Marvel: The Sole Player

The Penguin grew more furious as he spoke, cursing and swearing to find the bastard spreading the rumors and personally chop him into mincemeat.

Darian stood aside, nodding repeatedly and putting on an expression of righteous indignation. He remarked that the rumor-monger was truly wicked, to the point where even a random passerby like himself couldn’t stand it. He told The Penguin to rest easy, promising to help find the culprit and clear The Penguin’s name as soon as possible.

Hearing this, a wave of gratitude welled up in The Penguin’s heart.

He hadn’t expected Darian to trust him so much, believing so easily that he wasn’t the rumor-monger and even offering to help.

However, Darian also felt some sympathy for The Penguin.

No wonder The Penguin hadn’t contacted him lately; Darian had thought he’d lost interest in shortys joy, but it turned out he’d been beaten so badly by Batman that he couldn’t get out of bed.

Sure enough, the game system’s comment was right: whether human or ghost, everyone is showing off, and only The Penguin is getting beaten up.

Darian spoke up, "Why don’t you change your name? From now on, don’t go by Oswald Cobblepot anymore; call yourself Dou Dou."

The Penguin asked, puzzled, "Why?"

Darian chuckled, "Because penguins have three main hobbies: eating, sleeping, and hitting Dou Dou—and you’re that Dou Dou."

The Penguin: ...

He didn’t take the bait; getting beaten up every day wasn’t exactly something to be proud of.

The Penguin’s gaze fell on Zsasz’s corpse: "You killed him?"

Darian immediately corrected him: "Watch your phrasing; this was justifiable self-defense."

"But you snapped both his arms. At that point, he had no offensive capability left and posed no threat to you."

The Penguin had witnessed the entire process and naturally didn’t believe that line of reasoning.

"I don’t care what you think; I care what I think."

Darian said solemnly, "You know Gotham’s criminals better than I do. Their methods are filthier by the day, and their hearts more poisonous. Who knows what other tricks that guy had up his sleeve? For all I know, he might have buried a dozen nuclear bombs underground, planning to take me down with him. I can’t gamble on those odds."

The Penguin: "..."

Now that’s just pure framing.

The Penguin secretly felt relieved. When Darian had pressed a gun to his forehead back then, he had knelt and surrendered fast enough. Otherwise, given Darian’s strength and ruthless methods, Zsasz’s fate today would have been his end that day.

"By the way, why are you and this crocodile still here?"

Darian was somewhat surprised that The Penguin and Killer Croc hadn’t run off with the other supervillains.

The Penguin touched the bandages wrapped around his body, feeling quite helpless: "With these injuries, even if I ran out, how far could I get? Instead of being intercepted by Batman halfway, beaten again, and sent back, I’d rather just stay here quietly."

"As for Killer Croc, he’s a bodyguard I hired for a high price to protect my personal safety here."

As a regular resident of Arkham Asylum, The Penguin knew its dangers all too well.

He positioned himself as an intellectual-type player. Compared to those true lunatics, his direct combat power was far inferior; he was at the bottom of the food chain and the most likely to be bullied.

Fortunately, while he lacked superpowers, he had money-powers, so he directly hired Killer Croc as a bodyguard.

This big dummy’s asking price wasn’t low, but his advantage was a simple mind: you pay him, he does the job, and he won’t betray you halfway.

The Penguin pointed at Zsasz’s corpse and said with lingering fear, "It’s a good thing Killer Croc was blocking him, or that lunatic would have released me from my mortal coil long ago."

As he spoke, his emotions flared up again, and he began to complain indignantly, "It’s all that damn Batman’s fault for locking me in this hellhole. Do I look like I belong with these lunatics?"

Whenever this topic came up, The Penguin was full of grievances.

He was a traditional, homegrown Gotham mobster who inherited the city’s glorious underworld traditions, wanting nothing more than to focus on his gang business in a down-to-earth way.

His goals were very pure: power and money.

As for those extreme methods, they were only used because someone stood in his way, and he had no choice but to clear the obstacles—it was just necessary business conduct.

But his so-called peers were each more abnormal than the last.

Some killed purely for pleasure, some only thought about creating chaos, and others spent all their energy playing games with Batman, threatening to turn all of Gotham upside down at every turn.

In this Gotham criminal circle where everyone seemed mentally unstable, a criminal like The Penguin, who was single-mindedly focused on money and power, was practically a breath of fresh air.

Yet even so, he still received special attention from Batman.

Batman probably intended to scare him, as he locked him in Arkham Asylum every time instead of Blackgate Penitentiary—a special treatment that even Black Mask didn’t get to enjoy.

But The Penguin would rather give this special treatment to Black Mask.

Making a proper criminal like him stay with a bunch of lunatics all day was simply more torturous than the imprisonment itself.

"You haven’t had it easy."

Darian patted The Penguin’s shoulder, expressing understanding.

But understanding was one thing; he still had to send The Penguin and Killer Croc back to their cells.

The Penguin didn’t resist; he was very cooperative and even took the initiative to call Killer Croc back to the cell.

He knew Darian was the Warden who had challenged the entire Arkham Asylum and slaughtered more than half the prisoners single-handedly. Unless his head had been caught in a door, he wouldn’t dream of provoking a ruthless man like Darian.

Although Killer Croc was slow-witted, his professional ethics were impeccable. Since he’d taken The Penguin’s money, he honored the deal, didn’t spare Darian another glance, and obediently retreated into the cell.

Before leaving, The Penguin said to Darian, "Officer Darian, remember to save that bottle of shortys joy for me. I’m willing to pay any price."

Darian didn’t reply; his entire attention had been pulled away by the game system’s notification sound in his mind.

[Task ’Arkham Asylum’ settlement complete]

[Settling rewards based on contribution...]

[Rewards as follows: Experience +15,000, Free Attribute Points *4, Anchor Shard *3, Item ’Jalapeno’, Item ’Super Steroid’, Equipment ’freeze ring’]

[Item: Jalapeno (Explodes when close, releasing high-temperature flames over a wide area; highly effective against zombies)]

[Item: Super Steroid (After injection, muscles swell several times over, significantly enhancing physical fitness for a short time. Steady and sure, a strong injection brings natural power)]

[Equipment: freeze ring (Attacks can add a certain ice effect)]

The task rewards this time were quite interesting, appearing to have some connection to the supervillains in Gotham.

The Jalapeno belonged to the same series as the Peashooter he’d received before—both were specialized anti-zombie items.

Darian hadn’t forgotten the zombie Marvel Universe he’d visited before, where all the Superheroes and supervillains had been infected. If he encountered a similar dungeon again, these items would come in handy.

Then there was the Super Steroid. The effect was indeed good, but he wondered if it would make his head turn all pointy.

Finally, the freeze ring—not much to say about that.

Darian looked down at his fingers. He’d happily gained another ring, one step closer to his goal of collecting ten rings.

With this, the riot at Arkham Asylum had come to an end.

All surviving prisoners had returned to their cells. Ultron operated remotely from the background, locking every cell door once again.

When Darian returned to the regular ward area, Gordon was approaching with a team of officers.

He immediately reported, "Director, I have not failed your expectations. After my patient pacification, the emotions of all prisoners have calmed down, and they have all been returned to their respective cells. The riot has been successfully suppressed."

Gordon looked at the scene littered with corpses, his lip twitching: "You call this pacification?"

They had watched the entire process through the surveillance screens and witnessed how Darian had single-handedly surrounded all the prisoners, turning the entire Arkham Asylum into a battle royale scene.

At first, they were worried about Darian’s safety, but by the end, they had started worrying about the prisoners’ safety instead.

The riot was indeed suppressed now, but the problem was that the source of the riot was almost gone too.

Since Gotham’s output of lunatics remained high year-round, beds at Arkham Asylum were always in short supply. Many dangerous criminals had to be diverted to Blackgate Penitentiary, which had caused quite a few problems.

Every year, Gordon had to haggle with City Hall for several rounds, applying to expand Arkham Asylum, but City Hall never approved it.

After all, it concerned the city’s image—what kind of psychiatric hospital was as big as a stadium?

What would other places think of their Gotham?

Now, this long-standing problem that had troubled Gordon for years had been solved by Darian in a single night.

The ward area, which used to be packed like a sardine can, suddenly had more than half its beds empty. The occupancy rate had hit a historic low since the asylum opened.

Of course, the mortality rate had also hit a historic high.

Gordon vaguely remembered the previous record was set by that lunatic, the Joker.

And Darian’s was several times higher than his.

Gordon: — □□—

What kind of creature had he recruited into the Gotham City Police Department?

Tonight was destined to be a sleepless night.

The mess at Arkham Asylum was temporarily under control, but the Gotham outside hadn’t quieted down at all.

Because of the riot at Arkham Asylum, the super-criminals originally held in the high-security zone had all escaped.

Batman moved out immediately upon receiving the news to hunt down these escaped super-criminals.

Compared to the internal riot at Arkham Asylum, these super-criminals roaming free were significantly more dangerous. If they weren’t brought under control quickly, they might just blow up the entire city.

However, none of these super-criminals were fools.

They didn’t act as a group but tacitly scattered, fleeing in different directions to avoid being caught in one fell swoop by Batman.

This tactic was indeed effective.

Batman was indeed spread thin and could only prioritize targets based on threat level, aiming to reduce the number of escapees in the shortest possible time.

For example, The Penguin, The Penguin, and The Penguin.

To Batman’s disappointment, The Penguin was not in the escaping group, so he had to settle for the next best thing and chose other super-criminals.

Over the next few hours, he rushed around Gotham like a tireless machine, successively defeating Two-Face, Calendar Man, Ventriloquist, Professor Pyg, Mad Hatter...

But Batman was, after all, a mortal man.

Confronting so many super-criminals in a row required constant peak alertness, plus the constant travel. By now, his physical and mental energy were severely overdrawn, and he was relying entirely on his powerful willpower to keep going.

But he didn’t stop, because the crisis in Gotham wasn’t over, and Gotham needed Batman.

This time, Batman set his sights on Scarecrow.

Scarecrow was originally a university psychology Professor with high achievements in the field of chemistry. He had developed a fear gas that made people see what they feared most, torturing his opponents to death psychologically.

Batman’s reason for choosing Scarecrow was simple.

Because he was Batman, and willpower had always been his strength; Scarecrow’s fear gas had never been very effective against him.

According to Alfred’s remote tracking, Batman found Scarecrow’s hiding place: a sealed underground pork processing plant, perfect for setting traps.

Normally, he would have made full preparations before acting and wouldn’t easily step into such a suspicious location.

But time was tight now; he had to take down these super-criminals as quickly as possible.

Batman decisively stepped into the underground pork factory.

The inside of the underground pork factory was quiet; not a single figure could be seen.

Rows of rusted meat hooks hung from the ceiling, some still carrying half-carcasses of pork that swayed slightly in the dim light.

Batman slowed his pace, maintaining a high state of vigilance.

He knew Scarecrow must have set some clever traps waiting for him, so he forced his exhausted brain to work rapidly, deducing various possible trap layouts one by one.

As was his custom, he used the thermal sensors built into his armor to scan the surroundings.

Though he knew Scarecrow would likely use some method to mask heat sources, the procedure still had to be followed.

Beep beep.

In the next moment, a humanoid heat source appeared in Batman’s vision, hiding behind a hanging side of pork, waiting sneakily to ambush him.

Batman: "..."

Well, he had overestimated the opponent.

Batman pretended not to notice and walked toward the pile of pork.

The moment he got close, he suddenly reached out and yanked the hiding Scarecrow out.

Scarecrow looked panicked: "Damn it, Batman, how did you find me?"

Batman: "..."

The question was too moronic; he refused to answer.

"Die!"

Scarecrow’s reaction wasn’t slow either; he raised both hands and immediately sprayed a cloud of mist at Batman.

Batman didn’t dodge; his mask automatically sealed, blocking the incoming mist.

Having fought Scarecrow for years, he was long familiar with the man’s tactics; a gas mask was an essential feature of the Batsuit.

But similarly, Scarecrow was also familiar with Batman’s tactics.

He hadn’t expected that move to work. In the instant the mist gushed out, a needle hidden in his palm suddenly stabbed into Batman’s body, and the liquid inside was instantly injected.

Normally, Batman would have been able to react, but in his overloaded state, he ultimately failed to dodge the sneak attack.

Enduring the discomfort brought by the fear gas, he directly knocked Scarecrow out with a single punch.

However, the fear gas Scarecrow had injected into him was already taking effect.

At this moment, Batman could feel that familiar sense of distortion gradually eroding his consciousness, and the scene before him began to shake and deform.

But he didn’t panic; he knew the way to break the fear gas’s hold.

The best way to eliminate fear is to face it.

Only by facing the fear itself and shattering it with one’s own hands can the illusion be dispelled in the shortest time.

This was his experience from years of fighting Scarecrow.

Soon, a familiar red and blue figure appeared before Batman’s eyes.

Batman’s expression was somewhat complex: "Spider-Man, I didn’t expect my fear to be you."

Spider-Man: "?"

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