
Any alley wide enough for the wheelchair to pass through was a road he could take. Thus, the rainbow blaze threaded through the alleys among the dilapidated buildings with extreme agility, like some elusive ghost.
Still, the route was based on the Gotham map navigation provided through the system's question-and-answer function. To be fair, it was far more reliable than that lousy navigation app.
At last, he arrived before a narrow alley. The map indicated that he needed to get off. Ma Zhaodi braked sharply, and after a drift, the wheelchair stopped precisely at the mouth of the alley. He stood up and lifted it lightly. The two sides immediately folded inward, transforming it into a unicycle.
After pushing the unicycle through the narrow alley, he found himself in front of Drake's home.
"Let's see—10:12. Not bad. I'll modify it once more tomorrow. There's still time to improve it."
It was hard to say whether Gotham would gain an urban legend about ghost-wheelchair racing in the next few days. But the city was already this insane, so what did a wheelchair traveling at 120 miles per hour really matter?
So he casually carried the old man's happy chair into the building.
Meanwhile, atop a building somewhere in the East End, Catwoman watched the young man she had once rescued carry that flaming thing out of sight. She silently digested everything she had just witnessed, and by then, she was beginning to regret what she had done.
"I thought Gotham couldn't get any crazier."
Ma Zhaodi: Nonsense!
At that moment, Carl was still driving with one hand, cursing as he went.
"That's fucking ridiculous. I've never seen anything like it in my life—Gotham really is getting stranger and stranger."
Just then, a black bat-shaped shadow flew across the sky. Its enormous shadow rapidly enveloped Carl's truck before sliding down toward the roof.
"Scarecrow, Penguin, and Mr. Freeze, who just showed up recently. To hell with them. There are more and more freaks in Gotham. Right, and there's also that urban legend about a bat monster."
He spat hard out the window. "You're all fucking damned."
"Crash!"
The windshield shattered open, and a pitch-black figure suddenly appeared inside the cramped cab.
It was like a ghost, like a nightmare, like fear itself.
Like some unstoppable, tranquil madness.
Looking at its pupil-less eyes, broad black wings, and sharp ears, Carl couldn't help recalling the urban legend he had heard countless times.
Whenever night fell, a terrifying black bat would circle above Gotham City. It watched every person who dared commit a crime, as well as those who had already committed one, bringing them unforgettable fear—and ruthless, merciless punishment.
So, filled with terror and despair, he trembled as he spoke its name.
"B-Batman!"
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