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Chapter 217: Deceived
Oswald Cobblepot sat at his desk, his fat, short legs propped up on the table, toying with a black umbrella in his hands.
Cobblepot was a great enthusiast of umbrellas. A rumor had it that this was because his father died of pneumonia caused by being caught in the rain when he was a child. That incident left the young Cobblepot with deep psychological trauma, and from then on, he was never seen without an umbrella.
Now a crime lord, Cobblepot's umbrella had long been converted into his handiest weapon. The canopy was actually made of bulletproof steel, forming an impervious shield when opened. Hidden within were various weapons, including a machine gun and bayonets.
Of course, none of it was very effective against Batman.
Batman's shadow, cast by the light from outside the door, was projected onto the floor. A shadowy figure wrapped in a cape appeared in the room.
Cobblepot's back was to the door. He didn't turn around, yet he seemed to sense something. He wiped his folded umbrella, adjusted his 1980s-style monocle, and sneered.
“You know, for a moment there, I was worried you wouldn't show up this week, Batman. But then again, this time…”
Click.
The lights came on.
The office was instantly flooded with light. Mechanisms whirred on the four walls as hidden doors slid open. Fully armed henchmen appeared from all sides, surrounding the room.
Each of them held a strange mechanical rifle, made of an off-world material and of an unknown design—some kind of energy weapon.
Leading them were four strangely dressed individuals.
The entrance sealed automatically. Hidden steel door panels descended like a floodgate. A perfect trap, with “Batman” surrounded in the middle.
“You didn't think you could just waltz in and out of my place forever, did you, Batman?”
Cobblepot took a puff from his pipe and said unhurriedly, “Thanks to your previous visits, I thought I should return the favor and give you a gift. So, here you go. All arranged.”
“I'd say, cut the crap, Cobblepot.”
The one who spoke was a man with his face wrapped in a scarf and wearing vortex-like glasses. The Hypno-Master. His ability was just as his name suggested: a mental power that allowed him to release special electromagnetic waves to create a hypnotic effect.
Cobblepot shot him a cold glare.
“I told you not to interrupt me when I'm talking, you tone-deaf idiot,” he muttered, but didn't elaborate further. He pointed with his umbrella. “Now, take him down! I want to see which idiot is under that ugly bat-face!”
The Gas Man, unable to restrain himself any longer, made the first move. He thrust out his palms, and dark red poison gas billowed out, surging toward Orin Vale.
The Gas Man was also a B-list villain. His ability was simple: releasing poison gas that could inflict various effects on those who inhaled it, including hallucinations, paralysis, incapacitation, and instant death.
If it were the real Batman, he might be thinking about pulling out his personal respirator right now. But as things stood…
Orin Vale faced the oncoming poison gas and blew out a breath.
With just that gentle puff, the air pressure in the room changed abruptly. A gale swept up the red wave of gas. The Gas Man felt the gas instantly escape his control, swept back at him by the astonishing storm!
He himself was immune to the poison gas, but the poor Hypno-Master beside him and the group of henchmen behind were not so lucky. They all rolled their eyes back, convulsed, and collapsed to the floor.
This development caught everyone completely off guard. They were all stunned.
Blowing it back with a single breath? Was that even possible?
Did Batman know how to do that before?
The malnourished man in the tight suit was the next to act. His expression hardened as his body shot forward, and in that instant, the surrounding time-space seemed to stand still. He broke into a sprint, his frail body as if breaking through the thick wall of time.
Speed Demon, real name Jerry McGee, was once a bio-geneticist. His origin story was the classic American comics trifecta of an underfunded scientific research project and self-experimentation. After this cliché combo, he gained a superpower, but his mind also snapped, and he became the supervillain Speed Demon.
He used large amounts of steroids and implanted electrodes in his body to gain super speed. From his profile, one could tell he should have been a villain active in Central City, but he had moved and was now considering a new career path.
The poor doctor had spent his entire life researching to achieve a speed almost as fast as a bullet, thinking he had broken human limits and created a miracle. But when he walked out of his laboratory, he discovered that, at some point, an overpowered individual in red had started showing up on the streets of Central City. That guy could leisurely go to the next city over for breakfast in the instant a bullet left the chamber, and by the time he got back, the bullet might still be hanging in the air.
Speed Demon was disheartened. He felt that Central City was absolute hell for a speed-based villain, no place for a human to stay. So he traveled far away and came to Gotham.
He believed that here, he could make a name for himself and secure a place.
Speed Demon circled around in a wide arc, flanking Batman. In the slowed time-space, his opponent seemed completely oblivious.
A cruel smile spread across Speed Demon's lips.
*I can't handle The Flash, but I can't handle you?*
After today, he would be widely known as the criminal who killed the legend named "Batman"!
Speed Demon swore that, right up to the moment his fist struck the other's face, he was certain Batman was standing right in front of him, completely still.
But the punch hit nothing but air.
He lunged forward, only to find it was just an afterimage.
A high-speed afterimage. His real body was long gone from its original spot.
But when? Speed Demon was flabbergasted.
The next moment, he felt a hand tap his shoulder.
He turned his head to see a black glove filling his entire field of vision, and a finger flicked out with a snap.
One flick to the forehead.
Speed Demon's head snapped back, and he fell backward, crashing to the ground.
His accelerated brain could do nothing. It had no time to react, to dodge, or to counterattack. It only had time for one final thought to emerge before unconsciousness swept over him.
*Damn it, which idiot swore up and down and tricked me into believing Batman had no superpowers?*
Speed Demon began to question his life…
Everyone else was already dumbfounded.
It all happened in the blink of an eye. They saw Batman seemingly blow away Gas Man's poison gas with a single breath, taking out the Hypno-Master. Then, they saw a blur of movement, and in an instant too fast for their optic nerves to process, Speed Demon was sent flying for some reason, and Batman's figure had abruptly teleported several body lengths to the side.
Even Cobblepot, who should have been the most familiar with Batman, stared wide-eyed, a giant question mark seemingly popping up over his small head.
How is this possible? Is this really Batman?
No, wait…
Come to think of it, there was actually no evidence to suggest that Batman didn't have superpowers.
In Cobblepot's few confrontations with Batman to date, he had always appeared like a ghost, grabbing him for questioning, and then disappearing from who-knows-where. Every time, facing his most capable thugs was as simple as punching kindergarteners.
Maybe he'd had this ability all along and just hadn't used it before because there was no need?
Right, if that's the case, it would also explain how he could always appear like a ghost, no matter how many security vulnerabilities I patched or how much I enhanced the security.
It all connected. It all connected!
The Penguin trembled all over, a cold sweat breaking out on his back, chilling him to the bone.
Damn it, I've been deceived by that treacherous Batman!
(end of chapter)
Oswald Cobblepot sat at his desk, his fat, short legs propped up on the table, toying with a black umbrella in his hands.
Cobblepot was a great enthusiast of umbrellas. A rumor had it that this was because his father died of pneumonia caused by being caught in the rain when he was a child. That incident left the young Cobblepot with deep psychological trauma, and from then on, he was never seen without an umbrella.
Now a crime lord, Cobblepot's umbrella had long been converted into his handiest weapon. The canopy was actually made of bulletproof steel, forming an impervious shield when opened. Hidden within were various weapons, including a machine gun and bayonets.
Of course, none of it was very effective against Batman.
Batman's shadow, cast by the light from outside the door, was projected onto the floor. A shadowy figure wrapped in a cape appeared in the room.
Cobblepot's back was to the door. He didn't turn around, yet he seemed to sense something. He wiped his folded umbrella, adjusted his 1980s-style monocle, and sneered.
“You know, for a moment there, I was worried you wouldn't show up this week, Batman. But then again, this time…”
Click.
The lights came on.
The office was instantly flooded with light. Mechanisms whirred on the four walls as hidden doors slid open. Fully armed henchmen appeared from all sides, surrounding the room.
Each of them held a strange mechanical rifle, made of an off-world material and of an unknown design—some kind of energy weapon.
Leading them were four strangely dressed individuals.
The entrance sealed automatically. Hidden steel door panels descended like a floodgate. A perfect trap, with “Batman” surrounded in the middle.
“You didn't think you could just waltz in and out of my place forever, did you, Batman?”
Cobblepot took a puff from his pipe and said unhurriedly, “Thanks to your previous visits, I thought I should return the favor and give you a gift. So, here you go. All arranged.”
“I'd say, cut the crap, Cobblepot.”
The one who spoke was a man with his face wrapped in a scarf and wearing vortex-like glasses. The Hypno-Master. His ability was just as his name suggested: a mental power that allowed him to release special electromagnetic waves to create a hypnotic effect.
Cobblepot shot him a cold glare.
“I told you not to interrupt me when I'm talking, you tone-deaf idiot,” he muttered, but didn't elaborate further. He pointed with his umbrella. “Now, take him down! I want to see which idiot is under that ugly bat-face!”
The Gas Man, unable to restrain himself any longer, made the first move. He thrust out his palms, and dark red poison gas billowed out, surging toward Orin Vale.
The Gas Man was also a B-list villain. His ability was simple: releasing poison gas that could inflict various effects on those who inhaled it, including hallucinations, paralysis, incapacitation, and instant death.
If it were the real Batman, he might be thinking about pulling out his personal respirator right now. But as things stood…
Orin Vale faced the oncoming poison gas and blew out a breath.
With just that gentle puff, the air pressure in the room changed abruptly. A gale swept up the red wave of gas. The Gas Man felt the gas instantly escape his control, swept back at him by the astonishing storm!
He himself was immune to the poison gas, but the poor Hypno-Master beside him and the group of henchmen behind were not so lucky. They all rolled their eyes back, convulsed, and collapsed to the floor.
This development caught everyone completely off guard. They were all stunned.
Blowing it back with a single breath? Was that even possible?
Did Batman know how to do that before?
The malnourished man in the tight suit was the next to act. His expression hardened as his body shot forward, and in that instant, the surrounding time-space seemed to stand still. He broke into a sprint, his frail body as if breaking through the thick wall of time.
Speed Demon, real name Jerry McGee, was once a bio-geneticist. His origin story was the classic American comics trifecta of an underfunded scientific research project and self-experimentation. After this cliché combo, he gained a superpower, but his mind also snapped, and he became the supervillain Speed Demon.
He used large amounts of steroids and implanted electrodes in his body to gain super speed. From his profile, one could tell he should have been a villain active in Central City, but he had moved and was now considering a new career path.
The poor doctor had spent his entire life researching to achieve a speed almost as fast as a bullet, thinking he had broken human limits and created a miracle. But when he walked out of his laboratory, he discovered that, at some point, an overpowered individual in red had started showing up on the streets of Central City. That guy could leisurely go to the next city over for breakfast in the instant a bullet left the chamber, and by the time he got back, the bullet might still be hanging in the air.
Speed Demon was disheartened. He felt that Central City was absolute hell for a speed-based villain, no place for a human to stay. So he traveled far away and came to Gotham.
He believed that here, he could make a name for himself and secure a place.
Speed Demon circled around in a wide arc, flanking Batman. In the slowed time-space, his opponent seemed completely oblivious.
A cruel smile spread across Speed Demon's lips.
*I can't handle The Flash, but I can't handle you?*
After today, he would be widely known as the criminal who killed the legend named "Batman"!
Speed Demon swore that, right up to the moment his fist struck the other's face, he was certain Batman was standing right in front of him, completely still.
But the punch hit nothing but air.
He lunged forward, only to find it was just an afterimage.
A high-speed afterimage. His real body was long gone from its original spot.
But when? Speed Demon was flabbergasted.
The next moment, he felt a hand tap his shoulder.
He turned his head to see a black glove filling his entire field of vision, and a finger flicked out with a snap.
One flick to the forehead.
Speed Demon's head snapped back, and he fell backward, crashing to the ground.
His accelerated brain could do nothing. It had no time to react, to dodge, or to counterattack. It only had time for one final thought to emerge before unconsciousness swept over him.
*Damn it, which idiot swore up and down and tricked me into believing Batman had no superpowers?*
Speed Demon began to question his life…
Everyone else was already dumbfounded.
It all happened in the blink of an eye. They saw Batman seemingly blow away Gas Man's poison gas with a single breath, taking out the Hypno-Master. Then, they saw a blur of movement, and in an instant too fast for their optic nerves to process, Speed Demon was sent flying for some reason, and Batman's figure had abruptly teleported several body lengths to the side.
Even Cobblepot, who should have been the most familiar with Batman, stared wide-eyed, a giant question mark seemingly popping up over his small head.
How is this possible? Is this really Batman?
No, wait…
Come to think of it, there was actually no evidence to suggest that Batman didn't have superpowers.
In Cobblepot's few confrontations with Batman to date, he had always appeared like a ghost, grabbing him for questioning, and then disappearing from who-knows-where. Every time, facing his most capable thugs was as simple as punching kindergarteners.
Maybe he'd had this ability all along and just hadn't used it before because there was no need?
Right, if that's the case, it would also explain how he could always appear like a ghost, no matter how many security vulnerabilities I patched or how much I enhanced the security.
It all connected. It all connected!
The Penguin trembled all over, a cold sweat breaking out on his back, chilling him to the bone.
Damn it, I've been deceived by that treacherous Batman!
(end of chapter)
