The next few days passed in unexpected peace.
Locke took Dam and Emily across nearly every major attraction Boston had to offer, moving from one landmark to another without interruption. For a brief stretch of time, it almost felt like the chaos of Gotham had been left behind entirely.
At the center of the city's main square, they stopped in front of a towering sculpture.
It was Wonder Woman.
The statue stood tall and imposing, her figure carved with remarkable precision. Beneath it, an inscription was etched into the stone, accompanied by a date—1915.
Dam stared at it for a long moment, his mouth slightly open as he tried to process what he was seeing.
"Uh… damn, I'm such a…" He scratched his head, clearly struggling to find the right words before turning to Locke. "What's that phrase again? The one you mentioned before?"
"The frog in the well," Locke replied calmly.
"Right, that's it!" Dam slapped his forehead. "I'm seriously a frog in the well. You're telling me the woman we saw the other day—young, powerful, perfect—has been around since 1915?"
He let out a long breath, shaking his head in disbelief.
"Damn…"
Over the past few days, Dam hadn't just been sightseeing. After what happened at the mall, he had deliberately dug into information about Wonder Woman. The more he learned, the more overwhelming it felt.
Even Emily, standing quietly beside them, couldn't hide the admiration in her eyes.
For ordinary people like them, the idea that someone could remain unchanged for over a century was almost impossible to comprehend.
Locke, however, wasn't focused on the date.
His gaze shifted slightly, landing on the structure behind Wonder Woman's statue.
There was another sculpture—massive, rough, and indistinct.
Unlike the main statue, this one lacked detail, as if something had deliberately obscured its true form. It stood there like a silent backdrop, with no inscription, no explanation—just a presence that didn't quite belong.
Locke narrowed his eyes slightly, studying it.
Something about it felt… off.
…
Gotham, East District.
"Wow!"
Emily's excited voice echoed as she rushed into the bar, her eyes wide with disbelief.
The place had been completely transformed.
Large floor-to-ceiling windows let in streams of light, while the interior had been redesigned with a warm yet refined aesthetic. The once cramped and worn-down space was now open and polished, filled with carefully arranged furniture and subtle decorative details.
"This… this is my bar?" she asked, almost in a daze.
Boom! Boom! Boom!
Confetti burst into the air as Jodson and several others stepped out from behind the door, each holding celebration tubes. Colorful paper rained down across the room, adding to the already vibrant atmosphere.
Emily turned toward Jodson, her expression filled with surprise.
"Uncle Jodson, is this really my place?"
Jodson laughed, his tone relaxed. "You had some budget left after everything else, so I made a few upgrades."
Emily's face lit up instantly.
She rushed around the room, inspecting every table, every detail, her fingers brushing lightly across the polished surfaces. The patterns, the layout, the design—everything felt new, yet still carried the warmth of the old tavern.
Her excitement was impossible to contain.
Even Locke, stepping in shortly after, paused slightly as he took in the changes. Compared to before, the space had nearly doubled in size, and the overall atmosphere felt far more refined without losing its original charm.
"Damn… when did this place get so big?" Dam muttered as he walked in, glancing around in disbelief.
Most of the work had clearly been done by Jodson alone.
Emily quickly returned to the bar, her energy still bubbling over.
"Uncle Jodson, you have to stay for a drink!" she insisted, already reaching for bottles.
Jodson smiled warmly, his gaze briefly shifting toward Locke. The two exchanged a quiet nod before looking away.
Soon, laughter filled the bar.
Regular customers began to arrive, drawn by the reopening, and the atmosphere grew livelier with each passing minute. Glasses clinked, voices overlapped, and the tavern came alive in a way it hadn't before.
Locke moved behind the counter, setting out bottles of beer Jodson had prepared in advance.
"Hey, have you heard what's been going on lately?" someone said from one of the tables.
"Yeah. Apparently Batman got seriously injured by some mysterious group," another replied. "If that's true, crime's about to spike again."
"Hey, keep it down," a third voice cut in. "Emily's tavern just reopened. Don't ruin the mood."
"Alright, alright."
Even amid the noise, Locke picked up the fragments of conversation effortlessly.
Batman injured.
A mysterious group.
A rising wave of crime.
He didn't react outwardly, but the information settled quietly in his mind.
Outside, night had already fallen.
Through the bar's windows, the street appeared noticeably emptier than before. Occasionally, a motorcycle would roar past, its sound cutting through the otherwise subdued atmosphere.
The peace felt fragile.
One by one, customers began to leave, offering Emily congratulations as they stepped out into the night.
Locke approached Dam, who was seated at a table with four empty whiskey bottles in front of him. His face was flushed, his movements slightly unsteady.
"Want me to walk you home?" Locke asked.
"No, no!" Dam waved his hand, grinning drunkenly. "I'm just… really happy today. Might've gone a bit overboard."
He pushed himself to his feet, swaying slightly as he steadied himself.
His house wasn't far. He'd make it.
Emily watched him leave before quietly stepping closer to Locke, her movements light and careful.
Locke could hear her heartbeat clearly.
He didn't turn around.
"Ha!"
She suddenly leaned out from the side, making a face at him.
Locke flinched slightly, caught off guard.
Emily burst into laughter, clearly pleased with herself.
Locke shook his head, a faint smile forming despite himself.
"Dam's actually still in school," Emily said as she began clearing the empty bottles.
"In school?" Locke raised a brow. "He doesn't seem like it."
"He was always bullied," she said softly. "He stopped going this year… couldn't take it anymore."
Locke frowned slightly.
Dam had always come across as cheerful and easygoing, which made it easy to overlook certain things. But thinking back, when they first met, those people who had been confronting him… they had been wearing something close to college uniforms.
It made more sense now.
By the time they finished cleaning up the bar, it was nearly midnight.
After exchanging a simple goodnight, they each went to rest.
…
At the East District Police Department, the night was anything but quiet.
Officers moved back and forth, exhaustion evident on their faces as they continued working without pause.
"Man… has the Judge gone silent or what?" one officer muttered.
"Yeah. Calls have been piling up every day," another replied. "Feels like things are going back to how they used to be."
"What kind of logic is that?" someone snapped. "Since when do we rely on vigilantes to maintain order?"
"Yeah? Then you take the lead next time," came the immediate retort.
The exchange died down quickly.
A black officer sat slumped at his desk, dark circles heavy beneath his eyes. He hadn't slept in nearly three days, and it showed.
Bang!
The sound of glass shattering cut through the room.
"What the hell!" someone shouted.
A car sped past outside the station, its engine roaring as it disappeared into the night.
"Fuck!"
One officer drew his weapon and rushed toward the door, only to be stopped by his colleagues.
"Calm down!"
George, standing further back, barked the order sharply. His expression was tight, frustration and helplessness mixing in his gaze.
Slowly, he sank back into his chair.
Without a word, he picked up a loose brick from the desk and hurled it out through the broken window.
....
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