At 8 pm, the streets before Gotham Station were bustling with citizens and reporters who were on strike. They raised their signs and shouted their slogans. Most of the signs were against Captain Gordon, like Gordon Step Down’, ’Gordon Must Go’, and so on. Others included ’Police, do your duty’, ’Get lost, Batman’, and ’Kill the criminals’. When Gordon appeared, the reporters pounced at him, pushing all the mics, cameras, and lights at him, and sharp questions were directed at Gordon.
“I hear that another fifteen officers have handed in their badges today. Is that true?”
“How long will it take for the city to be safe again?”
“Who will be responsible for the bank heist failure?”
“How do you plan to answer to the families of the dead officers? How did that John Doe slip away from the officers?”
“Sir, has the criminal force infiltrated the police?”
“Are the police threatened by the criminals?”
“Captain Gordon, is it about time for you to consider retirement?”
In this world, many people saw themselves as better than they were. They thought that they were doing such important things in their lives. Actually, it was all sh*t.
In America, most reporters suffered from this issue. They thought that they could change the world by directing the societal conversation. They saw themselves as better than the public and had more control. They kept making these irresponsible statements and used their professional knowledge and expertise to twist the truth to gain a higher station in life, more clicks, and better benefits. For that, they would not hesitate to ruin other people’s reputations and lives.
In other people’s eyes, these people were like conceited demons, but they enjoyed their work. If anything, they believed they were doing the world a service. But in reality, they were not better than anyone else; it was just an illusion. When these people came from behind the camera and turned from the interviewer to the interviewee, they would realize what they had been doing. When their small power to instigate discussion was taken away, under the cover of concern, they were nothing but a bunch of instigators. These people had existed since the dark ages and were described in the bible as the one of the signs of the rapture.
When these people placed their own perspective onto other people, they forgot the true nature of their occupation as an observer. When a reporter crossed the invisible line, they would only go further until they became a liar, a fabricator who would stoop to the lowest level to gain profit. Most of the reporters in Gotham were people like that.
With regards to the people at Gotham, as Maupassant put it in The Horla, “People are like a flock of sheep, now steadily patient, now in ferocious revolt. Say to it: ’Amuse yourself,’ and it amuses itself. Say to it: ’Go and fight with your neighbor,’ and it goes and fights. Say to it: ’Vote for the Emperor,’ and it votes for the Emperor; then say to it: ’Vote for the Republic,’ and it votes for the Republic.
“Those who direct it are stupid, too; but instead of obeying men they obey principles, a course which can only be foolish, ineffective, and false, for the very reason that principles are ideas which are considered as certain and unchangeable, whereas in this world one is certain of nothing, since light is an illusion and noise is deception.”
Captain Gordon was that shepherd and so were the superheroes from the Network. They tried their best to protect the city and its people, but they were questioned at every move, attacked by the press. When they put their lives on the line to fight the criminals, they often had to compromise. So, Feng Bujue mocked them and even felt bad for them… Compared to the ’pity state’ of the supervillains, the superheroes put themselves in this position.
“One last question… Is Batman really dead?” The one who asked this question had a unique and charming voice. Gordon turned to it. At the edge of the crowd was a small man in a green suit. He was leaning against the wall, looking at him.
“Riddler,” Gordon said darkly. Unfortunately, as Feng Bujue said, in this lawful place, even if there was a supervillain standing before him, he could not arrest him.
“Alright, move away and let the car through. These are important criminals.” Gordon stared at the Riddler for several seconds before squeezing past the reporters. A car meant to transport criminals came down the street. Officers with guns jumped down from the car and lined up on both sides. Then, the two criminals walked down the steps before the station.
Shiva and Seven Kills had two officers watching them each, and they wore shackles on their wrists and ankles.
About twenty minutes earlier, the two had been sent to the interrogation room. Before they had even sat for that long, Nightwing, who was interrogating them, received a call. It was unclear what the Oracle told him, but the interrogation was over, and this happened.
At that point, both players realized… that something was wrong. They were thinking the same thing.
Knowing that there are superheroes around, open resistance will lead to us being killed. We should wait for a chance to escape.
“Oracle, the two from the station are leaving now.” Above the station, Nightwing watched the movement below him carefully and contacted the Batcave. “I’m afraid they might escape halfway en route, so I plan to follow them. How’s Tim?”
There was concern underneath Nightwing’s mask. “I have a bad feeling, Barbara. You’d better get someone to follow him.”
“Okay, I’ll try to arrange that as soon as I can,” Oracle replied.
“I can’t move away from here temporarily. Call me if you hear from Tim, okay?” Nightwing said.
“You have to be careful too… Dick,” Oracle said with concern.
…
At the same time, inside a warehouse…
“Er… Where am I?” Tim Drake woke up from his temporarily loss of consciousnesses. When he came to, he saw a man in a purple suit standing before him, facing away from him.
“Don’t worry, Tim. When you were unconscious, we have moved you to… a safe place,” Feng Bujue said while facing away from Tim. He was adjusting a recording camera.