DC: I Became A Godfather

Adam ignored the chaos around him. The SWAT team, Gordon's shouts—none of it mattered. His eyes stayed locked on the Calendar Man, who lay bruised and restrained beneath his grip.

"There's only one bullet in this gun, right?" Adam's voice was low, almost cold.

The Calendar Man chuckled, blood running down his lip like dark ink. "Yeah. I only needed one. A single, pure shot for the Feast of the Assumption. Extra bullets? No. That ruins the art. Every action must be perfect. But—" His grin widened into something twisted. "But now I regret it. With a few more bullets, I could've turned you into meat. A bastard like you shouldn't be alive long enough to mock me."

The words hit like a challenge, sparking the anger Adam had been holding back. Without a word, he raised the pistol—empty though it was—and smashed the butt into Calendar Man's skull.

Crack!

The villain howled, blood spilling across his forehead. A second blow followed, harder. The man's skull split open, blood glistening on the steel of the gun. Another strike, and Adam could end it. Just one more.

One more hit, and Gotham would have one less monster to deal with.

"Stop! Drop the weapon!"

The sharp clicks of safeties disengaging filled the room. Half a dozen guns aimed at Adam now, the very officers who moments ago had been rooting for him.

"Adam!" Gordon's voice cut through the noise. He shoved his way past the officers, grabbing Adam's arm. His voice dropped to a whisper, but it was iron-clad, "Have you lost your mind? You kill him here, in front of cameras, and you'll be done. Fired. Imprisoned. Everything you've done—gone. Is that what you want? To go down as just another criminal with a badge?"

Adam froze. His breathing was ragged, the weight of the gun heavy in his hand. He glanced at the bloodied Calendar Man, who smiled at him with unshaken malice, as if daring him to finish it.

Damn it.

With a sharp exhale, Adam hurled the gun aside. Gordon's relief was immediate. "Get him cuffed and out of my sight!" he barked. Officers rushed forward, snapping steel cuffs onto the villain's wrists.

Calendar Man, even as he was dragged up, didn't look defeated. His lips curled into a slow, poisonous grin.

"Enjoy your little victory, detective. Today, I'm weak. But I am Calendar Man. My power grows with time, with the sacred rhythm of days. Next time, you won't be so lucky."

Adam glared at him, but the villain's voice dropped into something almost ceremonial, "The day of doom is coming. I was here at the beginning… and I will be there at the end. Remember that."

Adam felt a chill crawl up his spine. He knew the stories. Calendar Man wasn't a clown like some of Gotham's low-rent psychos—at his peak, he had nearly toppled the Falcone crime family. He wasn't someone you underestimated.

"Yeah? Then I'll be sure to take Halloween off," Adam said coldly, watching the man being dragged away.

Outside, the hostages were safe, and Calendar Man was locked in a police van. The flashing lights of news cameras waited just beyond the barricade, ready to spin the night into headlines.

Gordon took Adam aside, handing him a cigarette and giving him a stern look.

"You really wanted to kill him back there, didn't you?" Gordon's tone was quiet but firm. "Listen to me, Adam. I know Gotham's laws are screwed up. But we don't get to kill suspects in cold blood. Not here. Not like this. The courts—"

Adam cut him off, his anger boiling over. "Courts? How many times have these scum walked free because some slick lawyer waved a piece of paper? How many people die because we hand them over alive? I'm done trusting this system, Jim."

Gordon's jaw tightened. Adam's words were sharp, cutting through the moral high ground. "Next time," Adam said, voice low and hard, "if I get another chance, I'll make sure it's an 'accident.' I'm not leaving Gotham's fate to this corrupt circus of a legal system."

Gordon had no answer. He just stared, the weight of what Adam said sinking in. Maybe Batman could have argued, but Gordon… he wasn't a man of words.

Adam didn't linger. He strode outside, ready to face the reporters and turn the moment into something useful—a way to boost his standing in Gotham. But just as he stepped out into the flashing lights, a uniformed officer brushed past him, slipping a small folded note into his hand.

Before Adam could react, the man vanished into the crowd.

Frowning, Adam unfolded the crumpled paper. The message inside was scrawled hastily, but the name was unmistakable:

"Black Mask wants to see you.

Sionis Tower. Midnight."

Adam stared at the note for a long moment, feeling the weight of the city press in around him.

'Roman Sionis. Black Mask.'