"You truly are a hard worker, as they say. In that case, what made you accept my invitation?" Silver asked, her curiosity evident.
"You, Miss Cloud," I replied evenly, my eyes fixed on hers.
"Me?! Why the sudden honor?"
"Really? Because I haven't noticed anything special about myself."
"Just because you don't see it doesn't mean it's not there."
"You're speaking in riddles, Mr. Alex. Are you trying to seem more mysterious to impress girls? If so, it's working! I'm quite intrigued by you." She gave me an appraising look.
"Believe me, that wasn't my intention. But I have to admit, I'm glad it turned out this way."
We exchanged smiles, raised our glasses, and took small sips. Strolling around the hall and greeting guests, our conversation deepened, and so did our connection.
"Seeing you tonight, I even hoped the elusive Bruce Wayne might show up," Silver mused, scanning the crowd. "But it seems I was wrong."
"You've never met Bruce?"
"Do you know him?" she asked, her interest piqued.
"He's a good friend of mine," I replied casually, as if it were obvious.
"I've sent him several invitations, but he hasn't attended even one! He accepts other invitations, yet ignores mine. It's a little hurtful," she pouted.
"I think it's just a coincidence. Remember, he's not the only one who's declined your invitations. Bruce is the type who shows up when he's in the mood. When he's not… well, no harm in that."
Silver chuckled softly, though her expression remained dissatisfied. "It's just that having the richest man in Gotham here would've made the evening look more prestigious. Oh well," she waved dismissively, "it's no great loss. Who needs that rich playboy when we have Alex Reath himself? Perhaps you could grace us with a performance tonight?"
"Um, I think I'll pass…"
"Do you think you have a choice?" Silver teased, a mischievous gleam in her eye.
"Let's discuss it later. Maybe I'll play something at the very end," I suggested.
"Need I remind you that I'm the host of this evening? And today is September 22—American Business Women's Day, which, of course, includes me! Don't upset the lady on her special day. You should give her a gift instead!"
"But it's not your birthday…"
"That doesn't matter. A thoughtful gift can be given any day!"
"Alright, I'll try to come up with something, Ms. Cloud," I said, raising my hands in a mock gesture of surrender.
"Oh, just call me Silver—it's simpler."
"So, Alex, you've already written detective stories, fantasy, and horror. When are you going to write a novel?"
"Wait—how did we even start talking about books?"
"Don't get bogged down in the details," she waved dismissively. "What do you think about writing a romance novel? I'd love to read one."
"Alright, I'll write a novel and dedicate it to you."
"That's so sweet," Silver said, her eyes lighting up with excitement. "Just don't treat it as a rushed job."
"That word doesn't exist in my vocabulary."
"Good. I'll be eagerly waiting for your masterpiece."
As our pleasant conversation continued, it was abruptly interrupted by a nasal, gruff voice. "Miss Cloud, you're the host of this event, yet you're ignoring the guests and spending all your time with this young man. Shouldn't you pay attention to the others?"
The source of the voice was a short, stout man with a sharp, bird-like nose. He was impeccably dressed in a tailcoat, top hat, white gloves, and spats, carrying a black umbrella. He exuded the air of a gentleman, even wearing a monocle on his right eye.
It was Penguin—my first full-fledged encounter with a DC universe villain.
Standing near him was unnerving. Penguin wasn't insane like many of Gotham's other criminals. He was sharp, calculating, and fully aware of his actions, which made him even more dangerous. Thankfully, he was unlikely to cause a scene here.
"Forgive me, sir," I said, stepping in. "It's my fault entirely. I'm so captivated by Miss Cloud that I couldn't help but monopolize her time."
"Haha, I understand completely," Penguin chuckled. "What surprises me isn't your attempt to win her attention, but your success in doing so. Many have tried to charm Gotham's social lioness, but few have succeeded. My name is Oswald Chesterfield Cobblepot. A pleasure to meet you, young man."
"I'm Alex Reath," I replied, extending my hand. "Just Alex is fine."
"Call me Oswald," he said, shaking my hand firmly. "I've heard about you, Alex. You're the rising star of Gotham, and your success positively impacts our city's reputation. People still think of Gotham as a crime-ridden place, but that's no longer true. We're working to change those outdated perceptions. This city is beautiful and full of potential. Your achievements are proof of that."
His smooth words almost made me believe he was a law-abiding citizen working tirelessly for Gotham's betterment. With such eloquence, he could easily run for office. But I knew better—Oswald Cobblepot was a criminal mastermind, a strategist who relied on intellect and manipulation. His henchmen handled the dirty work, but he could defend himself if needed. Despite his lack of physical prowess, he was skilled in various forms of hand-to-hand combat. He was a man to avoid.
"Thank you for the kind words, Oswald, but I don't think I deserve such praise."
"Modesty won't get you far, boy. Take my card," he said, handing me a business card. "If you ever face trouble, don't hesitate to call me."
"Thank you. I'll keep that in mind."
After a few more polite exchanges, we parted ways. Penguin disappeared into the crowd.
"Finally, he's gone," Silver sighed.
"Trust me, he's not what he seems. My advice? Stay away from him."
"I think I'll take your advice."
Suddenly, strange noises echoed through the hall.
"What's happening? Excuse me for a moment—I need to check on this," Silver said, heading toward the exit.
Before she could reach it, the doors burst open. Armed men in clown masks stormed in.
"Hahahaha!" A chilling, maniacal laugh filled the air, making the room grow uncomfortably cold. Goosebumps crawled over my skin as the atmosphere shifted.
"Did you miss me?" a voice boomed. The Joker had arrived.
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