#cryptidbatman

AKA “The Wraith Knight Isn’t Dead. Nova Thinks He Is. Chaos Ensues.”

So, Nova Hart has heard the local legends.

The Wraith Knight of Gloam City. Shadow-walking. Bullet-proof. Explosion-proof. Appearing and disappearing like a pissed-off cryptid with a moral code.

To Nova—former actual protector spirit turned broke college student—it all adds up:

The Wraith Knight is totally a ghost. A powerful one. A territorial one. A “hey-you’re-on-my-haunting-grounds” type.

Which is a problem, because Nova is currently… trespassing.

Naturally, he panics.

His Midwest upbringing (“be polite or die trying”) fuses with Ancient Ghost Politeness Rules to create:

A Please-Don’t-Beat-Me-Up Gift Basket™

It includes:

a $4 knockoff Wraith Knight plush

a pixelated image he printed from a conspiracy forum

random trinkets from his dorm drawer

a neon sticky note that says: “4 THE WRAITH KNIGHT. IM SORRY.”

He leaves it on the roof. He prays. He sweats.

Enter the Wraith Knight (who is, in fact, extremely alive)

He finds the basket. He gets Concerned™.

The next night, he corners 19-year-old Nova Hart, freshman in Gloam U’s engineering program.

Super ominous. Zero lighting. Peak cryptid energy.

Wraith Knight: Why.

Nova: “I’MSORRYMISTERWRAITHSIRIDIDN'TMEANTOPLEASEDON'THAUNTME.”

Wraith Knight: Why did you leave the items.

Nova tries to say “I’m like you,” meaning a protector spirit, but:

He panics. His brain blanks. And he blurts—

Nova: “I… like you?”

He doesn’t even notice the mistake.

The Wraith Knight does.

He goes still.

“…Oh,” he thinks. “He’s a fan.”

And then he leaves. Nova nearly passes out in relief.

But now he’s convinced that the Wraith Knight spared him only because the offering was acceptable. So he keeps making more “sacrificial” baskets like it’s a part-time job.

Misunderstanding Level: Catastrophic

The Wraith Knight thinks he’s dealing with the most dedicated fanboy he’s ever met.

Nova thinks he’s negotiating territory with a dead mega-ghost who is mercifully ignoring the fact that he exists.

And then the Shadows (the younger vigilantes) show up.

Nova, trying to be subtle, makes statements like:

“Yeah, I used to be like you guys.” (former vigilante = TRUE)

“Death is… complicated.” (also TRUE)

“My family situation is rough.” (painfully TRUE)

“I have a daughter.” (true-ish, because Dani exists, so… complicated.)

Each Shadow interprets these in increasingly unhinged ways:

Nightstar: He’s a retired vigilante who knows our identities.

Gravel: He literally died. He’s a vampire.

Byte: Traumatized child prodigy. I see it.

Starfish: He has a SECRET CHILD????

No one is correct. Everyone is confident.

Now Nova is basically the chaotic “uncle” of the team—dropping eldritch-level lore at random:

Example:

Cyrene (as Nightstar): “He’s my dad. I love him. But it sucks that his job is hunting people like me.”

Nova: “Kid, same.”

Cyrene: “…But your parents are scientists.”

Nova: dead, haunted, 1000-yard stare “…Yeah.”