This morning was quite productive. I met with a representative from a company specializing in engineering and technical security on a broad scale. Since I'm about to take on a complex project like "Super Soldier," I'll need a suitable space to bring it to life. The best option, of course, is my workshop. The building is quite spacious. Despite having already built a "mad scientist's laboratory" here, I've only used about one-third of the available space.
I plan to equip the remaining two-thirds to suit the needs of my future assistants—Pamela and Kavita Rao. They'll need their own corners to carry out their respective research. Since this project is meant to be somewhat secret, it's important to consider a proper security system. I definitely don't want outsiders finding out about the super soldier serum. If they did, we'd inevitably run into trouble later. That's why I decided to turn my workshop into an impregnable fortress, so to speak. I discussed this early in the morning with the company representative. They promised to finish the work within a week. I chose the "full security" package—the most expensive option but, according to them, also the most reliable. It cost me $5 million. Still, I consider it a justified expense.
Soon, I'll also need to change the building's internal layout and purchase a massive amount of expensive equipment. I have no idea what kind of tools or machinery will be necessary to recreate Dr. Erskine's serum, so I'll tackle that as it comes. I'll let Pamela and Kavita decide for themselves what they need for the job.
In the afternoon, I headed to the police station to meet with Commissioner Gordon. I wanted to talk to him about the recommendation for Arkham Asylum. Bruce had already provided all the necessary documents on his end, so I figured there was no reason to delay further. Luckily, Barbara had already spoken with her father and, according to her, managed to convince the old grumbler to go along with our daring plan. I have no idea how she did it—although, come to think of it, after living with him for over two decades, she's probably mastered the art of presenting her ideas as if they were his own.
Surprisingly, everything went far better than I expected. Though Gordon expressed doubts about my plan to reform Poison Ivy, he still showed hope for a positive outcome. After all, if we succeed, Gotham will lose one green supervillain—and Gordon will have one less headache to deal with. We shook hands and said our goodbyes.
Just as I left his office and closed the door, a familiar, alluring figure appeared before me.
"Alex, what brings you to our precinct?"
"I'm glad to see you too, Renee," I greeted my friend. "Had lunch yet?"
"Trying to dodge the question?" she said, casting a sharp look at me.
"Not at all. It's just not something that can be explained in a few words…"
"Then let's go—you can tell me everything over a cup of Irish tea," Montoya said, wrapping her arm around mine and dragging me, as I assumed, to our usual eatery.
After placing our orders, I told her about my plan involving Pamela Isley. As expected, her reaction wasn't exactly enthusiastic.
"Are you serious?!" she stared at me like I was the dumbest creature on Earth.
"No, really... You came up with this? What makes you think she'll listen to you? Your irresistible charm?" Renee laughed, lacing her sarcasm with disbelief.
"Maybe. I wouldn't rule out that possibility."
"Aaah," she drawled, feigning a sudden realization. "How could I forget? You're our very own Don Juan. Speaking of which, you still owe me the story of your love life. How are your girlfriends doing?"
I sighed and laid all the cards on the table regarding my romantic entanglements. Renee listened with bated breath, her eye twitching from time to time as I spoke.
"You just turned my world upside down," Montoya said, her facial expressions shifting more frequently than a pregnant woman's mood. Thankfully, the waiter arrived with our order, saving me from further scrutiny. I dove into my food, pretending to be famished.
"There's just one thing I don't get," Renee said, sipping her tea. "Why am I the one who has to beat it into your head that there's only supposed to be one woman you love? Your obsession with 'polygamy' goes against basic moral ethics."
Hmm… it seems the "Harem King" achievement works better than I expected. Apparently, it's not just the women I've won over—others are also growing more tolerant of my unusual arrangement. At least there's some upside to this broken system.
"And even if you kill me, I still don't get what those two girls see in you."
"Don't worry. Maybe you're just not old enough to see firsthand how amazing I really am!" I replied, lifting my nose with exaggerated pride.
"Haha, how could I possibly resist your magnetic charm? Oh wait—maybe it's because I'm immune to it. After all, in case you forgot, I'm into girls," Renee reminded me, referencing her unconventional orientation.
Yeah... "reforming" her might be a bit harder than I thought. But I'm not giving up. Sooner or later, Detective Montoya will come to understand what exactly draws women to me.
"Judging by your cheerful mood, I take it you're not worried about the accusations against you online," she said, taking another sip of tea.
"Wait, what?" I blinked, trying to process her words. "What accusations? What are you even talking about?"
"You don't know?" the detective asked in surprise. "There's been a wave of hate online. People are accusing you of being responsible for the deaths of the musicians at the Iceberg Lounge. The ones Joker shot."
"And how is that my fault?! I didn't kill them! What kind of nonsense is this?!"
The moment I turned away for a second, baseless accusations started flying my way. I pulled out my phone and immediately opened my Twitter page.
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