━━━ HE LIES STILL !

𝐒𝐇𝐄 𝐇𝐀𝐃 𝐍𝐄𝐕𝐄𝐑 𝐒𝐄𝐄𝐍 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐎𝐂𝐄𝐀𝐍. She had never beheld the undulating expanse of cerulean waves described in wistful tales, nor the infinite horizon that devoured the sun in molten hues. Justice Wilson had never stood on the yielding sands of a faraway shore, her feet swallowed by the tide's retreat. The only water she had ever known was Gotham's relentless rain—a frigid, unforgiving cascade that turned dreams of distant shores into sodden, impossible fantasies.

She had never left Gotham, either. To many, it was a city of grim obligation, its denizens yearning for escape, their aspirations stretching toward brighter skylines. But Justice felt no such pull. Gotham's shadowed streets and squalid alleys were not a cage to her; they were the parameters of her existence, a labyrinth she had long since ceased to resist. The city was her world—a grim and unrelenting reflection of herself.

Her father's voice echoed in her memory, grave and resolute: "Secrets protect people, Justice."

She'd never believed him. Secrets didn't shield; they corroded, poisoning everything they touched. Her parents' secrets had consumed them, leaving a smoldering wreckage she was forced to navigate. The scars they left were etched deep, hidden beneath layers of indifference, and Gotham's suffocating gray had become the backdrop of her solitary life.

Her childhood existed in fragments—a collage of half-remembered laughter, blurred faces, and voices that had long since faded. What she did recall with cruel clarity were the whispers, the locked doors, and her mother's brittle smile whenever Justice pressed too hard for answers. They had cloaked their lives in silence, pretending it was armor, but their lies had only sharpened the blade that struck them down.

That night remained seared into her mind. The shatter of glass, her mother's scream splitting the stillness, her father's urgent command to hide. She had obeyed, trembling in the darkness as muted voices rose and fell, punctuated by the deafening crack of a gunshot. When she emerged, the world she knew was gone. At twelve years old, she buried her parents, along with any illusion of safety.

She hadn't cried at their funeral. Mourning required strength she no longer possessed. Instead, she stood silent, her gaze hard and unflinching, as if daring the mourners to question her resolve. They had whispered about her, called her strong. But she wasn't strong; she was hollow. The secrets that had killed her parents had left her empty, a vessel filled only with questions she could never answer.

And now, years later, the city of lies was her battlefield.

The mayor's apartment reeked of death—a metallic tang that clung to the air, mingling with the faint, acrid scent of burnt-out candles. The plush carpet beneath the body seemed to mock its grotesque stillness, the macabre juxtaposition of opulence and brutality. Justice crouched beside the lifeless form, her gloved fingers hovering just above the dried blood congealed at his temple. The dim light from an overhead lamp sliced through the room in stark, jagged shards, casting shadows that seemed to writhe with unease.

"Blunt force trauma," the detective murmured, his voice a threadbare whisper against the oppressive silence. "Whoever did this... they didn't hold back. Skull's cracked in multiple places."

Justice's gaze remained fixed on the wound, her sharp eyes tracing the trajectory of violence with practiced detachment. This wasn't just a killing; it was a statement. Preferably because his whole head was wrapped in silver tape, 'NO MORE LIES' sprawled across it, unapologetically so.

Then, the sound of deliberate, measured footsteps. She straightened instinctively, her senses sharpening as the atmosphere shifted. The oppressive stillness fractured as Lieutenant James Gordon entered, his rain-soaked trench coat gleaming under the dim light. His weathered face bore the weight of Gotham's endless burdens, his expression as grim as the scene itself.

Behind him loomed a figure of myth, a living shadow carved from the city's darkest fears. The Batman. His silent presence seemed to drain the air from the room, reducing it to a vacuum of quiet intensity.

"What do we know?" Gordon's voice was steady, cutting through the tension like a blade.

The detective cleared his throat, gesturing toward the body. "Mayor was home alone. His wife and kid were out trick-or-treating. Skylight's shattered—killer came through there. Hit him repeatedly with something heavy. Fatal trauma to the skull."

Justice's eyes flicked upward to the fractured skylight, its jagged edges like a gaping wound in the ceiling. Raindrops clung to the splintered glass, refracting the light in distorted prisms.

"And this," the detective added hesitantly, revealing the mayor's mutilated hand. The thumb was gone, severed cleanly, leaving behind a stump darkened with congealed blood. "Looks like the killer took it as... some kind of trophy."

Batman stepped forward, his movement as deliberate as it was silent. His presence commanded attention without a word. He examined the wound with clinical precision, his voice a low rumble when he finally spoke.

"He was alive when they cut it off."

The detective faltered. "Alive? How can you tell?"

Batman's gloved hand pointed to the wound. "Ecchymosis. Bruising around the edges. It only forms while blood is still circulating."

The detective, seemingly eager to shift the focus, stepped forward. "There was also a card." He gestured to a nearby evidence bag.

Justice reached for it, careful not to disturb the contents. The card was ornate, an owl embossed on the front. Flipping it open, she read the jagged script within:

From your secret friend, 'Whoo.'
Haven't a clue?
Let's play a game, me and you.
What does a liar do when it's dead?

The riddle settled in her mind like a weight, its sinister whimsy cutting through the stale air of the room.

As she pondered, the detective handed her another bag containing a cipher. She examined it briefly before looking up at Batman, whose expression remained unreadable behind the cowl.

She held up the card, her voice calm but probing. "Does this mean anything to you?"

Batman didn't answer immediately. Instead, his gaze lingered on the cipher before shifting back to the body. His silence spoke volumes.

The game had begun, and Gotham's dark chessboard was set.

The tension in the room thickened as a man strode in, his expression twisted with irritation. Pete Savage, Commissioner of the GCPD, radiated the kind of authority that came with decades of bureaucracy and political games. His disdainful gaze landed squarely on Batman, his steps deliberate as if he intended to stomp out the mere idea of the vigilante's presence.

"What is he doing here," Pete asked squarely.

Gordon met Pete's anger with calm determination, his tone steady but firm. "I asked him to come."

"This is a crime scene! Mitchell's, for Christ's sake!" Pete's voice boomed, filling the already suffocating space. "I got the press downstairs! Y'know, I cut you a lot of slack, Jim, because we have history, but this—this is way over the line!"

Justice had been watching the scene unfold with a mix of mild annoyance and detached amusement, but Pete's bluster quickly grew tiresome. She held up the envelope containing the card, the sharp motion drawing everyone's attention.

"Maybe you'll find this interesting," she said coolly, angling the envelope to reveal the bold, ominous scrawl: To the Batman.

"He's involved in this?" Pete asked, his voice cracking.

Justice was about to object but she was quickly interrupted.

Pete's face twisted further, his suspicion shifting instantly. "What, you think he's not involved?" His voice dripped with accusation as his glare shifted to Batman. "How do you know? He's a goddamn vigilante—he could be a suspect!"

"That's enough," Gordon interjected, his tone curt, but Pete pressed on, gesturing wildly. "What are you doing to me, Jim? We used to be partners!"

Justice's lips curved into a faint, sardonic smirk. "Yeah, Pete, but you don't exactly scream 'team player' these days. He's just trying to find a connection. Maybe try listening for once?"

Pete's face reddened as he opened his mouth to retaliate, but Batman's gravelly voice cut through the air like a blade.

"He lies still."

The room went silent.

"Excuse me?" Pete's voice wavered with a mix of confusion and irritation.

Batman took a step forward, his presence commanding despite the absence of any outward aggression. "The riddle," he said, his tone low and deliberate.

Justice flipped open the card again, reading aloud, "'What does a liar do when he's dead? He lies still.'"

Pete's lip curled in disdain, taking a step towards Vengeance as he muttered, "Oh Jesus. This must be your favorite night of the year, huh, pal? Happy fuckin' Halloween."

Before anyone could respond, a police officer called Pete away to make his statement for the mayor. Pete shot one last glare at Gordon and Justice, his anger sharp and palpable as he marched toward them.

"I want him out of here. Now," he snapped, his tone brooking no argument, before storming out.

Justice exhaled slowly, her irritation barely masked as she lightly placed a hand on Batman's arm. "Come on," Gordon urged, nodding toward the exit.

They began to move, but Batman suddenly stopped, his keen eyes fixed on something. Justice's hand slipped away as she followed his gaze. A bloody footprint, faint and imperfect, was being examined by a crime scene technician nearby.

"Yeah," Justice said, breaking the silence. "The kid found him."

Batman's gaze shifted to the boy sitting off to the side, his small frame hunched and trembling under the weight of the room's scrutiny. Justice followed his gaze, her sharp eyes softening slightly. The boy was silent, unresponsive as officers hovered near him, asking questions he clearly didn't have the strength to answer.

Slowly, the boy turned his head, his wide, tear-filled eyes meeting Batman's unyielding stare. Justice glanced between them, something in her chest tightening at the unspoken understanding that passed between the two.

"Let's go," Gordon said quietly, pulling their attention back.

Batman turned without a word, his cape trailing like a shadow as he disappeared down the hallway.

Justice and Gordon stepped outside, the cool night air biting against their faces as the distant hum of reporters reached their ears. They joined Pete at the foot of the steps in front of many police officers, where he delivered his carefully rehearsed statement to the press, the weight of the city's gaze heavy on them all.

As the cameras flashed and questions were hurled, Justice's mind wandered back to the riddle and the dark game they'd all just been invited to play. The mayor's death wasn't the end—it was just the beginning.

IRIS !

okay, first chapter, i don't really know what to feel about this one, but here you go!

i scrapped this so many times, i was so close to leaving it for another day, so its not the best as I wrote on low motivation.