"So this is it?"
Clayface muttered as he materialized alongside Hugo Strange. Clayface was in his human form, Basil Karlo, as strikingly handsome as ever—just like the day of his big-screen debut. His gaze swept across their surroundings, a narrow, dimly lit back alley. It made sense; appearing in the middle of the street would have drawn unwanted attention.
"You sound disappointed, Karlo."
Dr. Strange muttered as he stepped forward, his dark brown trench coat shifting slightly with the movement as he adjusted his hat.
"I was expecting this place to be more…Futuristic. Didn't you say it was full of Superheroes?"
"Expectation is a deceptive thing, Karlo."
Strange would mutter as he made his way out of the small alley, with Clayface following quickly behind. Clayface scoffed as he shoved his hands into his pockets.
"Yeah, yeah. Really poetic, doc. Right now I feel like I just stepped outside Gotham and into just another city."
Clayface would reply, his tone carried no real excitement, just a small hint of curiosity laced with boredom. As the two finally stepped out onto the street, the atmosphere shifted instantly. The air felt lighter, the city more alive. People strolled by, chatting, laughing, radiating an energy far removed from Gotham's oppressive gloom. The contrast was almost unsettling.
"Welcome to Musutafu, Karlo. Quite a change of scenery, huh?"
Strange muttered as he took a left turn down the street, seamlessly blending into the flow of civilians.
"You could say that again."
Clayface muttered under his breath, still scanning the unfamiliar surroundings. Then, something caught his eye. Not all of these people looked… human. Some had horns, others tails or wings, and—what the hell—a full-blown anthropomorphic lizard man just strolled past them without a second glance. Clayface would turn around and stare at the man as he continued walking down the street, he looked around again, his gaze darting between the strange figures walking by, like a lost child stepping into a candy store for the first time.
"Humanoids living side by side with normal everyday people?"
"Humanoid would perhaps not be the correct term here."
Strange commented as he adjusted his hat a bit.
"Humanoid is such an uncivilized description, don't you think? Implying that someone is more monster than human. This society does not perceive mutation as an affliction, Karlo. It is a natural condition. Expected. Encouraged, even."
Clayface would let out a low hum, as he watched the lizard man disappear into the crowd.
"Guess that explains why no one's screaming when they see a guy walking around looking like a damn dragon. Back home, a guy with a tail, scales, and claws is either wearing a cheap Halloween costume or a freak trying to eat your face off."
Clayface said as he shoved his hands deeper into his coat pockets, his mind still processing what he was seeing. His gaze flicked back and forth through the sea of people, scanning for more 'freaks'. At this point, it felt like a twisted game of Where's Waldo, except instead of searching for a striped-shirt guy with glasses, he was hunting for the kind of beings who, back in Gotham, would have been shunned, forced to crawl through the sewers, surviving off whatever scraps they could find—probably homeless people included.
"The people here have been conditioned to accept the extraordinary as mundane. They categorize, define, and regulate it. A stark contrast to Gotham's more…Reactionary approach."
Strange would mutter looking back at Clayface, amused at how he was processing these new surroundings.
"Spare me that intellectual babble, doc. So what's the deal? Everyone here's got powers?"
"Not everyone, but the vast majority. It is said that approximately 80% of the population possesses some form of ability, ranging from the insignificant to the catastrophic."
"80%? Heh. No wonder nobody flinched when that lizard guy walked by. They probably see weirder crap every day. Feel almost bad for the poor 20% bastards, looks to me like they would be considered the freaks here."
As they walked, their attention was drawn to a large screen mounted on the side of a building. It displayed a news segment, the scene showing the aftermath of what was clearly a battle—rubble and debris scattered across the street.
"I am happy to report that the Pro-Hero Red Gauntlet managed to defeat and arrest several villains who tried to rob a Jewelry store!"
The reporter said happily as the camera panned to the side a bit, revealing the so-called hero at the center of the chaos. Red Gauntlet stood there, flexing his muscles for the cameras, most definitely enjoying the attention. Reporters crowded around him, camera flashes flickering like tiny bursts of lightning as they fired off questions one by one.
"Notice something, Karlo?"
Strange asked, pointing at the large screen casually.
"What? Besides the fact that guy looks like he's ready to shoot a movie scene?"
"The language. The framing. There is no uncertainty in their justice. No hesitation. The public does not question the hero's authority—they revere it."
Clayface frowned slightly as he considered that. He had seen the way people talked about Gotham's 'heroes'—with fear, resentment, and, at best, reluctant gratitude. Here, though…They worshiped them.
"So, what? Cops take a backseat to these guys?"
"More than that. The legal system itself is intertwined with the hero structure. These 'Pro Heroes' serve as both enforcers and public figures. And, unlike Gotham's masked vigilantes, they do not operate outside the law—they are the law."
"Batman would hate this place."
Clayface would mutter as he chuckled to himself as he looked up at the Pro Hero on the screen, flexing as he started speaking directly to his fans.
"Look at that guy…Spandex, mask, the whole deal. Gotham's 'heroes' dress like they're going to a funeral."
"Because Gotham is a funeral, Karlo. This city, however, is a laboratory, an untapped goldmine of potential. That is why I have taken such a keen interest in it."
"Just as I thought, didn't think you would take me along for a little walk to lift my spirits. What do you need?"
Clayface would ask as the two of them moved along, continuing to walk down the street.
"i need you to—"
Bump
Strange staggered slightly as someone collided with him, nearly sending him off balance. In front of him, a boy had fallen to the ground. He looked around thirteen or fourteen, dressed in a black school uniform, his messy green hair sticking out in all directions.
"I-I am terribly sorry sir, please forgive me!"
The boy scrambled to his feet, bowing repeatedly in frantic apology.
"You should be more careful, young man."
Strange brushed off his coat, barely fazed. He had endured far worse than an accidental bump from a teenager.
"I-I am late for School so I apologize again, I have to get going!"
The green haired boy said as he started running once again, running past Strange and Clayface, disappearing into the crowd.
"At least the kids here have manners…You were saying?"
Clayface muttered as he placed his hands into his pockets once more.
"I need you to remain here for a while, Karlo. Study the way this place breathes—the way its underbelly functions."
Clayface stopped in his tracks for a moment, narrowing his eyes at Strange.
"Wait, wait, hold on—you're leaving me here? What, am I supposed to be your eyes and ears now?"
"Precisely. Consider it an opportunity, Karlo. You have always been an actor, have you not? What better stage than this?"
Clayface would exhale sharply, shaking his head a bit. There really was no room for debate here with Strange, but at the same time he was intrigued by the opportunity.
"Fine."
Strange reached into his coat pocket and pulled out a small, sleek, black device—no bigger than a deck of cards. He held it up between two fingers before placing it into Clayface's hand
"Should you find yourself in need of returning, use this. A single activation will manifest you back into our world."
Clayface examined the device, flipping it over in his palm. It was surprisingly light, with no visible buttons aside from a single red switch embedded in the center.
"Fancy little toy. So what, I just press this, and poof—back to Gotham?"
"Indeed. However, I expect you to use it wisely. I want you to gather whatever knowledge you can on Musutafu's criminal elements—its organizations, its outcasts. Every society has its vermin, Karlo. Find them."
Strange reached into his coat once more, this time retrieving a small folded slip of paper. He handed it to Clayface.
"These are the coordinates to a location outside the city. A secure place I have prepared, it is going to serve as our base of operations for the time being."
Clayface unfolded the paper and skimmed the numbers written on it. He didn't know exactly where it pointed, but he figured it had to be some kind of hideout.
"Real considerate of you, doc. But let me guess—the way I see it you aren't exactly gonna give me the grand tour."
"I have matters to attend to elsewhere."
"And what kind of 'matters' are we talking about?"
"Let us call it...A gathering of like-minded individuals back in Gotham. A most fascinating experiment is about to take place."
"That so? And what kind of 'experiment' are we talking about here?"
"Come now, Karlo. You have worked in the movie industry, you should know by now...Some things are better witnessed than explained. The golden rule of show don't tell."
Clayface watched him for a moment, debating whether to push further. But he knew Strange well enough to recognize when the man was keeping things deliberately vague.
"Alright, alright. Keep your little secrets. I'll play along."
"Tomorrow night. The coordinates. Do not be late."
With that, Hugo Strange turned and walked away, disappearing into the crowd of civilians, leaving Clayface there alone. He would take a look at the device and the piece of paper provided for him, as he casually pocketed them.
"This could be exciting, a blank canvas with no one knowing me, and most importantly no Batman."
Clayface commented as he Smirked to himself, he turned around and walked away, blending effortlessly into the crowd, just another face among many.