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This truly is the best place in Gotham for an evening stroll. Rickman Street, with its vibrant lights and endless movement, feels alive at every hour—and according to the information in recent surveys, she still lives just off this bustling thoroughfare. Apparently, Natasha saw these details as sufficient rationale for a casual—one might say accidental—encounter with us tonight. The meeting could have passed for pure coincidence, but I had long since learned to tell the difference between truth and calculated deception.

"Let me introduce you to my friend," I said, pivoting toward Renee.

"Renee Montoya," she announced confidently, cutting off my formal introduction. "Detective with the Major Crimes Unit."

"Natalie Rashman," replied Black Widow, presenting her alias with practiced ease. "Financial director at Alritex Entertainment."

"Really?" Renee cocked her head, glancing from me to Natasha with an expression that hovered between suspicion and amusement. "You never mentioned you had such charming employees, Alex. Maybe I should reconsider and accept your job offer," she teased, sending a quick, playful smile in Natasha's direction.

To be honest, it was difficult to take my eyes off her myself. Natasha's blue tracksuit clung to her with the precision of a tailor's vision, accentuating the refined symmetry of her figure. In that moment, I was certain S.H.I.E.L.D.'s dossier on me contained more than a few paragraphs about my pronounced weakness for beautiful women. It was rather unfair, I mused, for Fury to exploit my vulnerabilities so openly. Sometimes I suspect the man is genuinely inviting a punch.

"As I've said, my doors are always open," I replied with a sly wink. "I'd be delighted to have such a pretty employee in the company."

Natasha grinned, nudged my shoulder in feigned camaraderie, and shifted her attention back to Renee, exchanging quick pleasantries before excusing herself. Within moments, she was jogging down the boulevard again, resuming her cover as casually as she had broken it. I was certain she'd continue watching from a discreet distance; Natasha Romanoff's surveillance was rarely as casual as it appeared. Not that Renee needed to know any of that.

We continued our way into the depths of the park, following narrow, winding paths beneath ancient archways of oak and elm. The air was cool now, dappled with moonlight and shadow. Renee started to regale me with a particularly hilarious story about her partner, Harvey Bullock—his brand of humor always managed to cut through the darkness Gotham bred. But then, before the punchline could land, I heard a distinct click, immediately followed by a bright, piercing flash.

Momentarily disoriented, I swept my gaze through the trees until I found the culprit—a man, not more than thirty, awkwardly concealed behind the brittle trunk of a leafless maple. He clutched a digital camera in trembling hands, the universal instrument of modern-day voyeurism. Paparazzi in Gotham? Was this what my life had come to? No, this wouldn't do; something had to be done.

Reaching into my coat, I pulled out my hologram glasses and slipped them on. "Eva, are you online?" I whispered.

"As always," came the smooth, virtual voice in my ear.

"Target that camera and wipe its memory. Now."

"As you wish." Eva, master hacker and indispensable companion, was on the job. My hologram glasses were equipped with a wireless hacking interface—one of several hidden features I'd installed during sleepless nights spent tinkering. A mere glance at the offending device was enough for Eva's elegant algorithms to dispatch my order.

Renee watched my brief, whispered exchange with the opaque glasses, eyes wide with surprise. I had no choice but to explain the invention—a smart device paired with a virtual assistant for on-the-fly hacking and personal security. Ever inquisitive, she demanded a demonstration of the glasses' full capabilities, and was soon so enchanted that she nearly danced with delight when I promised her a pair once I finished calibrating the system.

Her genuine, childlike excitement was both infectious and heartwarming. For once, the anxiety of the evening lifted, replaced by a lighter, happier energy. The whole encounter also compelled me to a somber realization: I was no longer the anonymous wanderer of yesterday, but a public figure whose every movement was fodder for cameras and headlines. Paparazzi, always lurking for a snapshot of my personal life, had become a new obstacle to evade—especially considering how most of my time was spent in the company of remarkable women.

Gotham knew me as the Bright Knight, its hero without a mask, and I guarded that image with a certain pride. The last thing I wanted was for photos of me and my companions to circulate unchecked, fueling idle speculation and unwanted attention. Tony Stark might revel in his notoriety, but my own sense of privacy was different—even if the unofficial "Harem King" moniker had begun to stick among the city's gossips. People could judge me as they liked, but I intended to maintain my own boundaries for as long as possible.

Tonight, as so often happens, these thoughts led me to the next stage: invention. I began to sketch the outline of a new device in my mind—a mechanism capable of making me invisible to cameras, erasing every trace before it was stored. If the hologram glasses could prevent hackers from invading my privacy, then my next project would push the concept even further. No lens, no code, no network would be able to capture me unless I chose to be seen. Now that my current technology was nearly ready, it was time to move on to bigger challenges.

By midnight, the park's antique clock chimed with hollow echoes. It was time for Renee's evening to end.

"Your house," I said, pausing in front of the familiar facade of her apartment building.

"Thank you for tonight, Alex," Renee replied, pulling me into a tight embrace. She lingered there for a moment, her arms warm, her gratitude genuine.

"You're always welcome," I said, savoring the calm between us. "But before you go, may I ask one question?"

Renee laughed as she released me from her hug. "Go ahead."

Moving closer, I bent down so that our eyes met. "The moment you kissed me—did you enjoy it?"

Her reaction was immediate and theatrical. "What are you talking about? Honestly, what kind of question is that?" She stepped back, caught off guard.

"Did you like kissing me?" I pressed, refusing to let the moment slip away.

Renee fidgeted, her cheeks faintly flushed. "Of course not—it was a necessary measure. Remember, I'm a lesbian," she said, using her familiar defense.

"That's… not true," I replied, keeping my tone gentle but persistent. "I know you liked it. Why not be honest?"

"I'm not going to admit anything," she insisted, shaking her head. "And how can you possibly know if I'm lying or not?"

"That's my peculiar gift," I confessed. "And now, you're not telling the truth. You're afraid to admit that your worldview has been shaken tonight."

Renee hesitated, uncertainty flickering in her eyes. "Alex, please, that's enough. Thank you again for everything. Good night." With that, she turned on her heel and hurried inside, clearly flustered by the exchange.

I watched her silhouette vanish into the building, the sound of her closing door echoing in the silence left behind. The evening hadn't ended quite as ideally as I had hoped, yet something fundamental in our relationship had shifted—progress, at last, after months of stalemate. For that, I was grateful.

Making my way back to my car, I sensed the persistent gaze that had followed us all evening. This time, however, I knew exactly who it was—not Natasha Romanoff, nor any ordinary observer, but a shadow moving among the trees with well-honed discretion. Had it not been for my intuition, I might never have noticed him at all.

Alone again on the park's winding paths, I felt his presence sharpen as he abandoned all pretense of secrecy. The past few hours, spent in the comforting company of friends, had lulled me into relaxation. Now, as midnight settled over Gotham, the city reclaimed its usual cloak of intrigue.

Raising my eyes to the deep, velvet sky overhead, I sighed. "It all started so well," I murmured, watching the stars shimmer with distant coldness. "A night with Renee, an encounter with Natasha in that striking suit, a new concept for my next invention—the perfect evening. Why does it have to end so poorly?"

I waited a moment, sensing that I was no longer alone. "No need to hide," I called out. "You're making me nervous. Show yourself."

A young woman dropped lightly from a thick pine bough above, landing with effortless grace in front of me. Smoothing her razor-sharp black bob, she straightened to her full height, her gaze piercing and proud. Severity was etched in every line of her carefully composed features.

"Well, what an honor," I said quietly. "I didn't expect the League of Shadows would send their best assassin after me. Lady Shiva, if I'm not mistaken."

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Thank you all for reading.

Now I plead you with "puppy eyes" 🥺 please go and read the other book and if possible tell me your thoughts.

Spider-man: an Idiot's dream.