In front of a giant pale blue screen, a teenager sat on a chair, with a young man standing beside him, the latter resting his arm on the back of the chair.
"According to the computer analysis and the movement route I deduced, those damn bastards' next target should be this man." The teenager's tone carried a hint of anger.
"Then let's not wait any longer." The young man looked at the middle-aged man in a suit on the giant screen.
"I don't know if putting all our time and energy into this is the right choice..." The teenager crossed his legs and lowered his head, no longer looking at the giant blue screen.
Time seemed to stand still for a few seconds. Then, the young man placed his hand on the teenager's shoulder, his tone filled with an undeniable hope. "We have to believe in him, and Alfred has never stopped searching either."
"Yeah." The teenager nodded heavily. "Then right now, let's go meet this unlucky guy who's being targeted."
...
Gotham, early morning.
The lingering aftermath of last night's heavy downpour still drifted within the morning light, and the air was filled with cool moisture.
Zane emerged from a certain alley, stood by the street, and looked at this beautiful morning scene. He inhaled a breath of cold air and then pumped out warm carbon dioxide from his lungs.
He hadn't slept all night.
For the entire night, Zane had been testing his necromancy magic. Basically, wherever Gotham was the most chaotic and had the most criminals, that was where he went.
In one night, he used necromancy magic to take out at least dozens of people who dared to rob him. He also cosplayed as a superhero and took out dozens more criminals by intervening for a just cause.
Nearly a hundred kills provided Zane with a highly considerable amount of Dark Elements. He could now basically and proficiently use all the magic recorded in that necromancy magic book.
In addition, he had also used all ten initial aliens in the Omnitrix one by one, thoroughly familiarizing himself with them to prepare for the upcoming battle against the Talons.
Opposite the street where Zane was standing stood a tall building. Morrison Gene's office was on the fourteenth floor of this building.
The green light turned on. He had just taken one step when another fearless EXP pack arrived.
"Robbery!" The mugger named Jimmy was concise and to the point. He held up a gun without blushing or skipping a heartbeat, and his body didn't tremble. It didn't look like a robbery at all; instead, it looked like he was normally asking for directions.
This was an experienced mugger.
"It's already daytime, buddy." Having a gun pointed at his forehead, Zane's face darkened with exasperation. "Your accomplices have all knocked off and gone home. You're still fucking robbing? Are you trying to boost your performance quota for the end of the month or something?"
"Cut the crap!" Jimmy roared, turning the gun sideways.
Word on the street was that turning a gun sideways meant murderous intent.
Having lived in the chaotic East End for two years, Zane naturally knew this unspoken rule, but he certainly didn't give a damn whether Jimmy held the gun sideways or vertically.
Zane looked at the messenger bag on Jimmy's body. The dollars inside were so numerous they were about to overflow, and they were even stained with blood.
"Holy crap, how did you manage to rob so many dollars just by mugging on the street?" Zane was shocked.
The mugger grew increasingly impatient, not knowing what was wrong with the person in front of him. Was his gun not intimidating enough, or did he look too friendly?
"Cut the fucking crap. After I rob you, I'm going to leave this damn cursed city!"
"Leave? Where are you going?"
"Metropolis!" The mugger really couldn't take it anymore. After saying this word, he pulled the trigger.
Bang!
Fire flashed from the muzzle, and the bullet spiraled out of the chamber. However, at a distance of one centimeter from Zane's forehead, it suddenly stopped and then gradually melted away into nothingness.
Dark Armor!
A passive magic that allowed formless Dark Elements to attach to the surface of the caster's body. The mana consumption rate could be freely controlled by the caster; the faster the consumption, the stronger the defense. Under normal circumstances, bullets were completely unable to break through the defense.
"So you want to go to Metropolis." Zane looked at the terrified mugger. "Perfect, I'm a helpful guy. Let me help you get there!"
Then, he pressed the transformation button on the Omnitrix and turned into Four Arms. Immediately after, he grabbed the mugger with his right arm, aimed in the direction of Metropolis, and fiercely threw him.
A sound of tearing through the air rang out as Jimmy turned into a shooting star on the horizon.
Zane canceled his transformation and once again stepped towards the opposite side of the street. Along the way, he forcefully spectated two robbery incidents and one assassination incident, harvesting some extra Dark Elements.
With Batman absent from duty for several consecutive days, Gotham's criminal forces gradually became rampant.
Actually, it wasn't that the GCPD was so incompetent that they couldn't catch criminals—they could catch them. Nor was it that Batman was so amazing that he could catch an astronomical amount of criminals in one night.
In fact, the reason Batman could suppress Gotham's criminal activities was that this bat had become a symbol in Gotham, a terrifying symbol that made criminals fear.
To put it in a slightly chuunibyou way, Batman standing there was like the Sword of Damocles hanging over the heads of Gotham's criminals.
The GCPD did not have this kind of deterrent power.
Now that this sword had disappeared, criminals naturally came out in full force, working overtime day and night, even daring to rob and kill on the streets in broad daylight.
No one knew where this sword was right now. Some guessed that this sword had rusted and died. Some guessed that this sword was merely severely injured and was recuperating, waiting to begin a great purge of Gotham's criminals once fully healed...
"Ding!"
The elevator arrived at the fourteenth floor. Zane came to Morrison Gene's office, where the latter had been waiting for a long time.
"What is the meaning of this?" Zane looked at the bald man standing abruptly next to Gene.
Gene chuckled awkwardly. "Haha, well, since those things you call Talons are very powerful, I was afraid it would be troublesome for you to deal with them alone, so I hired another person."
The bald man standing next to Gene cast a cold, gloomy gaze at Zane, filled with an extreme sense of threat.
"I hate supervillains with no charismatic personality," Zane said bluntly.
This bald man hired by Gene was named Victor Zsasz, a serial killer and a famous exhibitionist in Gotham.
His fetish was that every time he killed a person, he would carve a tally mark into his own body. Judging by the number of cuts currently on Zsasz's body, he had killed at least over a hundred people.
"Heh." Zsasz sneered coldly, flipping the small knife in his hand in a deadly twirl.
And right now, just outside the fourteenth-floor window, a teenager and a young man had secured themselves with grappling hooks, quietly peeking at the scene inside the window.
"Talons?" The young man keenly noticed the blind spot. "That guy seems to know what those half-dead things are called."
"This might be a breakthrough." The teenager's tone couldn't help but be tinged with a hint of excitement, his voice even trembling slightly. "I mean, this is the only thing that can be called a useful clue in all these days. We have to interrogate that guy thoroughly later!"
"Of course." The young man nodded. "But calm down for now. Let's first see what happens in the room. These two... why is Victor Zsasz here too?"
"He can be hired as a mercenary. I'm guessing these two were both hired by Morrison Gene to protect himself. After all..." The teenager pinched his chin.
Just as the two were talking, the main door of Gene's office was suddenly kicked open, sending flying wood splinters shooting in all directions.
A person covered entirely in black leather armor, with pale claw blades extending from his arms and wearing an owl-contoured mask on his face, walked in.
"Morrison Gene, the Court of Owls sentences you to... death!"