An Unpleasant First Contact

Batman was the ghost circling above Gotham, the guardian of justice, the law's last vestige of authority. When he stood before anyone, that person had better pray they had not done anything illegal.

However, Batman had not yet earned such a great reputation. It could not simply be explained by saying he had not done enough—at least, in the eyes of members of various lively social organizations, he already had quite a fearsome name.

Yes, not a prestigious name—a fearsome one.

As a keyboard warrior and a level-ten scholar of internet trends who excelled at using hearsay as memory anchors and misinformation as a means of communication, Lynn's knowledge of Batman was limited to the derivative works of some comedy cartoonist and those few famous movies.

Among them, there were the cool gadgets and Catwoman... Ahem! In any case, even when watching those movies, Lynn's attention had not been entirely on Batman.

Aside from mocking Joker's ugly purple suit, Lynn had always been deeply puzzled by the combat prowess displayed by the renowned Batman.

At least, Nolan's movies had given Lynn the impression that the male lead called Batman was more or less just an armored fighter. Nothing more.

He had even been injured while surrounded by a few ordinary hunting dogs!

However, seeing once was better than hearing a hundred times. When Lynn looked on with amused eyes and malicious anticipation, ready to enjoy the show, the phlegmy-voiced Batman gave him a harsh lesson.

First came the psychological pressure.

As everyone knew, Batman never left any dead bodies in his wake.

The key point was: as long as they were not dead, anything went.

So, over the past few years, a legend had spread among Gotham's lively social organizations about some unlucky fellow who had his legs broken and eyes gouged out for stealing a piece of bread.

Whenever they heard Batman's name, those ordinarily fierce-looking thugs would instinctively shrink their necks.

The panicked men running about like headless flies before him gave Lynn an excellent demonstration of that fact.

Second came the absolute crushing superiority in combat ability.

Batman had always been an ordinary man without any special powers. The one thing ordinary people could never hope to match was probably his money.

But now, Lynn had truly witnessed this legendary man in combat with his own eyes.

Calling it bizarre and uncanny would not have been an exaggeration.

He... he was like a ghost!

There were clearly dozens of able-bodied men with weapons here, while he was alone on the other side. Yet standard extra screams kept ringing out beside them—one moment from the east, the next from somewhere else. A man pressed against a wall would suddenly be hauled up to the rafters, only to fall to the ground from another direction a few seconds later.

Come on, man, stop screwing around. This is what you call an ordinary person?!

If Spider-Man had your agility, would he have taken so many damn slaps?!

There were fewer and fewer people left standing.

Lynn noticed it, and Vigo noticed it too.

It was impossible not to notice. He was the only one left.

Thus, beneath Lynn's curious gaze and amid Vigo's heavy, uneven breathing, a leg wrapped in thick matte-black armor stepped over an extra lying on the ground and groaning.

That man emerged from the dark shadows.

"Drop your weapon.

Then..."

That strangely familiar raspy voice said.

"...kneel."

Holy shit! This guy was this badass when he was young?!

Showing off like that is just asking to die!

The guy still has a gun pointed at you. Show him a little respect!

If I had a gun, a guy flaunting himself like that would be eating two magazines first!

That's how they did it over in Goose City. Lynn had seen it.

Clatter~

What fell to the ground were his weapon and dignity. What rose high were his hands and survival instinct.

Vigo decisively chickened out.

He dropped to his knees so readily that Lynn nearly thought he was French.

"Oh, thank God! Finally, someone came to save—"

Lynn was still in high spirits, acting awkwardly yet wholeheartedly. But things seemed to have gone a little beyond his expectations. Mr. Batman did not walk over and save the common people from disaster.

He casually knocked Vigo, who was sprawled flat on his back, unconscious with a punch. Then he simply stood there, quietly watching Lynn shout and yell, listening to his ridiculous cries for help.

"Uh... buddy, aren't you going to come over and lend me a hand?"

What was the point of acting if nobody was watching?!

"Next time you lock yourself up again, don't hold the lock in your hand."

Damn it!

Lynn looked up, released his grip, and jumped down to the floor.

"You were watching from outside the whole time? What, do you have some weird fetish? If you could come in and save people, you should've come in earlier!"

Without the slightest embarrassment, Lynn began complaining as though he were talking to an old acquaintance. His tone was like that of someone grumbling to a coworker for handing over a shift too late.

As he spoke, Lynn rubbed his wrists and took a step forward.

Then Mr. Batman took a step back.

Huh?

Lynn stopped, cocked his head at Batman, and could not help laughing. "You... are you afraid of me?"

Batman was afraid of something? That was complete bullshit. He had dressed up as Batman because he was afraid of bats.

If he had been scared by a Komodo dragon back then...

Oh boy, those Indian brothers would need to watch out!

"You're that metahuman, aren't you?"

While Lynn's train of thought spun, leaped, and tied itself into a dead knot, Batman—whose entire body except for his chin was covered—asked him another question in that iconic voice.

"Metahuman? If you insist... I guess I am. I can alter blood flow and control where blood gathers. At the same time, I can change an object's physical properties, making it grow and shrink at the same time... Anyway, why am I telling you this..."

Lynn cautiously took another step forward. As expected, Mr. Batman took another step back.

Lynn found it quite interesting. "You think I'd attack you?"

He glanced around, and his eyebrows rose. "You don't think... this was a trap I set to lure you here, do you...?"

Batman's voice did not change, and as for his expression... expression my ass, there was no way to see it at all. "Under rational analysis, that truly was the only reasonable explanation.

However..."

Just as Lynn was about to speak, Batman continued, "...however, I've changed my mind.

Your acting is terrible.

And you don't look like you have the brains to come up with a plan like this."

"Say that again, motherfucker! If you've got the guts, stop backing away! Make yourself clear—whose brain doesn't work, huh?!"

Two minutes later, Batman crouched on a rafter, looking down at the branches, vines, and beautiful yet dangerous flowers scattered throughout the room. In his heart, he raised the threat level of that man sitting calmly and dangerously in a vine-woven chair—who seemed to have become a completely different person—by several more ranks.

Hmm... add two more plus signs for mental issues too.

"So it really was you, the escapee from Arkham."

The man named Lynn did not seem to have any real intention of attacking him. Batman had keenly noticed that.

They should be able to communicate and exchange information, but the issue with his condition...

That would be difficult to handle...