I'm watching You

"It's true! I saw it with my own eyes!" 

The middle-aged man practically shouted into the TV camera, his face flushed with excitement.

As more witnesses appeared on-screen, each seemed eager to share their own version of what they'd seen.

"Batman? That was definitely him! And I'm telling you, he's ten times cooler than anything you read about online!" one young man gushed.

"He came out of nowhere and took down that psycho, like—bam!" another added, still wide-eyed with disbelief.

"What? Nobody's talking about that armored spider guy? Look, I got it all on video!" someone else chimed in, holding up his phone. "That armor? Unreal. The guy's strength alone…did you see him kick that monster across the floor? And those energy blasts from his palms! Do you even get what that means? Energy weapons!"

The incident in Thunder City's central business district had set the city abuzz, with word spreading about Batman's unexpected arrival. Reporters were rushing to the scene, piecing together the details of what could only be described as miraculous.

An armed lunatic had stormed the city's largest shopping mall, equipped with an arsenal of high-powered weaponry. Under any other circumstances, the day could have ended in unimaginable tragedy, a massacre that would mark one of the darkest days in Thunder City's history.

But all of that had been prevented by two figures.

Before the maniac could even fire his first shot, Batman had him subdued. Witnesses said the takedown was so swift, they could hardly register what had happened. In less than a minute, the killer's weapons, his bizarre powers, all his threats—neutralized.

No casualties. No damage. Batman and Spider-Man had made the impossible happen.

"I was just walking to the exit when it happened," a young woman said in a shaky voice. "I…I could've died."

"No way the Sheriff's Department could've stopped that guy. This city owes Batman…owes them both," another witness murmured, voice full of gratitude.

"Batman killed the guy?" asked a reporter, a note of curiosity in her voice.

The witness shook his head. "No, Batman didn't kill him. Sure, the guy's dead, but that wasn't Batman's doing."

"Then who did?"

The witness shrugged. "How would I know?"

---

As the police continued to secure the scene, Detective Ivan Petrov slipped away from the crowd, pulling out a cigarette and lighting it as he stepped into a quieter area.

"You fired the shot."

The voice was low, familiar, and seemingly from nowhere. Ivan looked up and saw Batman perched on a ledge above him.

"Chaos, y'know? Hard to say who pulled the trigger in that mess," Ivan replied casually, exhaling smoke. But they both knew he'd been the one who ended Aslan Khalifa's life.

He knew the guy was a death row inmate and probably would've been re-sentenced soon enough. Killing him might've been unnecessary, something that would require paperwork and maybe a slap on the wrist if he was unlucky. But that didn't matter to Ivan. Sometimes, taking out the trash brought its own satisfaction.

"Anyway, that's not why I called you over here. I've got something you'll want to see," Ivan said, pulling a small evidence bag from his coat.

Batman appeared beside him in an instant, taking the bag from his hand.

Inside was a bullet. Batman's detective mode immediately registered the marking on it.

Stark.

"One of the rounds used by our 'friend,'" Ivan said, nodding toward the bag. "All the gear he was packing? Same label."

He smirked, glancing at Batman. "Of course, I know it's bogus. That Stark guy—he's a pal of yours, right? You gotta admit, this whole 'let's pin it on Stark' strategy is creative. Dumb, but creative."

The weapons might have been state-of-the-art, but anyone who knew Stark's work would recognize the difference. Stark Industries was known for high-tech, futuristic gear. These firearms, while advanced, didn't hold a candle to Stark's usual inventions.

Ivan paused, considering. "Actually…scratch that. Now that I think about it, there are probably plenty of people gullible enough to fall for it."

After all, the Ninth Special Service Division had long experience in intelligence control and manipulating public opinion. He knew that a surprising number of people were willing to believe almost anything if it was dressed up the right way.

"Still," he added, "tell your friend not to worry. We'll handle this quietly. Our real problem is whoever supplied that maniac with the gear…"

When he turned back, Batman was gone.

"Figures," Ivan muttered, lighting another cigarette.

---

Doubleday Technology

Naoya Iwanaga stood before a massive screen in his office, watching the news coverage of the Leicheng incident unfold with a tight-lipped scowl.

"Ridiculous," he muttered. "No one's even mentioned the weapons… How the hell was Batman there? And no injuries?"

His frustration was evident. "That lunatic talked a big game but delivered nothing. Consider it a failed investment…"

His assistant, standing by his side, cleared his throat. "Does that mean we're calling off the plan?"

"No. Keep it going," Naoya said coldly. "We'll continue pushing the narrative about Stark's so-called weapons. It's not the impact we hoped for, but it's something. This is just the beginning. Wait until the next—"

His words cut off abruptly as the screen flickered, and new footage appeared.

Naoya glanced at his assistant, frowning. "Who changed the channel?"

"No one, sir," the assistant stammered. "I didn't touch anything…"

Naoya turned back to the screen, and his blood ran cold.

The video displayed a black car, his car, driving through Leicheng. The camera was so sharp, so focused, it was as though it had been recording from right inside the vehicle. His heart dropped further as he recognized his own voice.

He and Aslan Khalifa were clearly visible, their conversation audible.

"I know you're here for the thrill, for the chaos. You want people to know it's you, that it's your work. All I need is for you to do what you do best…and you'll be paid handsomely…"

A chill gripped Naoya as he realized the severity of the situation. If this footage got out, if the world heard that conversation… he was done.

How had anyone recorded it?

"Naoya Iwanaga."

The voice was icy, cutting through the room like a blade. Naoya turned, heart hammering, and froze.

In the corner, half-hidden in the shadows, stood Batman. The vigilante seemed to materialize out of thin air, his presence radiating an eerie, silent threat.

"Batman!?" Naoya stammered, his voice trembling. "No, wait…you don't understand. I can explain—"

"I've already traced the transactions," Batman interrupted, his voice deadly calm. "You tried to cover it up—hidden accounts, secret fund transfers to Aslan Khalifa. You thought no one would find out. My people did."

The room felt like it was closing in on Naoya. His breathing quickened as the realization sank in: Batman knew everything.

Desperation took over. "Security!" he shouted, backing up as he looked frantically around. "Get in here! Remove him!"

But his command fell flat. Batman was already inside the most secure room in the building. Outside, Naoya's security guards were lying unconscious on the floor.

"They're sleeping," Batman said, taking a slow step forward. Every step felt like a countdown to Naoya's fate.

"And now, it's your turn."

"No…stay back," Naoya whispered, his voice cracking as he backed up against the wall, nowhere left to go.

---

Moments later, the president of Doubleday Technology was hanging from the ceiling by his wrists, battered, bruised, and barely conscious. His tailored suit was torn, blood trickling from his nose and mouth, his face a mask of pain and terror.

Batman stood before him, coldly assessing the broken figure.

"Consider this a warning to every piece of scum on this planet."

Without another word, Batman turned, stepping onto the windowsill. His black cape unfurled, catching the pale light of the moon as he vanished into the night.

"I'm watching all of you."