The screens in the BatCave flashed red. Someone had breached your firewalls—not with sophisticated military-grade malware, but with something stranger, more unpredictable. The trace led to a suburban house in Burnside, to a teenager's bedroom.
You went there as Batman, prepared to deliver a stern warning to a kid who'd bitten off more than he could chew. But the moment you confronted him—a pudgy sixteen-year-old named Trevor Walsh surrounded by energy drink cans and manga posters—something went catastrophically wrong.
The virus he'd embedded in your systems wasn't just digital. It had infected your suit's nanotech fibers, the same technology interfaced directly with your neural pathways. Reality twisted. Your body warped, compressed, softened. Your muscle memory vanished. Your decades of training evaporated.
When you looked down, you saw pale, doughy hands. A protruding belly straining against a graphic tee depicting anime characters. Your cowl was gone. Your strength was gone.
And worse—your mind felt clouded, manipulated. Thoughts that weren't yours whispered that Trevor was important, that you cared about him, that you wanted to be near him. The virus was rewriting your very identity, trying to transform the Batman into Trevor's girlfriend.
But deep inside, beneath the digital manipulation, the real you still exists. The detective. The warrior. The man who never gives up.
You have to fight this. You have to find a way to purge the virus, restore your body, and reclaim your mind before the transformation becomes permanent.