Hollenhua's expression darkened as he watched the men in black vanish.
They moved like ghosts through the alley, their figures slipping between shadows without a sound. In the span of a few breaths, they were gone, swallowed completely by the night.
"Damn it… those bastards!"
The man carrying the sniper rifle spat the words out angrily, his grip tightening on the weapon. Even so, he hadn't made a move earlier, and there was a clear reason for that.
Another companion beside him clicked his tongue, shaking his head. "You really need to get your temper under control, Hollenhua. Those guys aren't something we can handle, especially the one leading them. That kind of presence… he's probably one of their top killers."
He paused for a moment, his tone turning more serious.
"The fact that you're still alive means they showed restraint."
"You—!"
Another man bristled at the comment, but Hollenhua raised a hand to stop him. His gaze remained fixed on the empty alley, his expression unreadable as thoughts churned beneath the surface.
…
"What? You bought the place next door?"
Locke stared at Emily, genuinely caught off guard.
She stood there with her chin raised, eyes shining with pride as if she was waiting for him to praise her decision. Her entire posture radiated confidence, completely unfazed by the scale of what she had just done.
"Of course I did," she said brightly. "And I got it at a great price—twenty percent below market value!"
She crossed her arms, clearly pleased with herself. "The previous owners are moving to Central City. They said it's safer there, so they've been trying to sell their Gotham property for a while."
"Central City… safer?"
Three invisible question marks seemed to appear over Locke's head. He couldn't help the slight twitch at the corner of his mouth.
"Anyway," Emily continued, waving a hand dismissively, "the workers will start renovations soon. We'll knock down the wall between the buildings, and then—"
Her eyes lit up as she spoke, sparkling with excitement.
"Our bar will be nearly twice as big. And with the second floor, we can expand even more. Just imagine it!"
Locke rubbed his forehead, already feeling the headache forming.
"Weren't you planning to go to college?" he asked, his tone carrying a hint of helplessness.
Buying the neighboring property like this would wipe out her savings instantly.
Emily froze for a second.
Then she clenched her small fist, her expression turning determined.
"We'll earn it back," she said firmly.
Locke stared at her for a moment, almost able to see an invisible aura rising from her small frame. The sheer confidence alone was enough to make him question whether this girl had the potential to run an entire criminal empire if she wanted to.
Soon, workers began arriving outside the tavern on Wallier Street.
The noise drew a crowd, regular customers and curious onlookers gathering to watch the sudden burst of activity. Conversations spread quickly as people speculated about what was happening.
Dam pushed his way through the crowd, his bulky coat making it difficult as he squeezed past others.
"Locke!"
He waved his arms as he spotted him, raising his voice to be heard over the chatter.
With a few instructions from Locke, the surrounding crowd gradually dispersed, giving them space. Dam quickly made his way over, slightly out of breath.
"Man, Emily… you're bold," he said, his tone shifting instantly as he turned toward her with a flattering grin.
Emily's eyes narrowed happily, clearly enjoying the compliment. She nodded to herself, as if reaffirming her decision, before turning back to direct the workers.
Dam leaned closer to Locke, lowering his voice.
"We found one in the Central District," he said quickly, his eyes scanning the street as if making sure no one else was listening.
Locke's eyes lit up slightly.
"Oh?"
The renovation work continued well into the night.
As the last of the workers packed up, Emily stood at the entrance, bowing repeatedly as she thanked them. Laughter and casual conversation filled the air as they climbed back into their truck and drove off.
Locke followed Emily back inside.
The changes were immediately noticeable.
With the connecting wall removed, the once small bar had expanded dramatically, more than doubling in size. The open space gave it an entirely new feel, and from the way Emily looked around, it was clear she already had bigger plans in mind.
She even mentioned turning the second floor into something resembling a private entertainment lounge.
Locke glanced at her, a faint suspicion forming in his mind.
For someone who looked so soft and harmless, she was thinking dangerously big.
After saying goodnight, Emily headed off to her room.
Locke returned to his own.
As usual, he waited.
Only after he heard the steady rhythm of her breathing from the next room did he rise from his bed. The moment stretched for a brief second, then his figure moved.
He jumped.
Dropping from the second floor, he landed lightly and immediately took off, his body cutting through the streets at speed.
Midnight Gotham was quiet in its own way.
The few people still outside were either the desperate or the dangerous—drifters clinging to survival or criminals who thrived in the darkness.
Locke vanished deeper into the city.
Moments later, a slender figure appeared on the roof of Emily's tavern.
Her eyes glinted faintly as she watched the second-floor window. Without hesitation, she moved, scaling the wall with practiced ease. It took her no more than a second to slip inside.
She landed silently.
The room was still warm.
She lay down briefly on the bed, staring into the darkness, her expression unreadable. After a long moment, she rose again and slipped back out the window, disappearing just as quietly as she had come.
…
The Central District of Gotham was a different world.
Even at midnight, it pulsed with life—lights blazing, music spilling out from buildings, laughter and shouting mixing into a chaotic symphony. Men drank freely, women laughed loudly, and fights broke out without warning.
Locke walked through the snow-covered streets, his eyes taking in the scene.
This was Gotham's heart.
And it was rotten.
"Hey, man! Judge, right?"
A white man approached him, slapping his shoulder casually. Locke didn't even turn, ignoring him completely.
The man's expression shifted, irritation flashing across his face.
"You know where you are?" he sneered. "This is the Central District. Even Batman can't touch us here. And you walk around dressed like that?"
Laughter spread around them.
"The Judge? He's nothing," someone else chimed in. "Batman doesn't scare us, and neither does he, right?"
"Yeah!"
The crowd roared with laughter, the atmosphere thick with arrogance and lawlessness. Drug deals happened in plain sight, insults flew freely, and violence simmered just beneath the surface.
Then—
A hand struck.
The man's palm slammed against Locke's head, his grin widening as he drew a blade from behind his back.
But before he could act—
Boom!
His body flew.
Like a cannonball, he crashed into a nearby shop, smashing through the entrance. Hot oil splashed over him as he landed, his scream tearing through the air as flesh burned under the scalding liquid.
"Ah—! Ah—!"
The crowd scattered instantly.
"Shit!"
A bald man with tattoos grabbed a butcher knife and charged forward, rage written across his face.
He didn't get far.
A blur passed.
The next moment, his body slammed into the wall with crushing force, blood spraying outward as his life ended instantly. His corpse hung there, embedded in the surface, unmoving.
"Holy shit… it's really him!"
Someone shouted in shock.
The laughter was gone.
Fear replaced it.
The brutal scene, the speed, the sheer dominance—it all hit at once. Every person present felt a chill crawl up their spine as they looked at the figure standing in the center.
Locke stood still.
His black coat shifted slightly in the cold air, his tall figure radiating a quiet, suffocating pressure.
Judgment had arrived.
....
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