Chapter 4: The Demon of Brooklyn

Read ahead on my P@treon...

p@treon.com/MayaMatengele01

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"Is Steve asleep?"

Bruce sat at the iron table, meticulously polishing a batarang under the bright light, speaking without turning his head to the man who had just entered.

This was a basement, but unlike ordinary basements, it was surprisingly spacious, covering over 100 square meters.

Wooden crates of various sizes were stacked along the walls, while the iron table in front of Bruce was covered with neatly arranged batarangs and an assortment of unidentifiable instruments.

"He was exhausted and has been sound asleep for some time now, Master Bruce." The newcomer was none other than 'Alfred'.

Wearing frameless glasses and dressed in work attire, he approached the table naturally and began adjusting the instruments, "Are you certain you want to carry out this mission tonight? I suggest waiting a few more days, Master Bruce."

"No, Alfred. It's been six months. I started as a damned murderer, tracking down scum one after another. You know this... whether it's a task left for me by the Dream Engine or not doesn't matter anymore. For the sake of those who have been victimized, or are still suffering, I have to drag that bastard out!"

"I understand. But Master, Scott is the most powerful drug lord in Brooklyn. The number and brutality of his men far exceed anyone you've dealt with before."

Bruce gazed at the batarang, its cold glint reflecting the light, then suddenly chuckled softly.

He tilted his head and asked Alfred, "Then tell me Alfred, who do you think is the most 'ferocious demon' in all of Brooklyn right now?"

As he spoke, Bruce summoned a nearly transparent floating panel in his mind with a thought. Then, he tapped a familiar black bat-shaped button on the screen.

In an instant, an almost imperceptible black light flickered over his body and in the next moment, he was clad in a full-body black suit.

A pitch-black cape, a skintight combat suit perfectly accentuating his muscular frame, a helmet with sharp bat-like ears, and that iconic utility belt.

"Sometimes I complain about that damn Dream Engine. After dumping me in this world, all it left me was this suit, a visible and an invisible growth template, and a freak that 'tortures' me in my head every night. Oh, and you, Alfred. You're the best 'gift' I've received."

Carefully sharpening a batarang under a machine, Alfred didn't look up as he replied, "Thank you for the compliment, Master Bruce."

Bruce, seemingly accustomed to Alfred's unflappable demeanor, shrugged and walked over to a large object in the corner covered with heavy canvas.

"But this 'instant outfit change' feature? I've always loved it. This motorcycle as well! Though, I wonder when I'll get my 'Batmobile', Alfred?" He pulled off the canvas, revealing his beloved motorcycle.

"Tonight is a stealth mission, old friend. Sorry, I can't take you out." Running his hand along its sleek, jet-black frame as if caressing a lover, he hesitated for a long moment before sighing and covering it again.

Alfred finished sharpening the batarang, set it down, and picked up a large bag from the table. He walked over to Bruce, "Thirty batarangs, a bat grapnel gun, tracking devices, and a Suomi submachine gun with two drum magazines. The suppressor is already attached to the barrel."

Bruce took the bag, methodically equipping each item onto his suit. When he finally pulled out the vintage-style Suomi, he couldn't help but mutter, "I'd much rather have an electromagnetic gun than this."

Alfred shook his head noncommittally, smiling, "Perhaps once the Dream Engine 'awakens', you can obtain everything you desire by completing its tasks, Master."

Bruce holstered the submachine gun at his waist, pressed a button near the ear of his helmet, and strode toward another large door at the opposite end of the basement.

"I hope so, Alfred. And I hope you won't assign me anything too difficult when the time comes." His voice had already changed; deeper, rougher, almost synthetic.

Pushing open the door, Bruce stepped into a steel passageway connected to it. Moments later, he emerged from a secluded corner of a small grove not far from home.

By late September and early October, New York's nights were no longer mild. The cool night breeze brushed against Bruce's face, and his cape fluttered slightly, as if invigorated.

"Alfred, can you hear me? Status update."

Stepping out of the grove, Bruce stood by the lakeside, gazing at the sprawling city in the distance.

Even at midnight, scattered lights still flickered, but darkness had claimed most of the metropolis... meaning its ugliest side was either about to be exposed or already had been.

<...Loud and clear, Master. Surveillance and tracking functions are active. I've confined the range to the adjacent districts you listed in your notes, 'the areas Scott frequents most'. I hope everything goes smoothly tonight, Master...>

Beneath the bat helmet, Bruce's eyes turned icy once more, "Do your best to locate and lock onto Scott, Alfred..."

He set off at a brisk pace along the lakeside toward the city, blending into the darkness.

His parting words lingered in the air before dissolving into the all-consuming night, "I'll take care of him... in the dark..."

Alfred sat quietly in the basement, no communication device in sight, still meticulously sharpening batarang after batarang.

<...As you wish, Master Bruce...>

Strange strings of code flashed across Alfred's eyes.

Apart from the hum of machinery, the basement was eerily silent...