Connor had rented three different places in Gotham, and the one he currently shared with Harley Quinn was one of them.
Wary of the landlord's possibly dirty bedding, he'd bought all-new linens—especially the pristine white pillows.
At the moment, both his hands were clutching one of those pillows, its soft, oversized stuffing constantly shifting shape beneath his grip.
Thanks to his Spider Sense, Connor's sensitivity had heightened significantly—particularly in how he experienced certain… sensations.
—
Eventually, the shaking bed calmed. Connor lit a cigarette, satisfied, and glanced at Harley Quinn nestled in his arms.
[Today's Scoop: A Night with Harley Quinn]
[Submit?]
It was 3 a.m.—the start of a new day, and the Gossip System was already logging fresh scoops.
Connor took a drag, pondered, then tapped "No."
No rush. The day was young—only three hours in. There'd be time.
He walked to the window and stared out into the rainy night. The Bat-Signal still gleamed across the thick clouds, cast by Commissioner Gordon.
Outside, it was too dark to see much beyond the glowing Bat symbol. Harley swayed her hips over to him and curiously peeked outside.
"Mysterious mister… You promised we'd turn Gotham upside down, right? Better have the skills to back it up. Let me guess—"
But just then, Connor's Spider Sense spiked.
Something dangerous was lurking in the darkness outside.
"Guess your ass."
He yanked Harley down, pinning her to kneel in front of him as his eyes narrowed, scanning the window.
Nothing visible to the naked eye—but his Spider Sense screamed a warning. Someone was out there.
This place was on the 19th floor. Smooth glass walls. No one should be able to get up here—unless they were Batman.
Thankfully, the window wasn't floor-to-ceiling, and with Harley pinned, she couldn't be seen from outside. From out there, all anyone would see was a shirtless Connor.
"Well, still busy, huh?"
He spoke as if to himself, eyes locked in the general direction where his Spider Sense told him Batman was lurking—his gaze bold and defiant.
Batman, using infrared, might detect bodies, but wouldn't see clear facial features.
On the official timeline, Harley Quinn was still Harleen Quinzel, an Arkham consultant—not Joker's mad darling just yet.
Connor, thanks to his Gossip System's monetary rewards, had bought himself a legitimate identity on his third day here.
So from any angle, Batman had no reason to arrest either of them.
Realizing this, Connor smirked and stared boldly in Batman's direction.
—
"Alfred, run a background check on someone named 'Connor Patterson.'"
In the rain, Bruce Wayne's voice was low, eyes fixed on the 19th-floor apartment—on the man who seemed to know he was there.
"A new suspect? Let me check."
The sound of typing filled the comms channel. Moments later, Alfred responded:
"Connor Patterson. Age 25. Unemployed. Recently a regular at Ghost Mask Bar. No criminal record."
"…But all the info is fake. The only real part is the bar visits. Master Wayne, did you notice something unusual?"
"Nothing concrete. Just feels like he can see me." Bruce replied. "Put him on the watch list."
"Understood. Continue pursuing the Joker next?"
"I'll observe him a little longer."
"One note—he's currently stark naked. Master Wayne, when did you pick up this kind of… hobby?"
"…"
—
Outside, Batman lingered. Inside, Connor stood firm, unmoving from the window. He knew Batman was still out there—his Spider Sense hadn't quieted.
"They're checking my identity now. The surface details won't raise alarms, but with Wayne Enterprises' reach, they'll figure out it's fake."
"But even then, they can't know who I really am. It's not like they'll figure out I transmigrated here."
While he brooded, Harley made several attempts to stand—each time pushed back down until she finally snapped:
"Hey! What the hell are you doing? My knees are getting sore!"
Still unaware of his name, she just called him "hey" like always.
Connor gently patted her head, eyes still on the window.
"You were a consultant at Arkham, right?"
Harley nodded eagerly like a bobblehead.
"You know the Joker's biggest enemy is Batman, yeah?"
More nodding.
"Well, that guy's out there right now, watching."
Harley's eyes lit with understanding.
"You're scared of him? I'm not."
Connor chuckled. He wasn't scared either—he had nothing to hide.
As for Harley? She had no reason to fear Batman yet. She'd never crossed him before. She didn't know what that was like.
And she proved just how unafraid she was—by boldly getting back to business, despite Batman being right outside.
"…Hngh—"
Connor hissed through clenched teeth. With Spider Sense, sensations doubled, and it nearly sent him shivering. But Batman was still out there—Harley could be reckless, but he had to stay sharp.
When he finally regained focus and looked back outside, Batman was gone. The Spider Sense was silent.
—
Atop the 23rd floor of the same building, Batman lingered under the rain, awkwardly listening to Alfred's teasing.
He was Batman—not some Peeping Tom. Tonight had taken a very unexpected turn.
"Seeing such youthful vigor… Master Wayne, you really should find yourself a companion."
Bruce Wayne quietly shut off the comms, leapt from the rooftop, cape billowing wide, gliding toward the Bat-Signal's beam.
Tonight, Harleen Quinzel—an Arkham psychiatrist—had freed the Joker.
With help from Poison Ivy, every inmate had escaped Arkham.
Another sleepless night in Gotham.