> "As expected… iron-blooded thods are the most effective."
Alex's voice was calm, but beneath that stillness lurked a terrifying certainty.
His eyes, glowing faintly crimson, swept over Gotham's skyline like a god surveying his domain.
Using his super hearing, he scanned the entire city once more — every whisper, every heartbeat, every breath of fear.
After a mont, he nodded, satisfied.
In just a single day, Gotham's underworld had gone from mocking him — that "loudmouthed freak in a cape" — to trembling at the re ntion of his na.
Holander.
The na itself had beco a nightmare.
Gotham's criminals weren't idiots. They could read the signs — the sudden silence of the alleys, the news reports that multiplied by the hour, the empty warehouses once teeming with smugglers.
Dozens of their colleagues were gone overnight.
n they'd shared drinks with, fought alongside, done business with — all dead.
And not just dead.
Erased.
Twisted corpses, lted faces, burnt initials scorched into walls.
Who could remain calm after that?
Almost every crook in Gotham was scared out of his mind.
They didn't know who would be next — only that if Holander found you, you didn't get a second chance.
Gotham had a new monster.
A being ten thousand tis more ruthless than they could ever dream of being.
No — not a monster.
A demon.
Even the killers and traffickers, the mob bosses and hitn who once thought of themselves as apex predators, couldn't stomach the thought of murdering more than a hundred people in a single night.
Only a demon could do that.
Only a demon could kill so many and still look down at the world in silence.
Once, these sa criminals had cursed Batman's na — that tireless lunatic who seed obsessed with wrecking their business.
They had hated him for years, calling him a hypocrite, a freak hiding behind a mask.
But now?
Now they missed him.
At least Batman had principles.
He caught people, but he never killed them.
Getting caught by Batman wasn't the end of the road.
You'd spend a night in lockup, bribe a few officials, hire a half-decent lawyer, and you were back on the street by morning.
But Holander?
If he found you — you died.
No trial. No rcy. No tomorrow.
Who wouldn't be terrified?
And yet, this was Gotham — a city that could never completely extinguish its madness.
There were always a few idiots, reckless and delusional, who refused to believe in monsters.
They kept robbing, shooting, dealing, killing.
Alex gave them no warnings. No second chances.
He struck them down the mont they acted.
Every single one who dared test him was sent straight to hell.
And the results ca swiftly.
On the first day of his "cleansing," Alex killed 139 criminals — not the 121 reported by the dia.
He moved too fast, too efficiently, hitting more locations than anyone could track.
By the second day, the number of deaths fell sharply — just twenty-one.
By the third, only five.
And on the fourth day…
Congratulations, Gotham.
A new era had dawned.
For the first ti in the city's bloody history, not a single cri was reported.
Not one mugging.
Not one gunshot.
Not one ergency call.
Every last criminal had been cowed into silence beneath Alex's shadow.
It's worth noting — the ones Alex had killed so far were ordinary scum.
None of Gotham's so-called "supervillains" had joined the casualty list yet.
Gotham didn't have that many of them, after all.
And they didn't commit cris every day.
Whether Alex had truly frightened those monsters into submission… was anyone's guess.
---
Over those four days, Gotham's dia went into a state of delirium.
Every network, every newspaper, every comntator followed the story of Holander's "purge" like a sacred ritual.
Cri hadn't just dropped — it had collapsed.
By the fourth day, Gotham was roaring with excitent.
> "Today will be written into Gotham's history books!"
"Today is a day every citizen should rember!"
"There hasn't been a single reported cri!"
"According to the GCPD, they didn't receive a single ergency call all day!"
"We all know why this happened. Whatever you think of his thods — Gotham is peaceful because of him!"
It was, truly, a day without criminals.
---
Holander beca the center of the world.
From universities to late-night talk shows, from luxury boardrooms to street corners, his na was on every tongue.
Scholars debated his morality.
Politicians condemned or praised him depending on which way the wind blew.
Business magnates called him Gotham's savior.
So said he was the greatest madman the city had ever seen.
Others — the greatest hero it had ever known.
Yes, his thods were brutal, even barbaric.
But in a city as rotten as Gotham, maybe only poison could cure the disease.
Look at Batman.
For half a year, he'd fought tirelessly in the shadows, risking his life every night.
And what had it achieved?
Nothing compared to Holander's four days.
In the eyes of the public, Holander had beco Gotham's new light — its Bright Knight.
Even the holess sleeping beneath bridges knew his na.
> "Holander's a hero!"
"He brought light to Gotham — he's our Bright Knight!"
"I don't care what anyone says — I want to thank him!"
Across the city, his popularity exploded.
Sure, there were critics — there always are — but the vast majority of Gotham's citizens stood behind him.
Many even began to worship him.
They were ordinary people — the forgotten masses who'd spent years living in fear of being mugged, shot, or caught in a gang crossfire.
They didn't care about philosophy or politics.
They just wanted to live.
And Holander had given them that — a Gotham where they could walk at night without fear.
So the city cheered him.
---
But not everyone joined the chorus.
Bruce Wayne was not among them.
He had his own code — his own understanding of justice.
And to him, what Alex had done was not justice at all.
It was vengeance.
It was indulgence.
A man playing god and calling it order.
Yes, Alex had killed hundreds of criminals.
But to Bruce, that didn't make him righteous — it made him the most dangerous one of all.
Gotham might look peaceful now, but Bruce knew better.
Peace built on slaughter was fragile, temporary — a castle in the sky waiting to crumble.
> "I can't let Holander keep running wild," Bruce muttered, his voice cold and low.
"I have to do sothing."
With his injuries mostly healed, he rose from his bed, determination hardening in his eyes.
He walked through the silent halls of Wayne Manor and descended into the darkness below.
The Batcave greeted him with the familiar hum of computers and the faint echo of dripping water.
There, standing patiently by the console, was Alfred — ever calm, ever faithful — holding a cup of steaming coffee as he worked quietly at the monitor.
A new storm was coming to Gotham.
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