The city woke up to a seismic shift. The front page of the Gotham Gazette was dominated by headlines ranging from hysteria to cautious awe: "MOB CRIPPLED: Gordon Finds 'Bat-Signal' on GCPD Roof," and "BAT-DEMON: The End of Organized Crime?"
Commissioner James Gordon was the epicenter of the chaos. He held the Ledger—a meticulous, undeniable record of Cobblepot's crimes. It provided enough evidence to dismantle the Penguin's operation and indict half a dozen corrupt city officials.
In his private office, Gordon stared at the stylized Batarang and the note left by the vigilante. "Consequence," he muttered, running a tired hand over his mustache. "He said, 'A systemic cure is required.' He's not after street thugs; he's after the very system."
He ordered an immediate, covert investigation into the Bat. The vigilante was dangerous, efficient, and, most disturbingly, seemed to possess knowledge that bypassed all existing security.
The Playboy's New Toys
Bruce Wayne was back in the headlines too, though for entirely different reasons. He hosted a charity gala at Wayne Manor that night, ostensibly to raise funds for "Rare Cat Species Research," a cover that amused the System.
He was in full Playboy mode—charming, slightly inebriated, and surrounded by dazzling guests. His Master of Disguise and Identity Protection traits ensured his act was utterly convincing.
He cornered Lucius Fox by the caviar table.
"Lucius," Bruce drawled, swirling his champagne. "The 'Urban Climate Control Unit' performed excellently. I need immediate R&D into micro-adhesive polymers and variable frequency EMP devices. Log it under 'Advanced Scientific Toy Line' for the upcoming holiday season."
Lucius, who knew exactly what the "Urban Climate Control Unit" was, simply smiled. "You ask for things that don't exist, Master Bruce. But I'll have prototypes ready. We'll start logging the EMP as 'Advanced Magnetic Toys'—safe for children, naturally."
Bruce received another, far less savory report via an encrypted watch interface: Pamela Isley's latest consultant note.
> [TOXICOLOGY REPORT: P. ISLEY]: The samples you sent (re: Scarecrow Toxin) are brilliant in their cruelty. I've sent you the neutralized formula (X-7), per our agreement. I've also perfected a compound that accelerates plant growth and defense mechanisms using a fungal carrier. It's potent. You'll thank me later.
Bruce smiled faintly. Pamela's fanaticism was a wild card, but her genius was unparalleled. He was now armed with the antidote, the interrogation weapon, and a hyper-growth formula—all before the Level 8 benchmark.
An Intruder and a Meeting
As the gala reached its peak—a loud, distracting symphony of wealth—the System flashed a sudden, high-priority alert directly onto Bruce's retina.
> [ANOMALY DETECTED: Master Thief/Acrobat.]
> Current Status: Infiltrating Master Bedroom vault. Highly skilled.
> Threat Level: Moderate (Non-Lethal).
> Relationship Potential: Critical (Romantic/Adversarial).
Selina Kyle. The Cat, Bruce realized instantly, his pulse quickening. She was too smart, too graceful, and had too much class to steal from a simple penthouse; she only targeted the grandest prizes—like the supposedly safe, antiquated vault in Wayne Manor.
Bruce excused himself from his current conversation with a lazy wave, slipping away toward the back corridors. He moved from the lazy Playby to the coiled Apex Predator in seconds.
He found the intruder in his massive, opulent master bedroom. She was kneeling by the large, hidden floor safe, her dark hair pulled back, wearing a sleek, black catsuit. She was younger than he expected—likely in her early twenties, but possessed the focused elegance of a professional.
He didn't make a sound. She was concentrating on the fine mechanics of the tumbler lock, her ear pressed close to the cold steel.
"You're good," Bruce said, his voice calm, betraying nothing of the warrior beneath his silk suit.
Selina Kyle jumped instantly, spinning around with the fluid speed of a gymnast. She didn't scream or panic; she simply pulled a small, wicked-looking retractable claw from her glove. Her eyes, magnified by her mask and goggles, narrowed.
"The party's getting crowded, Bruce," she purred, her voice a low, melodic contrast to the chaos downstairs. "Thought I'd find something interesting away from the plebeians."
She recognized the Playboy mask instantly. It made her bold.
"That's my vault, Selina," Bruce said, using her name deliberately. "And you won't find anything interesting in it. Just old tax documents."
"Oh, I know exactly what I'm looking for," Selina replied, a sly grin playing on her lips. "A diamond necklace with a complicated history—the kind of piece the Wayne family forgets they own. A simple score for a simple cat."
She took a challenging step toward him. "You won't call security. It would ruin your public image to admit you can't protect your own things."
"True," Bruce conceded, his eyes tracking her every micromovement. "But I won't let you leave with it either."
Selina lunged, not to fight, but to distract. She aimed a quick, non-lethal kick to his midsection, designed to create a gap for escape.
Bruce's reflexes, honed by years under Ted Grant and processed by the Apex Predator trait, were too fast. He didn't block; he caught her foot, not violently, but precisely.
"Nice move," Bruce said, his grip firm. "But sloppy form. You telegraph your hips."
Selina's eyes widened in genuine shock. This wasn't the drunken playboy. This was a man with dangerous control. She instantly leveraged her body weight, twisting out of his grasp with an acrobatic finesse that surprised him.
She landed lightly on the massive dresser, her chest heaving slightly. "You're full of surprises, Bruce. Who taught you that?"
"A friend," Bruce lied, maintaining the soft voice. He didn't want the Cat to link the Playboy to the Bat yet.
Selina looked from the perfectly secure vault to the intense, sober focus in Bruce's eyes. She made a decision. She blew him a mocking kiss.
"Looks like I'm not ready for this particular diamond," she said. "But don't worry, kitty always comes back for the best toys."
She used a small, silent tool to shatter the massive bedroom window, transforming the glass into non-lethal pellets, and dove out onto the narrow ledge outside.
Bruce ran to the window. Selina was already descending the Manor wall with impossible grace, melting into the shadows of the estate grounds.
> [EVENT LOGGED: Selina Kyle Encounter - First Contact]
> XP Gained: Threat Management/Acrobatic Defense \rightarrow +30 XP.
> Level Progress: 140/350 XP (Level 7 \rightarrow Level 8).
> Relationship Potential: Selina Kyle (Future Catwoman) - High/Adversarial.
Bruce watched her disappear. He hadn't stopped her, but he'd measured her. He knew her style. He had his first truly dangerous romantic entanglement.
He quickly picked up a single, long black hair that had caught on his silk sleeve—a souvenir.
"Alfred," Bruce spoke into his comms, his playboy mask completely gone. "I need an update on all micro-adhesive polymers from Lucius Fox. I'm going to need a much better way to stick to walls."