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Chapter 216: This Isn't Batman-like at All
Oswald Cobblepot was about to reach his breaking point.
When Falcone fell, he had been convinced his luck had finally turned. The lifetime of struggle, of swallowing his pride and enduring humiliation, was finally over. The establishment of the Iceberg Lounge didn't just signify the birth of a new order in Gotham; it held extraordinary personal meaning for him. It symbolized his farewell to the past, to the insignificant nobody struggling at the bottom, the man anyone could step on.
That's what he had thought it would be.
Until the opening day of the Iceberg Lounge. The Penguin had been standing puffed up with pride on the stage at the opening ceremony, delivering a speech that was also an announcement to all of Gotham's prominent figures, from both the underworld and legitimate society: a new emperor had been born.
Then, the newly installed crystal rooftop shattered with a "crash." All the lights went out, and the six-foot-two Bat descended from the sky, grabbing the short, stout Penguin and holding him aloft like a little chicken as he interrogated him.
Before leaving, he even left a harsh warning: "You'd better watch your step. I'm watching you. You'd best not leave me any tail to catch."
The little Penguin's burgeoning, kingly arrogance instantly vanished into thin air. That Bat had made him lose all face in front of everyone, forcing him to recall the powerlessness of being a subordinate. Facing the terrifying Bat, he couldn't help but be reminded of the fear he felt when facing those underworld bosses, feeling utterly insignificant once more.
As Batman swaggered off, Cobblepot knew with certainty that, in that moment, he had all but admitted it to everyone in both the legitimate and criminal worlds.
After this night, everyone would have a clear understanding of who was on top and who was on the bottom in Gotham's new order: Batman, or this self-proclaimed emperor.
He wasn't the new emperor, just a puppet used to maintain order and restrain the gangs.
Batman was the new master of this city.
But there was nothing he could do. He couldn't afford to provoke him. Even the once deeply entrenched Godfather of Gotham, Falcone, had fallen at Batman's hands. Cobblepot figured that with his own foundations still unstable, he had no choice but to accept it. So he swallowed his anger, had someone replace the rooftop with reinforced glass, and hoped that at the very least he wouldn't be so debased as to be threatened in his own lounge every day.
But it was all for naught. The rooftop was reinforced, but a few days later, Batman came again. He appeared in his room like a ghost and, once again, lifted him up like a little chicken to ask him questions. This time, it was supposedly about tracking some serial killer named Victor Zsasz.
Cobblepot feigned obedience again and answered the questions meekly, but the moment Batman left, he immediately called in a professional construction team and demanded they seal all security vulnerabilities. A group of experts analyzed the situation and concluded that the ventilation system might be a security risk; Batman had probably entered through the vents. So, they mobilized a crew and fixed the problem.
Then, a few days later, Batman popped up out of nowhere again, dragging him out of bed to ask about the Joker.
Cobblepot continued to feign obedience. After it was over, he brought in the professional team again for another security check. This time, the engineers suspected there was something fishy with the indoor swimming pool's drainage system. So, another round of renovations and construction solved that problem too.
The construction had just been completed when, the very next day, Batman came again, and again, *and again*.
Cobblepot exploded.
If this could be tolerated, what couldn't? *What the hell, do you think my place is a public toilet you can just enter and exit as you please?!*
He couldn't endure it any longer.
So he began to prepare a counterattack. It just so happened that his allies from Intergang provided him with high-tech weapons—advanced equipment the likes of which he had never even heard of. At the same time, he sent people to various cities to find and recruit the superpowered individuals emerging in this age of superpowers, planning to form an "Anti-Batman Squad."
The news said Batman had been missing for several days, and many speculated he had quit. But Cobblepot was convinced it was a ruse. Not only would he not quit, but he would definitely come looking for him again.
Moreover, Cobblepot had a premonition that he would show up within the next day or two.
Because in two more days, the week would be over, and ever since his lounge was built, Batman had never missed a single week of "punching in."
This time, he would let Batman know who the true master of Gotham was.
He, Cobblepot, was not some tool to be used and discarded at will!
"Well now, it really is an impenetrable fortress."
Standing on the rooftop of a building opposite the Iceberg Lounge, Orin Vale's Ultra Vision swept over the entire structure, discovering it was truly airtight.
Ventilation ducts, drainage systems, and skylights—all the favorite channels of special agents were sealed shut. Not a single path was open.
This forced Orin Vale, who had originally intended to conscientiously get into the role of Batman, to shrink back from the task.
The entire place was reinforced like an iron bucket, with no discernible entry or exit points. He couldn't quite imagine how Batman was supposed to get in.
Resigned, he had no choice but to phase through a wall, using phase-shifting to drill right in.
The daily life of the Ultimate Batman was just that simple, unadorned, and dull.
He happened to materialize inside the men's restroom. Two henchmen were standing shoulder to shoulder, taking a leak.
One henchman shot a sideways glance at his buddy next to him and grinned. "You look drained. A late night yesterday?"
"You can tell?" his friend replied, surprised, then chuckled in embarrassment. "I won't lie to you, it was one of the new dealers the lounge hired. Man, you have no idea, she's a real stunner. Slim waist, long legs, and easy to fool. I coaxed her into bed in no time. I got her seven times in one night! No exaggeration. Towards the end, I wasn't even that into it anymore, but she kept clinging to me, not letting me sleep, so we just went at it all night..."
The henchman next to him pondered for a moment. "Are you sure you were the one fooling her and not the other way around?"
"Of course! I'm very smart. Even my mom always said this kid's been smart since he was little..."
Orin Vale approached soundlessly, pressing their heads down from the left and right in a Batman-style head slam. Both men's heads hit the wall with a dull *thud*, and they slumped to the ground, unconscious.
"Retrieving the structural diagram for the Iceberg Lounge," Alfred said through the communication device in his helmet. "The Penguin's office should be in..."
"No need. I already see it," Orin Vale interrupted.
"Ah, I almost forgot. Ultra Vision, is it?" Alfred said. "In that case, let me plan a route. The grates for the underfloor heating system should allow you to bypass..."
"It's fine, no need for all that trouble."
As Orin Vale spoke, he paused, and his figure blurred into a gray-black afterimage, shooting forward.
Blue electric light radiated out. Time froze. Everyone in the entire lounge was frozen in place. A die spinning mid-air, champagne splashing from a glass, a playing card suspended in its arc, chips being pushed across a gambling table.
The noisy lounge fell silent in an instant.
Orin Vale passed through a wall, swaggering through the center of the bustling main hall. A trail of lightning followed him as he phased through several more walls before his footsteps came to a halt.
Time resumed its flow. The hall was as lively as before, and no one had noticed that a handsome Bat had just passed through their world.
"I'm in," Orin Vale said.
In the Batcave, Alfred's mouth fell open, a retort dying in his throat.
He kind of wanted to say, "Sir, your Ultraman levels are a bit too high. That's not Batman-like at all."
(end of chapter)
Oswald Cobblepot was about to reach his breaking point.
When Falcone fell, he had been convinced his luck had finally turned. The lifetime of struggle, of swallowing his pride and enduring humiliation, was finally over. The establishment of the Iceberg Lounge didn't just signify the birth of a new order in Gotham; it held extraordinary personal meaning for him. It symbolized his farewell to the past, to the insignificant nobody struggling at the bottom, the man anyone could step on.
That's what he had thought it would be.
Until the opening day of the Iceberg Lounge. The Penguin had been standing puffed up with pride on the stage at the opening ceremony, delivering a speech that was also an announcement to all of Gotham's prominent figures, from both the underworld and legitimate society: a new emperor had been born.
Then, the newly installed crystal rooftop shattered with a "crash." All the lights went out, and the six-foot-two Bat descended from the sky, grabbing the short, stout Penguin and holding him aloft like a little chicken as he interrogated him.
Before leaving, he even left a harsh warning: "You'd better watch your step. I'm watching you. You'd best not leave me any tail to catch."
The little Penguin's burgeoning, kingly arrogance instantly vanished into thin air. That Bat had made him lose all face in front of everyone, forcing him to recall the powerlessness of being a subordinate. Facing the terrifying Bat, he couldn't help but be reminded of the fear he felt when facing those underworld bosses, feeling utterly insignificant once more.
As Batman swaggered off, Cobblepot knew with certainty that, in that moment, he had all but admitted it to everyone in both the legitimate and criminal worlds.
After this night, everyone would have a clear understanding of who was on top and who was on the bottom in Gotham's new order: Batman, or this self-proclaimed emperor.
He wasn't the new emperor, just a puppet used to maintain order and restrain the gangs.
Batman was the new master of this city.
But there was nothing he could do. He couldn't afford to provoke him. Even the once deeply entrenched Godfather of Gotham, Falcone, had fallen at Batman's hands. Cobblepot figured that with his own foundations still unstable, he had no choice but to accept it. So he swallowed his anger, had someone replace the rooftop with reinforced glass, and hoped that at the very least he wouldn't be so debased as to be threatened in his own lounge every day.
But it was all for naught. The rooftop was reinforced, but a few days later, Batman came again. He appeared in his room like a ghost and, once again, lifted him up like a little chicken to ask him questions. This time, it was supposedly about tracking some serial killer named Victor Zsasz.
Cobblepot feigned obedience again and answered the questions meekly, but the moment Batman left, he immediately called in a professional construction team and demanded they seal all security vulnerabilities. A group of experts analyzed the situation and concluded that the ventilation system might be a security risk; Batman had probably entered through the vents. So, they mobilized a crew and fixed the problem.
Then, a few days later, Batman popped up out of nowhere again, dragging him out of bed to ask about the Joker.
Cobblepot continued to feign obedience. After it was over, he brought in the professional team again for another security check. This time, the engineers suspected there was something fishy with the indoor swimming pool's drainage system. So, another round of renovations and construction solved that problem too.
The construction had just been completed when, the very next day, Batman came again, and again, *and again*.
Cobblepot exploded.
If this could be tolerated, what couldn't? *What the hell, do you think my place is a public toilet you can just enter and exit as you please?!*
He couldn't endure it any longer.
So he began to prepare a counterattack. It just so happened that his allies from Intergang provided him with high-tech weapons—advanced equipment the likes of which he had never even heard of. At the same time, he sent people to various cities to find and recruit the superpowered individuals emerging in this age of superpowers, planning to form an "Anti-Batman Squad."
The news said Batman had been missing for several days, and many speculated he had quit. But Cobblepot was convinced it was a ruse. Not only would he not quit, but he would definitely come looking for him again.
Moreover, Cobblepot had a premonition that he would show up within the next day or two.
Because in two more days, the week would be over, and ever since his lounge was built, Batman had never missed a single week of "punching in."
This time, he would let Batman know who the true master of Gotham was.
He, Cobblepot, was not some tool to be used and discarded at will!
"Well now, it really is an impenetrable fortress."
Standing on the rooftop of a building opposite the Iceberg Lounge, Orin Vale's Ultra Vision swept over the entire structure, discovering it was truly airtight.
Ventilation ducts, drainage systems, and skylights—all the favorite channels of special agents were sealed shut. Not a single path was open.
This forced Orin Vale, who had originally intended to conscientiously get into the role of Batman, to shrink back from the task.
The entire place was reinforced like an iron bucket, with no discernible entry or exit points. He couldn't quite imagine how Batman was supposed to get in.
Resigned, he had no choice but to phase through a wall, using phase-shifting to drill right in.
The daily life of the Ultimate Batman was just that simple, unadorned, and dull.
He happened to materialize inside the men's restroom. Two henchmen were standing shoulder to shoulder, taking a leak.
One henchman shot a sideways glance at his buddy next to him and grinned. "You look drained. A late night yesterday?"
"You can tell?" his friend replied, surprised, then chuckled in embarrassment. "I won't lie to you, it was one of the new dealers the lounge hired. Man, you have no idea, she's a real stunner. Slim waist, long legs, and easy to fool. I coaxed her into bed in no time. I got her seven times in one night! No exaggeration. Towards the end, I wasn't even that into it anymore, but she kept clinging to me, not letting me sleep, so we just went at it all night..."
The henchman next to him pondered for a moment. "Are you sure you were the one fooling her and not the other way around?"
"Of course! I'm very smart. Even my mom always said this kid's been smart since he was little..."
Orin Vale approached soundlessly, pressing their heads down from the left and right in a Batman-style head slam. Both men's heads hit the wall with a dull *thud*, and they slumped to the ground, unconscious.
"Retrieving the structural diagram for the Iceberg Lounge," Alfred said through the communication device in his helmet. "The Penguin's office should be in..."
"No need. I already see it," Orin Vale interrupted.
"Ah, I almost forgot. Ultra Vision, is it?" Alfred said. "In that case, let me plan a route. The grates for the underfloor heating system should allow you to bypass..."
"It's fine, no need for all that trouble."
As Orin Vale spoke, he paused, and his figure blurred into a gray-black afterimage, shooting forward.
Blue electric light radiated out. Time froze. Everyone in the entire lounge was frozen in place. A die spinning mid-air, champagne splashing from a glass, a playing card suspended in its arc, chips being pushed across a gambling table.
The noisy lounge fell silent in an instant.
Orin Vale passed through a wall, swaggering through the center of the bustling main hall. A trail of lightning followed him as he phased through several more walls before his footsteps came to a halt.
Time resumed its flow. The hall was as lively as before, and no one had noticed that a handsome Bat had just passed through their world.
"I'm in," Orin Vale said.
In the Batcave, Alfred's mouth fell open, a retort dying in his throat.
He kind of wanted to say, "Sir, your Ultraman levels are a bit too high. That's not Batman-like at all."
(end of chapter)
