"Haha! Those bastards finally got what they deserved!"
Dam's laughter rang loudly through the tavern, unrestrained and infectious. Around him, the other patrons quickly joined in, their earlier fear completely replaced by excitement. Glasses were raised, voices overlapped, and for the first time since the chaos began, the East District felt alive again.
"I still can't believe it," someone said, shaking his head in amazement. "The Judge isn't just one person—it's an entire organization. That's the craziest thing I've ever heard."
"An organization that punishes crime?" another added, grinning. "And it's right here in our East District? Crime's about to drop to zero in Gotham!"
Laughter erupted again, louder this time, filled with genuine relief.
Behind the counter, Emily moved quickly, her face bright with energy. She stepped in front of the wine cabinet and carefully lifted two freshly printed posters. With practiced motions, she hung them side by side on the wall behind the bar.
One depicted a tall figure cloaked in black, standing silently under the cover of night. The other was even more striking—a towering figure wrapped in a blood-red robe, his mask jagged and inhuman, radiating overwhelming presence.
"Whoa… Emily, you've got a sharp mind," a neighboring shop owner said as he walked in for a drink. His eyes lit up when he saw the posters, and he gave her an enthusiastic thumbs-up. "This is brilliant."
He downed his whiskey in one gulp, tossed some bills onto the counter, and hurried back out, clearly eager to capitalize on the moment.
Emily hummed softly to herself, clearly pleased. She stepped back, looking at the two portraits aligned perfectly on the wall, and nodded with satisfaction.
Locke set down a basket of bottles just as she turned and hurried toward him, her eyes shining.
"Locke! What do you think?" she asked eagerly. "Good idea, right?"
He glanced at the two towering images behind the counter and gave a small nod, raising his thumb in approval.
"Perfect," he said simply.
Emily beamed. "Thank you, Judge! Thank you, Blood God!"
Her voice carried, and the entire tavern echoed her sentiment. Cheers rose up again, louder than before, spilling out through the open door and drawing the attention of people passing by outside.
For the ordinary residents, this was a day of celebration.
For the criminals, it was something else entirely.
Taking advantage of a brief lull, Dam grabbed Locke and pulled him into a quieter corner of the tavern. His face was flushed with excitement, his eyes practically glowing.
"Blood God?!" he said in disbelief. "That's insanely cool!"
He quickly pulled out his phone and shoved it toward Locke, showing a blurry but unmistakable image taken by a passerby the night before. In the photo, a massive figure stood in the middle of the street, dragging corpses like discarded debris.
Locke glanced at it briefly, his expression unchanged.
"Look at that!" Dam went on, practically vibrating. "You've got backup now. That guy's gotta be over two meters tall. Absolute monster."
His earlier concerns were completely gone. In his mind, anyone who could shrug off bullets and smash through walls with bare hands wasn't just strong—they were unstoppable.
"Do you think he's the strongest one in the Judgment Council?" Dam asked eagerly. "People online are already comparing him to you!"
Locke's eyes flickered slightly.
"…Does it matter?" he replied.
Dam blinked, then grinned sheepishly, clearly not thinking too deeply about it.
Locke said nothing more. The less people understood, the better. Mystery wasn't just useful—it was power.
Just as they were talking, the noise in the tavern shifted. Conversations faltered, attention pulling toward the entrance.
A woman stepped inside.
She moved with effortless grace, every step controlled, deliberate. Her presence carried a quiet magnetism that immediately drew eyes from every corner of the room.
Locke's gaze sharpened slightly.
"…Her?" he murmured under his breath.
Dam's head snapped toward him. "Wait—what? You know her?" he asked, his tone shifting from admiration to disbelief.
The woman who had entered was the same one Locke had saved before. There was no confirmation, but everything about her suggested she might be Catwoman.
Her eyes swept across the tavern, passing over the stunned faces of the patrons before settling on a familiar figure in the corner.
A faint smile curved her lips.
She turned toward the counter, where Emily stood staring at her, momentarily frozen.
"Hey," the woman said smoothly, her voice calm and confident. "A bottle of whiskey."
"Ah—yes! Of course!" Emily snapped out of it, her cheeks flushing slightly as she moved quickly to serve her.
The glass was placed carefully in front of her, and Emily poured the drink with steady hands. The woman picked it up with elegant fingers, swirling the liquid slightly before taking a slow sip.
A faint blush touched her cheeks, her eyes catching the light as she smiled faintly.
"You've got a nice place here," she said.
"Th-thank you!" Emily replied, startled, then immediately turned away, her face reddening further as she hurried off.
Dam and Locke exchanged a brief glance, both equally confused by the interaction.
"…Want me to get her number for you?" Dam asked cautiously after a moment.
Locke didn't respond.
In the end, Dam didn't dare approach her. Instead, he kept talking, filling Locke in on recent developments—how his classmates had apologized after hearing about what happened, how people were treating him differently now, and how he was considering going back to school.
Their conversation was interrupted when the woman approached their table.
The surrounding men immediately reacted, some cheering softly, others watching with open admiration as she walked past them.
"Locke," she said, stopping in front of him. "Nice to see you again. My name's Patrina."
She extended her hand.
"Locke," he replied simply, reaching out to shake it.
For a brief moment, everything seemed ordinary.
Then—
Her fingers lingered.
They brushed lightly against his palm, tracing back and forth in a way that was subtle, but deliberate.
Locke's expression stiffened almost imperceptibly.
His gaze shifted instinctively toward the counter, where Emily appeared to be busy, though it was unclear whether she had noticed.
The contact lasted only a moment longer before their hands separated.
Patrina smiled faintly, her eyes holding a trace of something unreadable, then turned and walked away without another word.
Dam, who had gone completely silent, watched her leave with wide eyes. After a moment, he wiped the corner of his mouth and exhaled slowly.
"…That was incredible."
"Take it easy," Locke said, shrugging his arm off Dam's shoulder. "That woman's not simple."
Dam froze.
"…Wait. What?" he said, his expression shifting instantly. "You mean… she's a super criminal?"
His eyes widened, disbelief and excitement mixing together.
If that were true… that only made things more interesting.
....
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