Part 25: Freedom
[] Secure Evidence: You have the chance to secure the ledgers and paperwork from the Matron. Do it cleanly, and perhaps Bullock will find his job just a little easier when he steps in.
The ledgers were surprisingly easy to find, tucked away in a locked drawer that barely put up a fight. The papers were dense with incriminating details, transactions, bribes, and names that would make anyone in the city's underworld shudder if they knew they'd been cataloged so meticulously.
Across the room, the Matron was pacing like a caged animal, her hands wringing a stained handkerchief that had clearly seen better days. Her face, once cold and composed, was now flushed with the feverish panic of someone who knew the walls were closing in.
"That bastard Maroni is a fool!" she spat, her voice cracking under the weight of her fury. "Does he think his money can shield me from this? I won't die for that prick!"
Her words tumbled out in a frenzy, half to you and half to herself. It was as though saying them aloud would solidify her resolve or calm her shaking hands. But there was no hiding the fear in her eyes.
"You think turning these over will save you?" you asked, holding up the stack of ledgers. It was strange to play the shadowy blackmailer, a figment of pulp detectives on a real person whom you knew was guilty from all the crimes she commited.
But in the back of your mind, it was liberating, knowing she was going to pay for the crimes she commited.
She stopped her pacing, fixing you with a glare that was as defiant as it was desperate. "I don't care what you do with them. I just need to be alive to deal with it. If handing you that damned paperwork keeps me breathing, then so be it."
You tilted your head, weighing her sincerity. She wasn't lying, fear had a way of stripping people down to their barest truths. But the panic in her voice wasn't just for herself; it was the kind that only came from knowing too much.
"If Maroni's a fool, you're still the one who danced to his tune," you said, slipping the papers into your coat. "Don't think this buys you a clean slate."
Her laugh was bitter and hollow. "I never expected one. Just… get it out of here. Make it matter."
With the ledgers secured, you turned to leave, her parting words hanging in the air like smoke. "If you're smart," you said over your shoulder, "you'll disappear. Because when this goes public, Maroni won't be the only one looking for you."
More importantly, how the hell did he know about her ledger? About everything she had done to keep Maroni's empire running like a well-oiled machine? She had buried her secrets deep, under layers of deniable operations and coded language. The kind of secrets that only someone on the inside, or something worse, could uncover.
She sank into her chair, the wood groaning under her weight as her legs gave out. One hand fumbled for the whiskey bottle in her drawer, the other still clutching the now-useless handkerchief. Her fingers trembled as she poured herself a drink, the amber liquid sloshing over the rim of the glass.
"Detective-looking kid," she muttered under her breath, knocking back the drink in one go. "What the hell is going on in this city?"
She tried to push the thoughts away, but the silence of the room was oppressive, filled with the echoes of her guilt and the shadow of something larger than her, a force that she couldn't see but could feel closing in.
Reward: You have secured crucial evidence that will significantly bolster Bullock's case against Maroni.
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[]The Prince that Promised: You will go to Bruce Wayne and provide him with everything you have. And maybe, he will leverage his great financial resources to stop Maroni.
The meeting was on the safer part of town, and you knew that Bruce Wayne would not be alone. Neither would you, but honestly, you didn't think Wayne would be interested in the metaphysical or paranormal friends you had coming with you.
But that didn't matter, because you had that nifty little wardrobe to make you look fabulous in your meeting with Wayne.
Fedora, trench coat, the full grizzled detective ensemble.
The silhouette you cast could have been plucked straight from a noir novel, dripping with an air of mystery and grim determination. The fedora, perched low on your brow, seemed to drink in the dim light, its brim casting a shadow over your face that never shifted, never faltered. No matter the angle of the light, no matter how you turned your head, the shadow remained, a perfect, unbroken mask of darkness that eerily resembled a domino mask.
It wasn't just an illusion of the light; it felt deliberate, as though some unseen force was crafting your appearance, ensuring that you were never fully exposed. The trench coat, long and worn, swayed with your movements, its edges frayed as though it had seen too many nights of rain and blood-soaked streets. The fabric smelled faintly of old smoke and forgotten alleys.
Anyone who saw you would be struck by the deliberate timelessness of it all. You weren't just dressed as a detective, you embodied the very archetype. It was as if the city had demanded you play the part, molding you into a figure who could slip into the cracks of its grim narrative unnoticed, yet unmistakable.
The Velvet Room had always been a mystery to you, its powers vast and unknowable, but it seemed there was a price for wielding even a fraction of its influence. You caught your reflection in the glass of the shop window, and it startled you, your eyes glowed gold, their unnatural hue impossible to hide. No matter how hard you tried, they wouldn't return to their original color with your little costume on. It was as if the Velvet Room wanted to leave its mark, a constant reminder to anyone who crossed your path as you hunted the shadows: this one belongs to us.
The sound of tires on pavement pulled you from your thoughts. Wayne's limo arrived, sleek and polished, stopping with precision at the curb. The door opened, and Bruce Wayne stepped out, dressed casually but with an undeniable air of poise. He lingered near the door, his body language calm yet cautious. From the rearview mirror, you caught a glimpse of Alfred Pennyworth's sharp gaze, his hand resting discreetly near the glove box where you were certain a weapon was concealed.
"Mister Wayne," you greeted, your voice steady.
His head tilted slightly, his eyes narrowing. "You sound young."
"And so do you," you replied, letting a faint smile tug at your lips. "But sound can be deceiving, just like our eyes and even our memories. That's why I admire detectives. They sift through the noise and uncover the truth, no matter how unpleasant it might be."
Wayne studied you for a moment, his expression unreadable. "So, what do you want?"
"Help, Mister Wayne. Gotham is suffocating under the weight of a criminal empire—one that's draining it of wealth, power, and its people. It's destroying this city's future, one child, one family at a time."
"And how exactly do you think I can help?"
You reached into your coat and produced the folder you'd taken from the Matron. "By using your influence to make sure this gets into the right hands." You handed him the folder, watching as his eyes flicked over its contents. "These documents implicate major players in the Maroni organization. But more than that, I need you to pass this along to two people: Harvey Bullock and Jim Gordon. They're good cops—better than most. If anyone can start turning the tide, it's them."
You extended a sticky note with an address scrawled on it. "An hour ago, I left another set of evidence at this location. Tell Bullock and Gordon that one of their own has turned and left it for the state. That should give them enough to act."
Wayne's brow furrowed as he scanned the note. "And why should I trust you? For all I know, this could be a trap, or worse, misdirection."
You held his gaze, your golden eyes catching the faint light from the streetlamp. "You shouldn't trust me. I'm not asking for trust, I'm asking for faith. Faith that good people still exist. Faith that, even in Gotham, someone might stand up and do the right thing."
Wayne remained silent for a long moment, his expression thoughtful. Finally, he folded the sticky note and placed it in his jacket pocket, and he took the evidence. "Faith is a rare commodity in this city. But I'll see what I can do."
You nodded, the faintest sense of relief washing over you. "That's all I ask."
As Wayne returned to his limo, Alfred gave you a lingering look through the mirror, his eyes sharp and calculating. You could feel the weight of his silent scrutiny even as the car pulled away.
For now, the pieces were in motion. Whether faith and justice could prevail in Gotham's shadowy streets remained to be seen.
Reward: You have successfully enlisted Bruce Wayne's aid. Evidence against the Maroni empire is now in the hands of Gotham's few good cops, and the possibility of meaningful action grows stronger.
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[]Reveal the Truth: You have something to show the world, maybe it will be enough to save you. (Warning, You have enough evidence to bring down the Matron and save your own life, but the prospect of bringing Maroni down is very… unlikely.)
[]A Media Blitz: instead of making a classic investigation, you might try to expose Maroni and his cronies through the media. It's not going to raise to much alarms, but it might… do something. (Warning, doing this action with the evidence you have will safe your life, but with the current state of Jack Ryders Reputation and news connections, it may not make national news headlines… and maybe forgotten with)
Breaking News from Gotham!
A Shocking Crime Unveiled: Murder, Conspiracy, and Child Abuse within the Maroni Crime Family
Gotham's dark underbelly has been exposed yet again as the Maroni Crime Family faces devastating allegations of exploitation. Charges include murder, conspiracy, child abuse, kidnapping, and human trafficking. The family stands accused of adopting or outright kidnapping children to further their criminal enterprises, a revelation that has left the city reeling.
This bombshell comes after a groundbreaking investigation spearheaded by independent journalist Jack Ryder and a meticulous preliminary inquiry led by the Gotham City Police Department (GCPD), with Detective Harvey Bullock at the forefront. Their combined efforts have resulted in a comprehensive indictment against the Maroni family, marking a potential turning point in Gotham's battle against organized crime.
Jack Ryder has taken the story to the public, producing and publishing a harrowing series of interviews with one of the survivors, a young man who goes by the name James Milton. In these interviews, Milton courageously recounts his experiences, shedding light on the horrific operations within the Maroni organization and detailing the abuse and exploitation suffered by countless children.
Adding to the scandal, Matron Gabriella Bronte, the once-respected head of the Gotham Orphanage Society, the largest organization for aiding orphaned children in the city, has been taken into custody. In a stunning twist, Bronte has turned state's evidence, providing critical testimony and witnesses to support the case against the Maroni family.
The Fallout
Public outcry has surged, demanding justice for the victims and swift action against those involved. The GCPD has issued a statement praising the bravery of witnesses and survivors who have come forward, as well as the tireless work of their officers and investigative partners.
"This case is a stark reminder of the darkness that can thrive in the shadows," Bullock said during a press conference. "But it's also a testament to the resilience of Gotham's people and their determination to fight back. We're just getting started."
What's Next?
With evidence mounting and witnesses prepared to testify, legal experts predict that the Maroni family and their associates could face life sentences, effectively dismantling one of Gotham's most powerful crime syndicates.
For now, Gotham waits with bated breath as the wheels of justice begin to turn. In a city long plagued by corruption and despair, this story offers a glimmer of hope, a reminder that even the darkest secrets cannot stay hidden forever.
Stay tuned to WHAM News for updates on this developing story.
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It seems Jack Ryder finally landed his million-dollar story—the kind that shakes Gotham to its core.
Reward: The Maroni Crime Family is crumbling under the weight of justice.
Following the revelations of their crimes, the family is now caught in a relentless storm of legal and law enforcement action. The GCPD, emboldened by the mounting evidence, has ramped up their operations against the Maronis. But it doesn't stop there. Every federal organization with jurisdiction, from the FBI to Homeland Security, has joined the fray, launching a coordinated effort to dismantle the criminal empire piece by piece.
What was once a seemingly untouchable dynasty of corruption and terror is now a fragmented shell, torn apart by arrests, betrayals, and infighting. The Maronis are battling on all fronts, facing not just the law but also internal power struggles as their once ironclad loyalty disintegrates in the face of overwhelming odds.
And for you? You will be alive tonight. And maybe a little while longer. The ole Matron is gone, and they are serving pizza tonight to celebrate the death of the witch.
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[] Talk to John: John was looking at the TV screen. "You know… what do you think is going on in the TV?"
John sat on the couch, his eyes locked on the flickering TV screen, a pensive expression clouding his face. "You know… what do you think is going on in the TV?" he asked, his voice tinged with curiosity.
You glanced up from your notebook, eyebrows raised. "Why are you even thinking about that? It's just a TV. You know how TVs work, right?"
John leaned forward, his elbows resting on his knees, still fixated on the screen. "I'm just wondering… what if there's a world behind the TV set?"
You blinked, caught off guard by the odd question. "Dude, you lost me. There is a world behind the TV—it's called the production crew, the sets, all the behind-the-scenes stuff. And don't forget the broadcasting station. Why are you being so pedantic and, frankly, weird about this?"
John sighed, finally tearing his gaze away from the screen to look at you. "I'm sorry, but I've fought monsters that crawl out of the shadows of this city. Forgive me if I'm starting to think there's more to the world than what we see on the surface."
That gave you pause. He wasn't wrong; the things you'd seen and fought together were enough to make anyone question reality.
You leaned back, crossing your arms. "Okay, fine. Let's say, hypothetically, there is something behind the TV—like another world or dimension. What's your point?"
"I don't know," John admitted, running a hand through his hair. "Maybe I'm just tired of thinking we've seen it all. Or maybe… maybe it's a feeling. Like there's something waiting out there, just beyond the static. Something watching us, the same way we're watching them."
The room fell silent, the faint hum of the television filling the air.
"John," you said slowly, narrowing your eyes at him, "if you're about to suggest we jump into the TV, I'm officially cutting you off from horror movies. For good."
He laughed, the sound light and carefree, but the flicker in his eyes betrayed him. There was something else there—something that told you he wasn't entirely joking.
John tilted his head, a sly grin spreading across his face. "Where would we even find a TV that could fit the both of us, anyway?"
You groaned, throwing your hands up in mock exasperation. "Okay, that's it. We're done here. No more midnight movie marathons, no more urban legends, and definitely no more conspiracies about alternate dimensions lurking behind everyday objects!"
John raised his hands in mock surrender, his grin widening. "Hey, I'm just saying. If monsters can crawl out of the city's cracks, who's to say there isn't something crawling out of a TV?"
You pointed a finger at him, your voice firm. "You are not crawling into a TV."
"Not alone, anyway," he shot back, smirking.
"John!"
He laughed again, leaning back on the couch with an exaggerated shrug. "Relax, I'm kidding! …Mostly."
You weren't entirely convinced. "The day I catch you trying to 'test a theory' and wedge yourself into a screen is the day I disown you as a friend."
He gave a dramatic gasp. "Disown me? Over science?"
"Over stupidity."
John chuckled, his gaze drifting back to the screen. The flickering images reflected in his eyes, but the faint glint of curiosity lingered there, unmistakable. You could tell he wasn't going to let this idea go anytime soon.
And that worried you.
Reward: You and John share a genuinely good time, laughing and bantering over the absurdity of his wild theory. For a moment, the weight of the city's darkness lifts, replaced by the warmth of friendship and a shared sense of humor.
You did stop him from jumping into the TV at least, and breaking it. Thank god for that. You would never live it down if that little theory was true. Gotham was weird enough without monsters coming from the TV sets.
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With the Matron gone, a strange new chapter began for you. For the first time in your life, there was no shadow of fear looming over your potential future, no oppressive hand guiding your destiny into Maroni's grasp. You were free, and with that freedom came something you never expected: people who genuinely wanted to adopt you.
It turned out that the Matron had been working tirelessly to ensure you ended up under Maroni's thumb, but now, without her influence or Maroni's intimidation, the possibility of a real family became real.
The choice, surprisingly, was yours.
Who will adopt you?
[] Harvey Bullock "Don't look so surprised, kid," the gruff detective said, leaning against the doorway of the orphanage. Harvey Bullock was… unexpected. When you first met him, he was the last person you'd imagine could care for anyone, let alone take on a responsibility as big as you. Back then, he reeked of booze, his clothes were rumpled and stained, and he carried the weight of a thousand regrets in his eyes. But something had changed. He was sober now; you could tell that much from the clarity in his voice and the brightness in his eyes. His clothes were cleaned and pressed, even tailored to fit. He still had that rough edge, still spoke like a man who had seen too much of Gotham's darkness, but there was something else now, a glimmer of hope, a spark of determination. "Look, kid, I'm not perfect, and I'll probably screw this up a dozen times," he admitted. "But I've seen enough of this city chew up kids like you. You deserve better. Let me try, yeah?"
[] Victor and Nora Fries: The Fries were a different kind of surprise. Victor and Nora, a newly married couple, had come to the orphanage after learning they couldn't have children of their own. Their heartbreak had led them here, but their hope and love for each other shone through every word and gesture. Victor, at first glance, seemed cold and distant, almost unapproachable. But as you spent time with him, you saw the warmth beneath his exterior, a kindness and vulnerability that Nora brought out effortlessly. She was the light in his life, and together they radiated a quiet, comforting love. "We want to give you a home," Nora said with a soft smile. "A place where you'll always feel safe, where you'll always belong." Victor nodded, his voice a bit awkward but sincere. "I may not… be the most expressive person. But I promise, if you choose us, I will do everything in my power to give you a good life. To protect you."
[] Alfred Pennyworth "I'm as surprised as you are," Alfred said with a dry chuckle, adjusting his tie.The Wayne family butler was a man of many talents, but you never imagined adoption would be one of them. Yet here he was, standing before you with an offer that left you speechless. "Master Bruce… well, he needs someone," Alfred explained. "Someone who can reach him in ways I no longer can. He's closed himself off to the world, and I fear he'll stay that way if something doesn't change. I believe you could be that change, young man." There was something in Alfred's voice, a deep sincerity that spoke to his hope,not just for Bruce, but for you as well. "And, of course, I would do my utmost to ensure you have every opportunity to thrive. The Wayne estate is quite large, and I daresay there's plenty of room for one more."
[] No one: No one came. No smiling couple, no reformed detective, no wise old butler. But that was okay. You'd made it this far on your own, and you weren't about to let the lack of a family hold you back. Gotham was your home, and its streets had taught you everything you needed to survive. You weren't looking for a savior or a new life. You were looking for a way to stand on your own two feet, and you were confident you could do it. The future was yours to shape, with or without a family.
