"Huh? How come?"
The girl in the black dress looked genuinely bewildered, as if she couldn't understand how the human in the bat costume had managed to break free from her illusion. Her expression was one of pure disbelief, the kind that someone might wear when a supposedly impossible event unfolds before their eyes.
This surprise momentarily paralyzed her, causing her to freeze mid-motion. Her doll-like features—porcelain skin, dark eyes peering through strands of black hair—were almost childlike in their confusion. But this stillness lasted only a heartbeat, just long enough for Batman to shift his stance and close the distance. His booted feet moved with a fluid precision, a predatory rhythm, and his second punch flowed from his core like a whip cracking through the air.
Yet the expected outcome—her crumpling under the force of his blow—didn't occur. Mid-swing, just as Batman's armored fist was about to strike her, something black and slick oozed from her alabaster skin. It poured out like a thick tar, then solidified almost instantaneously, forming a barrier between them. The substance gleamed in the low light, its surface undulating like liquid glass, but it was as hard as tempered steel. Batman's fist struck the barrier, and a resonant thud echoed through the ruined hallway.
The force of the impact vibrated through Batman's gauntlet, but the barrier didn't give. Instead, it absorbed the energy effortlessly, leaving the girl unharmed behind her dark shield.
Charlie, sitting behind the screen, tightened his grip on the controls. He immediately recognized the material—it was the Tis shield, the same mysterious substance that Commander Ross had wielded in their past encounters. Rumor had it that the Tis shield's origin lay in the ancient beings, the Old Ones, who had left traces of their power in their wake. Its defensive capabilities were nearly unmatched, a material that could withstand devastating blows.
"The Tis shield…" Charlie muttered, his eyes narrowing. The presence of this shield changed everything, raising the stakes of the situation from a simple infection outbreak to a potential encounter with beings connected to the ancient ones.
What kind of connection could this mysterious girl have with such powers?
Before Batman could strike again, the girl seemed to snap back to her senses. Her gaze fixed on Batman, her expression tinged with curiosity, as if she were studying him like a puzzle. More of the inky black substance seeped from her skin, enveloping her body like a living cocoon. It spread over her limbs and torso, encasing her entirely in a dark, liquid sheen until she seemed to dissolve into the substance itself. Her form lost its shape, melting into a pool of shadow that spread across the cracked tiles of the floor.
In an instant, she was gone. The shadows slid down the floor, merging with the darkness beneath, leaving no trace of her presence. It was as though she had become one with the shadows, vanishing without a whisper.
Charlie triggered detective mode, watching as Batman's visor scanned the area with pulsing waves of infrared and ultraviolet light. But even with the enhanced sensors and augmented reality displays, no trace of the girl could be found. Her heat signature was absent, her presence completely erased as if she had evaporated into the air.
This technique was like nothing they'd encountered before.
Commander Ross had once used the Tis shield to enhance his speed, enveloping himself in its protective shell to blitz through enemies. But Ross's method had been more like riding inside a vehicle, using the shield as armor to amplify his movements. This girl, however, had become one with the substance itself, melding with it so seamlessly that her very form seemed to transform into a liquid state.
She had integrated with the Tis shield in a way that blurred the line between human and something else entirely. It left an unsettling impression—one that suggested a deeper, more mysterious origin for this girl.
Meanwhile, outside, the asylum had descended into an eerie calm. The dark hallways that had been filled with the howls of infected creatures and strange whispers now stood silent, as if the building itself held its breath. The infected lay subdued, their bodies restrained with specialized cuffs and bindings, while a team of agents moved methodically through the hallways, securing each room.
With the threat seemingly contained, the eerie, otherworldly filter that had shrouded the building began to lift. The shadows that had clung unnaturally to every corner faded, and the chill that had permeated the air dissipated, leaving behind a scene that felt almost mundane by comparison.
For the agents, it was time to clean up—a task they had become accustomed to. They moved through the ruined halls, sweeping up the debris and marking the restrained infected for further study. It was a familiar routine, one they performed with a grim efficiency born of practice.
Ivan Petrov, one of the senior agents, lit a cigarette as he surveyed the scene. He walked with a practiced nonchalance, taking long drags as he observed the cleanup effort. His sharp eyes scanned the hallways, though his thoughts were clearly elsewhere. As he smoked, Agent Fran, the field leader, approached him, offering a quick handshake.
"Thanks for your assistance, Petrov. The situation's under control now," Fran said, though his tone carried a hint of relief. After all, the responsibility for the incident had fallen squarely on his shoulders, and if it had gone wrong, it would have been his head on the line.
With the danger passed, Fran moved off to oversee the remaining operations, directing the agents as they worked. Petrov took another drag from his cigarette, exhaling a plume of smoke as he watched Fran bustle away. The sight made him smirk slightly. He knew all too well that Fran's relief wasn't just about the danger being over—it was about the praise he'd receive for handling it, even if he hadn't truly understood what had happened.
Petrov slipped away from the main group, walking toward the shadows that lingered in a side alley. He pretended to look for a quiet place to finish his cigarette, but his true intentions were more covert. He muttered softly, as if speaking to the air, "So, problem solved?"
From the darkness, a familiar, gravelly voice replied, "Not yet."
Charlie, controlling Batman from behind the screen, was surprised. He hadn't expected Petrov to approach so directly. He had seen the agent arrive earlier, and was planning to speak with him about the situation, but Petrov had beaten him to the punch.
It was an unusual display of intuition, one that impressed Charlie. It reminded him of the rapport Batman shared with Gotham's Commissioner Gordon—an unspoken understanding that transcended words.
Staying in character, Batman replied, "There was a girl in that building. She seems to be the key. She could be the source of the infection."
"A girl in a black dress, short, looks like a doll?" Petrov asked, narrowing his eyes.
"You've seen her too?" Batman said.
"Yes, the survivors described the same girl," Petrov replied, taking another drag from his cigarette. "More than one person saw her, including our N9 agent who just got out of there."
"Any casualties?"
"Just a few among the human traffickers we found. That's the strange part—none of the infected had levels above 40%, far below the danger line. They're all stable, should make a full recovery after a few days in quarantine…"
Petrov paused, as if a thought had suddenly occurred to him, and he frowned.
"Well, not entirely unscathed," he continued. "Those we rescued are experiencing withdrawal-like symptoms."
"Withdrawal?" Batman echoed, his voice as stoic as ever.
"Yeah. They say they lost themselves completely while under the infection. They couldn't sense reality, couldn't control their bodies… but they were happy. Happier than they've ever been. They all say they experienced what they wanted most, even desires they weren't aware of."
Petrov took a long drag, his expression darkening as he released a thin stream of smoke. "It's as if the infection gave them everything they ever dreamed of. Physically, they're recovering, but mentally? They might be lost forever in that illusion."
Batman didn't respond immediately. The implications of this infection were clear. It made them live a life they could never have in reality, and once they tasted it, coming back to the real world was like waking from a beautiful dream into a nightmare.
Charlie shivered at the thought. If he had been the one facing that hallucination directly, would he have had the willpower to resist? He doubted it. He could see the allure, even through the screen, and he knew that if the vision had been tailored to his own desires, he might not have been able to pull away.
"By the way, you were in there too. Theoretically, you must have seen that vision…"
Petrov glanced sideways, curious.
"So, what did you see, Bat? What's your deepest desire? How did you resist that temptation?"
But he received no answer.
Petrov smirked knowingly without turning around. He understood that Batman was already gone, slipped away into the shadows as silently as he had come.
"Ha, look what I'm asking," he muttered to himself, stubbing out his cigarette and shaking his head with a rueful smile.
---
Elsewhere, the dark Tis shield emerged from the ground, twisting and reforming until it reshaped into a human form.
Leila stood on a dimly lit, deserted street, her mind still occupied with thoughts of the strange human she had encountered.
She knew well the power of the illusions she could create, how they reached deep into a person's heart and brought forth their most desperate desires. No human had ever resisted that pull—until now.
And yet, this man in the bat costume, whose yearning for the vision she offered should have made him more vulnerable than most, had faced his greatest dream and said, "I refuse."
It was beyond her understanding.
In all her endless years, wandering through human dreams and desires, she had never seen anyone like him. He had looked at the perfect world she had shaped, a life filled with love and comfort, and chosen to reject it.
She couldn't comprehend it.
As she pondered, a distant sound reached her, pulling her from her thoughts.
"Come on, just for a moment, let Daddy hold you, okay?"
"No-no! Daddy's beard is scratchy!"
She turned her head slightly, observing a father and his daughter playing together. The little girl darted ahead, giggling, while her father pretended to chase her, his arms outstretched. Their mother followed close behind, smiling as she reminded them to be careful and watch the road.
The scene was warm, filled with laughter and the unspoken bond of family.
"Family…" Leila murmured, tilting her head as she watched them disappear into the distance, her thoughts drifting back to the strange man in the bat costume.
"Leila."
A voice called her name, bringing her back to reality. She turned, watching as a dark Tis shield reshaped itself behind her, solidifying into the imposing figure of a strong man.
"We need to talk," he said, his tone serious, his eyes reflecting the shadows of the street.