Arias had lied.
He had no intention of returning to Ark Academies.
The mont he left Commissioner Gordon's office, his figure vanished—not through so slow, dramatic exit, but in the blink of an eye, as if he had never been there in the first place.
His true destination? Blackgate Penitentiary.
The prison, a looming monolith of cold stone and steel, was a place ant to house Gotham's worst—those deed too dangerous for regular jails, yet not insane enough for Arkham.
But tonight, it was lawless.
The walls, ant to keep criminals in, had been breached. The electrified fences that once buzzed with raw energy now crackled uselessly, sparking at torn sections where escapees had carved a path to freedom.
Gunfire rattled in the distance, screams and laughter mixing into a twisted collection of violence.
The courtyard was the worst of it.
It had beco a battleground.
Inmates, so still wearing their orange jumpsuits, others having stripped down to bloodied tank tops or stolen guard gear, were locked in brutal fights. So were killing for the sake of it, others for power.
Bodies littered the cracked pavent—stabbed, dismbered, left to rot in growing pools of red.
Many of the guards were beyond saving.
So were sprawled lifelessly on the ground, their bodies riddled with stab wounds or crushed beneath the weight of the carnage. Others had been hung on the fences, their limbs twisted unnaturally, their corpses desecrated in ways that even Gotham's worst would hesitate to describe.
It was hell on Earth.
Then—he appeared.
Arias materialized in the center of the courtyard, hands in his pockets, gaze coldly sweeping across the battlefield.
The reaction was imdiate.
So of the smarter inmates froze, their bloodlust turning into sothing else—recognition. Their faces drained of color, and a few stumbled back, fear gripping them like a vice.
But not everyone was as perceptive.
A few of the bolder ones glanced at him with amusent.
"Who the fuck is this?" one sneered, stepping over a corpse.
"Hey, whose lawyer is this!?" another cackled. "Looks kinda familiar!"
A third grinned wildly, brandishing a shiv. "He'll be lookin' unfamiliar when I'm done with him, hehe."
More chuckles, more jeers.
But not from everyone.
"Fuck—it's him!"
The shout ca from sowhere in the crowd, and panic spread like wildfire.
Those who knew didn't waste ti explaining.
They turned and ran.
Or at least, they tried to.
Before anyone could take more than a few steps—
Arias's eyes glowed.
Then, everything stopped.
An invisible force crashed down upon them, locking every single inmate in place. Their bodies seized as if gravity itself had betrayed them, limbs straining against an unseen weight.
Then ca the panic.
"What—what the fuck!?" one inmate wheezed, his eyes wide in horror.
"I—I can't move!" another choked, his hands trembling as if he were fighting against chains that weren't there.
So tried to scream. Others thrashed uselessly, their bodies twitching, twisting—but it was futile.
Arias, completely at ease, simply tilted his head, watching them struggle.
"Lucky for you all," he muttered, his voice casual, "I'm in a hurry. So I'll make this quick."
Then, the real horror began.
The unseen pressure tightened.
Bones snapped like dry twigs.
Screams erupted, raw and inhuman, as arms and legs twisted the wrong way, ribcages collapsed inward, and organs ruptured within their own bodies.
The blood ca fast.
Veins burst. Chests caved. Eyes bulged.
And then—
Heads exploded.
One by one, like fireworks going off in grueso succession. Blood and brain matter painted the courtyard walls, dripping from bodies that no longer resembled people.
When it was over—
Silence.
Arias lowered his gaze, scanning the blood-drenched remains with the sa disinterest one might have for discarded trash.
Then, without another word, he vanished again.
———
Inside Blackgate—The Interior
The madness didn't stop at the courtyard.
The halls of Blackgate's main prison blocks were no better.
Here, inmates weren't just fighting for freedom—they were indulging in their worst impulses.
So were beating guards to death, using batons, pipes, anything they could get their hands on. Others had found more twisted forms of entertainnt.
In the far corners, a few female and male guards were being dragged away, their screams drowned by laughter and jeers. A primal, animalistic scene was unfolding, one that had long since abandoned the concept of humanity.
And then—
Arias appeared above them.
Standing on a steel walkway overlooking the carnage below, he took in the sight.
Unlike the courtyard, where chaos had been expected, this was sothing else.
Darker. More depraved.
He exhaled slowly.
Then, just like before—
He took hold of them.
Every single inmate and guard suddenly froze, their bodies seized in an unseen grip.
Even the victims.
At first, confusion spread through the crowd.
Then, realization.
And then—terror.
"What—what's happening!?"
"Let go! LET GO!"
"PLEASE! I DIDN'T DO ANYTHING—!"
Arias tilted his head slightly, watching as their fear escalated, as their lungs heaved in desperation, as they fought against inevitability.
It didn't matter.
They were all going to die.
And just like before—they did.
Bones shattered. Flesh ruptured. Skulls imploded.
Bodies contorted into grotesque shapes before being violently torn apart.
The floor was instantly flooded with blood, painting the cold prison walls in a deep red.
And then—
Silence.
Arias remained where he was for a mont, surveying the destruction.
This was the ssage.
A warning to Gotham's scum.
There were consequences to causing problems.
And unfortunately for those who had yet to understand that—this was only the beginning.
Satisfied, he vanished once more, leaving nothing but a graveyard of criminals in his wake.
Soon, the Justice League would arrive.
But by then, his work would already be done.
———
Arias soon reappeared in his office at Ark Academies.
The transition was seamless—one mont, he was surrounded by carnage and blood, and the next, he stood within the quiet confines of his personal space.
The silence was noticeable.
With the entire student body and staff locked away in the bunkers, the school felt like a ghost town. The usual hum of activity, the distant chatter of students, the occasional footsteps in the hall—gone.
It was peaceful.
And utterly boring.
Without lingering, Arias began making his way toward the bunkers. His footsteps echoed softly through the empty halls, then—his phone vibrated.
He retrieved it from his coat pocket, his gaze flicking to the screen.
An unknown number.
Arias raised a brow but didn't hesitate. He answered with a simple—
"Yes?"
There was a brief pause before a familiar voice spoke.
"Where are you?"
Batman.
Arias's lips curled into an amused smile.
He could only imagine how Batman had co to ask this question. Likely, the security detail's comms had reported his absence, leading the detective to follow up. More importantly, Batman had probably already learned—or seen firsthand—what had happened at the commissioner's office.
And now, he was trying to figure out what Arias would do next.
Would he move elsewhere? Would the executions continue?
Arias hadn't expected to be questioned on it so soon, but it hardly mattered.
He had a stable enough alibi.
"Why?" he asked, keeping his amused smile intact.
From within the Batmobile, Batman sat in the driver's seat, his eyes locked onto the heads-up display. A live feed showed Arias's exact location, his phone traced back to the Ark Academies.
Under normal circumstances, this shouldn't have been possible.
But Batman's tech was constantly evolving, breaching security asures that were once considered impenetrable. Arias's defenses, once backed by Lex Luthor's resources, hadn't kept pace with the advancents of the Batcomputer.
And now? Batman had confirmation.
Arias was exactly where he said he was.
His voice, still low and gruff, finally responded—
"Back at Ark Academies and heading to the bunkers."
Arias's tone remained effortlessly smooth as he added, "I stepped out for a mont to ensure our dear commissioner was executed. I imagine you and the League can handle the rest?"
A brief silence followed.
Batman's expression didn't change, but he took a asured breath.
Everything in front of him told him Arias was telling the truth.
Or at least, a version of the truth.
He had no proof that Arias was anywhere else tonight. Nothing except instinct.
And instinct—while often right—wasn't enough.
Finally, he responded.
"I see."
Then, without another word, he ended the call.
The line went dead.
Arias let out a light chuckle, slipping his phone back into his pocket.
He didn't know for certain whether Batman had traced the call—but he had accounted for the possibility.
And if he hadn't?
Well, it didn't matter.
Soon enough, he would reach the bunkers. Plenty of witnesses there to confirm he had been exactly where he said he was.
Without another thought, he continued walking—as if nothing had happened at all.
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