The Sphinx's Board

While the Batcave was plunged into that strange silence, far away—in an abandoned warehouse on the outskirts of Gotham—a conspiracy was taking shape, perfectly tailored to alter the city's destiny. Amidst rusted beams, peeling walls, and shadows that seemed to move of their own accord, Sphinx watched her two companions closely. To her, chaos was never truly chaotic; it was merely raw material. What mattered was the structure that could be raised upon the rubble.

She ran her fingers over the green silk of her dress, still feeling a distant vibration in her mind—a persistent, magnetic echo of the Eye of Horus's power. The physical artifact was no longer in her possession, but that hardly mattered. The object might have vanished, but the knowledge gained remained deeply rooted. And for someone like Sphinx, an assimilated idea was infinitely more dangerous than any magical relic.

"You two still think like criminals," she said finally, her voice low, calculated, and cutting. "The game has moved to a new level."

Harley Quinn, perched atop an old wooden crate, raised an eyebrow as she rested the handle of her massive mallet on her shoulder.

"And what's wrong with being a criminal?" she asked with a mischievous smile. "It's a perfectly respectable career, as long as you don't ask too many questions when you file your taxes." (Harley Quinn said, upside down, quickly standing up.)

The Queen of Jokes—the other figure in the room—hanging upside down from one of the beams, let out a shrill laugh. Sphinx, however, didn't even twitch a facial muscle.

"There is a new player at the table: Michael Wayne."

The two women fell silent for a moment. "Michael, the owner of Wayne Enterprises? Isn't he a super-hot billionaire? Is he one of those guys with a hero complex who has to tell their sad childhood story before punching someone?"

Sphinx let out a short, sharp laugh.

"Well, Michael is a pure anomaly."

The Queen of Jokes leapt lightly from the beam and landed perfectly on her feet.

"Oh! I love anomalies! They always make the story so much more fun!"

"He simply doesn't obey the rules that govern this world," Sphinx continued, eyes narrowed. "And that is the heart of the matter. Perhaps *he* is the one who decides what those rules are—or if they should even exist."

Harley blinked, confused.

"A demon?"

"Not even that."

"An alien?"

"No."

"A magician?"

Sphinx shot her a look of deep impatience.

"No, Harley."

The blonde thought for a second, her eyes sparkling with a glint of pure mischief.

"A demonic alien wizard?"

"Harley."

"Fine, fine, I'll stop."

Sphinx took a deep breath, regaining her relentless focus.

"When I was in possession of the Eye of Horus, I observed small alterations in the reality around him. Causality, matter, space... even the concept of consequence seems to lose its meaning when Michael decides that something simply needs to happen."

The Queen of Jokes narrowed her eyes, her playful tone giving way to a hint of caution.

"So he cheats."

"No," Sphinx corrected firmly. "He has redefined the game to the point where he decided that cheating was never against the rules." The statement hung in the warehouse's humid air, heavy and irrefutable. Sphinx knew exactly the kind of entity she was describing. It wasn't brute force, conventional magic, or criminal intellect; it was something far more profound: the ability to rewrite the very tapestry of reality. And that realization sparked a curiosity in her that quickly morphed into a dangerous obsession.

"If we can manipulate it," Sphinx murmured, "Gotham will be just the first chapter."

Harley Quinn flashed a wide, predatory grin.

"Now *that's* speaking our language!"

"But I don't intend to confront it directly."

Harley's smile vanished instantly.

"So... no explosions?"

"Not yet."

"Knives?"

"No."

"Not even my pet mallet?"

"Definitely not."

Harley Quinn hugged the weapon with a dramatic pout. "You're such a bore."

Ignoring the drama, the Sphinx turned its full attention to its new partners.

"We don't need to capture Michael. We need to give him an irresistible reason to come to us of his own free will."

With a delicate movement of her fingers, images of Batwoman in dozens of possible scenarios appeared. In some, Brianna fought fiercely; in others, she fled; in several, she was isolated, surrounded by riddles that defied all Cartesian logic.

"Batwoman is the perfect key piece," Sphinx explained, her mind gleaming with strategic cruelty. "She holds his love."

"And he would certainly do anything for her," Sphinx continued.

Harley Quinn clapped her hands, her enthusiasm returning.

"So you want to get the two of them together for a little party!"

"It’s not a date."

"A blind date with metaphysical consequences?"

"No."

"A chaotic, metaphysical double date!"

Sphinx closed her eyes for a few seconds and massaged her temples, clearly questioning the life choices that had brought her to this point.

"You two are absolutely exhausting."

"Thanks for the compliment!" the two accomplices replied in perfect unison.

Despite the annoyance, a cold, satisfied smile played on Sphinx's lips. Deep down, she knew the gears of her plan were perfect. There was no need for empty threats or battles doomed to fail. It was enough to offer something that would pique Michael's insatiable curiosity—a challenge he simply couldn't ignore.

"Michael likes the thrill of the conquest; he doesn't want to solve problems with the snap of a finger," Sphinx explained, circling the holographic projection. — We’ll lure him in and make a wager based on his pride; he won’t cheat, and then we’ll have him right where we want him.

— In that case, we’ll discover something infinitely more fascinating.

— What?

Sphinx raised her gaze, staring into the void beyond the dark rafters.

— What he does when he realizes he’s being watched by the person who challenged him.

A heavy, deathly silence settled over the abandoned warehouse. For a few moments, not even the wind dared to blow through the cracks in the walls. Then, slowly, Sphinx lifted her face. Her eyes took on a piercing golden glow, and a subtle static electricity began to crackle in the air. She knew, with every fiber of her being, that she wasn't alone.

Someone was watching her. Perhaps hidden behind an invisible wall; perhaps from some remote corner in the far reaches of Gotham; or who knows, from an entirely parallel dimension. For an entity like Michael, physical distance was merely an irrelevant suggestion.

Defiantly, Sphinx flashed a razor-sharp smile at the emptiness and, with a theatrical flourish, blew a kiss into the darkness.

— Come on, Michael. The board is set. The pieces are perfectly aligned.

Harley Quinn’s eyes widened in mock shock.

— Damn... that was exquisitely wicked.

— It was purely calculated — Sphinx retorted, without shifting her gaze from the void.

— I love it. When do we start?

Sphinx kept her attention fixed on the invisible horizon, feeling the tension in the air mount.

— The main plan is laid out, but the Queen had an excellent suggestion to warm things up: why don't we split up? "You focus on destabilizing Batwoman, and I’ll handle your precious protégées—after all, one of them is an old acquaintance, so I’ll make sure to savor every minute of the psychological torture."

As the Queen of Jokes let out a hysterical, sadistic laugh—echoing like the bells of an abandoned amusement park—the Sphinx didn't even blink. She cared little for her allies' secondary methods, provided the ultimate goal—the inevitable confrontation with the anomaly—remained intact.

The board was set. It remained to be seen whether the masked deity would have the courage to play.

(images created by Lawless)