Chapter 8 A Storm is coming

Milo and Jaxon stood at the entrance of their massive school hallways students littered on the left and right their excited chatter filling the air.

"How on Earth did one man take out an entire squad of criminals"

"He's so cool"

"I heard he did so while wearing a black mask"

"He has to be the hero of Gotham"

"He's some kind of dark superman"

Jaxon's face twitched frustration slowly creeping in. 

"So much for keeping a low profile huh" Milo mocked.

Jaxon exhaled sharply. "Damn it"

Milo leaned against a locker, grinning. "Oh, come on, man. This isn't such a bad thing. You're like a hero now! And besides, no one actually knows it was you, so there's nothing to worry about. I've lived in Gotham for sixteen years and never once got recognized. You? First week here, and you're already a legend."

Jaxon pinched the bridge of his nose, heaving a deep sigh. "This wasn't supposed to happen."

"But it did," Milo said, his grin widening.

Jaxon exhaled sharply, stepping away. "Okay, that's it. I'm leaving."

Milo frowned. "To where?"

"Away from you," Jaxon echoed, already moving.

****

Jaxon pushed the bathroom door open, the bright overhead light reflecting off the gleaming white tiles. A row of stalls lined the left wall, each door slightly ajar, while a set of sinks and rectangular mirrors stretched across the right.

He barely took a step inside before he saw her.

Sophie.

She moved toward him with effortless grace, her every step poised and elegant. Her long, white hair cascaded down her back, perfectly complementing her sharp, well-fitted uniform. Jaxon found himself frozen, eyes locked onto her as if caught in a trance.

Sophie met his gaze but pretended not to notice. She was used to people staring—but something about the way Jaxon did it unsettled her. Still, she kept her expression composed.

"Excuse me," she said, her voice light but firm.

Jaxon snapped out of his daze. "Yeah… sorry." He quickly stepped aside, holding the door open for her.

But Sophie didn't move.

Instead, she turned to him, arms crossed, a flicker of irritation in her eyes. "Why do you keep staring at me like that?" she asked outright.

Jaxon raised a brow, surprised by her bluntness. Then, just as quickly, his usual cool demeanor returned. "How do you know I stare at you?"

"Because I've seen you do it countless times," she shot back.

"Really?"

"Yeah."

Jaxon tilted his head slightly. "So that means you've been staring at me too."

Sophie's lips parted, but no words came out. Her expression twisted in frustration. "There's no way I was staring at you."

"Then how do you know I was looking at you?" Jaxon's tone remained effortlessly smooth.

Sophie opened her mouth again, searching for a response, but before she could find one, Jaxon smirked and turned away, casually strolling toward one of the stalls.

She stood there, stunned, fists clenched at her sides.

He just walked away.

Her teeth pressed together behind her closed lips, and with a sharp glare at his retreating figure, she spun around and shoved the door open, letting it slam shut behind her.

****

Belmont Mansion

Belmont sat in his office, his chair turned toward the massive TV screen on the left. A remote rested in his grasp, his thumb pressing the same button over and over again.

Alfred stood behind him, his posture erect, hands neatly folded as he watched the screen with quiet attention.

"We come to Belmont's ceremony, and this is how we get repaid—"

"Where the hell was Belmont when we were running for our lives?"

"I thought he was supposed to be the hero of Gotham!"

"If not for the masked man, I wouldn't be standing here today—"

"Screw Belmont and his stupid statue! We have a new hero in town—he's the one who deserves a statue!"

A white flash lit up the screen before the television clicked off.

DOOM!

Belmont's fist crashed against the desk, rattling everything on its surface.

"Insolent fools," he growled. "After everything I've done for them… years of sacrifice… and now, some masked nobody walks in and steals my spotlight just like that?"

Alfred remained composed, his voice steady. "Master Belmont, if this figure continues running around unchecked, he'll soon be the name on Gotham's lips. His presence at that attack—well, let's just say such an incident could have easily been prevented."

Belmont's brow furrowed. "Where are you going with this, Alfred?"

"I'm saying, sir," Alfred replied smoothly, "that you may have just forged your greatest enemy with your own two hands. A single man took down ten armed gunmen. That is no ordinary feat."

He took a step forward, his voice lowering. "Brace yourself, Master. A storm is coming. And you're standing right in its path."

****

Jaxon sat inside the stall, his back against the cold tiles, head lightly tapping the wall behind him. The faint hum of the school outside felt distant—just white noise against the storm in his head.

"Gotham is a shit hole. The people at the top are useless. If I hadn't stepped in yesterday, more people would've died."

His fingers curled into a fist against his knee.

"Reggie was right—news spreads fast. If I keep this up, it won't be long before the entire city knows. And if the city knows... Jack might too."

A chill ran up his spine at the thought. His jaw clenched, but he shoved the fear aside.

"Should I stop? Just walk away?"

He exhaled sharply, running a hand through his hair.

"No. Milo was right—they don't know it's me. I can help people without them ever knowing. I can make a difference."

Jaxon straightened, rolling his shoulders. The weight of doubt lifted, replaced by something sharper.

"My whole life, I never knew who I was or why I was born. The only thing I was ever taught was how to fight. But deep down, I always knew there had to be more. And I was right."

He glanced at his reflection in the stall's metal latch.

"If Gotham needs a real savior, I'll be the one to step up. Not for glory, not for revenge—but because at least that way, I won't feel as empty as I always did."

With a final nod to himself, he pushed the stall door open and stepped back into the world—not as Jaxon, but as the legend that had just begun.