Cloud walked down Gotham's slick, mirror-like streets, carrying a black umbrella he'd "acquired" from somewhere.
He hadn't gone to Stark Tower—or rather, Wayne Manor.
Instead, like a true artist, he was searching for creative inspiration.
He could hear this city's unique heartbeat.
It wasn't Metropolis's vitality and brightness. Nor New York's bustle and energy.
It was a repressed, twisted, pathological pulse that beat frantically on the edge of madness and despair.
"Interesting..." The corner of Cloud's mouth curled into an amused smile. "A living city that's already terminally ill."
He could sense that the rules here were ten thousand times more chaotic than Hell's Kitchen!
Countless energies saturated with negative emotions swirled and drifted above this city like ghosts.
And these were exactly the "probes" he needed!
He closed his umbrella, letting the cold rain soak his hair and clothes.
He closed his eyes and merged his spiritual sense into this sea of chaotic energy, beginning to carefully filter and search.
That was when he detected one particularly lively, cheerful, and neurotic chaotic energy.
That energy was like a circus clown who'd drunk bad liquor, walking on stilts while juggling—full of unpredictable, erratic thoughts.
Its target seemed to be the city's central power station?
"Oh? A show about to start?"
Cloud opened his eyes and smiled.
He decided to "appreciate" this "artist's" performance up close.
...
Gotham City, Central Power Station.
Massive turbine generators roared deafeningly.
But in the station's core control room, all the guards had been knocked flat, foaming at the mouth.
A petite yet fiery figure in high heels was dancing through the room like a cheerful waltz, weaving between the precise control panels.
She had long golden hair tied into two playful pigtails, the ends dyed pink and blue.
She wore a ragged white T-shirt emblazoned with "Daddy's Lil Monster" and shorts that couldn't possibly get any shorter.
Fishnet stockings wrapped her long, youthfully energetic legs. On her feet were sky-high heels that looked impossible to walk in.
Her face was painted with exaggerated clown-like makeup. Her eyeshadow was seductive pink and blue, her lips coated in the brightest red lipstick.
This was Harley Quinn, formerly Dr. Harleen Quinzel, now Gotham's "Crime Princess."
She was chewing bubblegum, and in her hands was a giant baseball bat completely incongruous with her petite frame.
The bat had "Good Night" scrawled on it in crooked letters.
"Twinkle, twinkle, little star, how I wonder what you are..."
She hummed an off-key nursery rhyme while using her "Good Night" bat to smash the control panel's buttons and switches like playing whack-a-mole, sending sparks flying everywhere!
"Let this boring, pitch-black city become one big carnival playground! Puddin's gonna love this surprise!"
Her face wore a smile that was both innocent and maniacally neurotic. Those sky-blue eyes now sparkled with a pathological obsession with chaos and destruction.
Just as she was about to smash the main breaker—
A lazy, teasing voice spoke up behind her.
"Excuse me, miss."
"Have you considered that if the whole city loses power, all those kids watching midnight cartoons are going to be really sad?"
Harley Quinn's movements froze!
Those blue eyes instantly flashed with beast-like wariness!
She whipped around! Her baseball bat, whistling through the air, swung unhesitatingly toward the voice!
However...
That bat—capable of flattening a grown man's skull—was effortlessly caught by one hand.
The hand belonged to Cloud.
He had appeared behind her at some point, his face still wearing that "I've been watching your show for a while now" smile.
"Nice power." Cloud felt the force transmitted through the bat and nodded. "Just need to work on your aim."
Harley stared at her sure-hit attack being so easily neutralized, momentarily stunned.
Then her face, painted with exaggerated makeup, broke into an even more manic, excited grin!
"Ooh! A newbie!"
"A hot guy brave enough to crash Harley Quinn's party!"
She released the bat and, rather than retreating, circled around Cloud like a curious cat.
She poked his chest with her finger.
"Hmm... pretty solid."
She leaned in and sniffed him like a puppy.
"Smells nice too. Not like the sewer stink on the Bat-Brat."
Finally, she tilted her head up, those blue eyes that seemed to see through to one's soul staring directly into Cloud's.
"Tell me, handsome, who are you?"
"Why are you interrupting my game?"
Her voice shifted—now innocent, now seductive, now dangerously neurotic—leaping unpredictably.
Like a madwoman who could never be anticipated.
"Me?" Cloud smiled. He found this crazy girl even more interesting than he'd expected.
"I'm Cloud. A passing chaos enthusiast."
"Chaos enthusiast?" Harley's eyes lit up instantly!
She felt like she'd found a kindred spirit!
"Oh! So how'd you like my performance just now? Chaotic enough? Crazy enough?" She was like a grade-schooler eager to show off her work to the teacher.
"Hmm... decent." Cloud rubbed his chin and gave a fair assessment.
"Creative, yes. But the scale is too small."
"Too small?" Harley's brow furrowed.
"Right." Cloud nodded, then spoke in a mentor's tone. "Look, you just want to black out the city. What's interesting about that? At most you'll get some screaming and panic in the darkness. Too basic. Too artless."
He snapped his fingers.
The next second, the control panels Harley had smashed into a shower of sparks... repaired themselves?
Not only that, but the entire station's turbine generators began running at maximum overdrive, operating in hyperdrive!
...
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