(Set in the DC Universe, with a few Marvel characters. Not a merged universe.)
"If I hadn't racked up a mountain of debt, I'd never have left Boston."
"It's safer than Gotham—and the hero there, Wonder Woman? Way hotter."
In a brightly lit Gotham bar, a rotund, red-faced middle-aged man loudly bragged, clutching a massive mug of beer.
Connor Patterson was mingling with the bar crowd, laughing along with the others, though he inwardly scoffed at the loudmouth's words.
Sure, Wonder Woman was stunning—but Gotham wasn't lacking in beauties either: Catwoman, Poison Ivy, Harley Quinn, Barbara… each with her own unique charm!
"Hey, they say Wonder Woman always shows off those long legs. Think she wears anything under that skirt?"
A burly bearded guy next to Connor shouted the question with a vulgar grin.
Seriously?
Connor gave the guy a disdainful side-eye. But having spent some time in this low-end bar, he was long used to these crude conversations.
"Obviously not! Wonder Woman's no hooker—she's not just running around bare-assed!"
Even the boasting middle-aged man shot a contemptuous glare at the bearded loudmouth.
"Not gonna lie, she's my goddess. Untouchable."
The bar erupted with laughter—dozens of vagrants tossing around even cruder jokes about armored boobs and whether her outfit was vacuum-sealed.
Among these filthy, foul-smelling, mostly overweight patrons, Connor Patterson—with his near 6'3" height, well-built frame under a dark red suit, and striking good looks—stood out like a sore thumb.
Still, ever since some punk tried picking a fight and got thoroughly whooped, the bartender made it a point to warn new patrons not to mess with Connor. So now, he was fitting in just fine.
Connor wasn't joining in the fantasy chatter about Wonder Woman. He was looking at his system instead.
[Today's Scoop: Wonder Woman's Underwear]
[Submit?]
Not yet... Connor decided to wait a bit longer to see if anything more exciting would pop up in the bar. If not, he'd go ahead and submit the scoop.
Unlike these locals—who were mostly homeless and nursing cheap booze while bragging loudly—he was a transmigrant.
Connor Patterson was a name he gave himself after arriving here. Originally just a gossip-hungry guy, his real name no longer mattered.
His transmigration perk? The "Gossip System." One scoop a day, and each one earned him a reward.
Secondhand gossip got the lowest reward. Stories he discovered himself were worth more. Firsthand, on-the-scene drama? Jackpot.
And in a place like good ol' crime-ridden Gotham, unexpected chaos could happen at any moment. Never give up until the final second.
That's why Connor wasn't rushing to submit today's scoop.
Shame though—he'd been here ten days already. He'd seen the Bat-Signal plenty, but hadn't witnessed any major drama firsthand.
If not for the worry of landing in Arkham or lacking an escape plan, he might've stirred up trouble himself just to get Batman's attention.
This wasn't sustainable. If he wanted to climb to the super-powered level, relying on secondhand gossip just wouldn't cut it.
In the last ten days, his scoops came from bar stories, TV reports, and newspapers—like Batman locking up the Joker again, Gotham Forest's abnormal growth, undersea quakes halted by mysterious forces, and The Daily Planet naming the red-caped guy "Superman."
He even scooped up every piece of gossip involving Bruce Wayne and various starlets.
None of these secondhand scoops paid well, but they gave Connor just enough to secure a legal ID and basic combat skills—enough to survive in Gotham.
But it wasn't enough.
Connor didn't want to be just another nobody in a world crawling with superheroes and villains.
What if something happened and he died in some random explosion? That'd be beyond lame.
With a system like his, even if the rewards so far were mediocre—money, fighting skills, etc.—he believed that with the right scoop, something big would come.
The clock ticked closer to midnight. Connor was about to give up and submit today's scoop when—
BOOM!
A thunderous bang outside. Followed by honking, screams, and wild, maniacal laughter spilling into the bar, silencing even the drunkest ranters.
Something's happening?!
Connor's senses sharpened. Before anyone else could react, he bolted for the door.
No way he was sitting still in a bar—not as a former Chinese gossip junkie and a user of the Gossip System.
Screeech!
Tires screamed. Connor had just stepped outside when a car skidded past him and screeched to a halt—barely missing someone standing in the street.
That figure stood precisely where two streetlamps cast overlapping shadows. She didn't flinch as the car almost hit her. Instead, she calmly rested both hands on a baseball bat slung across her shoulders. Long hair stuck to her face, and in the shadows, she looked like a demon.
The driver swore, opening the door. But before he could get a full sentence out, the figure leapt onto the hood and raised the bat high.
"Mother—"
CRACK.
A brutal blow to the head. The driver dropped instantly.
The laughter resumed—wild, unhinged. The assailant jumped into the car, slammed the pedal, and tore off, crashing into several parked cars on the way.
Typical Gotham. The nearby buildings stirred briefly, a few angry shouts echoed, then silence. Inside the bar, everyone returned to their drinks and tall tales.
But Connor didn't go back.
He was now sitting in the backseat of that stolen car.
"Red and blue-dyed hair tips… manic laughter… unhinged behavior… overwhelming stench of chemicals…"
"This… is Harley Quinn—right after being tossed into the chemical vat by the Joker."