After far too much deliberation and a long, quiet minute of staring at my own reflection, I found myself studying the bathroom of the absurdly posh mansion Riddler had hijacked.

  Which we had then hijacked from him.

  This was my new reality.

  I was now the gang boss of… something.

  Three golden tickets hovered in my mind, irrefutable proof that my life had officially jumped the rails. A part of me was still suspicious of this weird "power," waiting for the other shoe to drop. But… the first pull had worked out, and these damn things had already gotten me this far.

  I ripped the first.

  [Crazy Lure]

  |Rare Trait|

  Crazy, Mentally Unstable, or otherwise insane people find themselves more attracted to you, and it is easier to gain their affection and favour. It is also easier for you to reason with them.

  That's… not great.

  There can't be that many crazy women in Gotham.

  My luck will fix it. Definitely.

  I very deliberately ignored the memory of Fortune Lover explicitly warning that not all luck was good luck.

  It couldn't be that bad. Gotham women couldn't all be completely unhinged…

  Right?

  I shook my head and pushed on, ripping the second ticket.

  [Call Thunder]

  |Rare Ability|

  Allows you to call down powerful thunder that strikes from the sky to strike any location in your sensory range, not very effective indoors.

  Now that was more like it!

  I immediately wanted to test it. What kid hadn't dreamed of calling down lightning? Sure, there had been a faint hope for ser vision or the full Superman package, but I'd happily settle for Zeus-lite.

  If I got strong enough, wouldn't it be one hell of a thing to flip Gotham's crime scene on its head?

  Third time's the charm.

  I ripped it.

  [Volition]

  |Elite Ability|

  You are at your maximum. While volition is active, you are immune to status effects like fear, panic, sadness, despair, and more. You are also incredibly motivated and determined.

  Oh hell yes.

  Almost instinctively, I knew how to activate it. I slid it into pce and gasped as something clicked.

  The anxiety, the panic, the constant low-grade dread that came from living in Gotham, all of it ebbed away. It even wiped out the hangover.

  It felt… absolutely fucking incredible.

  With my head finally clear, my situation really came into focus. I had punched back at this city and cwed my way into a position I had never even imagined.

  I made the Riddler a disco ball for god's sake. I'm fricking awesome.

  The man in the mirror was no longer the schmuck who barely scraped by. Fortune was literally in my favor.

  So why stop here?

  Gotham was a festering cesspit that had been chewing up people like me for ages. The costumed lunatics were just the cherry on top of a rotten sundae. The Bat did his best, sure, but nothing ever really changed.

  Well, screw that!

  My feet carried me out of the bathroom. I grabbed a bathrobe on the way and shrugged it on like a king throwing on his mantle.

  "Jean," Rodney greeted as I stepped into the corridor. He was decked out in rings and a sharp suit coat thrown over a pin white beater, a cosmetic nightmare for all to see. Yet his face was grinning to the brim.

  "Hell of a night, right?" I draped an arm around his shoulder.

  The big man ughed. "That it was. We're gonna have more of those?"

  "Damn right we are. Gather everyone in the main hall. I've got words for our motley crew."

  "Gotcha, boss." Rodney hurried off ahead of me.

  As I walked, I considered what I should say. It felt strange thinking without the usual background hum of doubt dragging every idea down. Thoughts that would normally choke to death in anxiety simply… didn't. My thoughts seemed so clear. I knew exactly what needed to be said.

  When I reached the main hall, they were all there. Shoddily dressed gangsters, leftover Riddler costume groupies still clinging to green question marks, and robed followers who looked at me with fervor. They milled around in loose clusters until, like a tide turning, every head shifted toward me.

  The murmurs and whispers of the crowd faded into silence.

  "LADIES AND GENTLEMEN. YOU KNOW WHY YOU'RE HERE."

  Faces hardened as shoulders squared across the hall.

  "GOTHAM HAS SCREWED US OVER TIME AND TIME AGAIN."

  Agreement rippled visibly through the crowd.

  "The crazies and the assholes think they can stomp on us. Will we let them?"

  "NO!""NO!""NO!"

  "For too long, they thought they ruled these streets. They crushed us with their petty madness. No more!" I raised both arms. "It's time we fight back. We will not grovel to these freaks any longer. Look at what we can achieve!"

  I grabbed a random beer bottle off the floor and lobbed it without thinking.

  It smashed straight into Riddler's unconscious face.

  The crowd erupted.

  Okay, now that was lucky.

  I couldn't help but ugh.

  The lights went out.

  Cackling echoed through the hall as doors burst inward. Masked figures stormed in, heavy tanks strapped to their backs, hoses already raised.

  And then I saw him.

  That stitched burp mask. The face of Gotham's nightmares, second only to the Joker when it came to rge-scale chaos. The freak of fear himself.

  "Oh, Eddie," Scarecrow crooned, staring up at the suspended Riddler while holding a canister in one hand and a pitchfork in the other. "I can't believe you're this pathetic."

  A ripple of panic moved through my crew. Hands slowly reached for weapons while others froze at the sight of one of Gotham's most hated lunatics. If this went badly, it would be a sughter. A dozen tanks meant a dozen streams of fear gas, and bullets wouldn't stop them before they sprayed the room.

  Normally, I should have been afraid. Everyone in Gotham knew what Scarecrow's toxin could do. The stories of endless nightmares suffered by the unlucky bastards who got dosed were practically urban legends, whispered warnings that made every Gothamite own a gas mask.

  I'd be lying if I said getting hit by Scarecrow wasn't high on my list of worst fears.

  But right now…

  I was simply pissed.

  "Who the hell do you think you are!?"

  A brief silence followed. Even through the burp mask, I could sense his irritation—and maybe a flicker of surprise at my audacity. My feet began moving before I consciously decided to walk. The only thing driving me forward was a steady, boiling anger. Another costumed lunatic was trying to stomp everything we had just built into the dirt.

  Scarecrow unched into something theatrical about fear, trespassers, and inevitable nightmares. I tuned out most of it as I continued striding toward him. All of this suffering for some sick kick of his.

  People like us had been trampled again and again.

  Not today.

  My crew parted for me as I walked, their eyes locked on my back. I headed straight toward his goons, hoses raised and ready to spray, but I didn't slow down.

  His men pulled their triggers.

  Click. Click. Click.

  The mechanical sound of failure echoed through the hall. A dozen canisters misfired miraculously all at once.

  "Sooooo scary," I scoffed.

  Behind me, the crowd stirred as what should have been a suicidal move flipped on its head.

  "Idiots," Scarecrow snapped. "I'll do it myself."

  He hurled a canister at me. Orange gas exploded outward, filling the air in front of me before swallowing me whole.

  My stride never faltered.

  I even made a show of taking a deep breath as I stepped through the thick haze. I heard the crew gasp behind me.

  The best part was the look on his face, sck-jawed even beneath the mask.

  "How? Even the Bat was affected!"

  "Do you want to know?"

  "Yes! My formu is perfect. How did a brat—"

  I kicked him in the balls.

  The air left him in a broken wheeze as he crumpled. It wasn't enough. Not for the years he'd spent terrorizing this city for his sick obsession.

  I grabbed his mask and tore it off. There was no monster underneath, just a thin, sickly man blinking up at me in shock.

  "I'll make you suffer a thousand times—"

  I spped him across the face.

  "This—"

  I spped him again.

  "STOP—"

  The third backhand sent a tooth skittering across the floor. He colpsed and didn't get back up. The psycho reduced to groaning pathetically like a bitch.

  Silence filled the hall. His cronies edged backward. My people stared at me as if I'd just performed a miracle.

  "SEE THIS?!" I shouted, raising the burp mask high for everyone to see. "THIS IS WHAT HAPPENS TO ANYONE WHO TRIES TO STOP US!"

  I ripped the mask clean in half and tossed it onto the floor.

  "ANYBODY ELSE?!" My head snapped from one henchman to the next as I gred them down.

  The remaining cronies bolted for the exits.

  [Feat Achieved! Scarecrow, more like Dead Crow!]

  [+1 Gold Gacha Ticket]

  "WE take back our city!" I roared, fist raised as the hall exploded in cheers behind me.

  ***Comments and Thoughts would be greatly appreciated. Likes are like a drug to me and boost my creative juices.

  I have advanced chapters on my if you wanna read ahead.