As we slowed down from our running, the man we had saved could not thank us enough. He told us continually about how he barely managed to keep his wife and two kids alive with his low-paying job, and how he had been attacked while walking home from work two days prior by a group of people who I assumed were the priest and his assistants. He was extremely grateful to us for saving him and bringing him back home alive to his family. They would probably be sick with worry by now, and the police probably would've done nothing about it, just like they had done nothing about my predicament with my parents. Perhaps that was for the better. I had killed a person because of that, but I was also there on that street because of it, having saved a man's life.
"Seeing you two fighting all those people and saving a stranger you didn't know, despite the threat to your lives," the man said, "Gave me a feeling of hope. I had thought Gotham City was unsavable, especially after Thomas and Martha Wayne died, but, now that I've seen you two, I think there's a chance that we can improve. But what were you doing in that church-place anyway?"
"We were trying to stop them," I said, "By gathering intel and seeing how we could use it against them. Of course, now that our cover's blown, we can't continue doing that, but it's fine. We've gathered enough information to be able to form a plan to stop them. Have a look on the news for the rest of the week. You should see the arrest of that priest very soon."
"Wait, were you two the ones behind the arrest of that group of rapists from a month ago?"
"Yes," Selina purred, "We were."
"Huh. Maybe you do have a chance of saving Gotham from itself. I don't know if it's possible, but I hope that you do, and I'm glad that at least there are people out there who are trying to. If you guys ever need a place to hide from your enemies, you can always stay at my place at 24 Geralda Street."
We parted ways, the man being able to go back to his family and to tell them the good news. Good news in Gotham City, and it was because of Selina and myself. While on the train heading back home, I contemplated on the topic of what had just happened. I felt proud of what Selina and I had done. Another step into making my parents proud of me, atoning for the mistakes I have made, and making Gotham City a better place for all to live in.
But I also thought of the choirboy who had delivered the Kalala Kick to Selina, and I was disconcerted by his young age. Someone that young being used to people sacrificing and brutally murdering other people, in fact, fully supporting it and willing to fight for it. Someone that young believing that all of what Miserysts did was normal. It gave me some thought about how our childhoods define us. My penchant and ideals for justice came from the upbringing of parents who were humanitarians. That choirboy would probably live out his entire life thinking that causing misery to other humans was a perfectly normal thing to do. I suppose I need to change that.
Which means that simply exposing all the leaders of the religious organisation was not enough. They had books, and they had assistants, and Miserysm would survive despite the removal of priests. In the end, with our current plan, Miserysm would only receive a minor setback.
It would be almost impossible and infinitely time-consuming to try and convert all Miserysts from the radicalisation. Time better spent getting rid of the crime bosses. So I'd have to choose a different route, a simpler way to rub out the stain of Miserysm. I would have to make them fear me. I would have to make them shiver alone in their beds at night, wondering if they were next. That's the only solution I see. And in a way, it is a just solution. The people who make others fear will now experience fear themselves.
But how to achieve such a level of fear? My mind went back to the sermon I've already transcribed, the one about Misery. I thought of the priest's warning to the Miserysts, telling them that they could lose their souls if Misery came for them. I thought of the fear that that would undoubtedly inspire. I could perhaps use that.
I thought of how recognisable Catwoman was. People connected with symbols. I would be nothing if I was simply a Masked Man. But if I was something else... something perhaps a little more threatening, then I could become a symbol of fear for the criminals of Gotham, especially for the Miserysts. It was time for a costume change. I thought of how the priest had described Misery's appearance.
"Selina," I said, "I think I'm going to need a costume change."
"Why? The Masked Man seems perfectly fine to me."
"It's not. Everyone knows a Masked Man. When they see me, they don't see a symbol, like they see you. They just see another criminal about to rob them. And that's not enough for me. I need something more."
Selina looked at me with curiosity in her face, reminding me once again of the face of a cat when it looks at a ball of yarn.
"What do you mean?"
"I need to become a symbol of fear to the criminals of Gotham City, someone that keeps them awake at night, shaking with the thought that they might be next. I need to become someone recognisable, unlike my Masked Man, yet also easily able to blend away into the shadows, like your Catwoman. I need the criminals of Gotham City to always have me on their mind, to have me acting as their conscience, enshrouding them with doubts about their actions, giving them second thoughts.
I need my symbol to become a symbol of terror to the wrong-doers, yet a symbol of hope to the innocent people, that they will not have to suffer under the cruel bane of injustice for much longer, that they can hope that, one day, they can walk to work, or to school, and not be worried about being mugged on a busy street. In short, I need to become the face of the salvation of Gotham City if I am to achieve my goal.
My parents did much to help Gotham City, and it is a better place than it was previously. But, in a city where money is worthless when there are corrupt people using it, Gotham needs something more."
"So...What are you going to become?"
"I've been thinking about how much fear Misery inspires in the Miserysts, and about how, if we were to actually show an illustration of Misery to the non-Miseryst, they would interpret him as being a demon, another figure that inspires fear in the hearts of people."
"So, if you designed a costume that looked like Misery, you would be able to scare both the Miserysts for your current goal and future criminals you go up against. They would've already heard of you by then and would fear you. Even those who wouldn't have heard of you would still see you as a threatening figure. Is that right?"
"Exactly. I am going to call myself the Demon-Man."
"Interesting," Selina purred, "I've also thought of an idea."
I looked at her quizzically.
"Remember the Joker?"
"I don't like where this is going."
"Well, he's still got a debt he needs to pay me off for, so I was thinking I might pop on over to his theme park and ask for the payment of the debt."
"What do you have in mind?"
"The Miserysts have realised what we truly are, and there is no doubt that they will be put on alert for us two, so we can no longer go in our disguises, making things a bit more dangerous for us now. I was thinking that I would get the Joker to build a fail-safe device that can contact my father with the push of a button in case of emergency. How does that sound?"
"Is the Joker really that trustworthy, though?"
"Oh, it'll be fine. He knows me."
"If you say so. But couldn't we just call your father with our phones?"
"Yes, but this is for when we don't have the connection to call him, if our phones are stolen away from us, or if we don't have the time to contact him."
"Alright, fair enough."
We arrived back home and told Alfred of our plans. The rest of the week was dedicated to the completion of each of our projects. Selina, once she had requested the machine from the Joker, which she told me had been pretty difficult to do considering the fact that he kept disrupting her to make a terrible joke, then helped Alfred and myself work on my new costume.
When we had told Alfred of how we had been tied up and nearly sacrificed because the amount of enemies we had faced had been too high, he shook his head and insisted on giving us a few lessons throughout the week to teach us a few moves. We learned techniques for how to deal with a fighting large crowd of people as a duo. While neither Selina nor I have become particularly proficient in said techniques, due to our lack of time to learn them, we will still be able to do better than we did last time. Furthermore, we plan to continue developing these techniques throughout the following weeks, until we become proficient to a satisfactory degree.
Soon, my costume was done. I stepped out of my bedroom, fully dressed in black. On my face was a mask with slanted eye-holes and a gap below my nose for my mouth and chin. Above that were the two intimidating horns that the priest had been so descriptive of. My body was covered with a costume that made me look like I had way more rigid abs than I actually do, and beneath that was a bullet-proof vest (we gave Selina one of those too). My arms were covered with gloves that had three spikes on each of them, and my legs were adorned with boots that had the spikes as well. The actual boots themselves were Stealth-100 boots that were painted black, courtesy of Alfred. On my waist was a belt, one that was useful for carrying my Freebullet, my grappling hook, the fail-safe device, and other gadgets. Finally, my back was adorned with a cape to give off the impression of wings, which can't actually fly yet, but I've heard rumblings of developments of such a technology within the scientific community, and when such a technology is developed, there is no doubt that I will be one of the first buyers.
I stepped out of my bedroom with this costume on, the costume that will hopefully become the unifying beacon of hope, as well as the annunciation of fear into the hearts of the shameless criminals of Gotham. The costume that, one way or another, will be remembered in Gotham's history.
I had also, during the week, prepared a voice to go with this costume, one that would complement it, inspiring further dread, with the added benefit of disguising my actual voice as well. It is the deepest voice I can do.
"I'm Demon-Man," I growled.
The criminals of Gotham City will eventually learn to believe that maybe that statement is the truth.