"I'm very sorry."
Commissioner Gordon's expression shifted with mild surprise when he heard Clark confirm that the dark shadows on his lungs had worsened and spread further.
Clark had assumed Gordon was unaware of the progression of his condition, and for a moment his face grew heavier.
Even as Superman, capable of feats beyond human limits, there were still things he could not reverse. Death remained one of them. He had seen it before, watched it take Alicia without being able to intervene. That helplessness never fully left him.
He respected death, in a way that bordered on caution. Especially things he could not influence, outcomes that refused to bend to his will.
Even when faced with a girl seemingly marked by it, standing right in front of him.
"You don't need to apologize. If anything, I should be the one thanking you for telling me," Gordon replied.
He flicked ash from the cigarette between his fingers and added, "I already knew. The cancer has spread. I found out two weeks ago after my family doctor, Hanks, ran the tests. The situation was never good."
He exhaled slowly, as if accepting something unavoidable.
"What's done is done. There's no changing it now."
Gordon casually dropped the cigarette to the ground, extinguishing it under his shoe.
"Now, back to the main issue. Is Batman still alive?"
"Yes," Clark answered, "but he's in critical condition."
His spine is fractured, and he suffered a severe brain injury. He's in a coma. There's no telling when, or if, he'll wake up.
The news that Batman was still alive eased Gordon slightly, but the rest of it immediately dragged that relief back down.
"In that case, where is he now?" Gordon asked after a short silence.
"He's under treatment by Doctor Fate."
"Doctor Fate?"
Gordon frowned. The name wasn't unfamiliar.
"Magic?" he muttered, adjusting his glasses, his expression tightening.
"At this point, anything modern medicine can't handle pushes us toward the mystical side," he said quietly, almost to himself.
For a brief moment, he looked down, thinking of his own illness.
"So the one who left Batman like that… was Adrian?" Gordon asked.
Clark hesitated for a moment, his expression complicated.
"Yes," he finally said. "It was Adrian."
Even now, Clark wasn't sure how to define him. An enemy in practice, yet someone who also defended the planet in his own way.
"Yesterday, a group of green glowing aliens attacked Metropolis," Gordon said, shifting the conversation. "Their target was the President. And once again, he defeated them."
He exhaled sharply.
"If this continues, people will stop seeing him as a leader. They'll start seeing him as something else entirely. A god. Someone to follow without question."
Gordon's voice lowered.
"That kind of future doesn't end with freedom or democracy. It ends with people accepting hierarchy because they have no choice."
He looked out into the distance.
"And the worst part is, it will look peaceful."
He reached for another cigarette, only to pause when Amy stepped forward sharply.
"Your lungs are already cancerous. Why are you still smoking?" she snapped.
Her tone carried clear frustration, almost anger.
Gordon gave a tired smile.
"Sorry," he said, sliding the cigarette back into the pack. "You have to understand, sometimes people in pain rely on habits like this just to get through the day."
He looked back toward Clark.
"The President has officially designated Gotham as the first city under special protection."
That meant enhanced patrol units had begun entering the city, operating day and night.
Military police had been present before, but never in this kind of structured force.
Amy immediately spoke up again.
"But Gotham doesn't need them."
Gordon glanced toward the city skyline.
"This place has always been its own contradiction. Most people outside think it's a stain on the country. Even I've spent years watching it sink deeper into crime."
He gave a short, bitter laugh.
"So of course, to them, this is just an experiment."
"I'm not a perfect officer," he admitted. "But I've always tried to fight what I can. Even if I've failed more than I've succeeded."
Clark said nothing. He didn't know how to respond.
Gotham wasn't his city.
His understanding of it came mostly from Adrian's words.
According to Adrian, the city was already beyond repair. Everyone knew what was wrong, but no one agreed on how to fix it, and those in power always blamed the people at the bottom.
Clark repeated that thought quietly.
"We analyzed data from Adrian's forces using what Batman left behind," he said, "and we developed this."
He handed Gordon a small pill.
"A super serum. It enhances strength, speed, and overall physical capability beyond normal human limits."
Gordon studied it carefully.
"And this will help me fight like them?"
"Yes."
Gordon closed his hand around it.
"Then I'll keep it," he said. "It may be more useful than it looks."
---
The next day.
Heavy rain poured over Gotham City, turning the skyline into a blurred silhouette.
Water fell in sheets, flooding streets and bouncing off pavement in endless ripples. The entire city felt submerged in motionless noise.
On Gotham Bridge, Commissioner Gordon stood near the city side, rain soaking through his coat. He didn't bother with the hood. Water streamed down his glasses and face without interruption.
Beside him stood Harvey Bullock, holding a black umbrella. A pipe rested between his lips, and a worn bowler hat sat low on his head.
Bullock was an old partner. Rough around the edges, disliked by many in the department, often accused of corruption. The kind of officer people labeled without proof.
But Gordon knew better.
Working with him long enough had stripped away those assumptions. Bullock was direct, stubborn, but reliable in ways that mattered.
Renee Montoya stood nearby as well, a Major Crimes Unit detective. Strong, focused, and sharp in her work, though she struggled with alcohol issues similar to Lois.
Across the bridge, a formation of armored enhanced soldiers advanced in perfect synchronization.
Black uniforms. Helmets. Precise movement.
The sound of their boots echoed through the rain.
They were Adrian's newly deployed forces.
The Gotham Police Department stood on the opposite side, forming a line. Officers watched the approaching soldiers with unease, weapons lowered but ready.
They had been ordered to block entry.
Yet none of them fully understood why.
Gordon watched them approach, then slowly shook his head.
He lifted his radio.
"Stand down," he ordered. "Let them through."
The officers hesitated, then moved aside.
The soldiers continued forward without breaking formation, stepping onto Gotham Bridge and crossing into the city.
Their movement was disciplined, mechanical, almost inhuman under the rain.
Montoya looked toward Gordon.
"We're just going to let them take over the city?"
"It's not time yet," Gordon said quietly.
Montoya glanced at him again, noticing something off in his expression.
His face had gone paler than usual. Tired. Strained.
"I just hope things don't get worse," she muttered under her breath.
Gordon said nothing.
He simply watched the soldiers enter Gotham.
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