> "Ah!"
A collective gasp erupted from the crowd.
Right there—before everyone's eyes—Alex had just snapped the Riddler's neck.
Such ruthless decisiveness stunned everyone.
Even in Gotham, a city of madness and crime, it was rare to see someone so bold… so utterly unrestrained.
But then again—
this was Homelander.
And who was Homelander?
The man who had stood before the media and declared that Gotham would have no more criminals—and made it true.
The man who drenched his hands in blood without ever hiding his face,
yet somehow made Gotham PD and every law enforcement agency turn a blind eye.
Once again,
he had proven to everyone that defying him meant death.
No exceptions.
---
News outlets exploded:
> "The infamous supercriminal known as The Riddler has been executed on-site by Homelander. Once again, Homelander has proven his authority cannot be challenged!"
"The highly publicized showdown between the Riddler and Homelander has ended in complete defeat for the Riddler, who paid the ultimate price for his arrogance."
"With a mere gesture, Homelander disarmed every bomb in the hall. Within seconds, he located the Riddler—three blocks away—and brought him back alive. Homelander has once again displayed his godlike abilities."
"To summarize this battle in four words: an egg against a boulder. The Riddler was never even on the same level."
"The Riddler hoped to rise by stepping on Homelander's name—but instead, he only made Homelander's legend shine brighter than ever!"
---
What happened at the Gotham Grand Hotel spread like wildfire through the city.
In the blink of an eye, Alex's already massive reputation soared even higher—
bordering on divine.
The name "Homelander" became an object of worship in the hearts of many.
---
> "A demon! That man must be a demon!"
"He's terrifying—beyond human!"
"With someone like that around, I'd better keep my head down!"
While the citizens spoke with awe, the city's criminals—
even the so-called "supervillains"—
felt nothing but fear.
A fear that ran deep into their bones.
Even among the most dangerous of Gotham's rogues, not one dared to challenge him.
The Riddler had done everything right by villain standards—
and yet he'd been crushed like an insect.
If Homelander could kill him so easily,
then the rest of them wouldn't even have a chance to breathe.
And so—
Gotham fell silent once more.
---
No, it wasn't a utopia—people still locked their doors at night,
but ordinary citizens could now walk dark streets without fear.
Because as long as Homelander was in Gotham, no one dared to commit a crime.
---
Meanwhile, Bruce Wayne felt the growing weight pressing down on him.
Since Homelander had obliterated the Riddler, his influence had become overwhelming—
his popularity, unstoppable.
"Like the sun at its zenith," Bruce thought grimly.
People worshiped him. Idolized him.
They saw him not as a man—but as a savior.
And to Bruce Wayne, that was wrong.
A killer should never be worshiped.
If this continued, Gotham's moral compass would shatter completely.
> "This can't go on," Bruce murmured to himself.
"He has to leave Gotham. The sooner, the better."
But how could he make someone like Homelander leave?
He had no plan. No countermeasure.
Homelander was beyond his reach—
beyond anyone's.
And yet, after seeing what Alex had done at the hotel—
the speed, the power, the effortless dominance—
Bruce could no longer deny it.
The man terrified even him.
That fear drove him harder.
He threw himself into studying the strange shard Alex had given him, hoping to uncover a weakness—
any weakness at all.
---
> "Good…"
From afar, Alex observed Bruce through his surveillance network,
smiling with quiet satisfaction.
> "Everything's proceeding exactly as planned."
He wasn't sure if Bruce would find what he needed within a month—
but he was certain that no one else could even come close.
> "Let's see what surprises Bruce Wayne brings me in a month's time."
And with that, Alex slipped into what he jokingly called his "decadent Gotham phase."
He spent his days with Catwoman,
indulging in fine food, pleasure, and the constant worship of Gotham's citizens—
a self-appointed god among men.
---
Half a month passed.
---
Gotham — A Luxury Art Gallery
Bruce Wayne stood before an abstract painting,
his sharp eyes studying the chaotic swirl of color and shape that made most people dizzy.
> "This piece," the curator was saying passionately beside him,
"while not as famous as Monet or the great masters, holds a pivotal place in abstract art. It founded an entirely new branch—Deconstructivism."
> "This style seeks to visualize the inner workings of the human psyche,"
he continued, gesturing at the canvas.
"Like these clouds—no, not clouds—these fragments of consciousness…"
He was nearly spitting as he lectured,
his enthusiasm boundless.
Bruce gave a polite smile.
> "You really don't need to try that hard," he said lightly.
"The moment I saw the price tag, I'd already decided to buy it."
The curator chuckled knowingly.
> "Ah, yes—our dear Mr. Wayne. You don't care about artistic merit, only the headline:
'Billionaire playboy purchases another masterpiece at record price.' Am I right?"
Before Bruce could respond,
another voice joined in—smooth, feminine, and teasing.
> "He's not wrong, you know."
Turning, Bruce found himself looking at a tall, striking woman in an elegant gown.
One glance—and he knew.
This was no ordinary socialite.
Her bearing, her poise—those couldn't be faked.
> "I take it you see right through all of us, then?" Bruce said evenly, masking his curiosity behind charm.
Even as he spoke, his mind raced.
He knew nearly everyone of note in Gotham's high society…
but this woman—he didn't recognize her.
If Alex had been there, though,
he would've recognized her instantly.
Because that woman was none other than—
Wonder Woman, Diana.
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