Chapter 19: The Shadow of the Bat

In the dead of night on the streets of the Audisburg district, a heavy truck hauled its cargo through the city.

Karl gripped the steering wheel with one hand, the other clutching a hamburger, his gaze drifting lazily out the window. This was Gotham at night. The clock had just struck ten oh five, and the streets were nearly deserted, the emptiness stirring a fierce excitement within him. The truck’s speed crept up to eighty miles per hour.

He was an old hand at freight driving in Gotham, having run this route for years. This speed was nothing new to him.

While drivers in Metropolis might try to balance their speed with pedestrian safety, Joel had long since understood a different truth in Gotham: only by smashing conventional thinking could one make money. And when necessary, smashing a few pedestrians along the way was acceptable.

After all, the reason he had avoided the Gotham Police Department for so long wasn’t just his driving skills, but also his speed and a few good brothers who specialized in covering tracks.

To be fair, his driving skills were indeed impressive. Over the years, he’d hardly injured anyone. Though the streets were emptier at this hour, he didn’t see that as his fault.

“Life will always find a way,” he mumbled with a mouthful of hamburger, mumbling incoherently, counting in his mind that he hadn’t seriously hurt a single soul all year—perhaps he was finally living a life of virtue.

“Woohoo—!”

Just as he quietly basked in his own pride, a sharp cheer accompanied by a dazzling streak of rainbow light shot past the window.

The cheer sounded a mix of excitement, joy, fear, and oddly enough, a sense of relaxation.

A damn relaxation.

What on earth was that thing?

His eyes widened like copper bells. He tossed the hamburger aside, leaned forward, craned his neck, desperate to catch a clear glimpse of the radiant streak. In that instant, his mind raced through countless possibilities:

A rocket-powered rock-and-roll ice cream truck. A terrorist’s dazzling motorcycle bomb. A phantom racer from midnight legends. A ghost rider on a hellfire bike. A psychotic driving a homemade super war vehicle in tight gear...

“No, no, that can’t be right...” he muttered, staring at the vanishing streak ahead with a bewildered expression that questioned his own sanity.

“That damn thing is... a glowing wheelchair?”

“Woohoo—!”

***

Meanwhile, atop a heavily modified electric wheelchair, Ma Zhaodi was experiencing the ultimate thrill of speed.

After a comprehensive upgrade, full throttle! Racing full speed at 120 miles per hour, combined with three hundred dollars’ worth of asset points and intermediate-level wheelchair driving mastery, you were now the wheelchair version of Takumi Fujiwara on Mount Akina! While eighty miles per hour was the wheelchair’s mechanical limit, it was far from yours.

With its radiant LED strips illuminating the entire frame, you instantly became the brightest figure on the streets! No more awkwardness when overtaking on the highway—your dazzling light show would outshine even the Ghost Rider’s special effects.

Thoughtful design sheltered you from wind and rain! The streamlined chassis, comfortable shock-absorbing seat, seat belts, and airbags all provided excellent protection for your body.

In just seven minutes, Ma Zhaodi had raced his wheelchair out of Audisburg and was about to enter the East District. The few remaining street toughs who glimpsed the blazing, rainbow-colored wheelchair speeding by quickly abandoned any thoughts of robbery or theft.

Damn it, who could possibly hit something drifting this fast with a gun?

Of course, Gotham had no shortage of lunatics. A rare few, confident in their marksmanship, fired at the glowing wheelchair.

But their bullets inevitably missed. The streak of light merely twisted casually, causing their aim to falter wildly. The few shots they managed to fire lacked any precision.

Only a handful managed to capture fleeting moments of the glowing wheelchair on their phones, uploading the footage to blogs and forums.

Thankfully, before it reached speeds faster than light, these glimpses confirmed it wasn’t an urban legend.

At breakneck speed, Ma Zhaodi veered from the road into the narrow alleys of the East District, never slowing.

The wheelchair’s slim width allowed passage through the maze of dilapidated buildings, its rainbow glow darting like some elusive phantom.

The route was guided by a Gotham map from a system Q&A, and honestly, it was far more reliable than any shady navigation app.

Finally, he reached a narrow alley where the map directed him to dismount. Ma Zhaodi slammed on the brakes, drifting perfectly to a stop at the alley’s mouth. He stood, gently lifting the wheelchair’s sides, which immediately folded inward, transforming into a unicycle.

After wheeling the unicycle through the alley, he arrived at Drake’s home.

“Let’s see—ten twelve. Not bad. Another tweak tomorrow, and I can still make this time.”

It was hard to say if Gotham would soon spawn a new urban legend about ghostly wheelchair races, but in a city gone mad, what was a 120-mph wheelchair?

He hoisted the old man’s joyful chair and stepped into the stairwell.

***

Meanwhile, atop a building in the East District, Catwoman watched silently as the young man she had saved earlier disappeared from view, pushing that blazing ghostly wheelchair. She quietly absorbed everything she had witnessed and now felt a twinge of regret.

“I thought Gotham couldn’t get any crazier...”

Ma Zhaodi: Nonsense!

Back on the road, Karl still drove with one hand, grumbling curses.

“This is fucking ridiculous... I’ve never seen anything like this in my life—Gotham’s getting weirder by the day.”

Suddenly, a black bat-shaped shadow flew across the sky, casting a massive silhouette that swiftly engulfed Karl’s truck. The shadow slid down onto the roof.

“What the hell with Scarecrow, Penguin, and that new Mr. Freeze... damn it, Gotham’s freaks keep multiplying. Oh yeah, and that urban legend about the bat creature.”

He spat contemptuously out the window.

“Damn them all.”

“Crash!”

The windshield shattered outright, and a dark figure emerged instantly inside the cramped cabin.

It was like a ghost, a nightmare, fear incarnate.

An unstoppable, calm madness.

Seeing its pupil-less eyes, broad black wings, and pointed ears, Karl recalled the countless urban legends he had heard.

Every nightfall, a terrifying black bat would circle above Gotham, watching every sinner and every would-be criminal, delivering to them soul-shaking terror and merciless, final judgment.

Trembling with terror and despair, he uttered its name.

“Ba... Batman!”