Chapter 15
The stench of fear toxin hung heavy in the air as Private Eye swung through Gotham's financial district. Scarecrow's latest concoction had turned the usually bustling area into a nightmare landscape of screaming civilians and hallucination-induced chaos.
Landing on a gargoyle overlooking the main street, Private Eye surveyed the scene. His enhanced senses picked up the faintest whisper of movement behind him. He spun, fists raised, only to find himself face-to-face with Batgirl.
"Easy there, spider-boy," she quipped, hands raised in mock surrender. "I come in peace."
Private Eye relaxed slightly, but something about Batgirl's voice and posture nagged at him. There was a familiar quality he couldn't quite place.
"Scarecrow's down there," he said, pushing the thought aside. "Any ideas on how to neutralize his toxin?"
Batgirl nodded, all business now. "I've got a new anti-toxin Batman developed. Should work on a wide spectrum of Crane's formulas. But we need to get close enough to administer it."
Private Eye's eyes narrowed behind his mask. "Leave that to me."
He launched himself off the gargoyle, web-slinging towards the center of the chaos. Scarecrow stood atop an overturned bus, his gangly form silhouetted against the smoke-filled sky. As Private Eye approached, the villain turned, his burlap mask somehow conveying a sense of gleeful malice.
"Ah, the spider comes to face his fears," Scarecrow's raspy voice carried over the screams. "Let's see what terrors lurk in that young mind of yours."
A blast of fear toxin erupted from Scarecrow's gauntlets, enveloping Private Eye in a sickly green mist. For a moment, the world swam before his eyes. Visions flickered at the edges of his consciousness – his father's disappointment, Zoe's rejection, the crushing weight of responsibility.
But then, something unexpected happened. The visions faded, leaving only a crystal-clear focus. Private Eye realized, with a start, that he felt no fear. The toxin had no hold over him.
Scarecrow's triumphant cackle died in his throat as Private Eye emerged from the mist, unaffected. "Impossible," the villain hissed. "Everyone fears something!"
"I've got bigger problems than fear," Private Eye shaking his head said, "Ever heard of calculus?" And then, the vigilante growled, closing the distance in a heartbeat.
The fight was brief but intense. Scarecrow, caught off guard by Private Eye's immunity, resorted to desperate tactics. He swung his scythe-like arm blades with manic energy, but Private Eye's enhanced agility kept him one step ahead.
A well-placed web shot jammed Scarecrow's toxin dispensers. Before the villain could react, Private Eye was on him. A flurry of punches, each backed by superhuman strength, sent Scarecrow crashing to the ground.
As Private Eye stood over the unconscious villain, Batgirl landed beside him. "Impressive," she said, a hint of admiration in her voice. "But how did you resist the toxin?"
Private Eye shrugged, suddenly uncomfortable. "Guess I'm just not afraid of much these days."
Batgirl studied him for a moment, and again, Private Eye felt that nagging sense of familiarity. The way she tilted her head, the red hair peeking out from under her cowl...
Realization struck like a thunderbolt. Barbara. It had to be. The pieces fell into place with sickening clarity – his sister was Batgirl... Nah, there's no way.
"So, what have you got?" he asked, pushing the nagging feeling aside.
Batgirl turned, her red hair catching the moonlight. "I've been analyzing the Arkham security logs. There's a pattern to the system failures that led to the breakout. Someone with high-level access was deliberately sabotaging the safeguards."
As she spoke, Private Eye found himself studying her more closely. The shape of her jaw, the timbre of her voice – it all seemed hauntingly familiar.
"Any leads on who?" he asked, trying to focus on the task at hand.
Batgirl nodded, pulling up a holographic display from her gauntlet. "I've narrowed it down to a handful of suspects, but one name keeps popping up: Dr. Jeremiah Arkham."
Private Eye's eyes widened behind his mask. "The asylum's director? That's... big."
"Exactly. You know a lot for a newbie, no wonder Bat-, never mind." Batgirl agreed, stopping herself from saying more that was needed. "Which is why we need to move carefully. We can't just accuse—"
Her words were cut off by an explosion that rocked the tower. Private Eye's spider-sense screamed a warning as he tackled Batgirl, both of them narrowly avoiding a hail of gunfire.
"Well, well," a cold voice called out. "I see my little distraction at the asylum wasn't enough to keep you busy."
Dr. Arkham stepped into view, flanked by heavily armed mercenaries. But this wasn't the meek psychiatrist Private Eye remembered from news reports. This Arkham stood tall, his eyes gleaming with malice behind a mask that looked unsettlingly like a straightjacket.
"I prefer a new title," he sneered. "You can call me... the Asylum."
The fight erupted in a chaos of gunfire and acrobatics. Private Eye and Batgirl moved in perfect sync, as if they'd been partners for years. He provided cover with his webs while she took out mercenaries with precise strikes.
As they fought, Private Eye couldn't shake the growing certainty about Batgirl's identity. The way she moved, the strategies she employed – it all pointed to one person: Barbara.
The realization hit him like a punch to the gut.
But there was no time to dwell on this revelation. The Asylum was proving to be a formidable opponent, using a combination of advanced weaponry and what appeared to be a weaponized version of fear toxin.
"You don't understand!" Arkham ranted as he fought. "Gotham is the true asylum! And I will be its keeper!"
Private Eye felt his anger rising with each passing moment. This man had endangered countless lives and had turned Gotham into a war zone, all for his twisted vision. Something inside Private Eye snapped. All the pent-up frustration, the moral ambiguity of his chosen path, the weight of his secrets – it all came pouring out in a savage flurry of blows.
Private Eye's approach was a blur of savage efficiency. He slammed into the first guard, his fist connecting with a sickening crunch. The guard's helmet offered little protection as the sheer force of the punch sent him sprawling, blood spurting from his shattered nose.
Without a pause, Private Eye spun and delivered a bone-breaking kick to another guard's knee, the joint collapsing with a grotesque snap. The guard screamed, crumpling to the ground, but Private Eye was already moving, his next target in sight.
He ducked under a clumsy swing, coming up inside the guard's reach. With a brutal uppercut, he sent the guard's head snapping back, teeth flying as blood sprayed from his mouth. The guard collapsed, unconscious before he hit the ground.
The Asylum itself appeared, armored and imposing, but Private Eye's rage-fueled assault was relentless. He launched himself at the hulking figure, fists and webs striking with precision and ferocity. Each punch carried the full force of his enhanced strength, landing with the sound of cracking bone and tearing flesh.
"You're nothing but a fucking pretender," Private Eye snarled, slamming his fist into the Asylum's jaw. The impact was so powerful that the Asylum's helmet cracked, a thin line of blood trickling down from beneath.
The Asylum staggered, swinging a massive arm in retaliation. Private Eye ducked, his own fist driving into the Asylum's ribs with enough force to break several of them. The Asylum grunted in pain, his movements growing sluggish as Private Eye's relentless onslaught continued.
Private Eye's rage blinded him to everything but the need to dismantle his opponent. He grabbed the Asylum by the collar and pulled him close, driving his knee into the Asylum's stomach repeatedly. Each blow forced the air from the Asylum's lungs in a series of pained wheezes.
"Not so tough now, are you?" Private Eye growled, his voice a low, dangerous whisper. He lifted the Asylum and slammed him into the ground with a thunderous crash, the impact cracking the concrete beneath them.
"Private Eye, stop!" Batgirl's voice cut through the haze of his anger. But he couldn't stop, wouldn't stop. This man had to pay for what he'd done.
He heard nothing. All he could think about with this man in front of him was the death he had caused. Men, women, and children. FOR WHAT?!?!
He drew back his fist for a final, devastating blow that would end him... But a voice cut through the haze of his fury.
"Abel, please!" The scream pierced through his fury like a knife. He froze, as he realized two things simultaneously:
One, Batgirl had used his real name. Two, he recognized that scream. It was Barbara's voice.
Private Eye stumbled back, looking down at the battered and unconscious form of Dr. Arkham. The sight of what he'd done, the realization of how close he'd come to crossing a line, but... why shouldn't he kill him?
Barbara, who was... on the verge of tears approached him cautiously, her hand outstretched. "It's okay, Abel. It's over. We got him."
As the adrenaline faded, exhaustion and shame washed over Private Eye. He'd let his anger control him and had come dangerously close to doing something he couldn't take back. But the question appeared in his mind once more, why would he feel the desire to take it back?
The sound of approaching sirens filled the air. Barbara placed a hand on his shoulder. "We should go. The police can handle it from here."
Private Eye nodded numbly, allowing her to lead him away from the scene. As they swung through the city, a heavy silence hung between them.
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