The night over Gotham was as black as ink, the city swallowed whole by shadows.
In the Arkham precinct, Adam slouched in his chair, a thin pamphlet dangling from his hand as he sighed in frustration.
"Black Mask… that bastard doesn't give favors," he muttered under his breath. "If he's willing to cut free from all debts, then he's neck-deep in sothing ugly."
He flipped through the booklet, its pages full of grim reports. Each line made his face darker, like soone tightening a noose around his neck.
The front page read:
"Upon seizing power in San Pedro Sula, General Lionel—leader of the new military junta—imposed a wave of brutal reforms. He abolished the national currency, confiscated all foreign reserves, outlawed religion, and shuttered every Catholic monastery. Clergy were forced into fields to perform manual labor. Governnt workers of the previous regi were publicly executed. These policies left thousands dead, plunging the country into fresh chaos."
Adam's jaw clenched as he read on.
"Under the guise of 'security asures,' Lionel bombarded his own capital, forcing a mass evacuation. In just three days, San Pedro Sula, once ho to nearly a million, was reduced to less than 8,000 survivors. Entire families perished during the forced migration, unable to buy food after the abolition of currency. Starvation, disease, and fatigue claid tens of thousands."
The UN had condemned the regi, pushing for embargoes and sanctions, but the new general didn't care. He ruled by blood and terror.
Adam closed the booklet and rubbed his temples. Black Mask wasn't lying—this was a snake pit.
South Arican drug lords weren't small-ti operators hiding in shadows. They were kings, ard to the teeth, rich enough to raise private armies. He thought of Pablo Escobar, who had tanks, aircraft, and missiles.
Overthrowing a governnt was child's play for soone like that.
"The general didn't just burn the poppy fields," Adam muttered, "he burned everything. The man doesn't play by any rules."
His thoughts were interrupted by the shrill ring of the desk phone. He picked it up lazily.
"Where the hell are you?" a voice panted on the other side. "Adam, I checked your patrol routes—nobody's seen you. I had to use a public phone to reach you!"
Adam groaned. "Jason? I'm… uh… working on sothing inside the station. What's so urgent?"
"Didn't you say you're heading to so… uh… South Arican place?" Jason asked. "Well, turn on Channel Five. Now.There's been a change."
Adam frowned. "A change?"
"Just watch. You'll see."
Adam hung up and reached for the old TV at the station's reception. He had already cleared this mission with Chief Gordon and even had Black Mask grease the right palms. Everything was supposed to be smooth. If Jason was worried, it ant sothing big had dropped.
The screen flickered to life—and Adam's stomach sank.
Of all people, Bruce Wayne was on screen, smiling under studio lights. Dressed to perfection, Gotham's golden boy leaned casually in his seat, chatting with a glamorous TV host like he owned the world.
"Mr. Wayne," the host said with a bright smile, "it's been reported that President Lionel of San Pedro Sula visited Gotham recently, but you refused to et him. In fact, you stated that the Wayne Group would not even consider cooperation unless the country eradicated poppy cultivation. Is that true?"
Bruce's grin was effortless as he replied, "Ah, Judy, you make it sound harsher than it is," he replied smoothly. "It's not just the Wayne Group. The entire international community is watching. If poppy cultivation isn't wiped out, San Pedro Sula's international recognition and economic ties will remain frozen."
Adam glared at the screen. "Oh, great. Perfect timing, Wayne."
The host leaned closer, intrigued. "Then what about Gotham's delegation? Will Wayne Group have a say in who gets to represent the city?"
Bruce's tone sharpened slightly, his smile still fixed. "Absolutely. I can't speak for other cities, but for Gotham, we'll ensure every candidate is thoroughly vetted. Only upright, honest, reliable people will join the delegation to supervise the eradication effort. We won't tolerate corruption or incompetence."
Adam's eyes widened and he shouted in anger, "No. No, no, no. You have got to be kidding ."
Bruce Wayne—Batman himself—was sticking his nose into this? And after Adam had humiliated him not long ago?
The phone rang again. Adam didn't even need to look at the screen to know who it was.
He exhaled slowly, staring at Bruce Wayne's smug face on TV, then grabbed the receiver.
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