Any good crime boss knew better than to put all his eggs in one basket, so Harvey, Cobblepot, and I had all come to the same conclusion: spread my potion refineries across the city.
Normally, that would've been a dumb move. Less direct oversight meant a much higher chance that people would skim potions off the top or try to steal secrets from production.
Fortunately, my luck and reputation seemed to keep theft relatively low. Anything I built was black-boxed anyway, so I didn't have to worry much about anyone stealing my methods.
Still, even with how much we had grown, there was always the chance that rivals or just greedy idiots could ruin things.
As inefficient as it was, spreading production out so it couldn't all get hit at once was key.
It was a pain in the ass, though, because it meant I had to go around Gotham to make sure everything was still working.
That was why I was in one of our labs in the Bowery.
It was a simple abandoned warehouse that had been retrofitted into a working refinery. The main machine took up the center of the floor, a squat maze of steel vats, glass pipes, and humming pressure gauges that turned raw materials into potion slurry with a constant mechanical hiss. Beside it ran a bottling line, while a little break room sat off to the side for the workers.
The first floor was pretty packed, with everyone from movers to producers shuffling around and keeping things running.
Still, I couldn't complain too much. The actual fixing had only taken me maybe twenty minutes, tops.
Simmy had stayed behind to do whatever future-guru stuff she needed to do while also keeping an eye on Lady Shiva. Gary and Stu were serving as muscle for the Lounge.
Cobblepot and Harvey, meanwhile, were busy handling all the management stuff.
We were in the middle of implementing a sort of healthcare program and life insurance guarantee for the various goons and low-level criminals. Cobblepot hadn't been particularly happy about the idea, but I had pushed for it.
Even so, while I was happy with how things were going, I was also a little bored.
Hmm.
Well, might as well rip this. I had gotten distracted by the mob hit and never bothered to open it.
[Feat Achieved! Scared Straight!]
[+1 Silver Gacha Tickets]
[Rolling Silver Gacha Ticket]
[Pitcher of Eternal Water]
|Common Item|
Hunter x Hunter - A water pitcher that can pour endless amounts of refreshing, clean water when tipped.
Huh.
I pulled it out of my inventory. It was a strangely red, horn-shaped thing that reminded me of a cornucopia.
I looked inside and found it empty.
Then I tilted it over my hand, and crystal-clear water poured out into my palm. I took a sip and paused.
Oh. That was good.
This was... huge.
There was probably some kind of output limit if it ranked this low, but still, Gotham's water supply wasn't exactly the safest thing in the world. Joker gas and fear toxin horror stories were some of the most famous examples, but there was also a ridiculous amount of pollution and weird crap, especially in the poorer parts of the city.
I could do a lot of good with this thing.
Now that I thought about it... I also had the recycling can.
Hmmm. Why stop at just making the criminals a little less shitty, right?
I pulled out my phone and called a number.
"What?" an irritated voice answered.
"Hey, Ivy, I think I've got something you wanna see."
—
Bruce drummed his fingers against the Batcomputer's desk.
Things had been chaotic in Gotham ever since the Arkham breakout. Although many of the escaped prisoners had been successfully recaptured, there were still far too many on the streets for his liking.
Thankfully, the wanton chaos of the first few days had started to die down. Gotham had settled into a strange new equilibrium in the wake of the villains' rampage.
And while he was grateful for any return to normalcy, he had deeply mixed feelings about the reason for it.
The Goon Union.
Bruce would reluctantly admit that the Union had been effective at lowering violent crime in several parts of the city. Their new drug trade in "potions" had also become a substantially cheaper and more accessible source of medicine, spreading through Gotham. On top of that, the group appeared to be investing large amounts into infrastructure for many of the city's poorer neighborhoods.
Despite everything he had done through the Wayne Foundation, there were limits to what he could accomplish.
His charities still had to work within the law after all.
The Goon Union had no such scruples, which meant they could offer aid freely and without restriction.
He wasn't hypocritical enough to condemn people for doing what was right simply because it broke the law. Even so, he was deeply uncomfortable with such a large and organized force being built on criminal foundations.
It might be good now, but what about in a month? A year?
Jean Valjean was the lynchpin of the entire organization, quite literally the heart and soul of the operation, and while Bruce had... mixed feelings about the man, his recent importance to Gotham's underworld was exactly why Bruce had finally sat down to assemble a complete file on the young man's abilities.
But while Bruce was no stranger to esoteric or seemingly crazy things… this was just ridiculous.
"So let me get this straight," Bruce frowned. "He has magical gargoyles, some kind of miniature angel, the ability to survive decapitation, the ability to produce potions, and some form of gas or toxin immunity."
"Yep." Jason leaned back in his chair.
Bruce pinched the bridge of his nose. This was perhaps the most eclectic collection of abilities he had ever seen in one person.
"I asked Jean myself when we were drinking, and he admitted he didn't know anything about magic." Jason took a sip from his drink. "I doubt he was lying, since he had to ask me who Constantine was."
There went any hope of simply throwing all of this into one box and labeling him a magician.
No, that would be premature.
Bruce couldn't rule out a magical source entirely; it could be a similar case to Captain Marvel.
Even so, the total lack of any connecting theme among the powers and items he had displayed was a point against that.
It all seemed so... chaotic.
"Bruce doing his vindictive file-making again?" Barbara asked as she entered the cave.
"A hundred percent, and he's annoyed about it," Jason said with a chuckle.
"It's not vindictive. It is a logical step for someone who has become this influential," Bruce replied, glaring at both of them.
"So, his spreading Batman the Ball Cutter far and wide didn't have anything to do with it?" Jason snickered.
"...No."
Bruce glared harder, which only made the smug looks on both of his protégés worse.
Barbara snorted and set a hand on the back of Jason's chair. "You can at least be happy about one thing. For what it's worth, I think you were right, Bruce."
"About what?"
"About Jean having some kind of luck-based power." Barbara pulled a small data drive from her pocket and held it up. "I met him in person, and after that, I'm pretty convinced."
Bruce took the drive, slid it into the Batcomputer, and brought up the footage. Jason rolled his chair closer while Barbara folded her arms.
The video played.
Bruce watched as four villains were systematically defeated as if they were in a cartoon.
Jason started cackling the second Kiteman tumbled into the sauce pile.
Bruce ignored him, though he did feel a small amount of satisfaction in being right.
"It's too consistent and too specifically disruptive to his opponents. There's no doubt anymore."
"That was my read too." Barbara leaned against the console. "The question is how it interacts with everything else. Is the luck its own power, or does it connect to the rest of his abilities somehow?"
Bruce considered that for a moment. "If it is part of the same powerset, then it may explain the lack of clean thematic consistency. A passive luck effect that brings him magical items, or perhaps some form of luck-based power-granting? He might be similar to an Amazo."
"Weaponized bullshit, you mean," Jason snorted.
"There has to be a pattern somewhere." Bruce frowned at the file on the screen. "I'll eventually be able to figure out proper countermeasures."
"Well... good luck with that." Barbara glanced at her phone, then let out a chuckle. "Dad just texted me, and long story short, you're going to have to add terror-inducing dancing to the file too."
Bruce stared at the screen.
"...I am going to need a larger file."
***
Comments and Thoughts would be greatly appreciated. Likes are like a drug to me and boost my creative juices.
I have advanced chapters on Pa tre on/daisyberry if you wanna read ahead.