Chapter 10: Chapter 10
As the GCPD swarmed the scene, the two vigilantes melted into the shadows. But their night's work was far from over. The real battle – the fight for public opinion and the soul of Gotham itself – was just beginning.
The following days saw Gotham embroiled in fierce debate. News of Thorne's arrest and the shadowy vigilantes who brought him down dominated every headline and talk show.
In diners and boardrooms alike, citizens argued passionately about the role of masked heroes in their city.
"They're taking the law into their own hands!" one man shouted at his television. "What gives them the right?"
"The cops can't handle it alone," his wife countered. "Look at all the good they've done!"
At the GCPD, Commissioner Gordon found himself besieged by reporters.
"Commissioner, what's the department's official stance on these vigilantes?"
Gordon sighed, choosing his words carefully. "The GCPD neither condones nor condemns the actions of masked individuals. Our focus remains on upholding the law and protecting the citizens of Gotham through legal means."
But privately, Gordon couldn't deny the impact Batman and this new player, Private Eye, had made. The evidence they'd gathered was rock-solid, leaving no room for Thorne and his cronies to wriggle free.
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In the Batcave, Bruce Wayne watched the fallout unfold on multiple screens. Alfred approached, bearing a tray of coffee.
"Quite the stir your new friend has caused, sir," the butler observed.
Bruce grunted. "He's not my friend, Alfred. He's a wild card. Unpredictable."
"And yet, you worked together quite effectively, from what I understand."
Bruce was silent for a moment. "He's got potential," he admitted reluctantly. "But he needs guidance. Structure."
Alfred raised an eyebrow. "And you believe you're the one to provide that?"
"Someone has to," Bruce replied. "Otherwise, he's liable to get himself – or someone else – killed."
Bruce couldn't help but feel a mix of apprehension and curiosity. Private Eye had proven himself a capable ally. Could he have produced the same result without him? Yes. But in Gotham, alliances were often fleeting and fraught with danger.
One thing was certain: the dynamic of Gotham's underworld had shifted. And for better or worse, Private Eye was now an integral part of that new balance. The real question was: how long could that balance last before something – or someone – tipped the scales?
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The fluorescent lights of Gotham Central High School buzzed overhead as Abel Gordon slumped against his locker, exhaustion seeping into his bones. The corridor bustled with the usual cacophony of teenage life – slamming lockers, overlapping conversations, and the squeak of sneakers on linoleum. But for Abel, each sound felt amplified, his enhanced senses still on high alert from the previous night's encounter.
"Hey, Earth to Abel!" Zoe's voice cut through his haze. Her electric blue hair was pulled back in a messy bun, a smudge of charcoal on her cheek betraying her recent art class. "You look like you got hit by a truck. Late night gaming session?"
Abel managed a weak smile, straightening up. "Something like that," he mumbled, wincing as he felt the bruise on his ribs twinge. "What's up?"
Jamal appeared beside Zoe, his lanky frame towering over both of them. "Dude, you're not bailing on us for the street fair tonight, right? Chris swears he can beat the ring toss this year."
The street fair. Abel had completely forgotten. He opened his mouth to make an excuse, but the hopeful look in his new friends' eyes made him pause. When was the last time he'd done something purely for fun?
"I'll be there," he found himself saying. "Wouldn't miss Chris embarrassing himself for the world."
As Zoe and Jamal high-fived, Abel felt a pang of guilt. How long could he keep living this double life?
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Across town, in the dingy visitor's room of Blackgate Penitentiary, Rupert Throne leaned forward, his expensive suit a stark contrast to the prison-issued jumpsuit of the man across from him. The room stank of desperation and disinfectant.
"You understand what I'm asking, Mr. Zsasz?" Throne's voice was low, barely audible over the hum of the ancient air conditioning unit.
Victor Zsasz, his pale skin a canvas of tally mark scars, grinned unnervingly. "Find the rat in a mask. Skin him. Simple enough."
Throne's lip curled in disgust. "I need information, not a corpse. The bounty is for his identity, nothing more. You have resources on the outside. Use them."
Zsasz's eyes gleamed with a dangerous light. "And what do I get out of this little arrangement?"
Throne slid a folded paper across the table. "Your freedom, for starters. My lawyers are very good at finding... loopholes."
As Zsasz unfolded the paper, his maniacal grin widened. It was a list of names – judges, guards, and witnesses who had been key to his conviction. "Consider it done," he whispered.
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The Gotham Street Fair transformed the usually gloomy city into a riot of color and noise. Carnival rides creaked and whirled, their flashing lights reflecting off the perpetually damp streets. The smell of fried food and cotton candy hung thick in the air, mingling with the underlying hint of smog that never quite left the city.
Abel walked beside Zoe, Jamal, and Chris, letting their excited chatter wash over him. For a moment, he could almost pretend he was just a normal teenager enjoying a night out with friends.
"Step right up, test your strength!" A carnival barker's voice cut through the noise. "Win a prize for the lady!"
Chris puffed out his chest. "Watch this," he said with a wink to Zoe, striding towards the high striker game.
As Chris swung the mallet, Abel's enhanced hearing picked up something else – a muffled cry from behind the row of game booths. The sound of fabric being ripped... It was a woman. She was pleading for mercy... He tensed, eyes scanning the crowd.
"I, uh, need to use the bathroom," he muttered to Zoe, already backing away. "Be right back."
Abel slipped between the booths, following the sound. His spider-sense tingled as he rounded a corner, coming face to face with a scene that made his blood run cold.
Two men had a young woman cornered, one holding a knife to her throat ordering her to undress while the other rifled through her purse. The woman's eyes were wide with terror, a silent scream trapped behind the hand clamped over her mouth.
Abel's mind raced. He didn't have his costume. If he intervened, he risked exposing his identity. But he couldn't just stand by and watch.
Making a split-second decision, Abel grabbed a discarded carnival mask from a nearby trash can. It wasn't much, but it would have to do.
"Hey!" he shouted, voice deepened in an attempt at disguise. "Let her go!"
The men turned, momentarily surprised. It was all the opening Abel needed. He launched himself forward, enhanced strength propelling him faster than any normal human could move.
His fist connected with the knife-wielder's jaw with a sickening crack. The man crumpled, weapon clattering to the ground. His jaw and nose were both disfigured entirely. The second assailant lunged, but Abel was ready. He ducked under the wild swing, using the man's momentum to flip him over his shoulder. While he was on the ground, Abel, still holding onto the attacker's wrist. Violently stomps on the extended arm, effectively snapping it in half.
The woman stumbled back in fear of brutality and the situation entirely, gasping for air. "Run!" Abel commanded, not taking his eyes off the downed attackers.
As she fled, Abel web-shot the men's hands to the ground, ensuring they couldn't escape before the police arrived. He could already hear sirens in the distance.
Breathing heavily, Abel turned to leave – only to find himself face to face with a wide-eyed Zoe.
"Abel?" she whispered, confusion and awe warring in her expression. "What... how did you...?"
Abel's heart plummeted. 'Fuck', In the heat of the moment, he'd forgotten to disguise his voice when he told the woman to run. Zoe had heard everything.
"I can explain," he started, but the words died in his throat as he saw something else in Zoe's eyes – recognition, and a dawning realization.
"You're him, aren't you?" she breathed. "You're Private Eye."
The distant sirens grew louder. Abel knew he had only seconds to make a choice that would change everything.
Weekly Power Status
-- Power
Ranking 
-- Power
stone