Starting With Batman

Last of the 20 chaps

To be honest, Charlie was a little taken aback by the turn of events. He had assumed his mission was just about uncovering a loose end at the asylum, but now it seemed like he had uncovered something far more dangerous—a potential stronghold of the Dead, or worse, their central lair.

Or, even if it wasn't their main base of operations, it was certainly an important hub for their activities.

"Sir, I strongly advise against a direct assault," Friday's calm, analytical voice interrupted his thoughts. "We still know very little about this organization, and from what we've encountered so far, there's a high likelihood that there are individuals with dangerous, possibly unknown abilities among their ranks. Charging in without proper intel would be highly risky."

Friday's assessment was, of course, logical. If Batman were real, he would definitely agree with her. Batman always took a calculated approach, gathering intelligence, studying his enemies, and meticulously planning his moves. Charging into the unknown was reckless and dangerous—something more suited to impulsive heroes like Green Lantern, whose famous strategy was often to bulldoze through the problem head-on. It didn't always end well for them.

"But this is a game," Charlie reminded himself, his voice steadying as he sat back in his chair. "What we're controlling are virtual characters. One of the biggest advantages of virtual characters is that they're not afraid of death."

Even if Batman died, it would just mean waiting out a cooldown period and respawning. There was no real risk to his game character. Even if he were captured or defeated, logging off was a failsafe. A reckless approach wasn't just feasible—it could be a viable strategy to test the waters and probe the enemy's strength.

"That is true, sir," Friday responded thoughtfully, her voice as calm as ever. "However, there is a more strategic option that could serve you better. You might consider enlisting the help of your allies."

"Allies?" Charlie blinked, somewhat confused. "What allies?"

It didn't take long for Charlie to realize what Friday meant: The Service Division.

He had become so accustomed to operating solo, tackling missions by himself, that the thought of relying on a team had slipped his mind. Over time, Charlie had fallen into the rhythm of a lone wolf—investigating, taking out enemies, and handling things by himself. Sure, he had crossed paths with various factions and individuals, but he rarely considered anyone as actual teammates.

Friday, however, was approaching the situation more tactically. In a well-coordinated mission, it wasn't just about having powerful heroes. You needed distractions, diversions, and backup. Even a skilled player couldn't take down an entire enemy force without help. Having the Service Division draw attention, handle the smaller threats, and provide support could create the opening he needed to strike where it mattered.

"You don't have to do this alone, sir," Friday continued, her voice softer now, almost gentle. "You've brought hope to people. You've made the streets safer. You've created a symbol that people can rally behind. That's what heroes do."

Her words caught Charlie off guard. He turned to glance at her—Friday's synthetic yet human-like face seemed to radiate warmth and sincerity. For a moment, her artificial eyes shone with something almost resembling admiration. It was enough to make Charlie pause, wondering if Stark had designed Friday's AI to be this realistic, this human.

"You're a hero to me, sir," she added with a small, genuine smile.

For a moment, Charlie wasn't sure what to say. It was strange, hearing those words come from a virtual assistant, and yet… something about it felt real. He felt a flicker of pride, something he hadn't felt in a long time.

"Alright," Charlie finally said, taking a deep breath. "Let's see if Agent Petrov is awake."

---

Agent Ivan Petrov was sprawled lazily in his apartment, a cigarette dangling from his lips as he lounged in a comfortable chair. A sleek VR headset covered his eyes, making him look like he was deeply immersed in a virtual world—probably some kind of tactical shooter, judging by the subtle movements of his hands and fingers.

Charlie had heard about the agents using VR games as training tools during their downtime. It was rumored that the Operations Department had selected a handful of specific games to help agents sharpen their reflexes and tactical skills. Playing these games was encouraged as part of their training, though there were whispers that the head of Operations was simply a gaming enthusiast using his position to justify his hobby.

"Training with VR at this hour, Agent Petrov?" Batman's deep, gravelly voice echoed through the shadows of the room, his presence almost undetectable.

Without even removing the headset, Ivan Petrov grumbled, "Ah, it's you again. You always show up like you own the place." With a sigh, he took off the headset and tossed it aside. "You've really got a habit of sneaking in, huh?"

Ivan turned in his chair to face the dark corner where Batman stood, the faint outline of the vigilante barely visible.

"You caused quite a commotion at Sloan Technology last night," Ivan muttered, lighting a fresh cigarette. "The investigation team's been in disarray all day. I take it you've found something worth reporting?"

"There's a hidden room beneath Sloan Technology's building," Batman replied, stepping out of the shadows. "Footprint traces led me to a sewer system. I suspect it's a stronghold—possibly a central base for the Dead."

Ivan's eyes widened slightly at the mention of the Dead. Organized infected individuals, working with near-military precision—they were the stuff of nightmares for the Ninth Special Service Division. Finding their hideout, if that's what it was, would be a huge win for the agency.

"You're saying you found their lair?" Ivan leaned forward, intrigued. "And you're asking for backup, I assume?"

"Let's just say you found this out on your own, Agent Petrov," Batman said, his voice low and purposeful. "Make your own decisions from here."

Ivan raised an eyebrow. "Huh. So you're going to leave all the credit to me? What, no thanks or anything?"

There was no response. Ivan turned his head back toward the corner, but Batman was already gone.

"Figures," Ivan muttered under his breath, crushing his cigarette in the ashtray. "I'm getting the hang of this guy's exits."

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