VECTOR IN DC

The warm golden light of late afternoon settled over the sprawling metropolis of Gotham City, casting a captivating glow through my room's window. As I sifted through the stacks of files, my thoughts drifted to the unsettling reality of this city.

Gotham was a place of stark contrasts - a city where the glittering facade of wealth and power stood in stark contrast to the bleak underbelly of poverty and crime. It was a city where heroes and villains alike roamed the streets, their paths often intertwined in a never-ending battle.

As I reviewed the files of potential candidates for jobs within Gotham, I couldn't help but feel a sense of unease wash over me. The city was a powder keg, ready to explode at any moment, and the people I was considering for these jobs would play a crucial role in determining its fate.

If I wanted to thrive in the heart of Gotham City, I knew I couldn't rely on taxis or my own two feet to get me around. No, I needed something more reliable, more versatile.

As I surveyed the bustling city streets below, my mind raced through the possibilities. A sleek sports car? A powerful motorcycle? Or perhaps something more inconspicuous, like a nondescript sedan or SUV?

The choice would be critical - after all, my mode of transportation could make or break my success in this cutthroat city. It would need to be fast enough to outrun danger, tough enough to handle Gotham's rough terrain, and most importantly, stylish enough to make a statement.

I knew that driving a car would make me stand out like a sore thumb in Gotham City. As a young and ambitious individual, I couldn't afford to draw attention to myself and risk becoming a target for criminals looking to make a quick buck.

With that in mind, I made my way to a bike shop in search of the perfect ride. The moment I stepped inside, I was greeted by an array of gleaming machines - each one more beautiful than the last. It was clear that the seller took pride in his collection, and I couldn't help but feel a sense of excitement at the prospect of owning one of these beauties.

As I browsed through the selection, I quickly realized that a dirt bike would be the perfect choice for me. Its rugged design and off-road capabilities would allow me to escape danger quickly and easily, while also blending in seamlessly with the city's rougher areas.

As soon as I laid eyes on the dirt bike, I knew that it was the one. But simply buying it off the shelf wasn't enough for me - I wanted to make it truly my own. And so, I asked the seller if they could customize it right then and there.

As I watched the expert craftsmen work their magic, I was filled with a sense of awe. It was like watching artists at work, each stroke of the brush and twist of the wrench imbuing the bike with a personality and character that was uniquely my own.

When they were finished, I couldn't believe my eyes. The bike had been transformed into a sleek, black machine, with gold accents running through certain corners that caught the light in just the right way. And to top it all off, I bought a black helmet with a golden star at the right side to match the bike's color scheme.

To truly make my mark in Gotham City, I knew that I needed to be more than just a businessman - I needed to be a strategist. And in order to outsmart the top criminals of the city, I needed to get inside their heads.

I began by studying their patterns and routines, carefully mapping out the areas of the city where they were known to congregate. It was fascinating to see how these criminals operated - always sticking to the same spots, the same hangouts, where they could share information and jobs with each other.

But I knew that simply observing from a distance wouldn't be enough - I needed to get up close and personal if I wanted to truly understand how they thought. And so, I decided to venture into their world and immerse myself in their way of life but first I needed a place where I could relax my thoughts and just enjoy myself.

I simply asked a man for a spot which fit that description. At first, the man looked at me with suspicion, as if warning me not to get involved with the dangerous elements of Gotham's underworld. But I held his gaze, determined to get the information I needed.

After a moment of tense silence, he finally relented and gave me directions to two bars where the worst of the worst were known to congregate. He even referenced one in particular - a place where only the bravest and most foolhardy would dare to venture.

I hopped on my bike and took off towards the bar the man had emphasized. As I hit the throttle, the engine roared to life and the wind whipped through my hair.

The city streets blurred past me as I weaved in and out of traffic, my heart pounding with a mix of excitement and apprehension. But even the threat of danger couldn't bring me down - I was determined to make a name for myself in Gotham's criminal underworld, no matter the cost.

As I pulled up to the bar, I parked my bike amongst the others, but I wasn't taking any chances. Placing my hand on my bike, I increased the gravitational pull on my bike, making it virtually impossible to move without great effort.

Satisfied that my ride was secure, I pushed open the door to the bar and stepped inside. The dimly lit room was filled with a mixture of smoke and the sound of clinking glasses. As my eyes adjusted to the darkness, I scanned the room for any familiar faces or potential targets.

 As I stepped inside the Tin Roof Bar, I was immediately struck by how clean and polished everything looked. The wooden floors gleamed, and the bar counter shone in the bright light. The air was cool and refreshing, with a faint scent of citrus and pine lingering in the space.

The decor of the bar was tasteful and understated, with a few framed pieces of artwork and photos hanging on the walls. The lighting was soft and warm, with elegant chandeliers casting a gentle glow throughout the space. I noticed how clean and organized everything was behind the bar. The bottles were lined up neatly, and the glasses were sparkling and polished.

The bar was bustling, with patrons of all ages enjoying themselves in the relaxed atmosphere. I took a seat at the bar and observed the scene around me. There were a few shady characters there but it seemed like they just wanted to relax and not look for any trouble, some just seemed to be trading information while others looked like they were making some kind of deal. 

But there was something alluring about the place that drew me in, like a moth to a flame. I couldn't quite put my finger on it, but I knew I was in the right place to find what I was looking for.

As I sat at the bar, my eyes scanned the room until they came to rest on someone who caught my attention. It was the bartender, but she was unlike any other bartender I had ever seen. Her mysterious air and captivating green eyes drew me in, and her body language exuded a charisma that was hard to ignore.

Despite my initial attraction to her, I played it cool and only stole quick glances in her direction. I didn't want to come across as too obvious or desperate, so I turned away after just a few seconds of admiring her.

As I sat at the bar, I noticed the bartender's gaze upon me. "You're a new face, I don't think I've seen you around before," she said, with a playful smile. She was friendly, but not too friendly. It was a normal interaction between bartender and customer. 

"I'm new in town, just getting to know the place," I replied, trying to sound nonchalant.

"Well, welcome to Gotham. I don't know why anyone would want to come here, but I'm sure you have your reasons," she said, with a hint of sarcasm. "What would you like to drink?"

I ordered a glass of Tennessee Whiskey, and as she handed it to me, I couldn't help but notice her alluring presence. Her green eyes met mine as she leaned in and asked, "What's your name, handsome?"

"I'm Tom," I replied, taking a sip from my glass. "And do you mind telling me your name?" I asked, curious to know more about her.

"Selina," she replied, with a smirk that hinted at a playful side.

As I heard the name Selina, a smile broke out on my face. She was known to be the enigmatic Catwoman in the DC comics, and I couldn't help but feel a sense of excitement at the prospect of meeting her. I decided to put aside my nerves and continue our conversation.

"Selina... What a lovely name," I complimented her, hoping to get on her good side. I knew that she could be a valuable ally in my quest for information. 

Selina flashed me a charming smile in response. "Thank you," she said, her voice smooth like silk. "It's actually a name I chose for myself."

I was intrigued. "Really? Why did you choose that name?"

Selina's eyes glittered mischievously. "Let's just say that I have a bit of a feline personality. I like to prowl around in the shadows, and I always land on my feet." As Selina spoke, her eyes sparkled with mischief, and her voice had a hint of playful humor, but there was a sense of truth beneath her words. A simp wouldn't help but be captivated by her enigmatic aura. 

As I continued to talk with Selina, It felt like I was on the cusp of an exciting adventure. She was a force to be reckoned with, and I knew that with her it'll only be a matter of time before things get fun around here. 

She went ahead to attend to other customers and I was left alone with my drink and my thoughts. I thought about the kind of villains I could do business with, respectable ones and not the riffraffs raffs that just believe in using brute force to get what they wanted. 

One name immediately came to mind, it was Penguin. The cunning businessman among criminals. From what I remember, he was a villain who stood out from the rest with his impeccable sense of decorum, self-control, and restraint - a rare trait in a world of chaos and mayhem. He was one of those ultra-rare villains with a sense of decorum, self control, restraint and anyone who understood the true value of subtlety. But he wasn't at this bar. 

If there's one thing I've learned about Gotham City, it's that power and influence are everything. And when it comes to the criminal underworld, there's no one more influential than the infamous Penguin. But I'm not one to shy away from a challenge. No, I have a plan - a plan to make the Penguin come to me. I want him to seek a man named Ghost, I want him to crave for my contact so he could beg me to do business with him. That way I would have him under my thumb and make him reliant on my schemes for most of his absurd heists. 

In order to get him to acknowledge me, I would have to do a few jobs that would peak his curiosity as to the person behind it. 

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