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Where’s Waldo? In Gotham. (Young Justice x Where’s Waldo crossover Self Insert)

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A regular guy with a Waldo Halloween costume gets isekaied into Gotham, generates a headache for Batman.
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CHAPTER 1 New

Michael Schachter

Getting out there.
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I usually don't post here, but well, there is always a first time.



Where's Waldo? In Gotham


The Batcave was quiet, save for the low hum of surveillance equipment and the sharp tap of Batman's fingers on the console as he fast-forwarded through hours of grainy security footage. He stopped abruptly, eyes narrowing, and hit rewind. Robin, Alfred, and Zatara stood nearby, each watching the screen with varying degrees of focus and curiosity.

They were observing a robbery at the Gotham First National Bank—nothing unusual by Gotham standards, except for one element that defied explanation. Over the past two days, the investigation had yielded virtually nothing. No forced entry, no fingerprints, no lingering traces of any toxins or hypnotics in the air. The employees and patrons swore they hadn't seen anything or anyone suspicious.

And yet, here he was.

Batman frowned as he played the footage again at regular speed. There, just after 8:02 a.m., a young man walked into the bank lobby. Striped red-and-white sweater, bobbled cap, large round glasses, blue jeans. The attire alone would have drawn attention in any other city, but somehow, no one looked his way. He passed in front of a security guard, who didn't even turn his head, strode right past the teller counter, and headed straight to the vault's back room. It was as though he were just a whisper of wind slipping through a crowd.

"Are we sure this isn't some kind of hypnotic effect?" Robin asked, squinting at the figure in red and white as he rewound the footage a second time.

Batman shook his head, analyzing the body language of everyone in the lobby. Not a single flicker of a reaction. "Hypnotics would leave traces. Elevated heart rates, minor physiological responses to suggest a disruption in awareness. But everyone is behaving exactly as they would on a normal day."

He paused the footage on a frame showing the figure's face, partially obscured by those wide, rounded glasses. He zoomed in, studying every pixel, searching for any clues—a scar, a smirk, something to suggest intent. But the face was placid, almost strangely blank.

"Alfred, what do you make of this?" he asked.

Alfred leaned closer, his brow furrowing as he inspected the screen. "If I didn't know better, sir, I'd say the young man seems almost… lost. Like someone who wandered in by mistake."

Batman considered that. "Lost people don't walk past security, vault doors, and half a dozen employees without a single person noticing. And they certainly don't leave with over two million in cash."

Zatara, who had been watching in contemplative silence, finally spoke up. "It's no enchantment, Batman. I can sense the residue of magic, if it's there, but this…" He gestured at the screen. "This is something else. Whoever he is, he's working under no spell or illusion."

Robin folded his arms, clearly dissatisfied. "So he's just… invisible?"

"Not invisible. The cameras captured his image. People can see him," Batman replied, gesturing to the grainy footage again. "He's walking in plain sight. He was there, his shoes left footprints. But somehow, no one registers him. Like he doesn't belong in their line of focus. Or… like he's part of the background."

The analogy felt inadequate, but Batman had never encountered anything like it. The young man didn't exude menace, nor did he display any overt signs of criminal intent. He simply… moved, like a ghostly flash of red and white, gliding through their senses.

"He's an anomaly," Batman concluded. "A moving blind spot."

"Perhaps he's using some form of advanced stealth technology," Alfred suggested, though his tone was doubtful. "But that outfit… hardly conducive to blending in."

"Exactly," Batman murmured, replaying the footage yet again. It didn't make sense. Gotham was known for masked criminals, grand costumes, and elaborate disguises, but no one would choose something as blatant as this. It was either brilliantly strategic or absurdly naïve.

"What about psychic interference?" Robin suggested, frowning as he watched the footage once more. "Maybe something that redirects focus away from him?"

Zatara shook his head. "No, this isn't psychic. There's no aura, no enchantment tethered to him. Whoever this is, he has a talent that's… unique."

A quiet tension settled over the group as Batman cycled through different camera angles, each showing the figure at different points within the bank, undetected, gliding through locked doors, accessing secured areas, and finally, exiting the bank carrying a duffel bag filled with stolen cash. Not a single person in the building turned their head as he walked out. If the footage hadn't caught him, he might as well have been a ghost.

Batman drummed his fingers on the console, thinking aloud. "It could be a physiological anomaly, some mutation allowing him to emit a field that distorts perception. Or it could be a neurological factor, possibly affecting the parts of the brain that recognize familiarity…"

The theories tumbled out, none of them satisfying. He tried to fit the puzzle pieces together—an outfit designed to stand out, yet a power to fade completely into the crowd. The juxtaposition was so absurd it was almost comical. And yet, here he was, pulling off a heist as though he'd simply walked out of a cartoon.

Zatara's gaze lingered on the screen, his expression one of mild unease. "If this person isn't using magic or psychic interference, then his ability defies even the basic principles of human perception. That's dangerous, Batman. Dangerous and… uncharted."

Batman didn't need reminding. He felt it, that uncomfortable itch in his mind, the sense of staring down something that shouldn't exist. He leaned forward, zooming in on a final frame: the figure's retreating form, striped sweater and bobbled hat disappearing into the morning haze. There was a strange, almost whimsical quality to him. As if he were daring them to find him in plain sight.

"We need more information," he said finally, voice rough with tension. "Run this footage through every database. I want to know if this face has shown up before, even once. And cross-reference any similar cases—incidents where a suspect vanished or was overlooked."

"And if there are no similar cases?" Robin asked, a hint of doubt in his voice.

"Then we'll be looking for him in every crowd, every street, every gathering," Batman replied, unyielding. "Whoever this is, they walked out of a bank undetected with two million in cash. Someone with that skill set doesn't stop at one heist. And if he's operating in Gotham, then he's already underestimated the city."

Zatara inclined his head, thoughtful. "Just be careful. A person who can make themselves invisible in plain sight could slip past you before you even know he's there."

Batman only grunted in response. In all his years, he had never let a shadow slip past him, no matter how elusive. But this was different. This was an anomaly wrapped in absurdity, a riddle wearing stripes.

Alfred turned to him, softening his voice. "And if you do find him, sir, what then?"

Batman's jaw tightened. "Then we make sure he knows that Gotham isn't a playground. And that there's nowhere he can hide, not even in plain sight."




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Batman's jaw tightened. "Then we make sure he knows that Gotham isn't a playground. And that there's nowhere he can hide, not even in plain sight."
*Everyone who works with Batman realizing that he's going to be even more paranoid now because it's actually justified this time.*
 
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Fuck. Now I'm imagining the Justice League hastily looks through Batman's computer, searching for Waldo with sheer paranoia while constantly look back and forth for any signs of him appearing in the Batcave like it's FNAF all over again 😂
 
Fantastic. I can't wait for our boy to somehow make his attire enter mainstream to recreate one of the puzzles made of nothing but impersonators.
 
CHAPTER 2 New
Chapter 2: Lost in plain sight

Six months ago



I checked myself out in the mirror, feeling pleased, if a little silly, in my Waldo costume. It was the perfect blend of casual and a little weird—low effort and cheap but recognizable, just a striped sweater, round glasses, and that ridiculous bobbled hat. My curly brown hair peeked out beneath it, giving the ensemble a slightly disheveled charm. Good enough for a Halloween party. I'd even managed to find an old pair of jeans that were the exact shade of blue.

"Perfect," I said to myself with a smirk, slipping my phone into my pocket. "You're gonna be the one guy who's easy to find at a Halloween party."

I headed down the street, glancing at my phone to check the directions my brother send me a few minutes earlier. The sidewalk was crowded with people in costumes, some truly impressive, others just as last-minute as mine. I chuckled at a guy wearing a sandwich board that read 404 Costume Not Found—and was about to snap a picture when a sudden flash of blinding light swallowed everything in front of me.

The world went white. I stumbled forward, disoriented, clutching my face as the light faded, and when I opened my eyes, I was… somewhere else.

I blinked, staring around.

This was not my city. I was no longer in a cozy little neighborhood lined with Halloween decorations and people milling about. Instead, I was in the middle of a sprawling, gritty city—a place that looked more like a set from a crime movie than my small hometown between the mountains.

"Where the hell…?" I muttered, half-expecting someone in a director's chair to shout, "Cut!" Any minute now. Right?

No one answered. In fact, no one even seemed to notice me standing there in the middle of the street.

"Okay… maybe I hit my head." I looked around and spotted a guy in a trench coat walking past.

Trying to look as normal as possible, I stepped up to him. "Hey, excuse me—"

The man walked right past me, eyes fixed forward, not even glancing my way.

I watched him go, bemused. "Uh, alright… that's weird. And not rude at all."

Undeterred, I tried again, approaching a woman with a stack of papers in one hand. "Sorry, miss, but could you tell me where I am?"

Nothing. She breezed by, almost brushing shoulders with me without even looking up.

"Oh, sure, I'm the invisible guy at the party," I muttered. "Very funny, universe."

Finally, I spotted someone—a wiry guy on the corner, waiting at a crosswalk. I waved a hand at him. "Hey, buddy! Where am I?"

The guy turned his head slightly, his expression blank until I touched him in the arm, then something in his eyes flickered, like he was just realizing I was there.

The stranger blinked, his brow furrowing in confusion. "Whoa. Where'd you come from?"

"Right here," I replied with forced cheer, holding up my arms. "The whole time, actually! Look, I'm lost, I don't know how I got here, but could you just tell me—"

A sudden bang echoed from down the street, and the stranger's head whipped in that direction. He stared for a moment, then turned back to me—and blinked, a blank look settling over his face.

He muttered to himself, "where... did he go?"

"Oh, sure, just forget I exist," I sighed, but the man was already walking away.

What was going on? I hadn't felt this ignored since the time I tried to convince my girlfriend to play Dungeons and Dragons with me. I sighed and wandered farther down the street, scanning for anyone who looked helpful or, at the very least, mildly aware.

But every time I waved or called out, it was the same thing. Either people walked by as if I wasn't there, or, in the few cases where I actually managed to snag someone's attention, the effect wore off the second they turned their heads or blinked long enough. I started to suspect I could be screaming at the top of my lungs in the middle of traffic, and not a soul would notice me.

"So, I'm lost," I muttered, glancing around, trying to take it all in. "Lost in a big, creepy city that feels like it's built entirely out of sketchy alleyways. No idea where I am. And I've apparently developed the world's most useless superpower." I laughed to myself, a little hysterical. It was a morbid defence mechanism I had to cope whenever I was extremely upset.

Better laugh than cry.

"I'm not invisible. I'm… I'm ignorable. I'm the walking embodiment of a background detail!"

I tried to use my phone to call someone but it had no signal.

Curse you murphy!

I approached a fruit vendor next, determined to make myself seen. I gave a wave in front of the vendor's face, fully expecting to be ignored, but this time the vendor blinked and seemed to actually register me, staring at me with a mildly bewildered expression.

"Hey! You can see me!" I said with more excitement than I'd intended. I was at the edge of a mental breakdown after all.

"Of course, I can see you," the vendor replied, as though it were the most obvious thing in the world. "You want something or not?"

"Actually, yeah, I have a question—where exactly am I?" I asked, feeling like I was finally about to get some answers.

The vendor cocked an eyebrow. "You been living under a rock? This is Gotham City."

"Gotham… City?" I repeated slowly, as if the words were foreign. "As in the old fashioned way to refer to New York?"

The vendor just snorted. "Gotham City, New Jersey. Kid, I don't know what you're talking about. Now, you want fruit or not?"

"Uh, no, thanks." I tried to smile and turned to leave when I heard a faint clatter from a nearby trash can. The vendor glanced toward the noise—and in that instant, his eyes went glassy, his expression blank.

I waved a hand in front of his face again. "Hey… buddy?"

Nothing. It was like I was back to being a shadow.

As I kept walking, something finally caught my eye—a massive sign mounted high on a nearby building. The words 'Wayne Enterprises' stood out in bold letters, their illuminated outline visible even in the dreary gloom of the city. My eyes widened as I took it in.

Wayne Enterprises. The same company owned by Bruce Wayne, a.k.a. Batman, if this place really was Gotham. I wasn't just in any random version of Gotham City—I was in the Gotham, the one with Batman and a whole rogues' gallery of villains.

The realization sent a shiver down my spine.

Did I just get Isekaied?

"Alright, new plan," I muttered to myself, a wry smile forming on my lips. "This is fine. I'm totally not going insane! I'm just in Gotham City, which may or may not actually exist, with the powers of an aggressively mediocre children's book character. This is all fine."

I continued walking down the street, hands shoved into my pockets, noting that people occasionally glanced my way, not to me, but through me. The absurdity of it was almost comforting, like I'd somehow broken all the unwritten rules of social existence.

I was, quite literally, a walking blind spot.

"Well," I mused to myself, "if I've gotta be stuck somewhere, at least it's in a city with… ambiance." I looked around at the dark, foreboding buildings, the gargoyles, the vaguely ominous shadows, and the air of constant tension, the gun shot noises in the background. "Though, honestly, couldn't I have landed in Metropolis? Or even Smallville? That place has got to be less murder-y."

Lost in my musings, I almost didn't notice I'd stepped out into the road I saw the lights of a truck, swerving past me as if it hadn't seen me until the last second. I jumped back, hands up in surrender, muttering, "Alright, maybe getting run over isn't the best way to test the limits of this… whatever this is."

After another hour of wandering, my mind buzzed with theories about what had happened. Somehow, I'd gone from being a normal guy in a Waldo costume to a guy actually living as Waldo—just one invisible stripe among the masses, capable of blending in to the point of almost complete anonymity. I tested my new "power" here and there, trying to interact with people, I even stole some food from a store when I got hungry, finding that they could register me only if I put in effort and tryed to actively attract their attention. But as soon as they looked away, or blinked long enough, it was back to square one.

I let out a dry chuckle, taking in the chaos of the city around me, every bit as dangerous and dismal as the comics had described. I was, officially, lost in Gotham—lost in plain sight.

Lost in plain sight!

"Well, no one ever said it'd be easy to be a hero," I muttered with a sigh. Then I added, "Or... a background character in this case."

With nothing but a striped sweater, glasses, and an inexplicable power I didn't understand, I took a deep breath and kept walking into the endless, shadowy heart of Gotham City.
 
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"My powers are useless!" said the man who is impossible to find or be noticed, lmao.

Hoping for more outside perspectives of him and his misadventures tbh, I feel like it's more interesting to see the people trying to find him, and puzzling out what he's doing from the clues they find, imo.

Either way, great chapter, and this story is really shaping up to be a treat.
 
Extra (An outsider perspective on the powers of the MC) New
A strange encounter



Joshua stood at the corner, waiting for the crosswalk light to change. It had been a long day, and all he wanted was to get home without any hassle and get some sleep. Gotham was always full of strange sights, but something felt off—a strange sense of unease that he couldn't quite shake. The distant sounds of car horns and sirens created a constant background noise, blending in with the murmurs of the people passing by.

He rubbed his temples.

Suddenly, he felt something—a light tap on his arm. He turned, his eyes narrowing as they met those of a young man standing right next to him. He hadn't noticed anyone approach, which was strange in itself. The young man looked odd—not in a menacing way, but out of place. Innocent looking. The red-and-white striped sweater, the bobbled hat, the round glasses—it all looked more like a costume than casual wear.

"Whoa. Where'd you come from?" he blurted out, genuinely startled. It was as though the young man had just appeared out of nowhere.

One moment there was nobody there, then he blinked, and the guy suddenly appeared.

"Right here," the young man said, smiling, although his smile seemed forced, as though he was trying hard to stay cheerful. "The whole time, actually! Look, I'm lost. I don't know how I got here, but could you just tell me—"

Before Joshua could respond, a loud bang echoed down the street—the kind of noise that made everyone stop and pay attention. He instinctively looked in the direction of the noise, eyes searching for trouble. It was Gotham, after all, and loud noises often meant bad news.

For a moment, he forgot about the young man next to him.

When he turned back, the guy was nowhere to be found. Their conversation felt like a fading dream—there but not quite there, like a blurry figure in his peripheral vision. Joshua blinked, suddenly feeling disoriented, as if he were waking up from a trance.

"Where... did he go?" he muttered, glancing around. It was an odd sensation—like he had forgotten something important, but no matter how hard he tried, the memory wouldn't stick. He shook his head, trying to rid himself of the strange fog clouding his thoughts.

He looked around the intersection, seeing the light had changed. People were moving across the crosswalk, and he joined them, his legs carrying him forward on instinct. There was something nagging at him, a sense of loss that he couldn't explain. He looked back over his shoulder, half-expecting to see him there, but the corner was empty.

"Must be losing it," he muttered, pulling his trench coat tighter around himself as he continued walking. It was Gotham, after all. Weird things happened here every day, and most people learned to ignore them. Still, this was different. It wasn't just weird—it was personal, like he'd brushed against something he shouldn't have, something that wasn't meant to be.

As he walked, he tried to focus on his destination—home, warmth, some kind of normalcy. But his thoughts kept drifting back to that guy. He couldn't explain why the memory was slipping away, like sand running through his fingers. He never remembered faces very well, but this time, it felt different. It felt wrong.

Was his hair blond or red? Maybe black?

After a few blocks, he finally let out a sigh, dismissing the thought with a shake of his head. There was enough madness in Gotham without him adding his own delusions to it. People vanished all the time here, and there was no point in dwelling on one more disappearing face. Still, he couldn't quite shake the feeling that he'd missed something important back at that corner—something that mattered.

"Gotta get more sleep," he mumbled to himself, pushing his hands deeper into his coat pockets. Whatever that kid had been, whatever he wanted—the wiry guy had decided to let it go. In Gotham, curiosity was often a dangerous thing, and it was usually better not to ask questions—especially when you weren't sure you'd like the answers.
 
"My powers are useless!" said the man who is impossible to find or be noticed, lmao.

Hoping for more outside perspectives of him and his misadventures tbh, I feel like it's more interesting to see the people trying to find him, and puzzling out what he's doing from the clues they find, imo.

Either way, great chapter, and this story is really shaping up to be a treat.

Hope you feel happy, I wrote the extra chapter just for you !
 
Doesn't seem like he started out with the intention to do crimes. I guess living the invisible life puts a strain on us social creatures.

Maybe attracting Batman's attention through crime is just an effort to MAKE someone focus on him. Who better to detect him than the world's greatest detective?
 

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