Nygma leaned on a green cane, stepping carefully across slippery rocks coated in slick, greasy moss. Beneath his feet lay the filth and refuse vomited into the sea by Gotham's sewers.
The air was a thick cocktail of briny salt, rotting silt, and the sharp, chemical sting of industrial runoff.
He frowned deeply, holding a notebook, stopping occasionally to jot something down.
"Too filthy…" he muttered, his voice sounding thin against the vastness of the bay. "This isn't normal, Otis. Usually, dump sites are chosen for concealment, like a junkyard. But these places we've visited are specifically chosen for their squalor. It feels… intentional."
Otis Flannegan followed close behind, looking restless.
This place was far from the city's noise, leaving only the rhythmic slap of waves against rock and the whistle of wind through abandoned pipes. A few gulls circled in the distance, their shrill cries adding to the desolation.
"Mr. Nygma," Otis whispered, "this place… it don't feel right. Too quiet. Makes my skin crawl. We should've brought more men."
Nygma looked up from his thoughts, adjusting his glasses. "Psychological discomfort often stems from an evolutionary instinct to be wary of unknown environments. But logically speaking—"
Otis didn't argue… mostly because he didn't understand the lecture. But he trusted his gut.
Watching Nygma sift through the debris, Otis gave a low, sharp whistle. Moments later, dozens of rats scurried out from rock crevices and trash piles. They gathered silently at Otis's feet, while Bastian poked his head out from Otis's pocket.
"Good boy, Bastian," Otis crouched, whispering to the large rat. "Take your friends and look around. If something's wrong, come back and tell me right away."
He pulled a large piece of cheese from his bag and placed it on the ground. The rats swarmed over it, devouring it in seconds. Then, they scattered silently, vanishing into the shadows and the mouths of rusted pipes.
Otis let out a sigh of relief and turned back, only to find Nygma watching the scene with intense fascination.
"I… I… Mr. Nygma, I…"
Otis fumbled for an explanation, but Nygma waved him off with a smile.
"It's quite alright. Jay told me about your situation, but seeing it in person is something else entirely. It's a marvelous ability, Otis."
There wasn't a hint of disgust or fear in Nygma's voice.
"It isn't simple animal taming. It's more like… resonance? You understand their language, or perhaps they understand your intent? What is the transmission mechanism? Some form of infrasound we haven't mapped, or a combination of pheromones and specific behavioral cues?"
Otis, overwhelmed by the string of technical questions, scratched his head sheepishly. "I… I don't really know, Mr. Nygma. I just… I feel like I understand 'em, and they're happy to help. Bastian's been with me the longest. He's the smartest."
"Incredible…" Nygma mused. "If the principles could be decoded, it could revolutionize communications or neuro-linkage—"
He stopped mid-sentence.
The rats that had just scattered were flooding back, squealing in terror, moving even faster than when they left—as if they had encountered their ultimate predator.
Bastian lunged at Otis, scurrying up his pant leg and diving into his coat, his tiny eyes wide with primal fear. He kept looking toward a massive, pitch-black sewer outlet. It was a dark abyss, save for the echoing sound of rushing water.
"Bastian!"
Otis went pale. His heart hammered against his ribs. "He says… in there… there's something! Something big!"
Nygma felt the sudden chill, too. He looked around.
The environment that had been "too quiet" a moment ago now felt dead. The sound of the wind and waves seemed to vanish, leaving only the rhythmic splashing deep inside the sewer and the thundering of his own pulse.
"We should probably—"
BOOM!
Before he could say "leave," a massive shadow erupted from the darkness of the sewer outlet, bringing with it a gust of foul-smelling wind and a spray of sewage.
The thing was abnormally tall, its arms outstretched like tattered wings, lunging straight for Otis, who was standing slightly ahead!
"Watch out!"
Nygma shouted, but he didn't retreat. Instead, he thrust the green cane he had been holding forward, his thumb pressing firmly on an inconspicuous notch on the handle.
CRACKLE—ZAP!
A web-like arc of blue electricity exploded from the tip of the cane, forming a brief, blinding electrical net directly in the creature's path!
"SCREEEEEE—!!!"
A piercing shriek, a mixture of agony and rage, tore through the air. The shadow hadn't expected the retaliation. Its massive body jerked in mid-air, and a wisp of acrid smoke rose from where the electricity had bitten into it.
Startled, the creature abandoned the attack. Its powerful hind legs kicked off the rocks, sending stones and sludge flying.
Under the horrified gaze of Nygma and Otis, the giant silhouette took flight. Its tattered-looking arms beat frantically, making a sound like a heavy, broken bellows, churning the foul coastal air as it ascended rapidly.
Both men looked up instinctively. The setting sun was struggling to cast its final gold-and-crimson rays across the sky, perfectly silhouetting the monster as it took to the air.
It was… a massive, humanoid bat!
It had a human-like torso and limbs, but the proportions were grotesque, covered in matted, dark fur. Most terrifying were the leathery wings connecting its arms to its sides, casting a suffocating shadow in the twilight.
It didn't fly particularly high, but it was incredibly fast, soon becoming a black speck against the horizon, heading toward the heart of Gotham's rising lights.
A deathly silence fell over the shore, broken only by the faint, residual hiss of the capacitor discharging in Nygma's cane.
Otis's legs gave out, and he nearly collapsed. He steadied himself by grabbing a slick rock, gasping for air, his face devoid of color.
Nygma wasn't much better. He gripped the still-warm cane, his knuckles white. His expression was a volatile mix of shock, relief, and… a deep, intellectual obsession with a puzzle that defied his understanding of the world.
"A human… bat?" he whispered, as if questioning his own sanity. "The skeletal structure and muscle distribution of a Chiroptera… it shouldn't be able to support a frame of that size during… that kind of flight. Aerodynamically… it's unscientific…"
"Mr. Nygma!" Otis's voice was borderline tearful, breaking the trance. "We gotta go! Please! I don't want to stay here another second!"
Nygma snapped out of it, looking at the terrified Otis and the huddling rats. He scanned the bay, which was being rapidly swallowed by the dusk.
"Move!"
He grabbed the trembling Otis, and the two of them stumbled back toward their car without looking back.
"How could something that big be hiding in Gotham's sewers?"
"You're askin' the right person for that," Otis panted as he scrambled into the car and locked the doors.
"I spent years down there. No one knows how many miles of tunnels there are. Some are wide enough to drive a truck through. Just when you think you've hit a dead end, there's always another fork leading deeper down."
"Oh…?" Nygma pondered. "Have you ever seen that thing before?"
"No. Never. It's always been rats, roaches, and the occasional stiff. Never a monster like that… at least, not in the upper levels." Otis shook his head. "Wait, Mr. Nygma… do you think that was him? The legend? Batman?"
"No. I've heard Jay describe him. The Batman is just a costumed vigilante, a man in a suit. That… that was something else entirely."
Nygma turned the key and the engine hummed to life. The tires crunched over the gravel as they began to drive away.
"Tell me, Otis… don't you find that Gotham is becoming increasingly interesting?"
"What? No! Not even a little bit, Mr. Nygma!"
——————
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