A dark shadow enveloped Gotham City. The metropolis lay quiet once again on the eve of night. Only the silver moon, floating high in the black sky, bathed the silent streets with its pale glow, instilling hope in the hearts of those who dared to dream: hope that tomorrow the sun would rise again, and the city would, as before, come alive beneath its dazzling rays.

A black bike tore through the cold air, slicing the light fog as it raced down empty avenues. "Where to next?" the driver barked over his shoulder, voice serious and gravelly.

"At the next intersection, turn right," I replied, peering into the murk—then hesitated. "Actually, no. Not yet. Go another eight hundred meters."

"You could be a bit more precise," grumbled the 'mouse' with the long, pointed ears.

"Hey, I can't track the Joker's every move, all right? I'm just following my intuition here, and believe me, it's harder than it looks. So, be grateful for what you get," I shot back, clutching at the lapels of my coat as the engine roared.

Right now, my mind flickered with flashes of dark purpose. *** In the back of my head, a voice growled: "A dog's carcass in an alley—morning. A tire track split across its torn belly. This city fears me. I have seen its true face. The streets are extended gutters, and the gutters are choked with blood. When the drains finally clog, all this scum will drown. When the accumulation of lust and murder foams up to their waists, the city's whores and politicians will look up and scream, 'Save us!' And I'll whisper—'No.'"

"Alex, what are you even talking about?" Batman's voice cut through my reverie, heavy with concern.

"Uh, sorry…" I caught myself, shaking off the feeling. "For some reason, I have Rorschach syndrome. And stop calling me that. Can't you see the mask? From now on, call me 'Intellectual.' Superhero code names—serious business." I struck a grandiose pose, palm covering the white mask on my face.

"Whatever you say," Batman sighed, scanning the sprawling city courthouse looming at the end of the street. "Are you sure we're in the right place?"

"My radar's silent," Wayne muttered, fingers dancing over the mini-computer embedded in his armored bracer.

"He's here," I said, my voice trailing into thought. "I just… I feel it. My intuition always knows."

"There's no one here," the Dark Knight observed, moving like a shadow around the building's perimeter.

That's when I felt it: a pull downward, deep and primitive—a sense of impending disaster. Kneeling, I rapped my knuckles on the concrete.

"You know there's a whole network of caves under Gotham," I remarked. "If there were to be a collapse—say, during a major earthquake—this city could face disaster on a scale no one's prepared for."

"I know," Batman replied quietly. "Wayne Enterprises pours millions into reinforcing the city's foundation."

"Not enough, I'm afraid…" I muttered. "In any case, our clown is down there, under the courthouse." I forced a smirk. "Wonder what he's plotting now?"

"At least he's not under Arkham," Batman replied. "For a while, I was sure he'd make a move for Harley, but maybe I was wrong. Let's go down."

It would've been better if he just forgot about Harley altogether. The caves beneath the city… I remembered that classic arc in the DC comics. After a shattering quake hit Gotham, the ruined city was declared 'No Man's Land.' By government order, the population was evacuated; those stubborn enough to stay were walled off—abandoned, left to fend for themselves. For months, Gotham rotted, ignored by the authorities, until, at last, the combined efforts of Bruce Wayne and even Lex Luthor—who, of course, schemed to take it over himself—brought the city back from the brink. The infrastructure was rebuilt, but the scars endured.

I couldn't let such catastrophe strike now. Gotham was meant to be the home base for my company, Alritex Entertainment. The city's not just any city—it's the solid foundation for everything I intend to build. Widespread destruction does not fit my business plans. I'd have to wrack my brains to prevent the coming small apocalypse. Luckily, time was still on my side.

We found the Joker's gang quickly; they'd set up camp directly beneath the courthouse. The Joker himself was nowhere to be seen. No doubt he was off somewhere, scheming his next twisted plot.

After conferring with Batman about a plan, I strode out into the open, ready to make an entrance.

"Hey, Joker!" I called, voice echoing in the cave. "Want to talk? About a humane life—about semolina porridge?"

The cavern fell so silent that even the scurrying of mice echoed. The goons—dressed in garish clown getups—took a baffled moment to collect themselves, then snapped to action, raising their rifles toward me. In an instant, a hail of bullets ripped through the air.

But just as the first rounds neared, a concrete wall erupted before me—solid, unyielding, and summoned from nowhere. My inventory was a terrible weapon, especially when wielded by someone with experience.

The thugs flanked me, moving around both sides of the barrier, ready to continue their assault. But I wasn't about to surrender. Another thought, and four whole walls sprang up in an impenetrable barricade around me.

Back when I'd cleaned out an abandoned factory, I'd stashed everything I could fit into my spatial pocket—swept the place clean. Today, I reap the rewards.

"Hey, fellas!" I called, rapping my knuckles against the helmet that had popped onto my head. "You wear helmets? Hope so. You'll need them for today's meteor shower. Take notes from the smart folks!"

As I finished, heavy, spherical objects appeared midair—glossy black bowling balls—and rained down with force. Agony and curses filled the air as the balls met flesh. I couldn't blame them; when a bowling ball lands on your head, who can keep quiet?

This inventory is truly divine! I can summon any item that's ever been absorbed into my spatial pocket, within a 50-meter radius, with little more than a thought. The only limitation now is my intelligence stat, which passed 54 long ago.

Danger. My "spider sense" tingled—a sharp intuition honed by more than comic books. I swept away the wall behind me back into storage and dove aside just as a grenade exploded where I'd just been standing.

Heh. Now it was getting interesting.

I charged into the nearest henchman, my fists moving almost on their own. A sharp jab to the chin—down he went.

Another alarm—a warning from somewhere deep in my head. I conjured another stone wall, absorbing another bullet volley. Then I spun on the next opponent—punch to the throat, hook to the liver. He dropped, groaning.

The endless attacks from these half-baked clowns were getting old. Time to show them a real storm: I conjured another brick rain. Instantly, the enemy ranks thinned out.

One survivor stepped on a clear disk—his body tensed, shuddered, then crashed to the cave floor, a grotesque smile frozen on his lips. Never underestimate a 300-volt shock mine.

By now, I'd managed to arrange plenty of surprises. The battle soon ended—no melodrama, no clever one-liners. Just an empty, echoing cave, myself standing atop a mound of groaning bodies.

Duty done, I leaned against the wall and waited for Batman. Sure enough, within seconds, his shadow loomed, dragging Gotham's main madman—trussed and defeated—behind him.

"Finished?" Bruce asked, surveying the carnage. "Some mess."

"My bad, my bad!" I grinned, and with a gesture, all the debris—brick, concrete, even the bowling balls—vanished into my storage. Once an object's been in my inventory, I can summon it again whenever I wish. Practical.

"Who are you?" the Joker slurred, eyes wide with something like curiosity.

"Batman's new lapdog? Another hero, crawling out of the woodwork? Where do you all come from, swarming like flies after rain? We need slippers to squash you. Just one whack—problem solved!" He glared at me through strands of green hair.

"I'm the Intellectual," I announced with a bow. "And I'm pleased that, on my first day, I caught such a grade-A criminal as yourself."

My mask filtered my voice, so naturally, the Clown Prince of Crime couldn't place my true identity. It'd be a disaster if he realized his old "friend" Alex was behind his capture. Secrecy is everything.

I smiled, the mask swelling the gesture to grotesque effect.

"What a polite hero!" Joker cackled, voice warbling with mania. "Did you really think it would be that easy? Ha! You think the bat would be able to find me before I was ready? That's why I planted a bomb, my darlings—right under your precious courthouse. Soon as you stormed in, I hit the switch. Tick-tock, tick-tock—too late now! Not enough time to disarm the Joker's bomb, ha hah!" His laughter echoed in the cavern. "Let's watch the fireworks together. I had hoped the flames would light tomorrow's holiday—but you get an early show!"

Batman and I exchanged panicked glances and sprang into action, searching frantically among the rubble. I squeezed my eyes shut, every nerve straining. Where was it?

There—a subtle energy, a faint metallic tang. I ripped open the box at the base of a thick stone column, revealing a timer.

00:03

00:02

Joker was right—it was too late to defuse. In less than a second, Gotham's fate would be sealed. If Batman were here alone, this would have been game over.

But I was here.

Acting instantly, I willed the bomb into my spatial inventory. Time doesn't flow inside my storage; that's why you can keep food there forever, always fresh. The bomb, suspended now in timeless stasis, would never detonate—unless I took it back out.

Let it gather dust in my warehouse.

"What happened?! Where's my 'Boom'?" Joker shrieked, eyes wild and disappointed.

Batman and I exchanged a relieved sigh.

"So, what now?" I teased with a crooked smile. "Glad you brought me along?"

"Maybe… just a little," Wayne admitted, a rare grin flickering across his mouth.

"Hey, you!" the Joker interrupted, always stubborn. "Spill your secrets! What are you, a magician?"

But his words faded as the distant blare of police sirens wound down the corridors. The city above was stirring, alive again despite everything.

Light filtered weakly through the cracks in the cave ceiling as Batman and I remained in the gloom, our work nearly done. The heat of adrenaline faded as I regarded Gotham: bruised but breathing, still standing because of the strange partnership formed tonight.

Above us, the police combed the courthouse, and below, the echo of the Joker's laughter faded, replaced by the slow, measured breathing of a city that refused to die.

"See you tomorrow, partner?" I asked—half-joking, half-hopeless.

Batman nodded, eyes lost in the flicker of the pale city lights, the ever-present shadow of the bat stretching long and dark across the restored, haunted streets.

Gotham would sleep easy tonight, while it could.

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The extra chapter as I promised you.

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