Later that night, news stations buzzed with leaked footage—grainy clips of Black Armour Man fighting monstrous figures at the docks. Reporters clamored for answers. Citizens debated in bars and alleys: was he a hero, or another menace?
In the shadows of Gotham, a pair of sharp eyes reviewed the same footage on a glowing screen.
"Armored and interesting technology, huh?" Batman's gravelly voice muttered. "Blüdhaven just became more complicated."
Back in his Blüdhaven hideout, Ryotaro collapsed onto his bed, sweat dripping down his face as he pulled off the Lost Driver.
"…If Batman's watching now, I really need to stay sharp." He smirked despite his exhaustion. "This city wanted a game? Fine. Let's play."
[Host… Recovery count: 8. But next time, you'll need it.]
Ryotaro closed his eyes, the city's chaos echoing faintly outside.
Tomorrow, Blüdhaven would whisper a new name: Black Armored Man.
The morning sun over Blüdhaven was faint, struggling to pierce through the city's haze. Inside the modest three-story house near the coast, the aroma of freshly brewed coffee drifted through the kitchen.
Ryotaro stretched his arms as he descended the creaking stairs, still feeling the soreness from last night's fight.
At the dining table, his uncle—broad-shouldered, hair already peppered with gray—sat with a newspaper in one hand and a mug of coffee in the other.
"Ah, my nephew finally wakes up," his uncle said with a grin. "Was the bed too soft, or were you secretly wrestling gorillas in your dreams again?"
Ryotaro groaned, rubbing the back of his neck. "Something like that. My muscles are screaming, but don't worry, it's just from training."
"Training, huh? At this rate, you'll either end up as the next Bruce Lee… or just break the floorboards with all those push-ups." His uncle chuckled at his own joke, tapping the wooden floor with his slipper. "See? Already creaking from fear."
Ryotaro sat down, hiding a faint smile. Despite the city's corruption and the monsters lurking in the shadows, mornings like these felt almost… normal.
"Uncle, you always worry about the wrong things," Ryotaro said. "If the floor breaks, I'll fix it."
"You?" His uncle raised a brow. "You can barely fix the toaster. Remember last time? Sparks everywhere. I thought the house was about to turn into fireworks."
"...That was a test," Ryotaro muttered, sipping his tea.
His uncle laughed so loudly the table shook. "A test, huh? You've got excuses sharper than a lawyer. Maybe you should try law instead of martial arts."
For a brief moment, the heavy world outside felt distant. But it couldn't last. Ryotaro's eyes drifted to the corner of the living room, where the black hoodie he had worn last night still hung, dusted with fragments of glass.
After breakfast, Ryotaro excused himself, retreating to his upstairs room. He closed the door, switched on his laptop, and plugged the Frog Pod into the port. The device chirped, replaying the conversation it had captured inside the police station.
"We'll blame Joker. Monsters don't exist—only vigilantes who destroy property."
Ryotaro leaned back, fingers steepled.
"So they're not just corrupt—they're already planning to twist the narrative."
[Host's observation is correct. Current reputation in city: neutral to positive. Risk of smear campaign: high.]
"That means if I only keep attacking the gangs, the cops will bury it. People will start doubting me. I need to expose them… directly."
[Proposal: Gather irrefutable evidence of police collaboration with criminal gangs. Distribute to neutral media channels.]
Ryotaro tapped his pen against the desk, deep in thought. "Neutral channels… yeah, the smaller reporters. Not the big stations—they're probably already on the take. But I'll need to bait the cops into showing their hand."
He smirked. "And for that, I'll need to give them a little… performance."
His uncle was watching TV now, sipping the last of his coffee. The morning news anchor was reporting about last night's chaos at the docks.
"Rumors spread of a black-clad vigilante interfering in gang activity once again. Witnesses describe him as fast, brutal, and relentless. Some speculate a new superhero has arrived in Blüdhaven, but the police department strongly denies this, claiming—"
His uncle snorted. "Strongly denies? Ha! They'd probably deny the sun rises in the morning if you paid them enough." He looked over his shoulder at Ryotaro. "You hear this nonsense? Makes me wonder if I should just move us out of this city already. Gotham's bad, but Blüdhaven… Blüdhaven stinks worse."
Ryotaro forced a light laugh. "Don't worry, Uncle. If things get really bad, we'll move. But for now… let watch the show after all we are normal civilian. I can say in the end people will see the truth."
His uncle squinted at him. "You sound like some kind of prophet. Don't get too idealistic, kid. In this city, people who shout too loud end up with concrete shoes."
Ryotaro met his uncle's gaze and smiled faintly.
"Maybe. But someone's got to start shouting, right?"
At night the top floor of the three-story house, Ryotaro sat on the roof of the house, his hoodie pulled up, the Frog Pod resting in his hand. Below, the city's streets stretched endlessly, full of secrets and shadows.
"Dirty cops… gangsters… monsters…" He exhaled. "If I can prove they're all tied together, the city won't just care about everything I need to make myself more like a Superman—So,they'll have to listen."
He flicked open the Joker Memory, watching its purple light pulse in the fading daylight.
"System, tonight we start phase two. It's not enough to beat the criminals. I need to show the people the truth."
[Acknowledged. Phase two: Surveillance and Exposure.]
A small grin crossed his face. "And maybe throw in a little chaos for the cops. Let's see how they like it when the whole city's watching them for once.This is going to be fun."
The wind blew across the rooftop, carrying the smell of the sea. Ryotaro stood, tightening his hoodie.
Blüdhaven was rotting—but he was ready to rip away its mask.
*********
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