Chapter 7 Gotham's Past

Inside Belmont's Office 

Belmont's grip tightened around the phone. His jaw clenched as Giovanni's voice trembled on the other end.

"Say that again," Belmont growled.

"Our men… they were taken out. Before the cops even arrived. By some masked guy."

Belmont exhaled slowly, eyes narrowing. "I see."

The muscles in his jaw tightening. He had orchestrated this entire attack to paint himself as the city's savior—to step in at the perfect moment, throw money at the casualties, and watch his name rise even higher. But now, someone else had taken that spotlight. Someone dangerous.

"Find out who he is. Now." Belmont's voice was razor-sharp.

"Understood." The line went dead.

Belmont pinched the bridge of his nose, frustration boiling in his chest.

A soft knock interrupted his thoughts. He turned just as his daughter, Sophie, stepped inside. Her brows furrowed with concern.

"Dad... about the attack. What happened to the people there?"

Belmont's expression softened ever so slightly. He walked over to her, placing a reassuring hand on her shoulder. "Don't worry, my dear. The police are handling everything. Those people will be fine."

She searched his face for any sign of doubt. Belmont gave her a warm smile—the same smile that convinced an entire city he was their savior.

"You're sure?"

"Of course. I always take care of Gotham."

She wrapped her arms around him resting her head on his chest. "I love you Dad".

Belmont sighed softly his palm falling over her head. "I love you to sweetheart".

****

Giovanni set the phone down, exhaling a long, weary sigh. "That could have gone worse," he muttered, pinching the bridge of his nose as his thoughts churned.

"What kind of lunatic attacks people only to save them later ? And at an event held in his name, no less." He let out a dry chuckle, swirling the wine in his glass before taking a slow sip.

His gaze darkened as he leaned back in his chair. "Let's just hope this masked freak isn't another Jack the Reaper. If he is… Belmont better start bracing for another storm."

****

The sun had long set, and the city's power had flickered out, casting everything into darkness. Milo moved cautiously through a narrow alley, his head shifting left and right, eyes darting between the shadows.

He cupped his hands around his mouth and called out. "Jaxon… Jaxon!" His voice echoed against the empty walls.

He muttered under his breath, frustration creeping in. "Where the hell could he be?"

"I'm right here."

Jaxon's deep voice sliced through the silence, making Milo flinch. His body tensed, ready to bolt, but as he turned, his eyes landed on Jaxon standing casually in the dark.

"You're alive!" Milo blurted out.

Jaxon raised an eyebrow. "Was I supposed to be dead?"

Milo stormed toward him. "What the hell were you thinking running off like that? You could've gotten yourself killed!"

Jaxon shrugged. "Relax, I'm fine. Besides, those guys barely knew what they were doing. Amateurs."

Milo gawked at him. "They had guns, Jaxon! One shot—game over!"

Jaxon smirked. "I know. That's why I was careful." Then, stretching his arms behind his head, he strolled past Milo with his usual swagger. "Anyway, can we go home now? I'm starving."

Milo stood frozen for a moment, watching Jaxon walk ahead. His face twisted in a mix of frustration and disbelief.

****

"What the hell are you two thinking, coming back this late?" Reggie grumbled, arms crossed as he stood by the counter.

"We're sorry," Milo muttered, dropping onto one of the dining chairs. "We went to see the unveiling of the Belmont statue."

Reggie's eyes widened. "The Belmont statue? I heard there was an attack there. Are you both okay?"

"Yeah, we're fine," Milo assured him.

Reggie's gaze shifted to Jaxon, scanning him. "Well, you look fine."

"I am," Jaxon replied simply.

Reggie let out a sharp breath. "Goddamn it, Milo! Of all the places in Gotham, you had to pick the one where bullets were flying? And you dragged Jaxon along too? What if something had happened? Who would handle the maintenance then? I'm too old to be out recruiting workers, and because of you, I almost lost the only two I have in a single day!"

Milo's face twisted in mock hurt. "You know, that really stings, Reggie."

Reggie sighed, rubbing his temples. "Oh, for the love of—Milo, I know you're young and reckless, but this? This was too much. You could've gotten yourself killed… and Jaxon too."

Milo leaned forward, exasperated. "I didn't know people were waiting to open fire right where we stood! I'm sorry, Reggie."

Reggie waved him off. "I'll let it slide this time… but tell me something. Does your 'getting saved' have anything to do with a man wearing a black mask?"

Jaxon's eyes shot open. "How do you know about that?"

Reggie chuckled. "Welcome to Gotham, kid. News here spreads faster than the damn flu."

Milo cut in before Jaxon could speak. "No, but we heard about him."

Reggie scoffed. "Well, whatever he thinks he's doing… it ain't gonna work."

Jaxon's face twitched. "What makes you so sure? He did something good, didn't he?"

Reggie stepped into the kitchen, returning with plates in hand. "We've seen this before in Gotham. Some guy shows up out of nowhere, tries to change things…" He set the plates on the table with a soft clatter. "It works for a while, but eventually, the city swallows him. Leave the 'good' to those at the top. This is their city. Trying to fix it? That's a fight you'll never win."

Jaxon frowned. "That makes no sense. If their job is to protect the city, then why the hell did they drive off when things got tough? They left hundreds of people to die—only sending the cops in after the masked guy had already handled it."

Reggie huffed, clearly not invested in the conversation. "I don't know where the hell you came from, kid, but this is Gotham. If you want to stay alive, keep your head down and don't draw attention to yourself."

His tone was dismissive, but something about Jaxon's words got under his skin. He hesitated before adding, "Someone tried something like this before. Didn't end well for him. And that guy? He was damn near a god… yet somehow, the city still put him down. No one knows if he's dead or alive. Just that he's… gone. An urban legend."

Jaxon and Milo exchanged glances, their curiosity piqued.

"And who exactly is this… urban legend?" Jaxon asked.

Reggie let out a slow sigh, folding his lips. "I've already said too much. Sit down and eat."

"Come on, Reggie, tell us," Milo pressed.

"Yeah, spill it," Jaxon added.

Reggie hesitated, then shook his head. "Schools don't teach history. Parents aren't allowed to tell their kids about Gotham's past. And no one—no one—is supposed to speak of Gotham before the Golden Age Era."

He exhaled sharply. "Call me paranoid, but this city is trying to erase its own history. People who talk about Gotham's past? They disappear. And not just them—the people they talked to, too. Somehow, they always find out. Not many folks in Gotham even realize it's happening."

He eyed them both, his voice dropping to a near whisper. "So yeah, call me a soft-hearted old fool, but I don't wanna see either of you vanish because of something I said."

Jaxon leaned forward. "What's the Golden Age?"

"The era we're living in now. Started seventeen years ago. The age of 'peace and harmony.'"

Jaxon scoffed. "Peace? This isn't peace."

Reggie chuckled dryly, rubbing his temples. "Kid… compared to how things were before? This is paradise. Back then, Gotham was a war zone. Survival of the fittest."

He shook his head, grabbing his fork. "Alright, that's enough talk. Eat your damn food. No more questions. You both have school and work tomorrow."

Reggie's voice dropped to a whisper, his eyes flicking toward the door as if someone might be listening. "I've already said too much. If you're smart, you'll forget we even had this conversation."

He picked up his plate, turning toward the sink. But before he l

eft, he muttered under his breath—more to himself than to them.

"Gotham doesn't just bury its past. It buries anyone who digs too deep."