At Wayne Manor, alarms cut through the quiet like a blade.
Bruce Wayne didn't hesitate.
Arkham.
Again.
He pulled up the live feed.
And paused.
The corridor looked wrong.
Not broken.
Not chaotic.
Controlled.
Patients—some of the most dangerous individuals in Gotham—were being dragged down the hallway in a long, unwilling chain.
Literally.
A rope ran through iron collars fastened around their necks, linking them together like cargo.
It shouldn't have worked.
Men like Bane could tear through reinforced steel.
Now?
He was straining against what looked like nothing more than braided fiber… and failing.
Face red.
Teeth clenched.
Helpless.
At the front of the line—
A young man walked casually, one hand holding the rope.
Long black hair.
Calm expression.
Completely out of place.
Bruce narrowed his eyes.
He didn't recognize him.
But the man walking beside him—
That, he knew.
The vigilante he had personally captured.
The one Gotham had started whispering about.
A name people spoke carefully.
The Butcher.
Bruce leaned closer to the screen.
So this is where your power came from…
Back in Arkham—
Noah Vale strolled forward, humming softly under his breath.
Behind him, chaos dragged its feet.
Some of the inmates tried to resist.
They didn't get far.
A single tug—
And the entire line collapsed like a chain of falling dominoes.
"No need to rush," Noah said lightly. "You'll get your turn."
"Go to hell—!"
The words barely left Bane's mouth before—
CRACK.
Gavin stepped forward and brought his foot down hard.
Bone shattered.
Silence followed.
Noah glanced at him, approving.
"Nice timing."
They continued.
By the time they reached the cafeteria, the line had grown long.
Hundreds of them.
All of Gotham's worst.
Noah took a seat, resting one arm lazily on the table as he looked them over.
Each one had a history.
A trail.
A body count.
"Why not just kill them?" Gavin asked.
There was no hesitation in his voice.
No doubt.
Noah tilted his head slightly.
"Because death is simple."
Gavin's eyes sharpened.
"…Then we make it worse."
Noah sighed.
"You're thinking too small."
That earned him a look.
"These people?" Noah gestured toward the group. "Pain doesn't scare them. Not really."
He leaned back.
"Fear doesn't stick. Not for long."
Gavin considered that.
Then nodded slowly.
"…Fair."
Noah's smile returned.
"That's why you don't punish the body."
A pause.
"You punish the mind."
He raised his hand.
Picked one at random.
Power flickered.
The man froze.
Then—
Screamed.
He dropped to the floor, thrashing, clawing at nothing.
His voice cracked as something only he could see closed in around him.
The others went still.
Even the ones who had been laughing before.
Gavin frowned slightly.
"What did you do?"
"Gave him a job."
"…What?"
Noah spoke like he was explaining something trivial.
"I locked him into a loop. Endless, repetitive work. No escape. No control."
He tapped his temple.
"His mind's awake. Fully aware."
The screaming didn't stop.
"He wants to lash out," Noah continued. "Can't. Wants to break down. Can't. Even when he tries to speak—he can't say what he means."
A faint shrug.
"Everything comes out… filtered."
Gavin's expression shifted.
Not fear.
But something close.
"And when he finally collapses?" Noah added.
He smiled.
"It resets."
Silence spread through the room.
Even the most unhinged among them were watching now.
Listening.
Understanding.
"He'll last about three days," Noah said.
"Maybe less."
The man on the floor kept screaming.
Gavin exhaled slowly.
"…That's worse than death."
Noah didn't disagree.
"Now," he said, looking up at the rest.
"Who's next?"
No one spoke.
No one moved.
For the first time—
Gotham's worst looked afraid.
Noah stood.
Energy gathered again, subtle but undeniable.
"Don't worry," he added, almost cheerfully.
"There's plenty to go around."