Chapter 19: Shadow of Batman

On the deserted streets of the Otisburg district, a heavy-duty truck was hauling cargo through the city.

Carl had one hand on the steering wheel and a burger in the other, glancing out the window with a casual air. This was Gotham at night. It was 10:05 PM, and there were hardly any pedestrians or cars left on the streets. The emptiness undeniably fueled his need for speed, and he pushed the truck up to eighty miles per hour.

He was a veteran Gotham trucker; he'd been driving this cargo route for years, and this kind of speed was nothing to him.

A driver in Metropolis might try to balance their speed with the safety of pedestrians, but in Gotham, Carl had long ago learned that you only made real money by shattering conventional thinking. And yeah, if necessary, shattering a few pedestrians worked too.

After all, the reason he'd managed to stay out of the Gotham PD for so long wasn't just his driving skills, but also his speed and a few good buddies who specialized in cleaning up messes.

And to be fair, his driving skills were pretty decent. Over the years, he hadn't accidentally run over that many people. Sure, fewer folks were out and about on this route at this hour, but he didn't see that as his problem.

"Life finds a way," he mumbled around a mouthful of burger, figuring he hadn't hit anyone this year, so he was practically living a saintly life.

"Wooo-hoo!"

Just as he was mentally patting himself on the back, a sharp whoop, accompanied by a dazzling rainbow streak, flew past his truck window.

The whoop seemed to carry a mix of excitement, joy, a hint of terror, and a sliver of relief.

Freaking relief.

What the heck was that thing anyway?

His eyes widened like saucers. He tossed the burger aside, leaned forward, and strained his neck, trying to get a clear look at the rainbow blur. In that instant, a bunch of crazy thoughts raced through his mind.

A rock and roll ice cream truck with rockets strapped to the back, a terrorist's flashy motorcycle bomb, the phantom racer of midnight highway legends, a kid riding a neon ghost bike, a psycho in a skintight suit driving a homemade super-vehicle...

"No, that's not right..." He stared at the receding streak in the distance, a look of bewildered disbelief on his face.

"Was that a... glowing wheelchair?"

"Wooo-hoo!"

At the same time, Cody on his Cool electric wheelchair was experiencing the ultimate thrill of speed.

One major upgrade, full power engaged! Full speed ahead at 75 mph (120 km/h), combined with the intermediate proficiency in wheelchair driving he bought for three hundred asset points, he was practically the wheelchair version of Takumi Fujiwara on Mount Akina! Fifty mph (eighty km/h) was the limit of this electric wheelchair, but far from his limit!

Radiant and dazzling, the built-in LED light strips all over the wheelchair instantly turned him into the brightest star on the street! From now on, he'd never have to worry about being unnoticed while passing on the highway. Even side-by-side with Ghost Rider, he wouldn't lose out on special effects!

Thoughtful design, shielding from wind and rain! Streamlined body structure, comfortable shock-absorbing seat, seat belt and airbags all included, providing excellent protection for his body!

In just seven minutes, Cody had already driven the wheelchair out of Otisburg and was about to enter the East End. The few do-gooders on the street who saw a dazzling wheelchair speeding across the road basically gave up on any ideas of robbery or theft.

Damn, who could hit something drifting at that speed with a gun?

Of course, Gotham City never lacked for crazy people. There were still a few individuals confident in their marksmanship who took shots at this neon ghost wheelchair.

However, those bullets naturally missed. The glowing streak just swerved a few times, making their aim go wild. The few bullets they managed to squeeze off were completely off target.

Only a handful of people seized the fleeting opportunity to capture this ghost wheelchair in their phone albums and upload it to blogs and forums.

Thankfully, before it went faster than the speed of light, they could at least confirm through these means that it wasn't just an urban legend.

The rapidly speeding Cody went from the road into the narrow building complexes of the East End, his speed undiminished.

Any alleyway wide enough for the wheelchair to pass became his path. Thus, this rainbow ghost fire weaved through the streets and alleys of the dilapidated housing in an extremely agile manner, like some elusive phantom.

However, the route was based on the Gotham map navigation provided by the system's Q&A. To be fair, its reliability was miles ahead of those shady navigation apps.

Finally arriving at a narrow alley, the map indicated he needed to get off. Cody braked sharply, executing a drift that brought the wheelchair to a perfect stop at the alley entrance. He stood up and lightly lifted it. The two sides of the wheelchair immediately contracted and folded inwards, transforming into a unicycle.

Pushing the unicycle through the alleyway, Drake's house was right in front of him.

"Let's see – 10:12 AM, not bad. I can tweak it again tomorrow to make it even earlier."

It was hard to say whether a ghost wheelchair racing urban legend would emerge in Gotham in the coming days, but considering how crazy this city already was, what was one more wheelchair going 75 mph?

So, he casually carried the "old man's happy chair" into the building.

Meanwhile, on the rooftop of a building somewhere in the East End, Catwoman watched the young man she had previously saved disappear with the neon ghost in tow. Silently processing everything she had just witnessed, she now regretted her past actions a little.

"I honestly didn't think Gotham could get any crazier..."

Cody: Nonsense!

At the same time, Carl was still driving with one hand, muttering curses on the road.

"That's freaking unbelievable... I've never seen anything like it in my life – Gotham's getting weirder and weirder."

Just then, a black bat-like shadow flew across the sky. The huge shadow it cast quickly enveloped Carl's truck before sliding onto the roof.

"What the heck is with Scarecrow, Penguin, and that Mr. Freeze who popped up recently... screw them all, Gotham's got more and more freaks. Oh yeah, and there's that urban legend about a bat monster."

He spat vehemently out the window. "They're all damn crazy."

CRASH!

The windshield shattered, and a pitch-black figure instantly filled the cramped driver's cabin.

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

Like some unstoppable, silent madness.

Looking at its pupil-less eyes, wide black wings, and pointed ears, Carl couldn't help but recall the countless times he'd heard the urban legend.

Every night, a terrifying black bat would circle the skies of Gotham City, its gaze fixed on anyone who dared to commit or had already committed evil, bringing them bone-chilling fear and swift, merciless punishment.

And so, filled with terror and despair, he stammered out its name.

"Bat... Batman!"