[Interdimensional Chatroom]
Civilian of the Crime City has sent a cross-world request.
Slots: 0 / 1
High above New York, Noah Vale stared at the notification.
He didn't accept it right away.
Instead, he typed.
Noah Vale: You in a hurry?
Civilian of the Crime City: …What?
Noah Vale: Nothing urgent. Just wondering if this can wait a couple days.
Noah Vale: I just got back. Haven't exactly had time to unwind yet.
Noah Vale: If I come over, I'll probably be tied up there for a while.
Inside Arkham Asylum, the man known only as the Civilian of the Crime City stared at the message.
For a moment, he said nothing.
The memory of his family flickered through his mind.
The silence of the cell pressed in.
Then—
He typed back.
Civilian of the Crime City: …Alright.
Noah smiled faintly.
Reasonable guy.
No rush. No pressure. No obligation.
Helping people wasn't a contract. It wasn't a job.
He'd get to it.
Eventually.
Three days passed.
By the time Noah finally accepted the request, he looked thoroughly… satisfied.
Relaxed.
Unhurried.
Light folded—
And he stepped into Arkham.
The air was damp.
The walls were stained.
The atmosphere felt like something alive and rotting at the same time.
Noah stood there in clean white, untouched by any of it, like he'd walked in from a different reality.
Across from him—
A man bound in steel.
Chains locked tight across his body. His movements restricted down to the smallest twitch.
He hadn't bathed in days.
Didn't matter.
That wasn't what Noah noticed.
It was the eyes.
"Two months," Noah said, tilting his head slightly. "That's all it took."
No response.
The man couldn't speak.
But his gaze didn't waver.
Whatever restraint had once been there—
Was gone.
Noah flicked his hand.
Steel snapped.
Chains dropped.
Metal hit the ground in a heavy cascade.
The man straightened slowly, adjusting to freedom like it was something unfamiliar.
"…Thanks."
His voice was rough.
Worn down.
But steady.
Noah didn't linger on it.
"Where are their ashes?"
A faint ripple of power gathered in his hand, forming something far more dangerous than it looked.
"I can bring them back."
He said it simply.
Like it was nothing.
The man shook his head.
"No."
Noah blinked.
"…No?"
"I've thought about it," he said quietly. "A lot."
His voice didn't rise.
Didn't crack.
"If they come back… they won't be them. Not really."
Noah frowned slightly.
"That's not how it works," he said. "Souls exist. This isn't guesswork."
"Maybe," the man replied.
Then, after a pause—
"It doesn't matter."
Alarms screamed.
Red lights flashed across the corridor.
Security had noticed.
Too late.
Noah glanced toward the noise, then back at him.
"So that's it? That was your request?"
The man shook his head.
"I've got one more."
Noah waited.
"I want this world fixed."
That got his attention.
The man stepped forward, chains still dangling from his wrists.
"Crime. Corruption. Everything rotting under the surface."
His voice sharpened.
"Especially this city."
Gotham.
"I want it gone," he said. "All of it."
A pause.
"I want every one of them to suffer before they die."
Noah studied him.
Carefully.
There was no hesitation in those words.
No exaggeration.
Just conviction.
"…That's a pretty aggressive definition of justice."
"It works."
Noah considered that.
Then smiled.
Not kindly.
Not cruelly.
Just… interested.
"Alright," he said. "Let's hear it."
Footsteps thundered outside.
Security teams gathered at the door, weapons drawn.
Electric batons.
Firearms.
Nervous hands.
Before anything else—
Noah asked one more question.
"Where do you draw the line?"
The answer came immediately.
"Murderers."
"They die."
"Rapists."
"They die."
"Drug traffickers."
"They die."
"Human traffickers."
"They die."
The list went on.
Noah let out a quiet breath.
"That's… a lot."
The man didn't flinch.
The door burst open.
A shot rang out.
A bullet tore through the air—
Missed.
"Complicit enforcers," the man said coldly, stepping forward.
"They're not innocent either."
His hand struck.
The impact didn't even need contact.
Force traveled through the air, slamming into the guard who fired.
The man flew backward, coughing blood as he hit the wall.
Alive.
But not getting up anytime soon.
The rest froze.
"Stand down," he said. "Or things get worse."
Noah leaned casually against the doorframe, arms crossed.
"You should listen to him," he added. "This is him being reasonable."
The guards hesitated.
Then looked between the two men.
One unhinged.
One calm.
And somehow—
The calm one felt more dangerous.
Because madness had limits.
Power didn't.