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Chapter 2 – Strange Happenings Are Common, But This Year’s Are Unusually Weird
🕑 Added 2025-04-15 08:52:13 +0000 UTCTime sped by. The sun had already risen from the sea, shining down on Gotham.
At 7:00 a.m., Gotham's morning news began as scheduled. In the Gotham Police Department, still busy after a long night, the voice of a news anchor echoed from the television:
"Last night, at 9:38 p.m., a massive white wolf appeared at the site of the industrial fire along Gotham's riverside. It could breathe blue flames. Surveillance cameras caught footage of the creature."
The screen switched to a clip of the giant wolf unleashing fireballs from its mouth. The terrifying power that casually blew apart walls was enough to instill fear.
"We cannot rule out the possibility that the wolf started the fire. Several other industrial area cameras also recorded sightings of the creature. Citizens nearby are urged to stay safe while traveling."
"Next up, a new self-defense product from Wayne Enterprises that can effectively protect against wild animal attacks…"
Inside Gotham PD, newly promoted Commissioner Jim Gordon sat in his office chair and turned off the TV.
After watching the broadcast, Gordon grew increasingly agitated and slammed his desk. He could already imagine which mad scientist was behind this latest mess.
He pictured tomorrow's newspaper headlines:
"What Is Gotham PD Doing? Are We Still Safe?"
"Terror! Giant Wolf on the Loose!"
"Shocking! How to Defend Yourself from a Giant Wolf!"
The thought alone gave Gordon a headache.
"Dammit! Gotham just keeps getting weirder! Now we've got giant wolves? What's next, a wizard to fight it? Has to be some lunatic experimenting with monster genetics again!"
In Gotham, mad scientists were far from rare—and the city had quite the rap sheet.
Gordon had every reason to believe that wolf was the creation of another deranged genius.
"Dammit, are we going to have to rely on Batman again? If we depend on him for everything, what's the point of the police force?"
He turned to his longtime partner. "Harvey, any ideas?"
Harvey Bullock, slumped nearby with a bitter expression, took a sip of coffee and shook his head.
"This city… Gangs and psychos were bad enough. Now we've got monsters crawling around? Feels like Gotham's cursed. Even I barely recognize it anymore, and I grew up here."
He sighed. "We're gonna be swamped. I just took some time off, too. Now that's gone."
"Ugh, don't remind me," Gordon muttered. "You think you can rest with man-eating beasts running around the city? We need to catch that thing—fast!"
But aside from cursing their luck, there wasn't much they could do. Until the beast was caught, nobody could afford to relax.
These creatures always vanished in surveillance blind spots—just like the mysterious ones before.
Just then, a young officer knocked on the office door. Gordon called, "Come in," and the nervous rookie stepped inside.
"Commissioner! We've got an update! At the factory that burned down last night, forensics found several corpses that didn't belong to the staff. Turns out they were Penguin's men!"
"Cobblepot?! Him again?"
Gordon and Bullock exchanged a glance. Years of partnership let them instantly read each other's thoughts: if Penguin was involved, something bigger was going on.
"What else?" Gordon asked.
The officer leaned in and whispered, "The Dark Web's 'Cleaners' received a rush order to handle bodies—at the chemical plant."
These "Cleaners" were corpse disposal specialists. The police tracked them specifically to gather intel.
After all, this was Gotham. Dead bodies were a daily occurrence.
Local mobsters and corrupt elites all needed these services. The Cleaners thrived off their support.
"Got it," Gordon nodded. "Tell our people to keep eyes on Penguin. If he moves—report immediately!"
"Yes, Commissioner!"
As the officer left, Bullock muttered, "Big trouble…"
"Yeah, Harvey. Cobblepot only went quiet recently. Now he's back to his old tricks? Doesn't fit his usual behavior."
Iceberg Lounge – Penguin's Restaurant
Officially, one of Gotham's most exclusive dining spots. In reality, its basement led to a dark, expansive underground—Penguin's true headquarters, a lavish criminal lair.
But now, the luxurious space was littered with corpses. Blood soaked the floor. The stench of death hung thick in the air.
Ten assassins in tight black suits, wearing white owl masks, surrounded Oswald Cobblepot.
Their eyes were cold and unblinking as they stared down the squat man with the hooked nose.
Calm as ever, Penguin swirled his wine in a tall glass and took a sip—completely unbothered by the carnage around him.
He said coldly, "You Court of Owls folks are pushing it. This mess has nothing to do with me.
Do you really think I, the Penguin, am so easy to threaten? Don't forget—you get your weapons from me."
The ten Talons didn't react. Understandable—they were bio-engineered enforcers who existed only to obey.
The lead Talon activated a speakerphone. An ancient voice crackled through:
"Oswald Cobblepot. Descendant of the Cobblepot family. Mind yourself. If you ruin another deal, we'll find a more cooperative merchant.
You've always been under our control. Don't forget that. There won't be a next time.
One more failure—and we take your Penguin head."
Click… Beep…
The call ended. Without a word or wasted movement, the ten Talons vanished into the shadows, leaving behind only the grim-faced Penguin.
Penguin was furious.
"This had nothing to do with me!" he growled. "Just a normal arms deal. Same as the last dozen. Who the hell set me up?!"
Fuming, Penguin pulled out his phone and called his driver Jack. "We're going to Arkham. I need an old friend's help."
While the Talons carried out more blood-soaked missions across Gotham's criminal underworld, their actions were being live-streamed to a secret hub.
Deep within the sewers, beneath the city's surface, was a vast underground chamber supported by 18 concrete pillars. Each pillar bore a stone owl, its gaze fixed on the center of the room.
A massive table sat in the middle, surrounded by men and women.
This was the Court of Owls—Gotham's secret elite. Families with generations of wealth and influence, pulling the city's strings from the shadows.
To them, the city's petty gangs were child's play. Disposable pawns. Weeds to be trimmed endlessly.
Elsewhere…
On a rooftop, a man with paper-white skin and a wild, manic grin cackled uncontrollably.
"Hehehe… Gotham's getting more and more interesting, ahahahaha!"
The Joker laughed harder and louder, mocking Batman's incompetence and the secret darkness hiding in Gotham's underbelly.
He'd escaped Arkham a month ago, swapping himself with a decoy from his gang.
Now the real Joker moved freely among the crowds, preparing a "grand surprise" for the Dark Knight.
During his infiltration of Penguin's crew, he'd uncovered Gotham's deepest secret—the Court of Owls.
To a mad genius like him, the idea of an ancient shadow group pulling strings in secret? Delicious.
The Joker was intrigued. Very intrigued.
Now he was investigating them.
And scheming his next masterpiece—
A true surprise for Batman.
