Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

2007

Hub City University

Victor 'Vic' Sage saw smoke rising from one of the windows of the ground floor, and quickly rushed inside, passing the guard who cried out. "Hey wait a-"

Vic didn't even break stride, completely ignoring that guard, running in to the direction of the smoke, and kicked open the door of the place, seeing Professor Aristotle "Tot" Rodor throwing some papers into a fire, while Dr. Arby Twain threw in another paper, which made the fire flare up for a bit, the flames rising, the smoke of this fire going out of the window.

"Professor Tot", Vic said, causing Tot to look up at him. "What's going on?"

"We abandoned a project, Vic", Tot informed him, as he and Twain threw another page each into the fire, burning them into nothingness. "The Pseudoderm project."

"What's that about?" Vic asked, curious.

"It's an artificial skin, works like a bandage with the help of a bonding gas that works alongside it", Twain explained while walking off to get more papers. "The two of us, we developed it together."

"And you're burning it because…..does the skin become permanent and take the place of the original, affecting the person used on, and making them act erratically because they believe they're a new person now?"

Walking back to the fire, Twain looked at Tot in confusion over what Vic had just said, his expression clearly making it clear that he was thinking- 'What the hell did this guy even say?'

Tot sighed, taking off his glasses and running a hand across his face. "No Vic. It could be toxic, and it was especially found to be fatal when applied to open wounds. We tested it on an injured rat, it was gone." There was guilt on his face, even for a lab rat, while he put his glasses back on. "While it won't be harmful to normal skin, the risk is too much, especially when people get open wounds. So, we've decided to let go of this project."

"Lots of years of research wasted though", Twain sighed, Vic glancing at him with one raised eyebrow, detecting some hint of bitterness.

The flames rose before them, shining in Tot's eye. "Maybe it's for the best."

Vic just watched the flames rising, his expression unreadable, while the flames briefly formed a 'question mark' symbol in his eyes as they lashed.

A question mark is shown over what appears to be a blank face, alongside various pictures and newspaper clippings attached via tape, the title card saying 'THE QUESTION' appearing, as 'THE QUESTION - Original Instrumental Music - William McCarthy' plays in the background, whispers being heard over the noir music.

Present Day, 2014

Vic Sage walked into the KBEL News headquarters, his bag slung over his shoulder, opening the revolving doors, passing by a woman, who greeted him. "Hey Vic."

"Hi, Maria."

He walked forth, another guy waving. "Vic."

"John."

While he greeted back, his voice seemed quite…..detached. And cold, even.

Very soon, he made his way into his office, cluttered with various papers, some even on the ground. He was sure the janitor had actually missed his office on purpose, considering the mess here. There were also many papers with writings, pictures, and newspaper clippings, all stapled onto the wall at various points, with some writings including 'What happened to the cat?' and 'Was the Particle Accelerator Explosion planned?' and so on.

Sitting at his desk, Vic went through various papers, before lifting out a half-written article- 'Are all the police bought?'

That was when Earle appeared at his door. "Vic, boss wants to see you."

Picking up the half-written article, Vic walked out of his office, into his boss' office.

"Vic, I thought I told you I needed that article by today, hmm?" Bear McCready asked him, sitting in a cross-legged position.

"Here, boss, half-ready", Vic said, putting it down at his desk. "Give me a little time, by end of day, this will be done and at your desk."

"Let me see!" Drinking some of his coffee, Bear leaned in, and took the article, skimming through it. Then, he put it back at the desk. "Scrap this, start over with something else."

"But bo-"

"Do you know what this is?" McCready asked, looking very annoyed.

"A smoking gun."

"Yes, when the police come after us, they'll have a lot of smoking guns once they're done", McCready argued. "All you're doing is making a volatile situation slip even harder, Vic. You don't even have any proof!"

"I do, actually."

"Like you did about the boyband thing?"

"Do you want to see the proof?" Vic challenged him.

"No, I want you to drop this. You've 3 more days, come up with something better, and I'll publish it", McCready told Vic in a tone that left no room for arguments.

Vic picked his article back up, and folded the paper, putting it into his pocket while glaring at McCready. "McCready, if I wanted to write clickbait, I'd be working for BuzzBreak. We expose the rot, or we're just part of it."

"I'm trying to make sure none of us rot six feet under the ground", McCready snarled, as Vic shrugged and walked off, back into his office, and shut the door, slamming the article on his desk angrily, making some papers fly here and there, while he sat down, and reached into his bag, searching through it.

"All of them, trying to press down on me."

A few seconds later, he took out a small packet, looking at the material inside. Opening the packet up, Vic poured the powder on his hand, and sniffed it with his nose, just as his phone beeped, and he took it out with his other hand, opening it up to see that it was a message from Myra Connelly- 'Hi Vic. We still up for coffee?'

Vic quickly sent her the auto-reply of 'yes', then sniffed what was in his hand again, his head leaning back against his chair as he grunted happily at what he was feeling from the effects of this powder. If no one wanted to listen to him, fine. He'd still do something to feel good at least.

A door opened, and out walked Tot, throwing some trash out into the dustbin, before picking up the newspaper that had been delivered to him, and looking around, he went back inside, shutting the door, walking through an old, dusty and cluttered lab, looking at various items inside, including a hat that he kept in the corner, then at a safe for a few seconds longer than he did at anything else that was in the room. After that, he lifted a cloth and used it to dust a corner, then sat down on his seat, relaxing a bit, looking ahead at some chemicals bubbling up in flasks, after which he opened the newspaper, noting the front page was about two mysterious deaths in police custody, which he was not surprised by.

He flipped through the pages, reading about a mugging, then a robbery, and another mugging!

On the third page, his eyebrow raised when he saw something interesting.

'Toxic skin graft causes death of a soldier.'

Tot tilted his head, running a hand through his hair. Why did this remind him of something?

Standing up, Tot put the newspaper down, and walked off to change.

Vic arrived at 'The Hub', wearing sunglasses now, and saw Myra Connelly waving to him from a seat, Vic waving back and walking to where she was, pulling out his chair and sitting down, before taking his sunglasses off. "Myra."

"Good to see you too, Vic." Myra held out her hand, that Vic shook. "Been three months now."

Vic nodded, looking to the TV in the café behind her, which showed Mayor Wesley Fermin speaking. "I am not resisting any investigation upon me."

"Is it true that you're supporting your fiancée's campaign for the next election?" One reporter asked.

"She is my fiancée, of course I'm supporting her! I think she has some very good ideas, that shall improve this city's infrastructure."

"Are there skeletons under her closet, like yours?" One more reporter asked him.

"She is not corrupt, and neither am I!" Wesley said in reply.

Vic scoffed, picking up the menu. "As if he is going to answer any of that truthfully."

Myra turned to Vic, looking offended. "Vic!"

"No, seriously, that guy?" Vic gestured with his head at Wesley on the TV. "I didn't take you for a fixer-upper type."

"He is not, Vic!" Myra argued to him, the waitress arriving.

"Latte." Vic's response was instant, the waitress noting it down.

"Cold coffee", Myra added, the waitress noting that down also before walking off, Myra turning back to glare at Vic.

"Do you have any proof?"

"It's written all over him. Besides, name one Mayor in this city in the last 50 years who was not corrupt."

"I want to be Mayor, if I get it, would I be corrupt too?" Myra inquired.

"Well, power does corrupt." Then he noticed the glare she was giving him. "But of course, change happens, I think. You can be the change this city needs." He shook his head. "But not with that guy's support on you."

"Do you really think he is corrupt, or are you just jealous?" Myra finally asked, Vic scoffing while rubbing his face.

"You really think its about that?" He asked her, sounding offended for once. "People, always blaming everything on negative emotions. Whoever wired us this way, he or she definitely watches us all like we're a TV show, for their entertainment."

Myra rolled her eyes at his conspiracy theory. "Look, Vic, I'm happy with Wesley, can't you just be happy for me?" As the waitress returned with their coffees and put them down, Myra added. "Can we not talk about him, and just be friends having coffee?"

"Well, it is what I was invited for, I think, so friends having coffee it is", Vic commented, lifting up his mug, as did Myra.

"You do support my campaign though, right?"

"I hate politicians in this city. Corrupt scum, putting us all down, most of all me, the guy who knows the truth." Myra winced a bit. "But, you're not like the rest. Only politician I support." Leaning back, he added. "But don't expect me to write any articles of endorsement."

Myra looked mock-offended. "I am so hurt, Vic."

Vic just chuckled.

Tot sat in a restaurant, looking up to see Twain arrive, dressed up nicely. Twain sat down in front of Tot, both of them shaking hands.

"Tot, been a while. Last time was-"

"At the University", Tot finished, Twain nodding at that, while Tot looked Twain up and down. "You look good."

"You don't." There was a smirk on Twain's face when he made that reply, Tot looking down at himself, knowing just how unkempt he was, especially compared to Twain, but this was not the reason that he was here. "Why'd you call me?"

"You remember our Pseudoderm experiment, right?" Tot inquired, and Twain nodded once more.

"How can I forget? Research after research, and then we threw it all away."

"Did we, Twain?" Tot inquired, his eyes narrowed behind his glasses.

"What are you talking about?" Twain asked back in response, seeming to be confused by this.

Tot put the paper down right in front of Twain, open at the page where he'd read the news about the death in Afghanistan.

"This is what I'm talking about, Twain!"

Twain looked down at the newspaper, seeing the headline about some soldier in Afghanistan dying due to some toxic skin graft.

"Reminds you of something?" Tot inquired, tilting his head. "I remember Pseudoderm did the exact same thing when it was applied on someone with open wounds."

"I don't know anything about this, Tot!" Twain snapped. "I didn't even know about this death until you showed me the paper."

"You and I were the only ones who knew about this", Tot pointed out. "And I've not been selling any skin grafts anywhere."

"And you think I did it?" Twain asked, seeming hurt, though Tot was unmoved. "But wait, I wasn't the only one who knew, right?"

Tot leaned back. "You mean-"

"That friend of yours, the journalism intern-"

"Vic Sage."

"Right, Vic Sage!"

"He is an actual full-on journalist now, at KBEL News. Appears on the TV too."

"Weird, didn't see him", Twain commented. "Then again, I don't watch the news, so I wouldn't know."

"Right."

"Well, he knew about this as well, since he walked in on us when we were burning our research", Twain reminded Tot. "Maybe he grabbed some of it and snuck out with it."

"Then waited until now to sell it?" Tot asked, seeming puzzled by that, because of Vic wanted to make a profit off of the Pseudoderm, he'd have done it back then instead of seven years later.

"And you think I would sell it seven years later instead of just back then?" Twain asked instead, not really answering any questions, only asking more in return, something that Tot could see all too well.

Folding his arms, Tot leaned back. "Well-"

"Look, it was good to see you, Tot, but I don't have much time to remember failed experiments." Twain stood up and walked off. "See you around." Tot just watched him leave, then looked back at the newspaper headline, not buying Twain's act one bit.

Later

Vic returned to his apartment, and shut the door, before dropping his bag, looking at the wall, which had even more photos and newspaper clippings attached here and there on a board via a lot of tape, one page stuck there saying- 'Are Springwood, Haddonfield and Camp Crystal Lake standing on ley lines?'

A few seconds later, a boxing bag was set up, hanging from the ceiling, and Vic was in a tank top, wearing boxing gloves. He cracked his knuckles and neck, then began to throw punch after punch after punch at the bag, shaking and then moving it with each blow that he gave it. It didn't move too far, but did move by a decent distance, showing Vic's striking strength was just fine.

Then, he threw some kicks at the bag also, alongside his punches, the bag shaking here and there with each blow of his, until, about one and a half hours later, Vic was finally tired, and he took off his gloves, putting them to the side, before putting the bag down, and he sat on the ground, panting due to the effort of the exercise.

Seeing his bag, Vic reached into it, taking out another packet. He was about to pull out the powder, when suddenly, his phone rang, making him drop it.

Turning to his phone, Vic saw that it was Tot, which made him narrow his eyes.

Reaching to the phone, Vic accepted the call and put it to his ear. "What's up, Tot?"

"There's something I need to talk to you about, Victor. Meet me at my lab."

Well, this was serious, Vic mused as he cut the call and put the phone down.

Tot had just called him 'Victor', which meant something was up.

Vic looked at the packet with the powder that he'd dropped, and with a shaking hand, he reached out to it, staring at it for a few seconds. Then, he released a deep breath that he did not realize he'd been holding, and grasped the bag, pulling it towards him, putting the packet back inside, for now at least.

After that, he got up, and moved away to change, so he could meet Tot.

Later

Vic walked into his cab, and closed the door, the driver driving away, while Vic looked out the window, his eyes narrowing on seeing a cop shoving a civilian into a corner.

"Where's the money?" The cop asked, the man crying.

"Please, just one more-" He was cut off when the cop took out his gun and pistol-whipped the guy hard, making his head bleed while he fell down, crying more.

"Clearly, you're not taking the consequences seriously."

Vic leaned back in the backseat of the cab, sighing as he ran a hand across his face, wondering if this city was gonna go anywhere anytime soon.

There was a knock on the door of Tot's lab, and he walked to it, opening it up to reveal Vic.

"Hey Tot." Vic's voice was solemn.

"Come in, Vic." Vic walked in, Tot closing the door and locking it up, Vic seeing just how cluttered the place was, as Tot used his cloth to wipe a seat, and pulled it out for Vic, while taking his own seat also.

"Doesn't look as good as your old place", Vic commented.

"I'm not at the university anymore", Tot pointed out.

"It's just a pattern", Vic commented to Tot. "Life has a way of pushing down on the good guys, and punching up the bad ones. Especially in this city. Someone might be responsible. I'll try to find out."

"Vic, do you remember when you walked in on me and Twain burning some research in the university seven years ago?" Tot inquired, and Vic looked up, his eyes lighting up as he remembered that very scene vividly in his head.

"I remember, yes. What about it?"

"I think not all of the Pseudoderm was destroyed." Tot put the paper in Vic's lap, Vic now reading the headline about the soldier in Afghanistan.

"Remember the effects that we'd described?"

"It is fatal if applied on open skin", Vic remembered. "And a soldier- he'd have open skin."

"Exactly."

"I know you're not selling it, so is it Twain?" Vic asked, coming to the logical and most likely conclusion even before Tot could share his suspicions with the journalist.

"It has to be Twain. I asked him earlier, he got way too defensive to be innocent", Tot agreed with Vic, taking a seat in front of the man. "Now, because of his actions, a man has died. And if he continues with this, even more people could die because of this carelessness."

Vic commented with a thoughtful look. "If that stuff's still out there, people are gonna die."

Sharing another look with Tot, Vic immediately got up, putting the newspaper down. "I'm going into look into it."

"Are you going to ask Twain about it?" Tot inquired, as Vic turned around and walked away.

"Liars don't admit. What I need is to make sure everyone knows about it, whether Twain wants them to or not."

With that, Vic reached the door, and opened it up, sharing one more look with Tot. "I'll see you when I get more." With that, he shut the door while Tot sighed, then rubbed his head.

Vic stood on a rooftop, adjacent to Twain's own apartment, using binoculars to look ahead at the man's place.

This city is rotten, from top to bottom. The Mayor only cares about his power, and the police are all free to let crime go on as long as it benefits them. Hub City is…worse than Gotham and Starling. And it is up to people like us to try and make a difference…even as the higher-ups push down upon us to stifle our voices.

Vic watched through the transparent window, seeing via binoculars that Twain had opened his door. Now, he was talking to a man, and discreetly slipped a packet to him, the two shaking hands, before Twain closed the door quickly.

Twain hopes, with this deal, to become one of the elite, so he too can escape the consequences of his actions. But he doesn't know, that he has me on his case.

Vic then looked down with his binoculars, seeing a car standing there.

Quickly, he ran towards the building's elevator, and used it to get down, then ran out, seeing the man that Twain had just spoken to, walking out of the other building himself, then getting into a black car, which he used to drive away.

Vic turned to see a cab arriving, and held out his hand, stopping the cabbie, after which he opened the backdoor and took his seat while closing it. "Follow that black car, please."

The cabbie looked weirded out, but drove forth anyways, before asking Vic. "Haven't I seen you before?"

"Don't think so", Vic shrugged, not telling the guy that he was a news reporter for KBEL News after all.

He looked down at the setting sun, wondering how this day in the city would end for him.

The cab stopped near a warehouse at the docks, Vic paying the cabbie, before getting out, hearing the tires screech as the cabbie drove off, while Vic walked closer to the place, seeing two people pass by, so he spun and hid behind a crate, now hearing their footsteps moving away, which made him sigh in relief.

He popped his head out, seeing the two were far off now, and noted the door was locked, but the windows were not.

Seeing no one around in the vicinity, he quickly made his way towards the window as fast as he could without running, considering that would be heard, and expose him. When he got closer, Vic rolled and got underneath the window, before grasping it, and got up a little, looking inside to see what was going on.

The courier of Twain had just taken out a packet, which he handed over to another man, who went off with it to a corner, Vic quickly taking out his phone and taking a picture, making sure his phone was on silent. He saw some more chemicals bubbling up here and there in the place, clearly a lab of sorts, with people working here and there.

He took more pictures, getting back down when someone turned to his direction, and he heard footsteps close-by from inside, so he stayed down until the guy was past, and he knelt up again, taking a few more pictures.

"Where's the next sale?" He heard one guy asking, so he turned the recorder of his phone on.

Another one was about to reply. "Well, we did Afghanistan, guy said Pak-"

Vic was suddenly grabbed from behind by the collar, making him drop his phone as he gasped, because of which it couldn't detect the sounds from inside the warehouse properly, missing the crucial detail. Vic used his arm to cover his face as he was turned around by one guard. "What the hell are you-"

Vic quickly decked him in the solar plexus, making him gasp, while the other guard tried to punch but Vic grabbed him and threw him to the ground, punching him hard thrice, breaking his nose, after which he rolled away and grabbed his phone, though the first guard recovered and grabbed his foot, trying to drag him back, injuring his face.

"INTRUDER!"

Vic lashed out with his other foot, kicking the guy's face and throwing him off, after which he got up while pocketing his phone, seeing the door open, and he turned around and rushed off, running zig-zag, avoiding the shots fired at him, though one grazed his coat, making him wince, even as he managed to run off, the gunshots still being heard by him until he was a far distance away.

"Who the hell was that?" The courier from earlier asked while walking out.

"No idea, but he could have something."

The courier glared at the guards. "You two had one job." They groaned on the ground, bleeding and in pain, while he took out his phone. "I'm calling the boss."

Tot heard a knock on his door, and quickly walked to it, opening it up to see Vic panting, his coat having a hole on its shoulder.

"What the hell happened, Vic?" Tot asked, closing the door, as Vic staggered inside, taking his seat.

"Two guards almost got me", Vic confessed sadly. "Took a few pictures, but got interrupted before I could record what they were talking about. Had to hide my face while running away."

"If they saw your face, you're a dead man", Tot pointed out grimly, walking to a table, pouring some coffee for Vic and himself. "I'm not sure how we're gonna handle a second time, since the danger isn't going to go away. They'd be even more careful now."

"Which means I have to be as well", Vic noted, Tot walking to him with two cups of coffee, Vic taking one as he sipped, and Tot sipped from the other. "I know a way that can be done."

"What?" Tot inquired, putting his cup down after taking another sip.

"Pseudoderm was a breakthrough", Vic hypothesized. "Even with its fatal effect on open wounds, which you couldn't find a way to fix, something like that can't be thrown into the trash. You were always a bit of an optimist, Tot. I know you'd have kept some of it. Not used it, or even thought of selling it, but kept it in the hope that one day, you could improve it, and remove that side-effect." He looked at Tot directly in the eyes. "Am I right on that?"

Tot just stared at him for a few seconds, then took off his glasses while rubbing his face. "Sometimes I wonder how you don't have the answer to if God is real or not."

"I might", Vic shrugged, as Tot walked towards a safe, and kneeling, turned it, until he got the right code, then opened it up, taking out a small packet of what was clearly Pseudoderm.

"Not much, but it will cover your face", Tot said, looking reluctant. "But if you've an open wound-"

"I don't", Vic cut him off while getting up and taking the packet from him. "I'm not an idiot, Tot. I wouldn't wear this if I did. If I get one, I'll wear a bandage first, then this over it." Seeing Tot's look, he added. "Looking fabulous isn't really a concern of mine when I want to get to such stories without being seen."

'THE QUESTION - Original Instrumental Music - William McCarthy' plays

Sage stood in front of the mirror, staring at his face, Tot in the corner, arms folded.

"I made some modifications."

Vic put the Pseudoderm mask on, the features on his face slowly disappearing.

"It doesn't just hide your face."

Vic continued to watch, seeing that there was no face on him now.

It was just a blank. People would question what kind of thing he was if they believed in the supernatural.

"There's a bonding gas. It changes your hair color."

And it did, Vic's hair slowly changing their shade to red.

"Your clothes also."

Vic looked down in the mirror, seeing his coat turn purple now.

"Pretty much, who you are would be a question to everyone."

Behind his faceless mask, Vic smirked, then walked to the corner, picking up the hat that Tot had kept here, putting it on.

"With the Pseudoderm, the hat will stick to your head as long as you've that mask on", Tot informed Vic, who just nodded on hearing that, satisfied with this disguise.

"This time, I'll get my answers."

"Good luck", Tot said, watching Vic walk off.

"How could you let this happen?" Twain angrily yelled at the courier. "We need to find this man, quickly!" Groaning, he added. "And get all the evidence away from this place, then burn it down!" Everyone continued to stare at him, including the courier. "NOW!" All of them immediately got to work.

The two guards were patrolling again, the one with the broken nose having a bandage on his nose, both sharing a look.

"Think we're fired?" The one who'd been kicked by Vic inquired.

"Come on, we tried our best! Look at me!" He pointed at his nose. "They shouldn't blame us, when all of them shot at him and he still esca-"

Suddenly, he was pushed into the other guard, both falling down to the ground, and as they looked up, a boot smashed on their faces each.

Inside, Twain watched, seeing the courier and another man about to pour some oil on the ground, while three others were removing chemicals, and two were loading crates.

"We've 15 minutes! Do it fast!"

That was when the lights shut off.

"Who turned off the lights?"

"Wasn't me?"

"Check it out, you idiots!"

A flashlight was turned on by one of the men loading the crates, and he looked it to search around for the switchboard, turning around, before his light fell on a face.

Or lack thereof.

He screamed in horror just as his own face was grabbed, and then he got punched twice, before going silent.

"FIND IT!"

The lights suddenly came on, the other guy at the crates having blindly found the switchboard, which was when he was suddenly grabbed by the back of his head, and it got slammed into the switchboard, breaking it and turning off the lights again, this time permanently.

The remaining five took out their guns, firing blindly, Twain crying out. "Show your face and face us, you coward!"

Looking at the courier and the other guy, Twain noted they'd dropped the oil already. "Torch it."

The courier took out a lighter to do as asked, lighting it up, when suddenly, his wrist was grabbed, and the 'no-face' appeared in his own face, unnerving him.

"What the-"

Vic headbutted him hard, knocking him out, only for the lighter to fall from his grip before Vic could take it, and it fell to the ground, causing fire to light up, Vic now visible to the remaining people.

Twain's eyes widened in horror on seeing the man's blank face, then, he narrowed them in realization. "Wait, you have the-"

The other four men just started firing at Vic, who rolled away to avoid, and got underneath a table, then on its other side, and even as they fired at him, he kicked the table, shattering the flasks and spilling the chemicals, some of those splashing at two of the men's shoes, burning through and getting to their feet, making them scream in pain.

The other two backed off wisely, while firing in Vic's direction, but he ran around, avoiding all, and disappeared into the darkness, where the light of the flames did not reach. The two looked here and there, trying to find him, when one's head was smashed from behind by a chemical flask, the chemical burning the back of his head as he cried out in pain and fell down, his head burnt, and as the other turned, Vic grabbed him by the collar, and slammed him into a wall, grasping his wrist also, hitting it on the wall as he dropped his gun.

The man then decked Vic's 'no-face', making him fall to the floor, and smashed his foot on Vic's chest thrice, Vic gasping.

"You're a dead man, you hear me?!" The man snarled, grabbing Vic's collar. "I'm gonna-" Vic grasped his wrist and decked his face, staggering him, and grabbing his throat, started pushing up, until he was standing up, though the man still struggled, only for Vic to smash the back of his head on the wall, making him cry out in pain before he fell down, concussed.

Then, Vic turned around, seeing Twain aiming a gun at him with shaking hands.

"Stay back!" He backed off, even as Vic walked at him. "I said STAY BACK!" Vic didn't, causing Twain to shoot, but Vic rolled away to avoid it, and he hid behind a crate, hearing the clicking of the gun when the bullets ran out after Twain continued to fire in his direction. Before Twain could begin to reload, Vic rolled out and got up, grabbing him by the collar.

"You have the Pseudoderm!" Twain gasped, before Vic threw him down, then reached into his pocket. "Who the hell are you?"

"Good question", Vic noted. "I've a better one- why are you selling Pseudoderm?"

"It was a breakthrough! And that idiot Tot decided it should be torched for ONE FLAW!" Twain screamed at Vic, the fire now spreading.

"That flaw caused a death", Vic snarled at him. "And you were going to cause more, as long as you got your money, didn't you?"

"So what? You need money to survive in a city like this one!" Twain simply said. "All this city does is crush us otherwise!"

Vic kneeled down to his level. "It does. But it is up to us to not become crushers like everyone else." Vic shook his head. "You became one. And now you're torching this place so that-"

"To remove evidence", Twain shrugged. "You can't prove I did it! You-"

"Can't I?" Vic suddenly grabbed Twain's hand, and reaching out, grabbed a chemical flask, then poured it on the hand, causing Twain to scream and cry out in pain.

"NOOOOOOOOOO!"

"Bet the guy who died felt just like this in his last moments, but much worse", Vic sneered, then grabbed Twain by the back of the collar, dragging him out of the warehouse, which burnt behind them, and as they reached out, he threw Twain on the ground.

"What are you gonna do? Kill me?" Twain asked, still holding his hand, only to hear sirens.

"Nope, called them. They suck", Vic said, pointing to the direction of the siren-lights. "But they'll take care of you. Besides, you got to explain why you were here at this time anyways."

Sneering, Twain asked Vic angrily, "You think you're some hero? The world doesn't care about your little crusade."

"No, it doesn't." Vic shook his head. "But I do."

With that, he walked off, Twain lifting his head to see the 'no-face' man disappear into the dark of the night, while police cars stopped nearby, some cops getting out with guns raised, walking near the fallen Twain, to detain him.

Vic, having a slight bruise on his face, put the phone in front of Tot, both listening to the recording.

"It was a breakthrough! And that idiot Tot decided it should be torched for ONE FLAW!"

"That flaw caused a death. And you were going to cause more, as long as you got your money, didn't you?"

"So what? You need money to survive in a city like this one! All this city does is crush us otherwise!"

Tot looked up at Vic, grinning a bit, as Vic then pressed buttons on the phone, sending the recording to Tot.

"Think you can modify my voice a bit more, and leak it onto the Internet?"

"Child's play, Vic, child's play." Tot lifted up his own phone that had received the recording and walked off to do as asked, before walking back, holding out his hand.

"What?" Vic asked, confused. "I'm not holding anything." He narrowed his eyes. "Unless, you can somehow see atoms in that direction and want to hold them."

Tot tilted his head in confusion, then said. "The mask."

Vic looked thoughtful, Tot asking. "What's the matter?"

"I liked using it", Vic confessed. "Helped me take down Twain, and his men. They didn't even see my face. And after the truth is out, no one is going to listen to him anyways. They won't put two and two together, about this mask being Pseudoderm."

"So you're trying to say that-"

"Gonna use it for some more cases", Vic said with a shrug.

"Just for more sto-"

"You didn't mind when it was your story", Vic pointed out.

"I just wanted to stop the misuse of this invention", Tot replied to that.

Vic smirked. "And I want the corrupt elite to stop misusing this city's resources. That's the real fight, Tot, not a few stories."

With that, he turned around and walked off, Tot watching after him with some concern and hesitation, before walking to this phone to do as asked.

KBEL News

McCready saw an article slammed down on his desk, then looked up to see Vic, noting he'd a slight bruise.

"You look bad."

"Looked worse." Vic shrugged, before McCready started reading the news article, and narrowed his eyes.

"Your proof is-"

"Its all over the Internet already, guy's own words." Vic held out his phone, and revealed an audio clip of the recording on the Internet. "I was looking into him even before this. So I got more details. Want the city to hear?"

McCready just stared at Vic.

Later

Sitting in front of the camera, Vic began to speak. "The recording that has taken this city by storm- respected scientist and Professor Arby Twain was found selling a material he and Professor Aristotle Rodor made but discarded seven years ago, to countries with less resources. Professor Aristotle was reached out for comment, and he revealed it was an artificial skin, working alongside a bonding gas. But it was fatal when applied on open wounds, which is why it was discarded. However, it has been brought to light that Professor Twain did not discard the research, or his part of the material."

An image of Twain appeared behind him. "And it caused the death of a soldier in Afghanistan. Now though, he has been arrested. Question is, what more secrets are the respected in this city hiding? And who is this 'no-face' man he and his men claim took down their operation? More tonight."

Later

Vic sat in his apartment, taking out some powder, and sniffing it again, before his phone beeped, and he saw it was Myra.

"Your story was good. Maybe this city does have hope, because of you of all people."

Vic just put the phone away, and continued sniffing.

'THE QUESTION - Original Instrumental Music - William McCarthy' plays

At nighttime, Vic, now wearing the Pseudoderm mask again, stood on a rooftop, looking down across the entire city.

Hub City has the highest amount of corruption out of all cities in America.

The cop from earlier was pistol-whipping the civilian again.

"You're out of time now!" The cop snarled.

But it is up to the people, to rebel. Clearly, they're all on a leash, given fear or money, or both. Both makes sense.

The cop raised his pistol again.

I don't fear these people. Why be scared when they can't see your face, and you can see theirs?

As the cop brought the pistol down, his hand was suddenly grasped, and he turned to see Vic in his mask standing there.

And I don't want money. All I want…is answers to my questions!

Vic shoved the cop into the wall, and slammed his hand on it thrice, disarming him, before the cop kneed his gut, winding him, and punched him down, lifting up his baton while the civilian he was harassing ran off.

"That was a mistake, you 'no-face' bastard. Who the hell are you?"

As he brought it down, Vic suddenly kicked his gut with both feet, staggering him back, and standing up, grasped his face, and the hand holding the baton.

"Good question, as I always say."

With that, he slammed the guy's head on the wall, making him drop the baton, while he slid down, holding his head in pain, and pinning him down, Vic continued to punch his face, which bled.

Ending credits play.

Chapter Text

Hub City

Reggie Mills, a low-level accountant for the Hub City Police Department, was rushing through a dark alley, constantly looking back in fear after every few seconds to see if anyone was after him or not, then turning back to the front to continue running away from the people who were chasing him. His right hand was inside his pocket, clutching a flash drive very hard, afraid to let it go, as if it was his lifeline.

If he managed to get away and get the flash drive to Vic in time, it might just become his lifeline too.

Getting through the alley, Reggie ran to the right, finding a big pole, and rushed to its other side, taking the flash drive out as he looked at it, and then, he took out his phone, dialling a number, and calling. He heard the ringtone. "Please, pick up, quickly-"

That was when he saw two black SUVs pulling up in front of him, so he turned tail and ran off, even as the person on the other end did not pick up, with the automated voice saying- "The person you are calling is not answering. Please leave a voice mail."

Reggie started doing just that. "I have proof. Fermin's got the police in his pocket. They're laundering money. If I disappear, Vic plea-"

He was cut off when two shadowy figures who'd emerged from the SUVs tackled Reggie to the ground, making the flash drive and phone fall to the ground, even as he tried to crawl and reach those, but one of the two men started dragging him away.

"VIC! Please just he-"

The other man cut the call and picked the phone up alongside the flash drive, with Reggie crying out. "NO! PLEASE! NOOOOOOOOO!"

A question mark is shown over what appears to be a blank face, alongside various pictures and newspaper clippings attached via tape, the title card saying 'THE QUESTION' appearing, as 'THE QUESTION - Original Instrumental Music - William McCarthy' plays in the background, whispers being heard over the noir music.

Next morning, KBEL News Office.

Vic sat at his desk in his office, looking at his phone, his expression grim, as he pressed play for the umpteenth time, listening to the voice message that had been left for him.

"I have proof. Fermin's got the police in his pocket. They're laundering money. If I disappear, Vic plea-"

Then there were sounds of a struggle, and those were followed by-

"VIC! Please just he-"

And that was it, the call was cut after that. Vic cursed himself for not having listened to this voicemail in time. If he'd gotten there earlier, perhaps Reggie would still be fine.

Even then, Reggie had found something out, and it was up to him to crack open the case like he always did.

"Don't worry, Reggie. You've something to crack the case open, and expose that jerk I already know is up to no good. I'll find you."

Picking up his phone, Vic pocketed it, then stood up, taking his bag as well, and walking off to the office of McCready.

Reaching the office, Vic saw McCready look up at him, and just played the voice message that he had on him.

"I have proof. Fermin's got the police in his pocket. They're laundering money. If I disappear, Vic plea-"

Then the sounds of the struggle, followed by-

"VIC! Please just he-"

And then, the call cutting.

"What'd you say, boss?" Vic asked in his usual detached tone, McCready not looking very convinced by this.

"You know this guy?"

"Low-level accountant in the police department, helped out on the water supply story last year", Vic shrugged while taking a seat. "He was a good source, if something has happened to him, which we know it has, considering that voice message, he is onto something big. That being the Mayor being corrupt, which is not a surprise at all, but he has tangible evidence about it, clearly."

"And now he is missing, so that tangible evidence is not with us", McCready pointed out. "Even he is not with us, so I'm not sure if there's anything we can do, Vic."

"We can try to find out the truth, which is what we're supposed to do here", Vic pointed out, but McCready put a hand on his employee's shoulder, leaning in closer to Vic's face.

"Look, you want to fight for justice and all, its admirable, everyone should do that", McCready assured Vic, then added. "But in a city like this, you got to be careful. You've already ruffled many feathers, Vic, and if you do this, there won't be any going back. What happened to this guy can easily happen to you too, are you ready to accept that risk?" McCready leaned back, his arms folded. "Because I am not, and neither is the rest of this news station."

Vic just sighed. "You told me we're supposed to be fearless, and do anything for a story, to fight for justice. Now you're saying this? Did they get to you?"

McCready looked offended at the accusation. "No, they didn't, Vic! I'm just looking out for you!" He quickly added. "Even if a lot of things you say drive me nuts, you are my best reporter, so I don't wanna see anything happen to you, that's all"

Vic shrugged, then stood up, pocketing his phone while turning to the door. "I've been fine all this time, boss, I'm sure I can handle it. Besides, even if nothing pops up here, I'm sure that guy without a face who popped up last week would pop up again to make his way to our papers."

"Man first exposed Twain, then beat up a cop, I wonder what his goal is", McCready had to say.

"Maybe he is just someone who was tired of seeing the rot in this city, and decided to do something about it", Vic muttered, then walked off, leaving his employer pondering over his words.

Vic walked into the precinct that was closest to the scene of crime, deciding to poke the bear itself at the very start, see if he could get a reaction.

The police here are fine as long as Wesley pays them to do whatever they want to do. Which is why anyone taking a shot at the Mayor, ends up being targeted by them. They think they're tough when going after the weak. Stand up to them, and they'd fold faster than the Arrow on laundry day.

Seeing the police captain, Vic immediately walked to him. "Captain Wallace-"

"Sage", Eric Wallace scoffed in anger, even as Vic walked next to him. "Why are you here?"

"Someone from your own department went missing last night", Vic pointed out to the police captain. "Reggie Mills, the accountant."

"We got loads of people working here, accountants included, no one notices a low-level worker like that not showing up", Wallace simply countered while walking into his office, Vic standing at the door, watching Wallace take his seat. "Maybe the guy got drunk and fell down in a ditch or something?"

"Captain Wallace, he may be a low-level accountant, but he is part of the police force, please try to take this seriously", Vic warned him. "Unless you or your boss made him disappear, in which case I'd say you should take it even more seriously than you already are!"

"Don't accuse me with your nutty theories, Sage", Wallace threatened the journalist. "We got more important things to do than look for some missing small-time worker."

"Really? Aren't you all supposed to serve and protect?" Vic asked, making Wallace stand up angrily. "A man went missing, someone working for you, in fact, and you think there is something more important than finding him?" As Wallace walked closer, Vic added. "Did you find out the day of Armageddon or something? That could be more important, I guess, but only that, whenever it happens, and if it is now-"

Wallace grasped Vic's shoulder roughly, Vic wincing just a little, while glaring at the man. "Don't tell me how to do my job, Sage. You're a journalist, not a cop."

"Well, I'm doing my job right, so I guess that makes me qualified on telling you how to do your job right", Vic countered, Wallace angrily shoving him out of his office.

"Get outta here, Sage. Its just a simple missing person case, there's way worse going on, like that guy with no face beating on that cop last week. Maybe he took your pal, to beat him up or something", Wallace snarled.

"I've got a voice message from Reggie before he was taken-" Vic started, but Wallace cut him off.

"Well, you're doing your job, right? In that case, go off and do your job!" With that, Wallace slammed the door of his office shut, Vic shaking his head and turning around, walking off.

He didn't fold, but he has something to hide.

Vic noticed a few other cops giving him looks, but when he looked back at them, they turned away quickly, Vic filing that away for later on.

As do the rest of them. They know what went down, but they're not gonna talk to me, because they don't want to be dragged out into the light. This city swallows people who ask the wrong questions."

Later

Tot heard the knock on his door, and opened it up to see Vic on the other side, his face grim. Tot beckoned Vic to come in, which he did, Tot shutting the door behind his friend, seeing Vic taking his seat already, as Tot went off to get some coffee for the both of them. "Bad day at work?"

"This guy I know went missing, accountant at the Hub City Police Department", Vic explained to Tot, who started brewing some coffee for Vic and himself. "Tried to talk to the Captain."

"I can already imagine how that went", Tot said while cringing, noting the coffee was ready, so he brought out two mugs, then poured the coffee into them both, before putting the container away, and after that, he held both the cups and walked over to Vic, handing him one cup, while sipping from the other one himself.

"Yep, guy has a lot of stuff to hide, didn't even hear the recorded message Reggie had sent me before they took him away", Vic commented, then took a sip of the coffee himself. "Like usual, it is up to me to solve this. Everything in this city falls to me. Makes me wonder, if there is something out there making these things happen, then sitting back with popcorn to watch me crack the case for its own entertainment."

Tot just stared at Vic for a few seconds, blinking a few times while his mind processed what the man had said.

He considered Vic a good and trusted friend, he did. After all, there was a reason he'd asked Vic to look into Twain when Tot had rightfully suspected him of selling the Pseudoderm illegally to make money, and Vic had exposed the guy, getting him arrested, with Tot's faith in him rewarded.

But then there were times like these where Tot wondered how crazy Vic could be with those conspiracy theories he kept spouting randomly from time to time, albeit Tot wouldn't be surprised if a few of them turned out to be true, but all of them? Hell no!

Still, even with his conspiracy theories, Tot found Vic one of the few sensible people in Hub City to speak with.

"I heard a guy with no face beat up a cop last week", Tot then said, Vic immediately freezing, the coffee cup close to his lips.

"He was harassing a guy to pay him up, I decided he'd get his payment…..with fists", Vic shrugged, Tot sighing and shaking his head, as he finished his coffee and put the cup away, then took his glasses off, staring at Vic with his bare eyes now.

"Look, I don't approve of these methods, but I get it, I won't call it out, considering I benefitted when you used these same methods to stop Twain", Tot assured Vic. "But still, word of advice- if you keep poking at the bears too much, they will bite and claw back, and there won't be anywhere left to go."

Vic just finished his own coffee, and put the cup down as well.

"Well, until that day comes, I shall freely poke as much as I want."

Tot sighed, wondering when this had become his life, but still nodded, grudgingly accepting of Vic's choice ultimately.

Vic knocked on the door before him, and it was opened by a middle-aged woman.

"Yes?"

"I'm Vic Sage", Vic introduced himself, holding out his hand. "You must be Katherine, Reggie's wife."

She shook his hand, before stepping aside to let him in. "Reggie told me about you after you two worked together last year."

Katherine closed the door, while Vic just stood, until Katherine gestured to a small couch, that he took for himself, and she sat before him. "Do you need water?"

"No, I just came to ask you a few things, so I could get a better idea on how to approach this", Vic replied, Katherine nodding, the journalist seeing the concern for her husband that she had on her face. "Do you know what Reggie was up to when they took him?"

"I know, he told me. He'd dirt on the police and the Mayor, he was trying to expose it", Katherine noted, wiping a tear from her eye. "I told him to keep his head down at first, and not be a hero. But he didn't listen to me. Now he is not here!" It looked like she'd cry, but she barely controlled herself. "And no one is trying to find him!"

"I am", Vic pointed out to her. "The moment they took him, they just confirmed to me that he had something on them. That means they're guilty with something to hide."

"Well, my husband isn't here, so I'm not sure what you can do without any information on this", Katherine replied, and Vic could not deny her point either.

"Right, you're right", Vic confessed to her. "That's why I'm here. Can you tell me any places your husband frequents, other than the precinct? Would make it easier to try and track him down."

"He actually called me last night, before they took him", Katherine revealed, to Vic's relief, since the timing of that could really help him. Taking out her phone, Katherine showed Vic the time of the call, it was 11:15 PM.

Vic then looked at his own phone for a reminder, and saw the voice mail had come to him at 11:40 PM., meaning not very long after.

"Did he tell you where he was when he called?" Vic asked the woman.

"Its that dive bar, at the 5th Sector", Katherine revealed to Vic. "He goes there to have a drink from time to time. Off-duty cops frequent that place a lot."

"He probably thought going to a place swarming with cops would reduce the suspicion on him", Vic commented, giving his own hypothesis, then stood up. "Thank you for your help, Mrs. Mills. I will now try to track him from there on." With that, he walked out, closing the door behind him, Katherine just looking down sadly, part of her hoping her husband was fine, and the other part scared of if something had already happened to him.

Vic stood at her door, and reaching into his bag, he pulled out a small packet, then took the powder out and sniffed it, even as he continued to walk ahead, uncaring of the consequences in this moment.

Arriving at the dive bar in 5th Sector, Vic looked at its sign, then walked inside, seeing three cops in a corner, all laughing together at something one of them had said, drunk, glasses in their hands. Turning, he saw another cop taking his own drink, then walking past Vic, bumping his shoulder on purpose, Vic just sighing and rolling his eyes, not caring much about that.

What he cared about was finding out what had happened to Reggie.

Walking up to the guy at the bar, Vic stood there for a while, with the guy asking. "Want anything? Strong or weak? Single or-"

"I'm actually hear to ask you a few questions", Vic told the guy in no uncertain terms.

"Cops here don't ask a thing, who're you?" The guy asked, looking quite curious now.

Vic just lifted up his ID, showing him who and what he was. "A journalist."

"Ah, makes sense, they can never let go."

Vic chuckled. "No we can't." Then, his face turning serious again, Vic asked. "A frequent customer of yours was taken last night, not very far from here."

"Which one? I've a lot of frequent customers, so you've to be more specific there."

"Reggie Mills", Vic immediately said the name, some cops hearing and giving him looks from where they sat, while the bartender did a little double-take, something Vic easily got, and he knew it was because of the cops.

"Look, I don't know anything about that", the bartender told Vic. "I mean, I served him drinks all the time, but I don't really talk about people's personal lives much, whether it's him or any of the cops here." Leaning in, he whispered. "You know how most of those guys are, best to not look eye-to-eye with them on anything."

Vic could tell he might know more, but he was genuinely afraid of these cops, so he decided not to ask him anything. "It's fine." He reassured, then turned to the various cops, who were giving him looks from time to time. Before he could do anything, someone grasped his shoulder, Vic turning to see it was yet another cop.

Reading his badge, Vic got the name- 'Detective Sam Duffy'.

"Can I help you with anything?" Vic simply asked Detective Duffy, who gestured to a corner, then led Vic to that corner, Vic not resisting, since even in the corner, they were visible to others, so it was clear the guy wasn't trying to put a beating on him.

If he does put a beating on me, would the rest really care enough to step in?

He looked at some cops, drinking and laughing amongst themselves again.

Don't think so.

He turned back to Duffy. "What'd you want?"

"I know that guy, he was nice", Duffy told Vic. "And I've an idea on what happened to him."

"What?" Vic simply asked.

"Well, he liked to gamble a lot, at that Hubsino place", Duffy confessed, Vic simply tilting his head while processing this piece of information. "He got a lot of debts on him. I think one of the loan sharks got to him last night."

"Is that so?" Vic inquired, Duffy just nodding, then patting his shoulder.

"Good luck with finding him."

With that, Duffy walked off, Vic watching after him, as another cop came up to Duffy, both of them now speaking in hushed whispers.

His wife didn't mention any gambling debts. Even if its more likely that he got taken because of dirt on the Mayor, if he'd debts, she'd have told me about those, just in case.

The other cop shared a nod with Duffy, then walked off outside, Vic taking out his phone and putting it to his ear, pretending to talk to someone.

"Yeah boss, I'll have something up soon", he said to absolutely no one while walking out behind the other cop, making sure he looked discreet enough, and getting out, he saw the cop just walking away on his own, calling a cab as he stopped at one place, and the cab stopped, allowing him to get in.

Seeing another cab coming in, Vic stopped it, and then got inside. "Follow that other cab." Like last time, he could tell the cabbie was weirded out. "I'm paying, don't worry." Shrugging, the cabbie put his foot on the accelerator and followed the other cab.

After about a few minutes, the other cab stopped near what looked like a small building, the cop getting out and paying his driver, who immediately left, so Vic told his driver. "Stop!" The cabbie did, Vic getting out and paying him. "Here!"

"Hey, have we met before?" The cabbie asked, and Vic shook his head.

"Don't think that we have."

With that, Vic walked to the building, but stopped before he could step inside.

There could be danger here.

Reaching into his bag, Vic pulled out the Pseudoderm mask, then seeing a garbage dump in an alley nearby, Vic ran to it, and kept his bag underneath it, so that it'd remain hidden, and just in case some sort of garbage disposal came in for the trash, at least his bag wouldn't be taken alongside it.

'THE QUESTION - Original Instrumental Music - William McCarthy' plays

Vic put his mask on.

With that, his facial features disappeared, his hair color changed to red, and the coat that he wore turned purple too, while he put the hat on.

Time for some questions and answers.

And then, Vic rushed into the building, kicking the door open. He looked around, finding it empty, nothing inside it, not even a table or chair, no fridge either, meaning no one lived here, but since Duffy's associate had come here, Vic knew there was something going on in this place.

As he turned around, he saw there was an elevator over here, and that gave him an idea of what could be going on.

So, he pressed the button, the elevator doors opening up, and he walked inside, the elevator now taking him down, into a basement of sorts, from where he could hear very loud cheering from people, as well as grunts and smashes. The elevator finally stopped, and the doors opened up, Vic walking out to see various cops and other people gathered around a cage!

Inside the cage, two people were fighting, both without their shirts, one bald, and the other with facial hair.

Amongst the cheering cops was Duffy's associate also.

The bald one grabbed the one with the facial hair in a chokehold, and leapt, slamming them both down, the people around cheering loudly again.

"SMASH! SMASH! SMASH! SMASH! SMASH!"

Getting up, the bald one grabbed the other guy again, and slammed his head to the ground, drawing some blood and knocking him out finally, with everyone cheering at the fighting once more.

"Come on, pay up!" One guy said to another, the other guy already taking out money, and as Vic looked around, more payments were made.

A bet, clearly.

Feeling a hand to his shoulder, Vic turned to see it was another cop.

"Hey! It's that no face guy who-"

Vic immediately decked the cop on the nose, dazing him, and reaching down, quickly took his gun, then put the guy in front of himself, the gun aimed at his head, right as other cops aimed at him, but now, this cop was in their way, and Vic wasn't moving his own gun away either, so it was clear there wasn't much they could do about this right now.

"Let him go, no face, and we won't shoot", Duffy's associate told Vic, not that he cared about the threat.

"You are not allowed here!" The fight club owner snarled as he pointed at Vic, but Vic wasn't ruffled by the threats.

"Who the hell are you?" Another one asked him. "And why are you assaulting cops?"

"As I always say, good questions", Vic shrugged.

"What are you then? A question yourself?" One more inquired.

"If that's what you want me to be", Vic replied, then briefly aimed his gun at them, and put it back at the cop's head. "I'm here for you." He gestured to Duffy's associate. "You're gonna answer a few questions of mine, it can go easy, or it can go rough. Of course, rough has many meanings, as does easy, people saying 'easy' can put a light beating too, as we've seen throughout history, but-"

He was cut off when suddenly, his hand was grasped from the side, and as he turned, a muscular shirtless man decked him, sending him to the floor, causing him to drop his gun, as others stared at the scene, with the muscular man kicking Vic, making him groan as he rolled away in pain.

The other cops started aiming their guns, but the man raised his hand. "Oh no! He is mine!" Grabbing Vic by the collar, he lifted him up. "That cop you beat up last week was my little brother, jackass! You're gonna pay for that!" He headbutted Vic, dazing him, then spinning him around, threw him into a wall in the corner, Vic hitting it and falling to the floor, groaning.

The muscular guy marched towards Vic, grabbing him by the back of the collar, picking him back up, and reared his fist back to land another punch.

Only this time, Vic kneed him, right between his legs, causing him to scream in pain, as he let go.

And then, Vic decked his jaw thrice, before grabbing onto him and kneeing his gut two more times. Roaring, the guy grabbed Vic and hurled him into the other direction, where the other cops were, preparing to aim again, but he held up his hand, wanting to deal with Vic himself.

As he got closer, Vic rolled away, and launched both feet forwards into the guy's gut, causing him to gasp in pain while he knelt down, and Vic wrapped both feet around the guy's neck, only for him to get up and grab onto both feet of the vigilante, roaring and spinning him around, before throwing him off, right into another cop.

And as luck would have it, this one was none other than Duffy's associate, whom he'd been trailing so far, with both of them on the floor at this point, groaning.

The muscular guy walked towards them both again, but Vic acted quickly. Reaching into the holster of Duffy's associate, Vic pulled his gun out, and getting up, used it to whack the muscular man on his face, drawing blood while he staggered away, and then he whacked him two more times, before hitting his nose as he screamed, the nose broken, while he fell down.

Right as the other cops began to aim their guns, Vic quickly picked up Duffy's associate, and held him hostage, backing off from the rest.

"Stay back, or he gets it", Vic warned, reaching the elevator soon.

"Do something!" The cop begged, but no one did, Vic pressing the button as the doors opened, and he went inside, not letting the cop go, after which the doors closed, and the elevator began going up, Vic throwing the cop down.

"You are gonna-"

Vic pistol whipped the cop hard, making him fall down while he spat out some blood. "What did you do to Reggie Mills?"

"Who?"

"The accountant!" Vic pistol whipped him again, throwing him to the ground. "I know he was taken by cops like yourself, tell me what you know otherwise-"

"Otherwise what?"

Vic pulled the trigger, hitting the spot right next to the cop's knee, making him gasp in fear while the elevator reached the top, the door opening, though Vic stood in between them, to make sure they would not close. "Next one shall go into you." The cop was still not responding, causing Vic to pull the trigger just a bit further. "Want to test the theory?"

Finally, the cop spoke. "All right, all right! I'll tell you what I know!" Vic just gestured the cop to go on. "Reggie never had debts! The cops did take him, but I don't know where!"

"Who took him?"

When he didn't respond, Vic fired, and got him in the shoulder, making him scream in pain.

"Duffy! Sam Duffy!"

That was when shots were fired, and Vic looked down, bullets going through the elevator's bottom, and would have hit his feet had he not been standing at the doors, as the cop got hit by what he'd describe as 'friendly fire', making him scream louder, with Vic quickly backing off from the elevators and taking the gun with him, since it might have his fingerprints now.

Reaching outside, Vic quickly ran to the garbage dump, and reaching down, pulled his bag out, after which he ran away, and threw the gun into the water down below, then rushed off, right into another alley, where he took his Pseudoderm mask off, and put it back inside his bag. Then, he took a deep breath, calming himself down, and breathed out, after which he walked off like a normal person, so as to not look suspicious.

Sam Duffy was now getting out of the bar, which was when he saw Vic Sage before him, a few bruises on his face.

"Hey man!" Duffy greeted him amicably. "Found anything?" Noticing his face, Duffy also asked. "And what happened there?"

"Rough guards at the casino", Vic lied through his teeth, Duffy just nodding.

"Yeah, that happens a lot, so-"

"Reggie did not have any gambling debts", Vic immediately said, causing Duffy to stop talking mid-sentence, Vic just glaring at him.

I did not confirm if he had any, but I know that wasn't why he was taken.

Duffy stared at Vic, clutching one fist of his.

His reaction makes that clear to me. He doesn't even know his own associate gave me his name.

"Look, I don't know what you're trying to do", Duffy began. "But Reggie is not everyone's priority, there are a lot of things going on in this city, you should understand that. If not because of gambling, he got taken because of something else, or by a criminal, could be anything, just stop asking about it all the time."

"That's what I do though", Vic pointed out. "And I know you lied about his debts, since you did not deny it right now. Tell me, Duffy, what happened to him?"

Duffy grew angry, and grabbed Vic by the collar, slamming him into a wall nearby, while he got into Vic's face, sneering at him.

"You think you scare me, Sage? You're just a guy who writes stories and then speaks those stories on the news channel to get a bunch of views. We are the ones who write history."

"What kind of history?" Vic inquired, completely unphased, as Duffy reared his fist back, and hit Vic in the gut, winding him as he went down on his knees.

"This was just a little warning, come around again and I'll give you the full package. Whatever kind of history it is, it won't be remembering you at all, not even as an annoyance." With that, Duffy turned around and walked off, giving Vic one last glare and scoff, after which he left the area, and Vic looked up, narrowing his eyes, Duffy's actions making it even clearer that he operated freely without any fear of consequences regardless of whatever he did, including assaulting a reporter just for asking a few questions.

Tit for that, as they say.

Duffy walked to his car, opening the door, but just before he could get in, someone grabbed his wrist in a hold, and then grabbed his head, slamming it on the hood of the car, making him grunt in pain while his face bled, and then, Vic, dressed up as the Question, held his face up.

"What'd you do to Reggie Mills?" Vic asked, his voice a bit morphed.

Looking at the glass, Duffy caught the reflection of the no face guy.

"Its you….." Duffy growled. "Assaulted that other guy last week, and now me, huh? What'd you want?"

"The truth", Vic sneered. "What did you do to Reggie? Tell me!"

"As if!" Duffy sneered, only for his face to get slammed into the hood a second time, breaking his nose while he screamed in agony.

"Damn you!" Vic slammed his face a third time, knocking him out, as his unconscious body slid to the ground, and getting into the car, Vic opened the compartment, seeing a few things, including a phone. Taking the phone, Vic got out, and knelt near Duffy, checking his pockets, seeing there was another phone in one of the pockets.

Vic quickly opened the other phone, and it asked for a fingerprint.

Grasping the unconscious Duffy's wrist, Vic pressed one finger onto the phone, opening it up, and walked off, first changing the biometrics to make sure the phone would not need to be opened up by anything of Duffy's again.

This is for the unsavory tasks he has to do.

Vic then checked the call history, seeing one number having called him a few times, and the latest was from last night, around 10:53 PM, not long before Reggie had vanished.

Walking off, Vic turned the voice message on.

"Reggie Mills knows too much, get rid of him."

Later, Vic sat in his apartment, scrolling through the burner phone, while holding his own phone to his ear with his other hand, hearing the other side ring, until it was picked up.

"Hello, Vic", Myra's voice came to him from the other side. "What's up?"

"An accountant for the Hub City Police Department went missing last night after calling me to tell me something", Vic informed his ex-girlfriend, now a Mayoral candidate. "The police seem to be involved, since when I asked them about this, they just kept sending me in circles the entire time. And I think Wesley is part of this too."

He could Myra's groan of annoyance from the other end. "How many times are we gonna go over this, Vic? Wesley is innocent of whatever you're accusing him of, you have no proof."

"Try questioning him", Vic requested.

"I would, but I've no reason to. Stop this crusade of yours."

Vic sighed, then told Myra. ""This city's burning, and you're standing next to the guy holding the match, even though you want to put the fire out."

Still scrolling through the burner phone, Vic looked at the messages, and his eyes widened on seeing one from the Mayor, around 12 AM, which said- "Dump it near the warehouse that burnt down last week."

He knew just what warehouse this message was talking about, and if Reggie had been killed with his body dumped there, it could still be there.

It was nightfall now, and Vic, dressed up as the Question, reached the warehouse, hiding behind a crate, looking at the burnt remains of the warehouse, courtesy of himself of course. He opened each crate one by one, trying to find the body, but there was nothing. The burner phone was in his hand, since if he kept it at his home for too long, the police would track it, and then it would be revealed that Vic Sage was the no face question guy assaulting cops.

But no matter how much he searched, there was no body to be found here.

Looks like they cleaned it up. They knew I'd see the message.

Then, Vic heard sirens, and turned, seeing various cop cars arrive, with some cops getting out, aiming their guns, Vic running, the burner phone still in hand.

"FREEZE!" One cop screamed, even as Vic ran, and they all opened fire, Vic ducking and weaving behind crates to dodge, though one shot managed to hit the phone, destroying it as Vic gasped, seeing it fall to the floor, shattered, causing him to groan as he ran off, avoiding more shots, and disappearing into the night, the cops lowering their guns as they glared ahead into the darkness.

Returning to his apartment, Vic punched the wall angrily, then turned the TV on, seeing Wesley Fermin at a press conference.

"We'd a great gala last night, raised a lot of money for my fiancée's campaign", Wesley was telling all the reporters that were around him. "Took the entire night, but we got it done. Here's to Myra Connelly for Mayor!" Everyone cheered, as Vic groaned, slumping to the ground while shutting the door.

He has an alibi. Perfect, airtight, and one that makes people go 'awww', because who doesn't love a good romance?

Hearing the phone ring, Vic pulled it out, seeing it was none other than Myra. Bracing himself already, Vic accepted the call, putting the phone to his ear.

"Hello?"

"Seriously, what are you trying to do, Vic?" Myra asked him angrily. "All you do is accuse Wesley of being corrupt, and there is no evidence for any of it. Are you jealous or just decided to make him the target of your conspiracy theories? Or both? He your George Soros or something?"

"Myra, listen-"

But she wasn't going to listen at this point. ""Maybe you don't care about this city, Vic. Maybe you just don't want me to be happy."

Vic froze, speechless for once, just as the call was cut.

Sighing, he put the phone down, then reached into his bag, pulling out a packet, and then, holding the powder in his hand, Vic sniffed it, leaning his head back.

This is the taste of defeat. Might as well make it pleasing before going on to the next round. Because don't kid yourself, this is our cage match, and the entire city is the cage, watching us go at it. And if there is someone up there who watches us for entertainment, well, there you go, you'll have it.

With that, he closed his eyes, continuing to sniff the powder.

Wesley sat in his office, alone, before the door opened, Detective Sam Duffy walking in, a bandage over his nose now.

"Sage won't stop", Duffy said grimly, Wesley nodding at that.

"Well, we'll have to make him learn when to quit soon", Wesley sneered, leaning back into his chair, Duffy nodding as he put something at Wesley's desk.

Reggie's bloodied ID badge!

"There's this no face guy too. They're calling him the Question now, because he says 'good question' a lot", Duffy informed the Mayor. "He has been beating on cops a lot, and seems to be on our case as well. He'll be a problem."

Wesley just shrugged with a smirk. "We'll deal with him."

Ending credits play.

Chapter Text

In a back alley behind a rundown bar, a man stood, nervously lighting up a cigarette, then putting it into his mouth, and taking in a breath, he breathed out, smoke emanating from his mouth as well now, his nerves calming down due to this. This was Danny "Ghost" Alvarez, a street-level informant, and he'd found some things he needed to share with a certain someone.

Taking out his phone, Danny went to 'Contacts', then scrolled through various names, before finding a specific name, of a certain someone.

Victor!

Quickly, he dialed, then put the phone to his ear, muttering. "Pick up, pick up!"

In a few seconds, it was picked up. "Hello, Danny?"

"Vic!" Danny sighed in relief, glad he'd picked up the call in time. "I got something. Big. But it's dangerous. We gotta meet—fast."

"Sure, what is it?"

Only, before Danny could reply, a SUV pulled up nearby, causing him to mutter. "Oh shit!"

"What's going on?"

"They're here!" Danny cried out in fear, and began to run, as two people got out of the SUV, and gave chase to him.

"Danny, what's happening? Who is there?"

Danny started. "I'm near the Avenue Carl Bar! And its-"

WHACK!

Danny fell down, knocked out, his head having been whacked by a bat, while one of the two men picked him up, walking back to the SUV with the man.

"Danny? Danny?!"

The other man crushed the phone with his foot, then the fallen cigarette, Vic's voice no longer audible, and then, he too returned to the SUV, and within seconds, it drove away.

A question mark is shown over what appears to be a blank face, alongside various pictures and newspaper clippings attached via tape, the title card saying 'THE QUESTION' appearing, as 'THE QUESTION - Original Instrumental Music - William McCarthy' plays in the background, whispers being heard over the noir music.

Next morning, KBEL News Office

"People are still asking who this man without a face is", Vic was speaking, the cameras all upon him, as he showed a sketch of the figure, which unbeknownst to all but Tot and himself, was him in his vigilante guise, behind him. "The cops have begun to call him 'The Question', claiming he has a habit of saying 'good question' every time they ask him who he is. However, no one is any closer to finding out anything else about him. Who is he? What are his intentions? More tonight."

With that, a voice said 'Cut', and Vic stood up, walking past the cameraman, with the shooter of the segment saying. "All right, that was some good stuff, Vic, you put more emotion than usual-"

He was completely ignored though, Vic walking past him, making him freeze mid-sentence, as he and the cameraman shared a strange look, both of them used to Vic's mannerisms, just like everyone else in the building was too.

Returning to his office, Vic shut the door, and took out his phone, having recorded the last call with Danny right before he'd been taken, reminded of what had happened to Reggie Mills just a week ago, who too had been taken right while trying to call Vic over something he'd found.

Vic pressed the 'on' button, hearing everything.

"Hello, Danny?"

"Vic! I got something. Big. But it's dangerous. We gotta meet—fast."

"Sure, what is it?"

Then, there was the sound of tires screeching.

"Oh shit!"

"What's going on?"

"They're here!"

"Danny, what's happening? Who is there?"

"I'm near the Avenue Carl Bar! And its-"

WHACK!

"Danny? Danny?!"

Vic sighed sadly, the recording stopping, while he picked up the phone and then went into his boss' office, McCready looking up at Vic with a little smile.

"Saw the segment you shot, pretty good, keep that up", McCready said, Vic nodding while he took a seat before McCready.

"Another informant of mine went missing last night, its very similar to Reggie Mills last week", Vic told his boss, looking quite worried about him. "He said he'd his hands on something big, then he went missing."

"What'd you think it is?" McCready inquired.

"Well, could be he found aliens", Vic replied, McCready looking at him incredulously. "I mean, we're getting people with powers recently in Central City, most likely due to that Particle Accelerator exploding, so this is not that far out there."

"One step at a time, Vic", McCready begged him. He liked the guy, he was a good journalist when he was trying, but these conspiracy theories were always a handful and too much to deal with. "We got people with powers over in Central City, got it. Anyways, I'm not sure what to do unless you find out anything more about your guy, so you can go ahead. After the segment today, I don't mind letting you do what you want for a while."

"Thanks boss", Vic said, then turning around, walked back into his office, sighing in relief. The boss was in a better mood this time than usual, so there wasn't as much hindrance in his path as before.

Getting back inside his office, Vic shut the door, and sat down, looking at the powder which he took out from his bag, wanting to sniff some.

Still, he himself was in a slightly better mood now, and put it back down into the bag.

The boss still needs me reciting line after line to pass off as 'news', and luckily, the other me makes for a very good source of news. No one can stop talking about him due to more frequent sightings of him, and we even have a name for him now- The Question. I actually like it, I do like to ask a lot of questions, to get the answers for them all. Like what was Ferdinand Magellan's plan if he turned out to be wrong about the Earth being a sphere? Or what Danny was trying to tell me before these people took him? Its very eerily similar to what happened with Reggie last week, I hope I get something more this time. Luckily, he gave me the name of the place he was at.

Later

Vic arrived at the Avenue Carl Bar, a very rundown place. The dive bar from last week where the cops hung out had a shady look but was maintained decently. This place, was not, to put it mildly. Probably didn't even have the funding to look like a half-decent place and all, sad really.

Those who harm others get all the luxuries of the world over here. Those who just want to live, they don't even get resources to live with basic needs.

Opening the door, Vic went in, no bouncers checking him either. Clearly, the place couldn't even afford those. Albeit, the dive bar with the cops had no bouncers either, but that was for entirely different reasons as well.

There were very few patrons here, all having drinks, some looking at Vic warily, not that he cared about it. Seeing the bartender cleaning a few glasses, Vic walked up to him. "Hey there."

"Hello", the bartender said, narrowing his eyes, seeming to recognize Vic. "Aren't you the guy from the news?"

"Yeah, that'd be me, pleased to meet a fan", Vic quipped, the bartender shrugging as he kept his cloth down, and put one of the glasses away.

"Why are you here?" The bartender simply inquired.

"I imagine you are familiar with Danny Alvarez", Vic noted, the bartender's eyes lighting up.

"Oh, him? He is a regular here", the bartender confirmed to Vic. "He was here just last night as well, then left in a hurry."

"Do you know that he went missing?" Vic inquired, the bartender's eyes widening, while some of the patrons at the bar looked up from where they were, shock on their faces.

"Really? How? When?"

"Just last night, after leaving this place", Vic told the man, causing him to gulp on hearing all that.

"Look, I don't know anything, he left this place-"

"Oh, I know you didn't have anything to do with this", Vic reassured the bartender, making him sigh in relief. "He was already out of here when he called me, and that's when he was taken, I'm not sure by who."

"Well, I don't know either", the bartender shrugged. "He was a nice guy. Bit weird, but nice."

"I know", Vic sighed. "We met a few months ago, he could get to places where I couldn't, he had a shady past, but he was trying to move on, be better, do some good in this city that supports only crime and corruption. But now, someone got to him, and I must find out who it was. Because whatever Danny was looking into, it was big, he told me as such just before they took him."

The bartender just gave a sigh, and took a seat, rubbing his head. "Well then, it looks like he got too close to something. People like us? We don't ask questions like you do, Vic."

"I know, and that's why I do this, so that others don't have to", Vic told the man. "Anyways, it's a bad neighbourhood, I'd advice you be careful and all."

The bartender just shrugged. "Oh, we know how bad it is. People going missing all the time, especially girls, if you hadn't told me about what Danny was looking into, wouldn't even give him going missing a second thought really."

"Interesting", Vic commented. "Anyways, I'll be off." He handed a card to the bartender. "If you find anything, you can reach me over here."

The man nodded, while Vic walked to the doors, opening them and walking out of the bar, sighing.

Well, that was mostly a bust. But did find out something- people go missing here a lot. That's something worth looking into.

Walking off, Vic decided to go to a side, trying to find anything.

People are usually kidnapped in alleys. Not sure why that is, but it happens so much, that its worth checking out at this point.

Walking into the alley himself, Vic looked around, then looked down, seeing the crushed cigarette from the previous night, and right next to it, the crushed phone!

Lucky me!

Kneeling down, Vic picked up the broken phone and pocketed it for himself.

Vic put the phone right before Tot, who looked down at it, eyes narrowed behind his glasses, after which he looked back up at Vic.

"This belonged to your informant who got taken away last night?" Tot asked, just to be sure, and Vic nodded.

"Yeah, the kidnappers thought crushing the phone would be enough to hide them, but they clearly don't know me, or the fact that I know you", Vic said, Tot realizing what Vic's intentions were with all of this. "Can you fix this and look into it and all?"

"Yep, shouldn't be hard for me, Vic", Tot told him, picking the broken phone up and looking it over. "Gonna take a few hours, but will get it done."

"Besides, was thinking of asking you to make a burner phone for me also", Vic told Tot. "Maybe after you've made this, I can just use this as my burner?"

"You think Danny is no longer with us?" Tot inquired.

"I'd like to hope for the best, but knowing this city, its not really possible, Tot", Vic pointed out to him, and as much as Tot hated to admit it, Vic was right about that. "Anyways, just get it fixed. I think we can find more in his contacts and all."

"Will do, Vic, and like I always say, be careful", Tot told Vic. "Last week, you tried to accuse the Mayor, didn't really pan out at the end, did it?"

"Not this time, but there's always the next time. I'm not letting this go until I have something", Vic said very firmly, and Tot knew that Vic wasn't going to give up until he could nail Wesley Fermin to the cross over everything.

"Just make sure Myra doesn't hate you anymore than she already does after what happened last week", Tot reminded, Vic sighing, since he knew Tot had a point about that.

"When she finds out I was right about her guy all along, she is not gonna hate me anymore", Vic simply said in reply, then walked out, Tot watching after him with another sigh, as he took off his glasses and cleaned them, then put them back on, while looking at the broken phone, which he now needed to fix up.

Vic put up the boxing bag in his home, then put on the boxing gloves, before punching it a few times, shaking it with each punch, and he carried on like that for a few minutes. Then, he added a few kicks as well, doing a few more moves on the bag, all for practise, reaching up about half an hour.

Finally, when he was done, he panted, putting the bag down while he sat down with a groan, clearly tired.

Then, he picked up his phone, getting to Myra's name, and he texted- "Hey." He wondered what else to say. Should he apologize? No, he knew he was right, there was no need to apologize, she'd know the truth soon enough herself. Should he try to justify himself? No, that won't be a good look either, since while he was right, until he'd definitive proof, trying to justify himself would just make him look even worse to her. Now was not the time.

So, with those thoughts in mind, Vic just pressed 'enter', the 'Hey' being sent to Myra as of now.

He waited for half a minute, seeing her typing back, and then, seeing the message just made his heart sink.

"I don't wanna talk, Vic."

Vic sighed, lowering his head and running his hand through his hair, wondering how he could fix things with Myra even as he still continued to investigate her fiancé.

Well, not gonna get anywhere right now. Not with Myra, and not with whatever Danny was looking into, until Tot fixes up the phone for me.

And with that in mind, Vic finally took out the packet, and taking out the powder, he sniffed it, losing himself into this little pleasure for now. Then, he reached into his bag, and tried to take out another packet, only to realize there was none at all, causing him to groan in annoyance, then angrily punch the ground.

He needed more of that!

Later, Vic knocked right at the door, and after a few seconds, Myra opened up, levelling Vic with a gaze that made it clear she was still mad, and ultimately, he could not really blame her.

"Why are you here now, Vic?" Myra asked him, as Vic ran a hand over his head.

"Look, Myra", Vic started. "I know there was no evidence of what I said, but I thought I-"

"You accused Wesley without any proof, there is still none", Myra pointed out in response. "Like I asked before, I will ask again- were you just jealous or is he the target of your latest conspiracy theories?"

"Neither, Myra. I just want you to be happy, you couldn't be happy with me, but I hope you can find someone else", Vic assured her, only for Myra to shake her head.

"I have found someone, Vic, you just don't like that someone", she simply said, arms folded, Vic sighing once more as he put a hand against the wall nearby, wondering what he could say to make it better right now.

"I was just looking out for you and the rest of this city, Myra. If this guy is who I say he is, then we know he is responsible for the rot in the city, and you're so close to him, which means that you'd be in trouble too."

Myra still wasn't having any of it. "I know you think you're protecting me, Vic, but you're only pushing me away."

Vic tried to plead with her at this point. "I just don't want you to wake up one day and realize you trusted the wrong person."

Myra just levelled him with another gaze, then shut the door on his face without saying another word, causing Vic to groan, clutching his other hand into a fist, and punching the wall, after which he turned around and walked off from the place, his fingers shaking a little bit, because there was something he needed, and did not have right now.

Calling the elevator, Vic got into it, and it went down, Vic's fingers still shaking considering what he wanted.

A while later, Vic walked into a little alley, and knocked on a door at the side. A few seconds later, the door opened up, a shady looking man with a scruffy beard looking Vic up and down.

"Oh, it's you!" The man said, sounding rough but conditionally pleasant at the same time, stepping aside, allowing Vic to enter, after which he shut the door, Vic's nose already picking up smells of the chemicals being worked on inside of the place. Getting further in, Vic saw a man sitting at a table, already prepared for Vic.

"The same?" The man inquired, Vic nodding at that.

"The same."

Reaching into a drawer, the man took out a small packet with the powder, handing it to Vic, who took it, and put in his bag, the man taking out a few more packets of the same kind, and handing them over to Vic, who put those inside his bag, then took out a few dollars, and handed those to the man, who counted each of them carefully, and satisfied, opened a different drawer, putting the money inside of it.

"Pleasure doing business with you", the man said, Vic nodding at that. "And appreciate you not talking about us in the news, ya know how it goes, Vic."

"Oh, I know", Vic sighed, walking away, the man who'd led him in now leading him out, and opening the door for him, Vic walking out as the man shut the door, and Vic looked at his hands, which shook a bit. Part of him just felt dirty, at what he'd to do, to fuel his little habit, yet, he just didn't know how to really stop.

The city is corrupt, as I keep saying. Never said I wasn't. This is something that I keep doing, even though I know I shouldn't. I've nothing else, no other pleasures to indulge in while I try to fight for this city. This is it.

Hearing his phone ringing, Vic picked up, seeing it was Tot, and put it to his ear. "Hello?"

"You'd be very pleased to know- the phone has been fixed. Come over and let's take a look."

"Thanks Tot", Vic thanked his friend.

Soon enough, Vic was in Tot's place once more, Tot lifting up the repaired phone, and handing it over to Vic, who held it in his hand, looking over it, and reaching the contacts information, noting the last call was to himself, obviously.

"Who're you looking for?" Tot inquired, standing to Vic's side now, and looking at the phone over his shoulder, seeing Vic starting to scroll through Danny's contacts.

"Whoever he was talking to most, I bet that guy would know something", Vic told Tot, seeing a certain saved number popping up quite a bit, and it was saved with- Herman.

Vic narrowed his eyes, seeing calls had been exchanged between Danny and Herman for the past few weeks, but recently, all of Herman's calls had gone on to be unanswered by Danny, including one that had been put to Danny on the exact same day when he'd vanished, though it was a few hours ago.

"I think this guy might know something", Vic commented, then asked Tot. "Can you track someone's cell with a phone call?"

"Keep them talking long enough, and their phone is basically a signal for me", Tot shrugged, quickly opening up his laptop and activating some software, after which he plugged the phone to the laptop.

With that, Vic called on the number, putting it to his ear, and in a few seconds, someone did pick it up on the other end. "Hello?"

"How the hell are you calling me?" The voice on the other end asked, clearly fearful now, and Vic assumed this man who was talking to him now was none other than Herman.

"Well, Herman, how are you?" Vic simply inquired, sounding very nonchalant, and he thought he could hear a few teeth chattering at this point. "Wasn't picking up your calls until yesterday, just got busy with something."

"Who the hell are you?" Herman simply asked, not responding to what Vic had asked. "How do you have this phone? You are supposed to be-"

"Supposed to be what, huh?" Vic asked. "You know something that I don't, Herman? Do tell me."

"Don't call here again!" Herman said in a panic, and then the call was cut, Vic chuckling a little at how easily he'd rattled Herman with just one phone call, and this was proof enough that Herman knew a lot, and was just too afraid to talk, especially since he'd been called from the number of a man who was missing, something which Herman was definitely aware of based on how he was talking and all that he was saying.

Putting the phone down, Vic looked up at Tot. "Well, what've you got?"

"Kept him talking just long enough", Tot said to Vic with a grin, looking at a beeping red dot on the laptop, which was clearly an indicator of where this Herman guy's phone was, meaning that was where Vic would also find Herman. "That's where he is, and no matter where he goes now, I'll track him. Not too hard for a guy like me."

"Figured that", Vic shrugged, smirking a little, while looking at the area. "Its not too far from Avenue Carl Bar, in the same location at least. Well, I did know the neighborhood sucks, even the bartender said as much, so obviously, a guy like this responsible for a disappearance will be found there."

Getting up, Vic took the phone and held it out to Tot. "And now, I'll make calls with this when I don't wanna be traced by people, since this phone belongs to someone who is supposed to be missing. Thanks again Tot."

"No worries", Tot assured him, Vic pocketing the phone, then turning around and walking to the door, opening it up and leaving Tot's place for now, knowing what it was that he had to do next.

'THE QUESTION - Original Instrumental Music - William McCarthy' plays

Taking out the Pseudodermic mask, Vic put it on his face, his features disappearing underneath it, while the bonding gas also did its work, causing Vic's clothes as well as his hair to change their color, and finally, he put the hat on his head, and that also managed to stick now due to the Pseudoderm and its bonding gas both working their magic on him.

With that, Vic rushed away, running across the streets and alleys, covered in the darkness that infested this entire city, the darkness that he had to fight.

This could be connected to Wesley, or not. While corruption is the biggest problem this city faces, its not the only one. When Danny said he was onto something big, he could easily mean something else as well, some big crime that is happening under everyone's noses but no one cares because they're too busy counting the money that they're making from all the illegal things that they get up to. Wesley is one of the many symptoms of the bigger disease infecting this whole city, and it is up to me to fight all the symptoms, because no one else does it. Too afraid or too complicit, that'd be it, no one can be unaware when things like this happen on a daily basis.

Vic ran across a rooftop, looking down as he saw the man he figured was Hernan about to take a smoke, clearly rattled. Jumping down onto a ledge, Vic leveraged himself, and leapt down from the ledge, Herman looking up at him too late as he got a hard punch to the face that sent him to the ground, causing his nose to break, while the cigarette fell away from him.

In a repeat of what had happened to Danny's own cigarette one night ago, this one got crushed, by Vic's foot, and as Herman looked up, Vic grabbed him by the collar, then lifted him up, slamming him into the wall, making him gasp in pain.

"What did you do to Danny?" Vic asked.

"Screw yourself, no-face Question!" Herman protested, only for his head to be slammed into the wall, making him gasp in pain, while Vic threw him down to the ground, then slammed his foot onto his kneecap, causing him to cry out on pain.

"AAAARGGH!" Herman screamed, only for Vic to slam his foot on Herman's kneecap a second time, now clearly making it break, Herman crying more, as Vic knelt near him.

"Shall we try again with my question?" Vic inquired, lifting Herman's head up by grabbing his hair, making sure Herman was looking straight into his no-face mask. "Tell me- where is Danny Alvarez, also known as 'Ghost'? He was in contact with you too recently, I noticed, care to explain why? You see, I've a lot of questions I need answers to, and I'm hoping you can clear up all my doubts. If you don't, well-" Vic smashed his head onto the ground lightly, drawing more blood as he screamed in pain, while Vic stood up, looking down at him coldly.

Before Herman could respond, Vic put a foot on the broken kneecap another time, just making Herman cry in pain again.

"OKAY! STOP! STOP! I'LL TELL YOU! JUST STOP! PLEASE!"

Vic did, removing his foot from Herman's kneecap, making him sigh and pant a bit, Vic just folding his arms as he looked down at the man, clearly waiting for him to answer everything now.

"Talk!"

Herman spilled everything instantly. "Danny's dead. He was asking about girls—about shipments. He got taken to the docks."

Vic sighed sadly. He had already accepted the worst-case scenario that Danny had been killed. However, now that it was confirmed that this was true, it truly did hurt for Vic to realize that.

But there were more questions Vic now had based on this thug's answer, so he knelt down once more, glaring at Herman, and even though his face was hidden behind the mask, Herman could just feel the glare boring into him, causing him to gulp.

"What girls? And what shipments?"

"Trafficking!" The thug immediately said, then suddenly shut up. "Oh no! He is gonna kill me now!"

"Who is gonna kill you?" Vic asked, but the guy was just talking to himself.

"I'm dead! He is gonna-"

He was cut off when Vic punched him hard on the throat, making him gasp in pain, the wind driven from him for a few seconds.

"Who?" Vic asked again in a growl, the man recovering his breath bit by bit.

"You don't scare me as much as he does!" Herman now said. "And he-"

"Is not here with you right now", Vic pointed out, now grasping one hand of Herman, and lifting it up, slowly touching the middle finger with both hands.

CRACK!

Herman screamed in pain due to his finger being broken, Vic adding. "But I am. So, tell me again- who is gonna kill you?"

Stopping his screaming, Herman finally gave Vic a name. "Mr. Nox! He is the one behind all this!"

"He is trafficking girls?" Vic inquired, Herman nodding. "Where?"

"Many avenues, usually they're just brought to the city by our men under some covers, but sometimes, we use the docks. Both, to bring them in, or get them out of here after they're picked up. Tonight, we are using the docks!" Herman revealed, Vic sighing sadly, then glaring at Herman in utter disgust.

"And what happened to Danny?" Vic then asked.

"He met us, said he wanted to join, so I managed to get him in, then I saw he was about to snap pictures of where the girls were! He was trying to expose us, so I chased him off, then told the boss. They sent the men after him to stop him from getting the word out, and now-"

Growling in utter rage, Vic slammed his foot right on the face of Herman, breaking some teeth, and knocking him out at last.

Then, turning around, Vic walked off, disappearing into the night.

Vic angrily slammed the mug down, having just finished his coffee, then looked at Tot. "If there's one crime I hate more than anything, it's this! Trafficking humans, putting a price to their bodies, and selling them like goods! Such scum! All of us are part of a puzzle, whose puzzle, I do not know, but we don't get to play with each other like that."

Tot nodded, drinking more of his own coffee, then putting the mug down. "This does sound bad, yeah. Trafficking always is, but to this degree in our city? Even I didn't realize it. Then again, with the police only caring about their own pockets, its not very surprising either."

"Nope, really is not", Vic agreed with a shake of his head. "At least I know what I'm doing tonight now. This shipment needs to be stopped quickly."

"Well, now that you're involved, make sure what happened to Danny doesn't happen to you", Tot warned Vic, and on seeing the journalist's look, he added in a measured tone. "These kinds of men don't just disappear when you stop one shipment. You sure you're ready for that?"

Vic knew what Tot meant, and he'd already made up his own mind also. "I don't stop all of this because it's easy for me to do, Tot. I try to stop all of this because no one else will."

With that, Vic walked out, putting the Pseudoderm mask on at last, for his mission this night, which was to stop this shipment by the human traffickers led by this Mr. Nox.

Vic knelt at a crate at the docks, looking ahead, seeing one man with a gun, that he had aimed at a few women, all of them in shackles, looking quite beaten up. Gesturing to a large crate with the gun, the man glared at the women, who walked into it, too scared or too broken or both to really protest, or even look the man in the eye.

Vic clutched a fist angrily, looking down to see one man roaming around with a gun, clearly looking for any intruders.

As he walked past, Vic leapt down behind him, and quickly grabbed him in a chokehold, while also grabbing his gun hand, raising it up, preventing the man from firing a shot. With his other hand, the man tried to elbow Vic twice, but Vic resisted both times, tightening his grip around this guard's throat, as well as the wrist, until finally, the guard passed out, and the gun was now in Vic's hand instead.

Sighing, Vic got up, and rushed past the two lines of crates, being in the middle of both, and popped out, seeing one guard looking the other way. Lifting up the gun, Vic pistol whipped him out in two hard strikes, then leapt up the crate, looking down from there to see one more guard walking to the side.

Vic leapt down and hit the man hard on the head with his gun, drawing blood and knocking him out too, which was when the guard who'd led the women into the crates finally noticed him.

"HEY!" He cried out, aiming his gun and firing as Vic rolled away to avoid, and fired back, the man running off to avoid too.

"INTRUDER!" The guard cried out, Vic looking around to see a few more men with guns arrive.

Raising his hand that had the gun, Vic fired into the air, causing the men to back off for a bit, and then, he rushed between the crates before anyone could see him. Firing at a crate, he weakened the opener, and opening it up, went inside, closing it, knowing the men were spreading out to find him now, but he had to be ready.

He kept his ears open, making sure to listen to every footstep, and measure its distance from his crate. One of the footsteps was quite close.

Taking the opportunity, Vic shoved the door open, hitting the man right on the face, knocking him out, and then he popped out, seeing one more man about to aim his gun, but Vic fired at his kneecap, making him go down with a cry of pain, and then, he leapt up the crate, seeing more men arriving and taking aim at him, Vic running to avoid the shots that went through the wood of the crate, and he leapt out onto the other side, rolling across the ground and picking himself up, seeing two men arriving to shoot at him, only for him to shoot at their kneecaps first, taking them down already, after which he rushed ahead, avoiding gunshots from a few more men.

He found himself before the crate where the women were now locked up, and started aiming at the lock, only for someone to grab his gun hand, causing him to let go, as he turned to see a scruffy man with messy hair, who gave Vic a headbutt, knocking him down, and tried to smash his own foot on Vic's chest, only for Vic to roll away to avoid, and getting up, he rammed into the man, grasping him by the abdomen and pushing him back a bit, but the man planted his feet into the ground and resisted, then grabbing Vic, threw him off, Vic rolling onto the ground as he groaned.

Vic looked up, seeing some men having arrived, about to shoot once more, and quickly got up, running and rolling away to avoid some shots, hiding between the line of crates, and then, he leapt up onto one crate, seeing a loading platform not far off from where he was. Only, the lead enforcer leapt onto that platform, making Vic groan, as he leapt onto it too, ready to fight the man.

The man charged, only for Vic to slide beneath his feet and get onto the other side, even as some men tried to shoot, though Vic's slide helped him dodge those shots, and he stood up, glaring at the man, who growled at him.

"I'm gonna smash that no-face in", the enforcer snarled, the platform moving a bit as more men tried to fire at Vic, and he backed from the platform to avoid being hit by any of the shots. The enforcer charged Vic with a roar and hit his head with his fist hard, causing Vic to gasp as he went down on a knee, holding his head, but as the enforcer made to grab Vic's collar, Vic headbutted his nose hard, breaking it as he staggered back in pain.

Avoiding a few more shots, Vic rushed into the man, and grabbing his waist, pushed him off, and he fell down from the platform, onto one crate, breaking some bones before falling down on two more men, crushing them underneath his broken body, while Vic jumped off the platform onto a crate, and leapt down from the crate, rolling to avoid some more shots, and picking up his fallen gun, after which, he shot at the crate's lock, destroying it, and opened it up, seeing the girls inside.

"Come on, get out of here!" Vic cried out, even as they were fired at, causing Vic to fire back at the thugs, making them take cover for now. "Go! Quickly!" Not needing to be told twice, the girls all ran off before the thugs could pop out of their cover, Vic still keeping his gun aimed in the direction of those thugs.

BANG!

Ducking, Vic rushed to avoid the shots, and leapt onto the crate inside which the girls had been, looking down to see a tall bearded man, his gun held out.

"You think you can interfere in my operations and just run away?" The man snarled. Vic realizing this was none other than Mr. Nox himself. "You must be the guy with all the questions. Too bad you won't get any answers tonight."

With that, he fired again, as did the rest, Vic running onto the crate's other side and leaping off to avoid shots, and rolling away behind another crate to avoid a few more shots, which was when thug came too close, only for Vic to grasp his wrist, strike his abdomen hard with the pistol, then throw him to the ground, pistol whipping his face as he was knocked out.

After that, he got up and ran off, throwing the gun away, avoiding a few more shots, and disappearing into the night.

Hearing a knock, Tot opened the door, seeing Vic standing there, a bit injured but mostly fine, looking frustrated.

"Saved the girls", Vic said as he walked in.

"And?"

"Nox is still out there, and he'll do this again."

Tot sighed. "You can't stop an entire network in one night, kid. But you scared them. That's a start."

Looking up, Vic gave a nod, not denying that bit.

Myra sat across from Wesley in their apartment, holding his hand. "Look, I know I've said it a lot, but still, thank you for supporting my campaign, I wouldn't be able to do this without you."

Wesley just smiled at her. "I know you want what's best for this city, honey, just like I do. Whatever you want, you got it." Leaning ahead, he shared a kiss with her on the lips, before Myra leaned back in her chair.

"I know Vic doesn't trust you. But I do."

Wesley just smiled in response.

Nox looked down at Herman, who knelt before him after being shoved by two guys, Nox glaring at him angrily.

"So, I heard you told the Question about what's gonna happen at the docks."

"Please boss!" Herman begged. "He kept beating me, I just wanted it all to stop-"

BANG!

Herman fell down, dead, Nox lowering his gun.

"Now it has stopped." Looking around at his other men, he ordered. "Clean this up!"

The men immediately got to work.

Few days later

Vic knelt near Danny's grave, sighing sadly as he put a rose on it.

"You tried to do the right thing, Ghost. I won't let them bury the truth with you. Might take a while, but I'll fight these guys when they return."

Ending credits play.

Chapter Text

It was nighttime in Hub City, and a man in a suit carrying a briefcase walked out of a building, walking towards his car in the parking lot, adjusting his tie once more, before unlocking the car by pressing the button on his key. Only, right as he was about to open the door, someone grabbed him from behind and smashed his head into the glass, breaking it, and making him bleed, causing him to cry out in pain, while he was thrown down.

Looking up, he saw it was a masked man, wearing tactical gear, with a baton in hand.

"No! Please-"

He didn't get a chance to say anymore, the man in the tactical gear bringing the baton down on him. The businessman raised his arm to defend himself vainly, only leading to his arm being broken, which made him scream even louder, while the figure struck his shoulder with the baton, breaking the bone there, followed by hitting his kneecap, as he screamed and cried more.

"Please! Leave me!" The businessman cried in between his screams. "I will pay you-"

He was cut off when the man in the gear struck his jaw with the baton, breaking it as he fell to his side in pain, blood falling onto the ground at this point due to how injured the businessman was.

"Tim Barney, you shall be punished for making this city suffer", the man in the gear declared, then growled in anger. "You don't even deserve a trial."

The businessman, whose name was Tim Barney, looked up in fear, the tactical gear-wearing man taking out a gun now, and aiming at the businessman.

Tim couldn't protest and beg for his life even though he wanted, considering his jaw was broken at this point.

BANG!

Tim's head slumped to the ground, the businessman dead now, a pool of blood around his body, while the killer looked up, seeing three security guards rushing in, no doubt having seen footage of him assaulting Barney.

"Wait!" One guard cried out, but the murderer spun around and fled from the spot, disappearing into the darkness of the garage, gone by the time the guards reached Barney's body, kneeling near it and sighing.

A question mark is shown over what appears to be a blank face, alongside various pictures and newspaper clippings attached via tape, the title card saying 'THE QUESTION' appearing, as 'THE QUESTION - Original Instrumental Music - William McCarthy' plays in the background, whispers being heard over the noir music.

KBEL News Office

Vic sat in front of the camera. "The following footage is graphic and disturbing. Watch at your own risk."

Then, the image of Tim's dead body was shown, albeit blurred, but still, the blood was visible.

"Businessman Tim Barney was murdered this morning by a mysterious assailant in a mask", Vic started saying, with the image of the assailant, caught on camera, visible behind him, to all the viewers watching the news. "While a philanthropist, Mr. Barney has been suspected on various charges of bribery and corruption." The cameraman was waving at Vic in a panic now, putting a hand across his throat, but Vic wasn't really listening to him. "The man who murdered him wielded a baton like that of the police, but they've denied any involvement in this matter so far. Who is the man in the mask? Why did he kill Tim Barney? More tonight."

With that, the camera stopped rolling, and Vic stood up, the cameraman giving him a look as Vic walked past him.

"What?"

"You weren't supposed to say all that about Barney or the police somehow being involved", the cameraman pointed out, though Vic just folded his arms.

"I didn't say the police were involved, I said the baton was like the ones used by the police, and that they've denied involvement in this matter so far, both of which are true, since I did ask Captain Wallace to the face if the police are involved, and he denied it", Vic shrugged, causing the cameraman to facepalm, while Vic walked off, right to McCready's office, already hearing him in a screaming match with someone on the phone.

Vic knocked on the door, then opened up, seeing McCready slamming his fist on the table. "Its freedom of speech, Captain! Look it up!" He grunted due to whatever the person on the other end, clearly Captain Eric Wallace, was saying to him, before replying. "Yeah, well, it is up to journalists to make reasonable deductions, and also speak some assumptions to get more traction on the news. Its our job, we know how to do it, we don't need our advice, and you don't need ours regarding how to catch criminals. Goodbye!" With that, McCready slammed his phone down, panting.

Vic stood at the door. "Hey boss, didn't expect you to-"

"Shut your mouth!" McCready sneered, pointing at Vic. "That whole spiel about Tim's alleged crimes, which I already agreed to not talk about last time they were making him infamous, and the baton looking like police batons wasn't on the script, or even the article being written. You had no reason to say any of that, Vic!"

"I mean, like you said, got us traction", Vic shrugged. "And I mean, Tim's crimes are well-known, just because he wasn't charged doesn't mean he didn't do it, he is a rich guy after all. For the talk of the police, well, both you and I can see the baton, a police baton looks exactly like that. Even if I didn't say it, people would figure it out and talk about it."

"Maybe that's why you shouldn't have said it", McCready simply said in reply, totally unmoved. "You basically just put a conspiracy theory out on our official news channel. The police are pissed, as you can see, and Tim's family would want a pound of flesh for that statement too, all because you ran your mouth, Vic!"

Vic sighed, running a hand across his head, getting McCready's point. "Sorry, boss."

"Make sure it doesn't happen again, or your ass is outta here", McCready simply gave a final warning. "And if you can actually find out more about the guy using a baton like the police, and other weapons of the sort, go look into it, and give me a full report on it, with real evidence, which I would run on the news without any hesitation, but its got to be actual evidence, not just you pointing at something and running your mouth on it. Got it?"

Vic nodded. "Got it, boss."

A while later, Vic was back home, sniffing his powder, while looking at the TV, another anchor at the KBEL News named Veronica speaking now. "Many seem to be in support of this new vigilante's actions, a lot of them saying this is justice for everyone Tim Barney allegedly hurt, while others think this vigilante is as much part of the problem as people like Barney. The city is divided on the matter, some believing he is a hero, and others calling him a murderer."

"Well, he did murder", Vic said with a shrug, before putting his head on the table. "Another masked lunatic in Hub City. Just what we needed."

Yes, he knew he sounded like a total hypocrite when he said that…..and he didn't care about that one bit.

Later

Vic walked near the police station, seeing Captain Eric Wallace about to walk in, and called out. "Captain Wallace!" Wallace turned to see him, instantly groaning in annoyance, knowing he was gonna hate what came next, and Vic was totally looking forward to that, for very good reason. Tormenting this guy was a favorite pastime of his, after all.

"You've some nerve showing up here after what you said about the killer being a cop", Wallace snarled, only for Vic to raise his hands.

"I said the baton resembled a cop's baton, not that the killer was a cop, do people not listen properly nowadays?" Vic asked in reply, feigning innocence now, causing Wallace to scoff.

"I know your type very well, all you care about is fearmongering amongst our population", Wallace simply shrugged, trying to walk past Vic, who ended up standing in his way. "That's all you've ever done at KBEL News!"

"Well, you do your jobs better, and I won't need to scare people with the truth", Vic shrugged, causing Wallace to get into his face.

"Get outta my sight, Sage!"

"Tell me, some fired cop did it?" Vic asked, only for Wallace to grab him roughly by the shoulder and slam him to a car, getting even further into his face.

"If you ask one more question, you'll be in for harassment, you got it?!"

Vic just shrugged, not saying a word, as Wallace shoved him away, then walked off inside the police station, Vic watching after him while adjusting his coat.

Well, after this, one thing I can say is- a fired cop did do it! Because a corrupt one would protect Barney for money.

Myra was on the phone with a man. "Look, I know it doesn't look like it, but I promise, it will be put to good use, and regardless of I win or lose, we will pay you back for-" The call was instantly cut, making her sigh as she put the phone down, putting her head in her hands, with two hands beginning to massage her shoulders, causing her to lean her head back into Wesley's chest, her eyes closed.

"Thanks, honey", Myra muttered, relaxing herself into her fiancé's soothing touch.

"Tough time with this guy?" Wesley inquired, Myra nodding as she leaned forwards, rubbing her head once more, with Wesley walking to her front, then pulling out a chair and sitting before her.

"These rich people, even if they lose a million, nothing will change for them, and they still hold onto all of their money", Myra said with a little scoff. "They got what they wanted, and now they think everyone else can just stay down, so they can step on them and get even more. Change is what we need, but the powerful elite of this city just don't want it."

Wesley nodded, leaning back in his own chair, arms folded. "While I see where you're coming, right now, Hub City doesn't need dreamers, Myra. It needs order."

Myra gestured all around with her hands. "And what would you call what we have now?" Wesley did not respond, Myra simply leaning back in her chair again. "Look, I know you've tried your best, but we need to do a lot more to make this city what its supposed to be, Wesley. And that's something I want to do."

Hub City Hospital

Vic walked into the hospital, keeping his head slightly lowered, since the KBEL News meant he was well-known, and seeing a local famous reporter inside the hospital wasn't something the staff would like, since, well, it was a hospital after all.

Soon, he turned a corner, finding the morgue, and with a slight knock, opened the door, causing the morgue guy to turn and face him.

"What the hell are you doing here?" The guy asked, as Vic lifted his head, revealing his face, the man recognizing him.

"Aren't you the news guy who said a cop did this?"

"I said a police-style baton was used, not that the police did it!" Vic pointed out, then quickly held up some bills. "Can I see the body?"

The guy looked like he wanted to argue. Instead, he took Vic's money, then asked. "Why do you wanna see the body exactly?" Before Vic could reply, he added. "I mean, what you said about the wounds on your channel was actually true. It is a police-style baton, how'd you know?"

"Its this city", Vic shrugged, walking into the morgue, the guy stepping aside to let Vic step in. "Seen a lot of bodies like that, all targets of police brutality." The guy went in, and unlocked one cabinet, pulling out Tim Barney's body, Vic looking down at it, seeing the face injured due to having been smashed on glass, and then all the blows from a baton, ending with a gunshot wound to the head. "I think a former cop did this."

"Why former?" The morgue guy inquired.

"Current police won't kill a cash cow", Vic pointed out, causing the guy to nod.

"Good point", he said. "You know, I hate to be in this city, but can't move anywhere, don't have much." Vic nodded, understanding. "But your news, as scary as it is, at least you tell the truth, that kind of stuff, it keeps the mind a bit aware, in times like these, so I gotta say, thanks."

Vic couldn't help but smile on hearing this, since pretty much most of the time, he was hit with bullets (metaphorically) over what he said on the news, both at the news network itself, and anyone he reported on (if they were powerful enough), but here, someone was thanking him for telling the truth on his news channel.

"No", Vic shook his head. "Thank you."

For reminding me just why exactly I do all this, whether as a news anchor, or as the guy with no face. You're clearly being moral.

He looked down at Tim Barney's body once more.

Seeing the body in-person, and getting the pathologist's opinion, I know I was right about how he died. Time for the other guy pay the good captain a visit.

Eric Wallace got out of the police station, and was about to unlock the door of his car, only to be grabbed by someone, and have his head smashed on the hood of the car. "Who killed Tim Barney?!"

"Screw you, man!" Wallace said angrily, only for his head to get smashed on the hood a second time.

"Wrong answer", Vic, now having the Question mask upon his face, snarled, seeing Wallace's hand trying to reach for his gun, causing Vic to grab that hand and twist, making Wallace scream in pain, with Vic keeping Wallace's head gripped with his other hand, still aimed at the car's hood, ready to be smashed if Vic did not find his answers satisfactory.

"I'll ask again- who killed Tim Barney?"

"How the hell am I supposed to know? You think I'm a psychic or something?" Wallace replied, only for Vic to let go of his hand, then take out the gun himself, and throw it into a corner. After that, he pulled Wallace back, and shoved him into the wall, now face-to-face (or face-to-no face) with him, and as Wallace tried to charge at him, Vic grabbed him by the face and shoved him back into the wall.

"The guy at the KBEL News said the baton used was like a cop's baton", Vic pointed out.

"That guy is crazy; he says anything for ratings!" Wallce ranted, only to get decked in the stomach, causing him to double down in pain, while Vic grabbed him by the collar, then shoved him back into the wall.

"Still, any lead is worth checking out. Come on, you're a police captain, you should agree with me", Vic shrugged, Wallace just glaring at him.

"Screw you and others like you! Ever since that Arrow guy came in Starling City, you're all popping up like cockroaches! First Batman, then some runner in Central City, and now you!" Wallace said with a scoff. "These cities do not belong to vigilantes, but to-"

"Don't talk to me about how vigilantes break the law, considering how many laws you break for your benefit", Vic sneered, while pointing at Wallace, then touching his head with that finger. "If you don't wanna tell me because I'm a vigilante, fine. But you and I both know I do this thing better than you. And we both know Barney was amongst the cash cows you people liked. So, why don't you give me something so I can bring the killer of your cash cow in, huh? I'm sure you'd like that."

Wallace just stared at Vic, then scoffed, not believing he was doing this, and wiped his face.

"There was one guy, we fired him two months ago."

"For what?" Vic inquired.

"Too much brutality, he always crossed the line", Wallace said, making Vic tilt his head.

"Isn't that what you lot do all the time though?" Vic inquired, only for Wallace to shake his head.

"Not in that way", the police captain explained to Vic. "He actually went after those in power, wanted to bring them to justice and all, he said. Got some people hurt along the way, so we let him go."

"Surprised he is still alive", Vic pointed out.

"We were gonna do an encounter of him, but he disappeared before we could, haven't seen the guy since then", Wallace finally confessed everything that he knew. Well, almost everything. "You want someone? It has to be this guy!"

"I can see that", Vic agreed, since based on what Wallace said, this fired ex-cop could be the only one who'd reasonably have murdered Tim Barney. "What's this guy's name?"

"Bolton. Lyle Bolton", Wallace finally gave the name. "That's your guy. Though if you wanna find him, be my guest."

"Watch me", Vic shrugged, just as two more cops came out, and saw Vic questioning their captain, causing them to draw their guns.

Immediately, Vic grabbed Wallace by the collar and threw him to the ground, then ran off as they began firing after Wallace had already fallen, allowing him to escape without being hit once, while the two put their guns inside and helped Wallace up.

"You alright, captain?" One of them asked, Eric nodding as the other rushed to pick up Wallace's gun that Vic had thrown earlier.

"Yeah, just telling the freak to screw himself", Wallace said with a little sneer as he snatched his gun back from the cop who'd just started holding it out to him.

Later

Vic sat before Tot, who was at his computer. "Lyle Bolton, huh? There is no information on him to be found, clearly, they've erased it."

"Can you find it?" Vic inquired.

"I'm good, but not that good", Tot confirmed, Vic nodding as he took a sip of his coffee.

"In that case, let's take a look at the pattern", Vic decided, keeping his mug to the side, while looking down at the newspaper which had the headline of Tim Barney's murder.

"He has only dropped one body, not sure what pattern you can find with him", Tot said in reply, but Vic already had ideas.

He walked to the computer, Tot shifting a bit, allowing Vic to type now, with Vic typing 'Tim Barney racketing case', the results showing up instantly, and Vic clicked on the first article he found, then pulled his chair as well, sitting on it right next to Tot.

"This was the biggest case regarding Barney, biggest scandal he found himself in", Vic started telling Tot. "But he walked, like he always did. Lots of people protested, but nothing was actually done about any of this."

"And you think this will lead you to Lyle, how?" Tot inquired, Vic scrolling down through the rest of the article.

"If Barney was Lyle's first kill, then I've reason to believe his other kills are related to this specific case", Vic said what he thought. "Barney was even arrested for this one, until he was let go, only time guy has been arrested on any charge at all. Wanna bet Lyle was one of the people who arrested him?"

"And then got pissed when he was released", Tot realized Vic nodding, Tot looking at the article, the photo of a judge appearing. "Judge Ramsay, says he is the one who presided over Barney's case."

"Then released him over a surprising lack of evidence", Vic commented, leaning back in his chair. "Because two of the witnesses disappeared, and one was found dead. Very suspicious, but they don't do suspicion in a court of law, do they? Let's be honest, they all know how its gonna turn out, these trials and all are just for show, to try and fool people like you and me, and others."

"…Right, anyways-"

"Yeah, if he killed Barney, its reasonable to assume that Judge Ramsay is his next target", Vic said to Tot, before getting up, putting his no-face mask on, the clothes soon changing color too alongside his hair, as he put the hat on before walking out. "I'll be staking him out to see if that happens."

Judge Ramsay was signing a few documents in his office, then put his pen down, rubbing his head as he sat back, tired, before pulling out his drawer underneath, looking at some cash he had. He was about to take it out and count it, when there was a knock on his door, causing him to shut the drawer instantly.

"Come in."

The door opened, and Ramsay looked up to see a man wearing tactical gear, carrying a baton. Before Ramsay could say anything, the man shut the door, then walked further in, until he was standing next to Ramsay's desk, looking down at the Judge.

"Yes?" Ramsay inquired, thinking this was just another cop, considering the tactical gear, and the fact that there were a few seemingly dangerous criminals being brought to court every now and then, meaning police in tactical gear were needed to keep those kinds of people in check if they got out of control during proceedings, to keep everyone else safe.

"Judge Ramsay", the man immediately began to say, his tone sending chills down Ramsay's spine. "You shall pay for making this city suffer."

Ramsay tried to act like he was in control of the situation. "Get out of my office, right this instant!"

Instead, the man, who was none other than Lyle Bolton himself, brought his baton down on the Judge's desk, cracking it and making him yelp as he backed off, while Lyle grabbed Ramsay by the collar, then threw him over his shoulder, sending him to the ground, causing him to gasp in pain again, while he tried to get up and run, only for the baton to be brought down right upon his left leg.

He was about to scream in pain, but a hand wrapped around his mouth, muffling his screams, with Lyle pressing down harder, not letting Ramsay go.

"Tim Barney hurt people with his ventures, and you decided to let him off. His lawyer argued for him, but you are the reason he is really out on the streets", Lyle said with a sneer. "Now, you shall suffer for all that you've unleashed." With that, he brought the baton down upon Ramsay's back, injuring him there as he gasped in pain, and Bolton hit his other leg thrice, breaking that as well, with Ramsay having tears in his eyes at this point, realizing he was going to die.

At that moment, the door was kicked open, Lyle and Ramsay both looking up to see Vic as the Question standing there.

Before Lyle could react, Vic rushed in, grabbing him and hurling him across the room, over Ramsay's cracked table, making him roll there, as Ramsay called out finally. "HEEEELP! HELP MEEEEE!"

Lyle took out his gun and fired at Vic, who rolled away to avoid, one shot hitting Ramsay in the side as he gasped, then closed his eyes, unconscious, as Vic rolled forwards to dodge another shot and kicked the table right into Lyle when he fired again, causing him to drop his gun while his shot fired, and sending him staggering back, Vic standing up to fight him now.

Lyle roared and swung his baton, Vic ducking to avoid, after which he punched Bolton in his gut, making him double down in pain, and grasped his wrist with one hand, then his throat with another, pinning him against the window, kneeing his gut again, only for Lyle to push him off, Vic falling over the table, Lyle leaping over it with baton raised, but as he brought it down on Vic, Vic rolled away to avoid, then kicked Lyle away, and flipped up, punching his face twice, only for Lyle to spin and elbow Vic on the face, sending him staggering back, after which he struck Vic's chest with his baton, sending the breath out of Vic's lungs, Vic staggering back into a wall.

As Lyle made to strike again, Vic lashed out with his foot, kicking Bolton on the chest as he was sent staggering back himself.

"Lyle Bolton", Vic said the man's name, causing Lyle to freeze briefly. "I know who you are and what you want, but doing this- it makes you no better than any of these people."

Lyle wasn't convinced, as he growled at Vic. "The system is broken. You know it. These men don't deserve a trial."

Vic shook his head. "Justice isn't about what we deserve. It's about the truth."

Hearing rushed footsteps, Lyle ran off, grabbing his gun and shooting at the window, shattering it, after which he ended up leaping through the window, going to the other side and escaping, and then, Vic rushed to the window just as the other cops arrived, trying to fire at him, but Vic leapt out the window and rolled across the ground, dodging various shots that were being fired at him, and rushed off, the cops continuing to fire until he was completely out of their line of sight, with some of the cops now leaning near the fallen Judge Ramsay to provide him with first aid and then the required medical attention.

Later

Vic and Tot looked up at the news, sitting inside the latter's place, both drinking some coffee, the anchor saying- "The killer of Tim Barney struck again, this time targeting Judge Ramsay, a distinguished Judge with over 20 years of experience. Police in the area revealed they spotted the Question fleeing the scene too, casting suspicion on this new vigilante, with people asking if he is involved in these murders as well."

"When in doubt, throw the vigilante under the bus to cover your backside", Vic said with a shrug, before gulping down all of his coffee in one go.

"To be fair, Lyle Bolton is a vigilante too, just not the same kind as you", Tot pointed out.

"I'm nothing like that guy", Vic denied immediately.

"At least Judge Ramsay was saved, I guess that's a win", Tot tried to look at the bright side, though Vic just couldn't do that.

"Yeah, I saved the scumbag's life, since like I said, killing him isn't justice, exposing the truth about him until he can't talk his way out of it, that's justice", Vic told Tot what he thought. "Still, Lyle escaped, and he'll attack again."

"Who'd you think would be next?" Tot inquired.

"Most likely the lawyer who defended Barney", Vic theorized with a shrug. "Even then, I don't think Lyle would go out so quickly after almost being caught last time, he'll wait this out, and when he strikes again, I will be there to get him." He sighed, leaning back in his chair. "Lyle is right about this city being broken, the system is being used to help people like Wesley, Barney and Ramsay get richer and more powerful, at the expense of everyone else, that being people like you and me. But how he is handling the corruption, that is not what we're supposed to do."

"And why do you believe that?" Tot simply asked.

"Killing these people isn't going to fix anything, it'll just make sure that someone else ends up taking the place of these people, and the next guy could be even worse", Vic pointed out the after-effects of such killings. "Not to mention, if they die with their reputation still intact, they'd be considered martyrs by those who benefit from them, and be painted as such, casting even more doubt upon opposers, who'd be seen as crazy for standing up against these so-called great men." Vic stood up finally. "That is why, I believe in exposing the truth, because when that is done, they can't talk their way out of it, and the image, the reputation that they manicured for themselves so carefully is finally destroyed, showing the world who such people truly are." A smile crossed Vic's face. "That's what I do, that's what the Question is here for, and that is why, someone like Lyle cannot be allowed to go on."

With that, Vic walked out of the place. "See you, Tot."

Later, KBEL News

Vic sat inside his office, taking out various pages in where he'd notes, going over them, looking at the writings he'd regarding this case. Problem was, while he knew who the man behind the mask was, and how exactly he operated, Vic couldn't tell his boss yet, because it was his other self who'd found out all this information (some of it by assaulting a certain police captain of all people), meaning he'd no credible source for any of this.

One that he needed to get.

What do I do now? I've to stop this guy, and get a real story about him too which doesn't make people connect the dots and realize I am the Question.

Outside Vic's office, other people were walking here and there, chatting or just looking through their own papers for their articles, everyone hard at work. That was when Lyle, in his full suit, came in via revolving doors, and threw a smoke grenade before anyone could react, smoke emanating from it and covering the entire room, making the people scream and run here and there in terror, or cower.

Hearing the screaming, Vic stood up, putting his papers down, and slightly opened his office's door, seeing all the gas.

"What in the….?" He trailed off, realizing Lyle was here now. But why?

Closing the door, Vic knelt near his bag, racking his brain, trying to figure out what the connection was, and why Lyle would attack KBEL News of all places.

And that was when he remembered something McCready had told him earlier.

"That whole spiel about Tim's alleged crimes, which I already agreed to not talk about last time they were making him infamous-"

Reaching into his bag, Vic quickly pulled out his mask, and put it on, the face vanishing, the hair and clothes changing color, before he put his hat on as well.

McCready saw his door being kicked open by Lyle, and raised his hands. "Look man, I-"

Lyle grabbed him by the collar and shoved him to the ground, before standing over him. "You are an addition to the rot that is infecting this city, Bear McCready!"

"Please, I didn't do anything!"

"That's your crime!" Lyla declared as he took out his baton. "You didn't report on Tim Barney's crimes to make more people aware of the truth, even thought you had ALL EVIDENCE!" With that, he brought the baton down on McCready-

When Vic slid in, kicking both feet of Lyle, sending him falling to the floor, just as Vic got up himself first, and grabbed Lyle by the head, smashing it down twice on the ground, though because of all his gear, Lyle wasn't injured much, and he elbowed Vic, making him let go as he staggered away, and Lyle got up, swinging his baton twice, Vic backing off to avoid it both times.

"Why the hell are you attacking an innocent man?" Vic asked, causing Lyle to roar as he swung again, Vic dodging, only for Lyle to deck Vic hard with a swing of his other fist, dazing him and sending him near the door.

"He is not innocent!" Lyle declared. "He'd evidence that Tim Barney paid off Judge Ramsay to let him off, and he didn't tell anyone about it, even stopped this channel from airing anything regarding the guy! He is part of the problem!"

"PLEASE!" McCready begged, picking himself up until he was on his knees now. "Barney found out I had information about him, and sent his men, they threatened my wife and son, and showed me live footage of where both were. I couldn't do it!" He was crying now, and even though Vic's face couldn't be seen, it was clear he was looking at his boss in sympathy.

Lyle, however, wasn't very moved.

"You're still part of the problem. As long as people care about only themselves, nothing will change. I am going to give people like you what they deserve!"

"You can't kill them!" Vic said, causing Lyle to turn to him.

"So that they do the same damn thing again?" Lyle asked with a scoff.

"All you accomplish by killing this corrupt lot is making them martyrs for their side, it won't end their corruption, it will just make it worse!" Vic pointed out. "Don't you see that, Lyle? That is your issue, you're not seeing the big picture, and killing these people. When really, its exposing the truth so they can't talk their way out, that's the real way to deal with such people."

"They will talk their way out, they always talk their way out!" Lyle ranted. "Besides, how will you expose the truth?"

Vic held up his burner phone, pressing play.

"Barney found out I had information about him, and sent his men, they threatened my wife and son, and showed me live footage of where both were. I couldn't do it!"

McCready looked down in tears, Lyle just staring at Vic, who put the phone back in his pocket. "And once this is out there, people will know who Barney really is, and Ramsay isn't going to be considered honorable either. Everyone will say that McCready is not to blame, considering his family was threatened by these people. Don't you see? Exposing the truth is how you take them down."

It seemed like Lyle was considering, since he put his baton to his side after the next few seconds.

Vic's hopes were dashed when he turned around to face McCready and pulled his gun out. "My way is more permanent and less time-consuming."

Before he could pull the trigger, Vic rammed into him, sending him to the side, the shot going haywire, as Vic grasped Lyle's wrist while he turned around, decking Vic twice, trying to get him to leave his wrist, but Vic didn't budge even as his face bled, and he kneed Lyle in between his legs, causing him to gasp in pain and let go, Vic throwing the gun away.

Then, Vic grabbed Lyle and rammed them both onto the ground, punching Lyle's masked face thrice, only for Lyle to grab his wrist the fourth time, and shoot up, headbutting Vic as he was dazed, and then grabbing him by the throat, Lyle pinned Vic down, then decked him a few times too.

Vic recovered and decked his face hard, sending him staggering away, and got up, picking up McCready's chair, and hitting Lyle hard with it, shattering the chair and injuring the former cop even more, and then, he kicked Lyle's side, sending him sprawling onto the ground. Lyle tried to get up, but Vic took his own baton from his side and hit him with it five times, breaking some of his bones, causing Lyle to cry out in pain, with Vic putting his foot down on Lyle, keeping him on the ground.

Lyle looked up at Vic's no-face, and snarled. "One day, you'll realize I was right."

"That's the day when the world will no longer make even a little sense", Vic said, as sirens were heard, and removing his foot from over the injured Lyle, Vic walked off, back into his own office room, the gas fading but still there, letting him hide until he'd reach his office room and take the mask off.

Later

Vic and Tot sat together, both watching the former's broadcast.

"Former police officer Lyle Bolton was unmasked as the killer earlier tonight, and arrested. The mysterious recording supposedly uploaded by the Question also reveals that Tim Barney threatened our own KBEL News Editor Bear McCready's family to keep him silent. Now, an investigation has been opened on Judge Ramsay for accepting a bribe."

"Looking good up there", Tot said, Vic smirking on hearing that.

"Boss and I butt heads a lot, but he is a good guy", Vic told Tot. "And well, if his family was threatened, I can understand him. He is good, yeah." Like he himself was, regardless of his little problem. That was just stress relief!

"Can you understand how much of a pain you are in his ass?" Tot asked, causing both of them to chuckle.

"Thanks for uploading the recording anonymously again", Vic thanked Tot, who simply shrugged.

"Just helping out a friend." Then, he got serious. "But at least Lyle was stopped. I get what he was trying to do, but this was not the right way."

Vic nodded in agreement. "In fighting the darkness, he became part of it."

Tot sighed. "It's easy to take shortcuts when the city is this dark. But once you do, there's no turning back."

Vic immediately said. "I'm not like him."

Tot firmly said. "Make sure you never are."

Same time

Myra sighed, putting her phone down, looking up to see Wesley looking down at her in what seemed to be sympathy.

"Another bust?" He asked, and Myra nodded, making a little pouty face.

"Should I even run?" She wondered now. "Other than the fact that I'm about to marry you, no one knows a thing about me, or what I want to do. They think I'm just some nut."

Wesley walked to her side, kneeling near her. "They don't know you like I do, and while I'm supporting you, I'll do it more consistently, I will show them all you're more than qualified to take over from me." The two kissed, and then, embraced each other, Wesley's cruel smirk not visible to Myra, who was just happy her fiancé was here to offer her his support and comfort.

But if she could see Wesley's face right now, she'd know it was cold and calculating.

Ending credits play.

Chapter Text

In an old, abandoned laboratory in the outskirts of Hub City, a figure moved through the darkness, holding his phone, the flashlight on, the figure finding a box underneath a table. He pulled it out, then briefly put his phone on the table, and lifted the box up, keeping it on top of the table before picking his phone up again, briefly using it to look around the entire lab, quite some equipment having been kept here, having been used for various purposes.

The man looked into the box with his flashlight, finding various documents all scattered inside, and started pulling them out, one by one, putting each of them to the side after flipping through the pages for a bit.

Then, he found one particular file with a line on its cover that really got his attention.

"Classified."

The man opened that up, flipping through his pages, and found many test subjects, all with various forms of skin damage, which caused his eyes to widen, and he quickly closed the file, pocketing it.

Then, he heard something behind him, and gulped, turning around, shaking all over.

"If I had known you'd be this interested, I would have sent you an invitation."

The man picked up his phone with shaking hands, using the flashlight to see a bearded figure, who raised a pistol, and then brought it down upon the man.

The man's phone clattered to the ground.

A question mark is shown over what appears to be a blank face, alongside various pictures and newspaper clippings attached via tape, the title card saying 'THE QUESTION' appearing, as 'THE QUESTION - Original Instrumental Music - William McCarthy' plays in the background, whispers being heard over the noir music.

KBEL News

Vic walked into the building, seeing it in a flurry, people all running here and there, some of them on phones, everyone looking to be in a hurry of some sort, many of them having concern on their faces.

Something is up; they are all working as one. We reporters don't do that unless assigned together.

Vic walked to Bear's office, opening the door to see him on the phone with someone.

"Yes, he is missing, I know that, I need you to take this seriously officer." After a few seconds, he groaned, and rubbed his head, before saying. "Thank you."

Then, he put the phone down, and looked up at Vic.

"What's up, boss?"

"Dennis Kolchack has gone missing", he revealed, Vic tilting his head.

"The other investigative journalist in our office?" Vic asked, Bear nodding. "Right, never talked to him much."

"Really? I thought you two would get along well", Bear commented, surprised on hearing this.

"Boss, I don't investigate with amateurs", Vic shrugged, causing Bear to groan. Of course, Vic didn't talk to an investigator he deemed as amateur.

"Anyways, just convinced the police to take it seriously, let's hope they find him", Bear said, getting up and walking past Vic, who just stood there, hands in his pockets, looking down at the ground, some plans forming in his mind.

The police don't take anything seriously, especially when a journalist is involved. Once more, it is up to me to find Dennis, him being an amateur who went missing notwithstanding.

Later

Vic arrived at Tot's place, only to see him at the door, giving a statement to two officers, who were writing it down. Vic walked closer, hearing some of it.

"…..haven't gone to that lab in years", he was saying. "Twain was using it secretly, and he is arrested now."

"Thank you", one of the cops said. "If we need anything more, we'll be back." With that, both of them walked off, Tot sighing as he leaned against the door, Vic walking up to his friend, head tilted.

"What was that about?" He asked, Tot gesturing to the inside of his place.

"Come on in, let's talk", he said, stepping aside to let Vic walk in, before closing the door, and then, Tot walking to the table, pouring some coffee, first for himself, and then for Vic, giving the mug to Vic so he could drink his coffee, while he took a few sips, and Vic did the same, the two putting the mugs down, then looking at each other, Vic waiting for Tot to speak first.

When Tot did not, Vic took the initiative instead, and asked him. "You know something about what just happened to Dennis, don't you?"

Tot blinked. "Wait, how did you connect this to Dennis Kolchak without me saying anything?"

"Boss just told me he made the police take the disappearance of Dennis seriously", Vic started saying. "Then I come here and see them talking to you, so I figured it had to be about the same case." He shrugged, and Tot blinked again. Vic's tendency to relate to things that might seem unrelated was something he never got, even though Vic ended up being right about it almost the entire time, yet Tot still didn't get how exactly Vic did it.

Probably for the best in some ways, he wasn't sure his mind would be able to take the man's methods.

"I didn't have anything to do with it, but let's just say the past has a way of catching up with you", Tot sighed, looking down, Vic catching what he thought was shame in his friend's eyes. "Maybe it's for the best if you leave this one alone, Vic. Twain was one thing, but this guy-"

"I'm dealing with far worse, Tot!" Vic pointed out, finishing his coffee with one gulp after that, and putting the mug down. "If you're not going to do anything about this, then you're just helping this guy indirectly, Tot." Tot sighed, unable to argue against Vic's points. "Besides, I'll be doing what I want, you know that." Before Tot could respond, Vic walked off, closing the door behind him, Tot just taking off his glasses and rubbing his face, wondering what to do about this situation that had popped up.

"You should have stayed gone", he said to someone who was not present before himself.

Vic looked at the lab where Dennis had gone missing from a distance, having found out that this was where Dennis had last been, the police having tracked his phone to here, after which they'd confiscated it as evidence, of course, but that was it.

Looking at the lab from down to up, Vic noticed a camera at the entrance, realizing that might be how Dennis had been found out, meaning he needed to go in via another way.

A while later, Vic crouched upon the top of the lab, wearing his Question mask, and walked to the door, finding the stairs that he used to walk all the way to the bottom, where he found himself inside the lab at last, with police tape all over, and the box still kept nearby, alongside the equipment.

Too understaffed, or too lazy, to confiscate everything in one night. Hub City police for you.

Vic walked to the box, seeing all the documents that he took out and flipped through, before finding the same document that Dennis had found the previous night before being taken, seeing the 'classified' that was written on it.

He flipped through that document, looking at the pictures of the various people, all of them having various forms of skin damage.

Vic felt this damage was familiar to something he'd heard about, and read through smaller lines of the file more closely, to get the details, and finally, found something that quite interested him.

'Pseudoderm.'

Later

Vic put the file right in front of Tot, giving him a look, Tot seeing the disappointment in his face, before looking down at the file, sighing sadly, opening it up to see the various human test subjects of Pseudoderm, all with many forms of skin damage. He couldn't even look, and closed his eyes sadly, keeping the file to the side.

"These people…I failed them all", Tot said sadly, leaning back in his chair, while Vic sat in front of him.

"What are you not telling me?" He inquired, causing Tot to take off his glasses, then look the journalist/vigilante directly in the eyes, nothing but remorse shining in his eyes.

"Me and Twain weren't the only ones who tried our hand at this Pseudoderm experiment, there was one more", Tot revealed, Vic noting it down in his pad. "His name was Eric. Eric Kane, another scientist like us, he'd more resources too."

"Resources enough to use human beings as test subjects", Vic realized, Tot nodding in shame.

"We didn't know at first, when we find out, we cut him off, even informed the police", Tot said, shame in his voice. "They got him, but like I said, he was a guy with resources."

"Hid the evidence and got away", Vic realized, Tot nodding, feeling nothing but guilt, thinking of himself as a failure.

"Then when me and Twain couldn't fix it, we ditched the project, or so I thought, since Twain clearly didn't", Tot noted, Vic nodding, since that was the part where he'd come in, to help Tot expose his former partner. "That lab was one we used to experiment in, it belonged to Twain. Since he continued the research and sold Pseudoderm illegally, its clear he was using it, even until he was caught. That's why he kept all those files of what Kane did, to try and improve. When it didn't, he just didn't care."

"Oh he cared", Vic said, causing Tot to look at him. "He cared about the money it got him, not about the lives that were being put at risk by his actions." Tot sighed, not able to disagree with that assessment of Vic. "And now, if you don't act, you are caring only about your comfort, not of others who are being hurt by Kane now. Clearly, he is back, and has taken over the research for his own ends with Twain captured. He is the one using the lab."

"What can I even do?" Tot asked, ashamed of himself, walking to his laptop, and typing in, with Eric Kane's name and image being displayed after a few seconds of searching. "He is back, a ghost of my past, to once more dredge up the greatest failure of my life, and ruin people with it. All because I started this with Twain, and now, it doesn't let me go."

Vic shook his head. "The Pseudoderm didn't only harm people, Tot." As Tot looked at him, Vic took out the Pseudoderm mask, the one that he wore every single night he went out as the Question. "The moment I put it on, I used it in the fight against corruption. It protects me, and even you, and allows me to strike against the rot in this city. Isn't that a good thing? Isn't that something good accomplished by your actions? Your experiment is allowing me to do good, and fight against crime and corruption. And now, if you've the capability, you need to do more good, help me track this Kane down, so we can put a stop to him."

"How can we track him?" Tot simply asked, sitting down in front of his laptop now.

"Oh come on, we both know what I'm capable of", Vic pointed out, kneeling before the scientist. "All I need is for you to tell me more about him, and then tracking him can be done", Vic snapped his fingers to emphasize his point, "just like that. As long as I've enough information to make a proper decision about things."

Tot sighed again, considering, then leaned back in his chair, while Vic stood up, then pulled his own chair, and sat down before Tot. "Let's talk."

"All right, I'll tell you what I know", Tot finally said, beginning to tell Vic more about his and Arby's former partner.

"Well, Kane is different from Twain in one way", Tot started, Vic listening intently, taking out his pad to scribble some notes. "He is driven by belief, he believed Pseudoderm was the path to evolution, and all the experiments he did, he believed human suffering was just data that was waiting to be harvested." Vic kept his face blank, simply scribbling notes based on what Tot was describing.

"What kind of people did he use for his subjects?" Vic asked the scientist.

"Burn victims, chemical exposure cases, even addicts from the underbelly, the kind of people that no one would really miss", Tot explained to Vic. "Eric didn't really want to heal people, Vic. He wanted to rebuild them, he legit thought that pain is the perfect filter for our progress. Pain is the next frontier of science, he said once."

"Meaning he is a lunatic who rationalized himself, believed he is good under his false ideology, judged himself right when he'd be condemned by judgment", Vic said, a snarl in his voice that Tot caught. "If he is back to doing this now, he must have test subjects again. You said its people like burn victims and addicts that end up finding their way to him."

Tot nodded. "Yes, anyone desperate enough to sign anything without reading even the fine print of it."

Vic scribbled a bit more in his notebook. "Desperate people don't just vanish, Tot. They are offered payment to disappear….before we don't hear from them every again. Unless Morse Code is used."

"What?" Tot did a double-take.

"I'll explain some other time", Vic told him. "Anyways, you said he'd resources that allowed him to stay out of prison, right? How exactly did he carry things out back then so as to not be traced? I imagine you know a few things."

"I do", Tot confessed. "He had backers. Old money. The kind that doesn't leave any fingerprints that can be followed."

Vic raised an eyebrow. "Names?"

"A few. Kane worked with a man named Carlin Stroud. Owns warehouses at the outskirts of Hub City — he said that he specialized in 'medical storage'. Stroud then went bankrupt not long after Kane's arrest. I looked into him one more time when I realized Twain was making and selling the Pseudoderm again. It was Twain who later bought out one of his properties."

Vic looked up, keeping this specific detail in mind now.

"Twain bought it? Which one?"

"Warehouse 47B. Near where the river flows at the outskirts. But it's condemned now."

Vic shrugged, looking at his notes. "Condemned in paperwork, maybe."

Tot exhaled, asking Vic. "You think Kane would be there?"

"Yes." Vic got up, pocketing his notebook. "Once word got out about what Twain was doing, Kane clearly decided to return and finish what he didn't have the chance to finish all those years ago."

Then, Vic started walking towards the door. Tot's voice stopped him.

"Vic… I told you, this man isn't like Twain. He doesn't experiment and kill for greed. He kills for the thrill of creation."

A smirk formed on Vic's face. "Then I'll give him a better creation." He took out the Pseudoderm mask, holding it up in front of Tot. "A reckoning."

Then, Vic stepped out into the city, the city around him humming like a bad conscience, rotten with its crime and corruption.

Warehouse 47B. Bought out by Twain. Supposedly derelict. Perfect hiding spot for a ghost of the past. Because nothing in Hub City stays buried. Not bodies. Not guilt. And not men like Kane.

Putting his hands in his pocket, Vic walked off, his coat swaying due to the blowing wind.

Myra Connelly was at the podium, her supporters standing all around, raising slogans like 'Myra for a clean Hub City' and 'Say no to corruption', with Myra gulping a little, due to what she was going to say now.

"Hello, everyone", Myra began to speak into the mic, looking at the various supporters a bit nervously. "As we all know, my initiative is to clean the corruption in the administration from top to bottom, once I get into the office."

All of them cheered gladly, some of them even chanting her name in excitement.

Myra smiled, then took a deep breath. "Not just that, crime needs to be dealt with too, and also the things that lead to crime- poverty and homelessness. What we need is cheaper housing for the citizens, and fairer pay for those who work, while also reducing the unemployment rate, which has hit a record high."

Quite a few of them were nodding, others also cheering on hearing her words.

"And for reforms like this, we all need resources", Myra finally said, letting out another deep breath she'd unintentionally been holding so far. "Which is why, I would like to introduce you all to the newest benefactor in our campaign- Mr. James Calloway!"

There were no cheers, the people just stared in shock as a man in a suit, his hair combed, stepped out from behind the stage, adjusting his tie and waving at everyone.

No one waved back, they were more shocked than anything.

Myra's face was sweating, and after overcoming the hesitation in her voice, she managed to say. "Let us all thank Mr. Calloway in his efforts to help retool and rebuild our city." She clapped a little herself, but no one else did, and then, she stepped aside, allowing Calloway to speak into the mic.

"Like our future Mayor says, this city has become rotten due to crime and corruption, but I believe in her. I know she will fix this city, and that is why, I gladly announce here that I am backing her campaign! Vote for Myra Connelly!" He raised his fist happily. A few people followed his motion, but slowly, hesitantly.

He clapped also, but no one else did, Myra swallowing as she shot Calloway a fake smile, not showing her discomfort on her face.

She turned back towards the crowd, and her heart skipped a beat at what she saw.

Vic stood amongst the crowd, his eyes looking at her with clear disapproval.

Myra was backstage now, packing up her things, hoping to get away quickly, but when she looked up from her bag, Vic stood in front of her, hands in his pockets, causing her to back involuntarily from his judgmental gaze.

"I still haven't forgiven you", she said immediately, hoping to cut the conversation short.

"I do not care about that, Myra", Vic simply said with a shrug. "He is your fiancé, so I understand you wanting to believe he is innocent. But Calloway?" Myra winced at her ex's tone. "Everyone in the city is wary of him, even many of the corrupt cops." He leaned closer until they were inches apart. "Do you even know who Calloway is? The man launders money through half the city."

Myra sighed, trying to justify herself. "I know exactly who he is, Vic. And I also know that without someone like him, I won't stand a chance in this election."

Vic wasn't moved at all. She wanted to clean up corruption….and was taking the help of a very corrupt person to do so.

"Do you remember that vigilante from last week, Lyle Bolton?"

"I do." Myra winced again. She hadn't asked Vic how he was after the attack at KBEL News. She'd wanted to, but had always chickened out at the last moment. Was Vic going to call her out on that now?

"Do you know he targeted people he saw as corrupt?" Myra nodded. "Even my boss was targeted, his "crime" being he was scared into silence by the people in power." Then, looking straight into her eyes, Vic added. "If Lyle Bolton was still out there, you know he'd be coming after you too over accusations of corruption, right? Being associated with someone like Calloway would be enough for you to be corrupt in his eyes."

Myra was almost pleading with him now. "Look, I'm not corrupt, Vic."

"I know you're not", Vic assured her, before adding. "But our city's police department is weak. If Lyle manages to get out, well, you just put yourself in the crosshairs of someone who doesn't care about the difference." Myra gulped at his tone, Vic looking at her one more time. "Defending Wesley is one thing, being backed by someone worse than even Tim Barney is another." Vic walked off, Myra looking at his retreating form, unshed tears in her eyes as she put her hand to her mouth, trying to control her emotions in this moment.

Night-time

Vic, now dressed up as the Question, with the mask on him, stood at the outskirts of Hub City, staring at the same warehouse from a distance that Tot had named to him earlier. Being near the river, he could hear the water humming, with the sound of distant machinery audible as well.

He walked the perimeter, his trench-coat brushing against the rails. Hearing the screeching of tires, Vic dove behind a dustbin, and popped his head out, seeing two unmarked vans rolling into that warehouse.

So much for condemned.

Vic looked at his watch. The time was 2 AM, and this was the time when there was movement in this warehouse. Not to mention, the lights were on too suddenly, meaning a few people were inside of the place also, even before the two vans had rolled up.

As he watched, one person got out of a van each, and opened the backdoors, a few people huddled there.

They are not from the good part of the city. Or, less bad part, to be precise.

Getting back up, Vic opened the dustbin he'd hid behind, finding a manifest that was half-burnt, with the logo on it gone. Still, a corner stamp read- "…ject D."

He smirked beneath his mask, knowing it was 'Project D' that was written.

Project A was what they tried together. Project B was what Tot and Twain did on their own. Project C was Twain's thing, and Project D is Kane. Very subtle, Kane, very subtle.

A while later, Vic, now not wearing his mask, knocked at a door, and a man opened it. "Yes?"

"You live in this area?" Vic asked, and the man nodded. "Right. I need to ask you a few questions."

"Are you a cop?"

"No."

"Journalist?"

"Yes."

The man was about to shut the door, only for Vic to hold it open. "Your name will not come up anywhere, I don't even know your name yet, and I'm not going to ask you. I just need to know a few things."

While still hesitant, the man relented and let the door open. "What'd you wanna ask me?"

Vic gestured to the warehouse. "That place is supposed to be empty, right?"

"It is."

"And is it?"

The man seemed hesitant to answer, and Vic reminded him. "I told you, no one will know about your role here."

He spoke once more. "Two vans show up once in a week, usually today only. I think I heard them earlier."

"Right, and?"

"There's this diner a few miles from here, one of the drivers goes there, I've seen him a few times when I'm there", the man told Vic. "He pays in cash. That's all I know."

"And that's very helpful", Vic said, a smirk on his face. "Thank you."

The man didn't respond, simply closing the door, and Vic shrugged, walking off.

Later

The van driver sat at the diner, finishing his burger, then drinking a can of coke, before putting some money on the table, tip included. "See ya next week." Standing up, he turned around, and walked out of the diner, reaching his van finally, and opened it up via the keys.

Only, someone grabbed him from behind, causing the keys to drop, and the someone then smashed his head on the door, the driver struggling as he grasped the wrist of whoever it was, but failed to overpower him, his head being smashed on the hood of his van twice, making him bleed, the second smash also making him slide down the van and onto the ground, knocked out.

Vic, now in his mask again, knelt near the man, turning him around, and checked his pockets, pulling out a card.

"Must be for accessing", Vic noted, then looked through his pockets once more, finding his phone, which Vic pocketed so he'd not be able to warn anyone back at the base once he woke up. Picking up the keys, Vic sat in the van, shut the door, and floored it, speeding away, back to the warehouse.

It didn't take him long to reach it, and when he did, he saw the other van leaving, which meant his own work had become even easier.

Vic stopped the van at a distance from the warehouse.

A few seconds later, Vic crouched at the top of the warehouse, looking down, finding one camera, which turned left and right after a gap of a few seconds. To the left was the door he needed to access.

The moment it turned right, Vic leapt down, and used the card he'd stolen from the driver, getting it scanned, causing the warehouse door to open.

Before the camera could start turning, Vic ran ahead, reaching closer to his van, and knowing the camera had started turning, he threw himself to the ground and rolled, getting underneath the van now, making sure it didn't see him. Then, as the camera began to turn to the now open door, Vic got up, and got into the van, closing the door, then floored it ahead.

The van rammed into the open space, breaking some of the wall, causing an alarm to blare, meaning this had gotten all attention now.

Vic opened the window of the van, and leapt out, running off to the side, as men arrived to investigate the break-in, but Vic had already infiltrated this place by the time that they did.

It was quite dim inside, Vic noted, as he moved around, being covered by the darkness of this warehouse.

He opened a door, finding various surgical tables, people even strapped to those, all unconscious. He rushed inside, also finding chemical drums that had been labelled- PSEU-7.

Hearing a groan, Vic followed the sound, and tilted his head at what he saw.

It was Kolchak, strapped to a table, patches of Pseudoderm bubbling across his skin like wet clay. He was delirious, muttering something about "the cure that burns."

Before Vic could help, the lights snapped on-

And Kane stepped out of the shadows, clapping slowly.

"Snooping where you don't belong, huh Question? With Pseudoderm on you too. I think I should take it, and make better use of it."

Guards entered the room too, all holding guns.

Vic's eyes narrowed behind the mask, his body tensing as he surveyed the room. The shadows clung to the corners, and the sudden harsh lighting made every detail excruciatingly clear to him. The surgical tables, the strapped bodies, the bubbling Pseudoderm—this was no longer about investigation. This was about stopping a man who had no morality left to lose.

Kane's grin was slow, deliberate, as he stepped fully into the light, hands clasped behind his back. "I see you've found my little… gallery," he said, voice smooth, almost polite, yet cold enough to chill Vic to the bone. Or it would have, if Vic was that type of person. "You've seen the failures, the attempts at progress. All of it wasted because of men like you… or rather, one man in particular."

Vic didn't respond. His eyes darted from the guards to Kolchak, noting the journalist's ruined skin, the strange pattern of Pseudoderm forming across him. Every second mattered.

"Do you really think you can stop me?" Kane asked, tilting his head. "I've learned from Tot and Twain, from everyone who ever tried to limit me. This," he gestured to the surgical tables, "is only the beginning. Project D is the evolution of Pseudoderm. Better, stronger, faster. No limitations. And once I sell it… well, the world will finally understand my vision."

Vic's lips pressed into a thin line. "Selling it?" he muttered under his breath, then louder, to Kane, "To the highest bidder. You don't care who gets it. You just want to see it spread."

Kane's grin widened, showing the excitement that he found in his own twisted sense of creation as well as evolution. "Exactly. Pain is merely data. Risk is an equation. Life… disposable."

Vic's hand slipped under his coat. He couldn't just stand here. Not when Kolchak's groans sounded like a countdown. The guards noticed Vic moving, weapons raised, and the first shots rang out.

He dove for cover behind a surgical table, feeling the bullets deflect off the metal. He rolled, coming up on one knee, and swept his gaze around. There were seven guards, all armed, all trained, clearly expecting someone to rush in like a madman. Vic didn't rush.

He calculated.

He waited.

A guard stepped closer, trying to flank him. Vic twisted, bringing his elbow down into the man's side, the impact followed by a sharp snap as the guard crumpled to the floor. Another tried to fire, and Vic vaulted onto a nearby table, kicking a chemical drum toward him. It tipped, rolling across the floor, creating a cloud of chemical dust and smoke. The guard coughed violently, giving Vic just enough time to swing down, kicking him off balance.

But the next one came too close, Vic barely dodging a shot, and punched him, only for the next to hit him with the butt of his own gun, and another to kick him, making him stagger, while the previous one cracked him across the jaw, and Vic dropped, rolling under a table as gunfire ricocheted around him.

Kane clapped his hands slowly, stepping back. "Ah, Question, you are quite stubborn. But even you have limits." He raised a hand, signaling. One of the guards unstrapped Kolchak, then dragged him closer, shaking the journalist violently. "Perhaps this will motivate you," Kane said, circling Vic like a predator.

Vic's eyes narrowed, trying to think of something quickly, so he could execute his plan. He had to free Kolchak. He had to stop Kane, but not recklessly. The Question's strength was not in brute force—it was in planning, in foresight, in knowing when exactly to act.

A sudden crash to the side of the warehouse made both Kane and the guards turn. Tot appeared, a rare glint of steel in his eyes, wielding a crowbar he had snatched from a nearby shelf. His entrance was chaotic, but precise. He swung the crowbar, catching a guard across the temple, the guard too shocked to react at the time. The man crumpled, and Tot moved like a man possessed, striking with a mix of desperation and determination, hitting another before any of them had the chance to react.

Vic saw his opening. He lunged, using the confusion to pin the guard who was holding Kolchak hostage down, and deck him twice, knocking him out. Another one aimed but Vic kicked his feet, sending him down, and getting up, stomped his face. The journalist fell down and coughed, eyes wide, Pseudoderm bubbling and smoking slightly upon him as Vic lifted him. "Hold on." Vic muttered, guiding him behind cover.

Kane's gaze snapped to Tot, surprise flashing across his face. "Ah, the coward who hides behind science finally decides to play hero", Kane said, voice dripping with mockery. But Tot was undeterred. He smashed the last guard, who was too confused to react, into the wall, rolling across the floor to grab a keyring dangling from a hook.

"Not all of us are cowards!" Tot snapped, his voice low, determined.

Vic took note, covering Tot as he moved toward the restrained test subjects. One by one, they were freed, groaning and frightened, yet alive. Vic's focus never wavered, scanning for Kane's next move.

At that moment, Kane made a sudden dash for an exit at the far end of the warehouse. Vic reacted instantly, sprinting after him, pushing past overturned tables and chemical drums. The echo of footsteps filled the room, the smell of chemicals and fear mixing into suffocation.

Kane reached a side door, yanking it open. Vic was faster. He slammed his shoulder into Kane, sending him sprawling against the metal wall of the corridor. Kane struggled to regain his footing, hissing under his breath, but Vic grabbed him, holding him tight.

"You won't get away with this", Vic said, voice low and controlled, yet unyielding. His grip on Kane's arm was iron. "This ends here."

Kane's laugh was sharp, bitter. "You think anyone cares? This city was built on dirty money and dirty deals! You, me, Twain, Stroud, Barney, Calloway… it doesn't matter. Everyone's dirty. Everyone's complicit. You think your morality changes anything?"

Vic didn't flinch. "Maybe not. But it changes me. And sometimes, that's enough to tip the scales."

With a flick of his wrist, Vic pulled out his burner phone, showing it had recorded everything here so far, the sounds that is. Kane's face fell when he realized that.

"Not just that, the security footage, we shall get that out too."

Tot, breathing heavily, had secured the last of the restrained test subjects. Vic turned to him. "Get them out safely", he said. Tot nodded, leading the injured and terrified people toward the back exit Vic had scouted earlier.

Kane struggled, rage contorting his features. "You—You can't! My work! My Project D! The evolution!"

Vic's gaze was unwavering. "Your 'evolution' was built on pain and suffering. That's not creation. That's cruelty." He held up the burner phone of his. "Everything you've done is being documented. Every experiment, every forced test subject, every transaction. When the authorities see this, there's no escaping it."

Kane's hands shook as he tried to lunge, but Vic anticipated, twisting him to the ground and grabbing him by the head. The man's final words were a hiss of fury. "You think this is over? You have no idea…"

Vic ignored him, smashing his head to the ground, then standing and surveying the warehouse. They had had cleared the room of immediate threats, and the rescued subjects were moving toward safety. The alarms Kane had set off earlier blared in the distance, a chaotic but necessary noise.

Vic moved to the central console, pulling up the security feed, while also connecting it with his burner phone. The screens displayed every corner of the warehouse, every movement captured. "This city needs to see this," Vic murmured, tapping keys. Streams of data began to transmit to multiple news outlets and police servers. Kane's crimes would not hide in shadows any longer.

Kane's laugh turned into a whimper as Vic stepped back. "Your legacy ends tonight," Vic said quietly, eyes cold but filled with conviction.

The warehouse, once a chamber of horror and illegal experimentation, now felt smaller, suffocating for the man who had sought to use it as a launchpad for a kingdom that he wanted to build for himself. Tot stood beside Vic, watching Kane struggle to stand up. "You… you did it." Tot whispered, disbelief in his voice.

Vic shook his head. "We did it. Justice isn't just one person's work—it's every action we take to right what's been wronged." He glanced at the rescued test subjects standing far off, outside the warehouse at this point. "Let's make sure they get help. The rest of this city can handle Kane."

Kane's eyes, wide and full of fury, followed Vic as he walked toward the exit. "You think this changes anything…" he muttered, voice barely audible.

Vic didn't respond. He simply adjusted his mask, pulled his coat tighter against the night air, and stepped out of the warehouse into the dark streets of the outskirts of Hub City. Above, the sky was black, thick clouds muting the glow of the distant streetlights, the wind carrying with it the faint hum of the river. The city was still corrupt. The sins of the past lingered. But for tonight, one evil had been stopped, and one journalist had been saved.

Tot lingered in the doorway for a moment longer, catching his breath. "I… I actually helped," he admitted, almost in disbelief.

Later

Vic and Tot sat together at his place, both drinking coffee, Tot sighing.

"I should have tried harder to put him down back then", Tot confessed to Vic, the guilt in his voice clear, only for Vic to put a hand on his shoulder.

"And now you have, that's what matters. Even if you didn't what you should have before, you have done it now, you've done the good required of you", Vic assured the scientist.

Myra looked at the news, the host saying. "Myra Connelly's campaign has taken quite a hit this week, due to her accepting backing from known shady dealer James Calloway."

It switched to a scene of a man being interviewed, and he was saying. "I guess she wants to clean up corruption…..to set up even more corruption! Down with these politicians!"

Another interview was shown, the woman saying. "All this has done has show me once more that not one single politician is to be trusted, whether they claim they'll cut the taxes of the rich, or stand with us to distribute wealth equally amongst everyone."

Myra sighed, then got a call, and seeing it was Calloway, picked up. "Hi Mr. Calloway."

"Myra, what is next for the campaign?"

Myra gulped, then said. "I'm sorry, Mr. Calloway, but due to the bad publicity, I've decided not to move forwards with our partnership, your money will be returned to you within the-"

She never got a chance to finish, because Calloway cut her off. "I'm afraid it doesn't quite work that way, Myra."

Myra narrowed her eyes. "What do you mean by that?"

"This city doesn't elect leaders. We make them. And you've been chosen, Myra. Whether you like it or not."

Myra's eyes widened, her phone slipping from her hand onto the table.

For the first time, she realized she might be way in over her head.

Vic sat at Tot's place, watching another news broadcast, which showed Calloway shaking hands with Wesley Fermin.

"You have my appreciation for supporting my fiancée's campaign, Mr. Calloway. She is exactly what this city needs."

Vic's eyes narrowed, his face blank (even without the mask on), his fist clutched.

Kane is not the worst of it. Something worse is brewing.

Ending credits play.

Chapter Text

In a dark alleyway in the slums of Hub City, the sound of gunfire was heard above everything, deafening all other sounds, two groups of people on either side of the place, hiding behind vehicles or dustbins, firing at each other, and taking cover to avoid being hit at the same time, some using smaller guns, others using way bigger guns.

Men on both sides were shot after every few minutes, falling dead to the ground, their blood mixing with that of their companions.

Passers-by were cowering on the ground, some of them also getting shot, while others stupidly ran here and there to hide, getting hit at times, while one grocer popped up from where he hid behind his stall, a teen boy next to him.

"What's happening?" The boy asked, the grocer grasping his head and shoving him back down to protect him.

"Steel Vultures and King's Men, using this area as their personal arena", the grocer said bitterly, then popped down again, turning to another grocer a small distance away, hiding behind his own stall. "Anyone called the police?"

"Twenty minutes ago, they didn't come", the other grocer informed, causing the first one to groan in utter frustration.

Storefronts were shattering, causing more civilians to fall, and one car had been overturned by now when what seemed like a missile launcher was fired, but no one was coming for intervention.

Martin Reyes, a leader in King's Men gang, was crying out to his men. "Go on! Fight! Blow them all up! Show 'em our boss is King!" Other men nodded, rushing ahead and firing, even as they took cover, and some were hit themselves.

Reyes himself snuck away, deciding to call his boss, and took out his phone.

Unseen to him, nearby, a man's gloved hand tightened around his pistol, and aiming, he fired.

BANG!

Reyes' phone shattered and fell to the ground, making him jump, while he looked up to see the man standing before him, a grin on his face.

"Who the hell are-"

He was cut off when the man grabbed him by the face, and when he tried to take out his gun, the man dropped his own and grabbed his hand, twisting it, causing Reyes to cry out in pain, after which the man slammed him into the wall behind him, and quickly reached out, grabbing his gun and taking it away before he could even react.

Then, he aimed the gun at Reyes, who raised his hands with a gulp, starting. "Look-"

The man instead threw the gun down, only confusing Reyes, after which, he grabbed Reyes by the collar, spun him around, and then grabbed him by the head, smashing it into the wall, drawing blood as Reyes cried out in pain, and the man did it a few more times, until Reyes' body slid to the ground, leaving a trail of blood, Reyes dead now.

Then, the man picked up his pistol, and pocketed it, his gloves totally clean of the blood.

After that, he tapped an earpiece he had, a smirk laced with arrogance and cruelty crossing his face while he walked away from the site of the murder that he'd just committed.

"One piece off the board now."

A question mark is shown over what appears to be a blank face, alongside various pictures and newspaper clippings attached via tape, the title card saying 'THE QUESTION' appearing, as 'THE QUESTION - Original Instrumental Music - William McCarthy' plays in the background, whispers being heard over the noir music.

It was morning now, the locals still shaken from the violence of the previous night, the cop cars just leaving after having taken away dead bodies, though they hadn't even marked the area as a crime scene yet, not to mention, a lot of the bullet casings were still here.

That was the scene that Vic walked to, holding a pad in hand, seeing the people just sighing, walking back to their homes or wherever else. Seeing one man in the corner, Vic walked up to him. "I heard there was gang violence here last night."

"Yeah, and?"

"Why isn't this area marked as a crime scene yet?"

"Police said its too big", the man shrugged, clearly displeased. "Still so many shell casings on the ground. Can slip on one of 'em." He scoffed and walked off before Vic could ask anything else, the journalist/vigilante shaking his head, before he walked up to the grocer who'd given cover to the teenage boy.

"Shootout here last night?"

"Yeah."

"When did the police come?"

"This morning."

"Really? No one called them?"

"I did", the other grocer said as he walked up to them. "Didn't come though."

Typical Hub City police. You and your fantastic police work.

"Even when they did, clearly didn't do their work right", Vic noted, looking around at the area, shell casings still fallen here and there.

"Tell me about it, if I'd more money, I'd shift!" The first grocer said, though Vic wasn't paying attention now, as he walked to an area with a lot of shell casings, and knelt down, looking at those.

He picked one up.

Military grade. These gangs are small-time, someone is supplying them.

Pocketing the casing, Vic walked off.

Tot looked down at the shell casing put down by Vic, before picking it up and examining it himself, after which, he put it under a microscope.

"Police didn't even come until this morning, and when they did, didn't even do their job right", Vic said with a scoff. "If they had, we won't be looking into this shell casing right now."

"Its Hub City, what'd you expect?"

"Something exactly like this", Vic said dryly, causing Tot to chuckle, before he moved away from the microscope, and picked the casing up again, walking to Vic with it, handing it back to his friend.

"Looks cleaned and refitted", Tot informed the journalist. "Like something used in recycled ammo from police or military surplus."

Vic's eyes narrowed. "Someone is distributing high-grade surplus." Pocketing the casing, Vic walked off. "And when distribution like this happens, we know it begins somewhere high up, especially in this city." Opening the door, Vic walked out and closed it, then made up his mind where to go.

If this was cleaned and refitted, the recycling has to be done somewhere. And for that, you'd need a record.

Vic looked at the city records building, and taking out his pen, he opened the door, letting himself in already, two workers passing by, giving him one tiny look before walking off, while Vic looked around, seeing barely any people around, and even a few ants making an anthill in the corner. Clearly, this place hadn't been cleaned up and refurnished for a while now.

Vic found one very old guy sitting at the reception desk, typing something on the computer. "Hello."

The man looked up. "Yes?"

"I want information on any recent procurement forms for "equipment disposal" and "decommissioned materials"", Vic simply said to the man, who gave him a look.

"And why should I do that?"

Looking around at the area, Vic said. "Because if you don't, this place's condition is going in the news, and it's gonna be very embarrassing for the administration, who will probably fire you first thing." The man gulped, and shook his head.

"Please, don't do that."

"Well, give me the records and we've a deal."

"Sure, sure." The man walked up to the back, and after a few minutes, came out holding a bunch of files, putting them on the table. "Here, take these. Every record regarding what you asked, from the last two years. Just, please don't show this in the news. Please!"

"Like I said, we've a deal, though my recommendation? Find a better job", Vic shrugged, picking up the files and walking to a chair nearby, sitting down.

"Market ain't kind to us old folks!" The man protested, though Vic wasn't listening, as he read through each file carefully, starting with the first one, hoping to find some clue in any of them.

He flipped through at least 5 of the files in the next half an hour, and it was the 6th one that got his attention.

Aegis Sanitation Solutions.

It was one of the many names under the heading, and that heading, paired with this name, got Vic to narrow his eyes.

Hazardous Waste & Equipment Disposal.

Taking out his phone, Vic looked up Aegis Sanitation Solutions.

Sure enough, it said this was a new municipal contractor, having been formed only last year. He opened the heading of 'Controversies', noting the company had been under fire for being associated with various other smaller companies accused of smuggling or other illicit activities, such as smuggling, causing Aegis Sanitation Solutions to cut contact with all these other ones.

Why's a sanitation company handling police or military surplus disposal?

Vic looked up from the file.

It's weird — and Hub City weird means corruption. Like usual.

Vic looked up at the sign for 'Aegis Sanitation Solutions', and taking a deep breath, he walked into it, looking around at the various trucks, as well as guards nearby.

Too many guards for trucks that are supposed to get rid of waste, seemingly, that is.

As he looked a bit more closely at the trucks, he noticed something.

They're armored also. They're doing a lot more than waste disposal, as suspected.

One of the trucks drove off, and Vic noted the logo was half-peeled, saying- '…..rrin Log…."

Discreetly taking out his phone, Vic opened the camera, and took a picture before the truck was out of sight, then took one more picture of the other armored trucks, before keeping his phone inside, which was when one of the guards walked up to him.

"Who the hell are you and why are you here?"

"Oh, just wanted to talk to the boss here, but not sure of the way in, can you help me?"

"You gotta have a permit to visit him, get outta here", the guard said, grasping Vic's shoulder and shoving him a little roughly, Vic immediately raising his hands.

"Alright, alright, I'll be back with one later, eh?" He pointed at the guard and winked, who scoffed and walked off, Vic turning around and walking off himself, having already gotten what it was that he'd come here for.

Vic sat down in front of Tot once more, leaning back in his chair, showing him the photos of the trucks he'd taken, including the one with the peeled off logo, Tot commenting. "Well, like you said, too much security if its just waste."

"And based on what I read in the city records, it's definitely not just waste, the question that needs answering is why a sanitation company is doing all this", Vic pointed out, Tot nodding. "Not to mention, they're clearly still working with Orrin Logistics, after claiming they cut contact due to illegal activities. Which means-"

"That's how the smuggling is done", Tot noted, Vic nodding, after which Tot sat down in front of his laptop, typing some stuff.

"You hacking?"

"Oh yeah", Tot replied with a grin, Vic now standing up and walking behind the man, who was staring at various order numbers. "Okay, this is strange, Aegis Sanitation has no physical waste facilities registered."

"And?"

"It has large payments to a customs broker, who works near the docks."

"Lot of stuff happens at the dock, huh? Pseudoderm sales, women trafficking, and now this", Vic said, his face looking quite impressed, for all the wrong reasons. "That place has seen a lot of stuff."

None of it good either.

Tot agreed with a nod, and sighed. "This is not trash disposal, Vic. This is import/export laundering."

"Trash in, guns out." Vic let out a sardonic chuckle. "Hub City's recycling program at work."

"How'd you think the election is going?" Tot then asked Vic.

Vic shrugged. "It's going. Already dropped my vote."

Later

The Question, now with the faceless mask on him, knelt at the rooftop of the warehouse, looking in via an opening at the top, seeing various crates inside. Two men were there, having dragged in a smaller crate which they put down, after which they walked back out.

Using the opportunity, Vic leapt in, seeing all the various crates, and they were marked- BIOHAZARD!

Finding a crowbar lying in the corner, Vic picked it up, and pried a crate open, seeing that inside of it were various rifles, causing him to drop the crowbar with a sigh.

That is a biohazard alright. Hazard to biological life.

Late night

Vic snuck into the public records office via window, wearing his Question mask now, seeing no one present, not that the place was bustling even when the workers were around. Walking to where the old man had said, Vic opened up his computer, though it asked for a password.

However, Vic simply took out his phone, reading a message by Tot, which said- "Terminal login".

Smirking, Vic typed that password, and the computer opened up.

"Thanks Tot."

There, Vic clicked on the file for records, opening it up, before searching for 'Aegis Sanitation Solutions', finding the name of the company, next to 'Hazardous Material Disposal'.

But what he saw down below was the kicker.

City Contract #47-B, signed by Mayor Wesley and City Procurement Head Franklin Morse.

It was a link, so Vic clicked on the link, now finding the finer details of this contract.

"To provide safe, confidential disposal of surplus municipal equipment and hazardous materials under special authorization, as per Emergency Ordinance 142-C."

Emergency Ordinance. Meaning they can bypass everything.

Next morning

Wesley Fermin was walking to his office, two bodyguards by his side, when he saw Vic walking up to him, causing him to groan and scoff.

"Oh, for God's sake. If it isn't the conscience of Hub City. Don't you have a deadline to miss, Sage?"

Vic walked closer until they were inches part, only for the bodyguards to step in his way. "Already met it. Thought I'd check in on the man keeping the city's trash business booming."

Wesley snorted. "What trash business? If you mean you yourself, I got no business with you, though I do wish I owned KBEL News, so I could make you shut up."

"Oh I mean your contract with your pals- Aegis Sanitations", Vic said, looking at Wesley briefly wincing before putting on his usual face again. "Everyone else didn't look. You made sure of that."

Wesley paused, and then smirked. "You really think I have time to micromanage every shipment this city moves? It's a sanitation contract, Vic. Equipment disposal, environmental compliance, all signed off by procurement."

Vic shook his head. "And yet somehow, your sanitation guys are importing enough hardware to arm both sides of a gang war."

Wesley let out a dry laugh. "Wild accusation. Got any proof? Or is this another one of your crusader gut feelings?"

"Like I said, I've got a contract. 47-B. With your signature. And I also saw warehouse where those "hazardous materials" are being unloaded. You want me to spell it out for you?"

Wesley's expression cooled. "I'll save you the ink. That contract's legal. Emergency Ordinance 142-C—passed after a chemical fire last year. It allows for direct vendor assignment. The weapons you think you saw? Probably disposal containers. It's all paperwork, Sage."

Vic wasn't having any of it. "Paperwork that leaks blood."

Wesley walked past his bodyguards and leaned closer, voice low. "You think you're clever because you see corruption everywhere. But that's your problem, Vic—everything's a conspiracy. Maybe that's why Myra left you. She got tired of the paranoia."

Vic's tone was icy. "She left for her own reasons. You probably think you're better for her." He paused. "Still waiting to see it."

Wesley's grin was barbed. "She's got a future, Vic. She's clean. Maybe let her stay that way. Her campaign doesn't need your brand of poison."

Vic's expression was blank, even as he spoke. "She's got the right to know who she's in bed with."

Wesley had mock sympathy. "You'd burn her down just to prove you were right, wouldn't you? That's what makes you dangerous. You don't care who gets hurt as long as you get your truth".

Vic was quiet but firm. "The difference between us, Wesley— I know I'm in the gutter. You built your house there."

One of the bodyguards stepped between them. "That's enough, Mr. Sage. The Mayor's got meetings."

Wesley straightened his tie. "See yourself out, Vic. And next time you come waving accusations, bring a lawyer. Or a miracle."

Wesley turned and walked off, the bodyguards flanking him. Vic watched him go, jaw tight, then muttered under his breath. "Already brought the truth. You just can't afford it."

At the same time, Myra was looking at the news, her face falling at what she saw.

"It has been reported that the Mayoral candidate- Myra Connelly, fiancée of the current outgoing Mayor Wesley Fermin, has allegedly embezzled campaign funds for private reasons. So far, neither she not Mayor Fermin have commented on these allegations, but for a candidate running on the progressive promises of reform, this is not a good look, especially during election time."

Myra stepped back, shock written across her features, the back of her legs finding the couch, allowing her to fall to it, sitting down, still processing everything.

Her rival- Steven Marsh, appeared on the TV now, the mic in his face.

"I disagree with her on nearly everything, but at least I thought she is well-meaning, if naïve. Now, if this is true? Well, screw her then! No different from the rest of the corrupt lot!" He waved at some people nearby. "Vote for Marsh, everyone!"

Myra scoffed, before shutting the TV off, and angrily slammed her fist onto the couch, then waved her hair, standing back up, having a feeling why this was going on.

Later

Calloway looked up on hearing his door being shoved open roughly, Myra storming in, holding her purse, while Calloway's assistant stepped in. "Ma'am, please you-"

"Its quite alright", Calloway assured the assistant with a raised hand, causing him to stop and sigh, looking at his boss, who gave him a nod, after which he walked out, while Myra glared at Calloway.

"Miss Connelly, to what do I owe this pleasure? You've already received my funding and endorsement."

"You know what this is about", she snarled, putting her phone before him, showing the story of her allegedly embezzling campaign funds.

"Ooooh", he muttered, looking up at her with a shit-eating grin. "Now I wouldn't want to be you, if that were true."

Picking her phone up, she got into his face. "You really think this will scare me off?"

Calloway just chuckled, and leaned back in his chair. "You're not scared yet. But if you keep this up, you will be."

If looks could kill, Calloway would be dead by now, then resurrected, and then dead again.

Giving him one last look, she said. "This isn't over." Then she turned around and stormed out, getting into the elevator, and coming down, after which she walked out the building to where her car waited for her, but as the door was opened, she saw some people protesting from the sidewalk, holding slogans.

Thief!

Liar!

Like man, like wife!

"Vote for Marsh!" One of the people called out, everyone else taking up the cry. "Vote for Marsh! Vote for Marsh! Vote for Marsh!"

Myra wanted to say something, speak up, try and convince the people of her side of the story, which also happened to be the truth.

Unfortunately, no words came out, and she wasn't sure she could make things better, so she just sat in the car, the driver closing the door and driving her away, the chanting of the people fading behind her, while she quickly wiped a tear she hadn't realized had started rolling down her cheek.

Vic as Question stood at a rooftop, hearing gunshots down below, and sighed, looking down, seeing the gangs were fighting again, in the same neighborhood.

Police didn't come last time, and they're emboldened enough to do it a second time. They know they can get away with it. When people don't do what they're obligated to do, things like this happen.

Vic rushed down, hoping to do something about the violence this time.

The grocer from earlier was running with a bag in hand, trying to get down, but not having the chance to. Just as he reached the corner, Vic grabbed and shoved him to the ground, behind a car, before crouching up, the guy sighing in relief.

"Thanks for the save", he said, pushing his shock at seeing the vigilante in person down his throat for now, while Vic turned around, seeing the Steel Vultures firing in this direction.

"Stay down."

He rolled away, and got up just slightly, keeping his head down, and behind a few stalls, then cars, avoiding any King's Men for now, as that was the gang on this side. However, when he reached near an alley, he heard the sounds of grunting, so standing up fully, he rushed to the alley, shocked at what he saw.

Many gang members lay dead on the ground, their faces clearly smashed into something, and in this very moment, one man was smashing the remaining gang member's head into the wall, killing him too, his dead body crashing to the floor, after which the assassin looked at his gloves, and took them off, putting them in his pocket.

Then, he turned directly to Vic, a grin on his face. "Pleased to be your acquaintance, Question."

"Who're you?"

"You can call me- Orwell King", the assassin gave Vic a name, though Vic knew it was an alias. "Like I said, pleased to meet you." He gestured to the bodies around him. "Your body count is way more impressive than mine."

Behind his mask, Vic's eyes widened. "What'd you mean? I didn't kill these people, you did."

"No one knows that. Everyone knows you smash heads during interrogation, so…." King shrugged, before leaping with a spin kick, that Vic barely ducked to avoid, before straightening, only for another one to hit him on the face, sending him crashing into the wall. Orwell made to kick a third time but Vic barely avoided, Orwell's kick hitting the wall now, and Vic rammed into him, pushing him off and slamming him onto the ground, where he punched King's face thrice.

King blocked another punch, then punched Vic's throat, making him gasp, and threw him off of himself, before getting up and kicking Vic, sending him rolling away. However, Vic got up just as Orwell charged again, throwing three punches that Vic blocked, only for an uppercut to get him the next time, sending him stumbling back by a few paces.

Then, King leapt up with another spin-kick, that Vic ducked to avoid, before charging just as King landed, only for King to deflect his punch, then punch his face, sending him stumbling away, but Vic managed to spin and elbow his side, causing him to grunt and stagger away himself, while Vic used the opportunity to push-kick him ahead, causing him to stumble into the wall now, and then, Vic threw another kick but Orwell grabbed his foot and threw him to the ground, sending him sprawling, before leaping at him with an elbow, but Vic rolled away at the last moment, avoiding being hit this time.

After that, he threw a kick into Orwell's face, which sent him staggering away, before leaping up, and throwing three punches that were easily blocked, only for him to knee Orwell's gut, which made him double down in some pain, but Orwell grabbed Vic's head and headbutted him, making him stagger back again, and Orwell gave one more spin kick that made Vic fall down. But Vic rolled over, and saw Orwell about to stomp his foot upon him.

Acting in time, Vic grabbed his foot, holding it back, and with a grunt, pushed him off, making his head hit the wall, after which Vic got up and rammed into him, decking his abdomen many times, only for Orwell to elbow his back, which made him grunt in pain, and then grabbing him, Orwell threw Vic away, Vic hitting a dumpster and gasping in pain, before picking himself up yet another time, and just as Orwell charged him, Vic dodged this time and grasping his arm, used it as leverage, hurling him into the dumpster behind and closing it.

In a few seconds, Orwell kicked the dumpster open, only to see Vic was gone, which made him scoff in anger.

Vic sat at Tot's place, shirtless, Tot putting some ointment on an injury that was on Vic's face, courtesy of Orwell King.

"He was framing you for the killing of gang members?" Tot asked, trying to get that right.

"Yeah, and while the evidence is flimsy, it'd point to the Question", Vic pointed out, wincing a bit as Tot began to bandage his wound. "I do smash people's heads while interrogating them. Smash them into walls, or cars. I imagine that tactic has become well-known in the weeks since I started doing this."

"So he smashed all of their heads until they died, and since a vigilante would have good reason to go after these gangs….." Tot trailed off. "I get the picture."

"The news won't be reporting this, since most of them, like the police, are ignoring that area", Vic said with a sigh. "These gangs and all other crime elements get worse day by day, because people aren't doing what they should be. Meanwhile, it looked to me like King was analysing me, studying."

"An enemy who knows who you are is more dangerous than one with a gun."

Tot was done by now, and Vic got up, wincing, Tot looking up at him. "I think you should sit down right now."

"No, I gotta do something", Vic said, turning around to walk off. "Its kind of important."

Vic walked out of the place, Tot watching him in concern.

Later

Vic was in the back-alley once more, having just paid for his latest batch of powder, and taking it, he turned around, being led out. Only, when he walked back to the road, he saw Tot glaring at him with folded arms, clearly having arrived here, knowing what Vic had been doing.

"How'd you find me?" Vic asked.

"The burner phone you have, I can trace it, you know?" Tot pointed out. "When you went out like that, I figured something was up."

Realizing Tot had caught on, Vic started saying. "Its nothing, Tot, I just went there for a story, that's why I go there, to-"

"I thought you'd just beat them up as Question, since this isn't a big story like the gangs or the corruption are", Tot responded instead while cutting Vic off, clearly not buying what he was trying to sell him. "I know why you're here Vic." He was nothing short of displeased, and as much as Vic wouldn't admit it, seeing Tot like that affected him deep down.

It broke his heart.

And made him angry at himself.

"I mean, I-"

"Drugs, Vic?" Tot asked, disgust in his voice. "You've a drug habit, and you're spending your hard-earned money on such poison? Why?"

Vic tried to say something, opening and closing his mouth about four times, no sound coming out.

"I…" He finally found his voice. "The condition of the city, it depressed me too much, and Myra getting with that slop was the last straw."

"Is it all about her then?"

"No, its about everything. That's just the straw that broke the camel's back", Vic confessed. "But no harm done, I don't-"

"If you carry on too much with this, your body's chemical composition will be changed, and the Pseudoderm won't affect you the way it does now", Tot revealed, to Vic's surprise. "And I will not be changing its chemistry every time you get stressed and decide to snort on this thing. Its your choice, Vic, either the Question, or the drugs."

Vic tried to say. "You don't understand, Tot, I-"

"No Vic, its you who does not understand!" Tot snapped, poking a finger at his friend's chest. "You realize by buying drugs from these people, you're simply funding crime? The same crime you claim you're fighting as a journalist and the Question?" Vic tried to argue again, but found no words, considering Tot was right.

"You're high, not just on drugs, but on your Randian beliefs, condemning and judging people as right or wrong based on that-"

"I showed sympathy to my boss when I found out he didn't print Barney's story because he was threatened, and I also didn't blame you much for the Kane mess", Vic said instead, but Tot only shook his head.

"I appreciate all of that, but does that mean I should condone you poisoning your body?" Tot asked, Vic sighing as he looked down. "I'm not cutting you out of my life for this, but you got to understand- this poison will only kill you. Whether the Pseudoderm affects you or not, this is nothing but bad for you, Vic. And you funding this is bad for the others. So really….try to give it up."

Giving him one last but disappointed look, Tot walked off, Vic watching his friend retreat.

I….I shouldn't do this but…I need something for myself when the chips are down!

Later

Sitting in his home, Vic snorted the powder, getting lost in the temporary feeling of pleasure this act gave him, and he closed his eyes, leaning against the wall, enjoying all of this.

The taste of defeat again. Defeat from King, from Wesley, from everyone else. Might as well enjoy it before going out again.

He opened his eyes, even as everything appeared blurry to him, causing him to hold out his hand, then wave it before himself.

"Hello, I'm Vic Sage."

He waved his other hand too. "And I'm the Question!"

With that, he pressed both hands. "Totally different people!"

Then, Vic closed his eyes.

Later

Vic stood by the corner of the neighborhood, his head clearer now, the world not pulsing anymore, his fingers steady, the air still filled with gunpowder due to all the gang violence here.

He leaned against a wall.

King's out there. Killing them. Framing me. And he has to be close. You don't stage chaos from far away. You stay near it. Watch it burn.

The gang war had been confined to four blocks — Steel Vultures on one end, King's Men on the other. Every body dropped somewhere inside that radius. Every shooting, every scream, every smashed face.

Vic muttered to himself. "He's not driving here. He's walking distance. No car seen, no engine heard. No tire tracks at any of the killings."

That cut down half the map.

Vic stepped onto the main road, eyes scanning storefronts — laundromat, pawn shop, liquor store, deli the grocers. The kind of places you could hide in plain sight. He walked slow, tracing patterns in his head.

A hunter stays close, but not too close. Needs a place quiet enough to think, but near enough to listen.

He remembered where he'd fought the guy, and knew he'd to be nearby from there.

Vic followed the line in his head — the alley, the scrapyard it leads to, and the warehouses just past it. A dozen empty shells, rented out for cash. No paperwork.

He smiled thinly. "That's where I'd stay."

He started down the block.

A car screeched behind him. Vic turned — three men piled out, shotguns in hand. Steel Vultures.

The leader pointed. "You. Face-crusher. You killed Rico!"

Vic stepped back. "Heard the news. Sounds like someone's doing my job worse than me."

They didn't laugh. One raised the gun. Vic dove as the shot cracked the wall, rolling into an alley. Shards rained from the brick. He sprinted, vaulted a fence, and landed in a puddle.

Another voice was heard. "He's over there!"

He ducked behind a dumpster, waiting until the nearest one came close. Vic came out fast, grabbed his wrist, and slammed it against the wall. The gun went off, useless. Then he kneed the man's gut and headbutted him out. The next one was aiming but Vic hit him with a swing from the shotgun stock, breaking teeth.

The third one hadn't gotten his weapon out of his vehicle and ran off.

Vic leaned against the wall, breath steady.

They're hunting me like I'm the ghost they made up. And King's watching somewhere, enjoying the irony.

He moved again, deeper into the industrial side.

At the edge of the block stood the old Hensley Motors warehouse. Boarded windows, rusted sign, one working light over the door.

A good place to disappear. A good place to plan murders.

Vic circled around, checking the side door.

Locked from inside.

He climbed the drainpipe, easing through a window with a missing pane. The air inside was thick with oil and dust.

Vic took out his phone and used his flashlight, seeing crates, broken chairs and old tires. Then he saw it: a desk. On it, scattered photos, clippings, and papers. His vigilante name on half of them.

He walked closer.

Newspaper cutouts — "The Question Saves Trafficking Victims," "Masked Vigilante Foils Rogue Cop."

Including dates.

Vic exhaled slowly. "You've been doing your homework, Orwell."

On the wall, more photos.

Crime scenes from the past month, marked with red pen. Some had notes scrawled in the margins.

"Mimic angle — head impact force consistent."

Then, under the photos, pinned in a neat row — some case files.

Clearly stolen.

He flipped through one.

Vic frowned. He looked at the table again, seeing a map, which had gang territories outlined, a circle over each area where fighting happened. And the next hit marked for tomorrow night. Location — King's Men safehouse on Hunter Avenue.

So that's your next play, huh? You kill them, use my method again, leave me holding the bag.

He pocketed the map.

King's not just copying me. He's studying me. And I just found the classroom.

A floorboard creaked behind him. He froze.

Vic turned, too slow. The shadow moved and a fist struck his jaw, knocking him sideways into the table, papers scattering.

"Too predictable, Vic," Orwell's voice said. "I learn fast."

Vic's teeth hurt. "You copy fast, too."

He ducked under another swing and drove his elbow into Orwell's ribs/ Orwell barely flinched, turned with the motion, grabbed Vic's wrist, twisted it hard, and slammed his knee into Vic's stomach.

Vic grunted, stumbling back.

Orwell came in again. Vic slipped under a punch, shoved him toward the wall, and tried to rush. Orwell ducked, grabbed a broken chair leg and swung, striking Vic's thigh.

"Funny," Orwell said, circling. "You fight like you've already lost."

Vic snarled. "You fight like you're trying to be me."

Orwell smiled and lunged. Vic side-stepped, caught the arm and rammed him into a support beam.

Orwell slammed his head back, getting Vic's nose, then shoved him away and punched his chest, then jabbed his throat.

Vic staggered, coughing.

King punched high; Vic blocked. Left feint—Vic moved wrong.

Orwell swept his legs, sending him crashing.

Orwell's boot came down. Vic caught and pushed back, before getting up, punching Orwell into a stack of crates, as both fell together.

Orwell recovered first, and drove a knee up into Vic's ribs when he tried to get up. Vic punched his gut and headbutted him.

They broke apart, breathing ragged.

"You don't quit," Orwell said.

"Never learnt how."

They charged again. Orwell swung wide; Vic ducked under, caught the forearm, and slammed his fist into Orwell's jaw thrice. Orwell blocked the fourth time and punched his cheek, then jabbed his throat, Vic staggering back.

He threw a right hook, then a left cross, both blocked.

Orwell tried to counter with a knee, but Vic grabbed his jacket and pulled him down instead, smashing him into the floor.

As he started getting up, Vic kicked his head, sending him crashing into the wall.

But Orwell laughed. "You're improving," he said.

Vic stepped closer. "You're done."

Orwell smiled through split lips. "Not even close. You think this is about gangs? It's bigger than them. Bigger than you. You'll see soon enough."

Vic walked to him. "Talk."

"Or what? You'll smash my and prove my point?" Orwell grinned, then stepped back fast, a small device already in his hand. Smoke burst between them.

When it cleared, Orwell was gone. The side door creaked open somewhere down the hall.

Vic stood still, chest heaving,

Run while you can, King. You'll have to stop somewhere.

Wesley sat together with Calloway, watching the news, which showed the clip of the people screaming 'Vote for Marsh' in front of Myra, who couldn't respond and just sat in the car, leaving the area.

"According to polls so far, with this allegation, Myra Connelly's side has taken a hit, her campaign might just hang by a thread, especially with the election ongoing, as everyone votes for one of the two candidates."

Wesley gave Calloway a look, Calloway shrugging.

"You know she can't win a rigged game", he pointed out. "I think the lesson has been learnt now."

Calloway nodded. "Sure, I'll see to it." He added. "Besides, we know what'd happen if she loses, right?"

Wesley chuckled. "Yes, we do."

At the same time, Vic stood on a rooftop.

It's different now. Before, I hunted them. This time, they're hunting me.

Ending credits play.

Chapter Text

Douglas Yates walked into his house, closing the door, putting his briefcase down before he walked to his large table, big enough to accommodate at least two families, yet still being reserved only for himself, for it was a big house, owned by him due to all the money that he had, enough to spend a million and still not feel it, while others in the city struggled to even make ends meet, but that wasn't his problem.

He'd earned all of this with his own merit, the others in the city could do the same instead of whining about those who'd it better in life because they'd worked instead of rambling nonsense about wealth gap and inequality between classes.

Only, when he reached his table, someone grabbed him from behind, causing him to gasp while grasping his attacker's wrist, to no avail, for the attacker smashed his head on his own table hard, drawing blood while he cried out in pain, the attacker smashing his head another time, injuring him even more.

"This is justice that I'm giving to this city, against scum like you!"

Then, the attacker smashed his head one last time, harder than ever, causing Yates to fall to the ground, dead, his head lying in a pool of his own blood.

Above Yates' body stood a figure in a trench-coat with a hat on the top of his head, a mask upon his face that was faceless!

The Question!

A question mark is shown over what appears to be a blank face, alongside various pictures and newspaper clippings attached via tape, the title card saying 'THE QUESTION' appearing, as 'THE QUESTION - Original Instrumental Music - William McCarthy' plays in the background, whispers being heard over the noir music.

Next morning

Vic woke up in his apartment, rubbing his eyes, still recovering from the fight he'd against Orwell King the previous night. Removing the bedsheets from over himself, Vic stood up, and staggered to the bathroom, brushing his teeth, then rinsing his mouth, after which he washed his face, seeing his surroundings a bit more clearly.

I couldn't stop King, who is still trying to get to my alter-ego. Even while I was asleep, he might have done something else to make the Question's work harder.

Walking back into his room, Vic picked up his phone, looking at a few notifications, which he swiped away, only for one notification to get his attention, Vic narrowing his eyes on seeing it.

'Rich businessman murdered by the Question'.

Alarmed, Vic opened the video, which showed someone dressed in a mask very much like the Question's smashing Douglas Yates' head onto the table thrice, killing him with the third smash.

Then, a reporter spoke- "This is the chilling video recovered from the site of the crime. Douglas Yates was a man beloved by his community, and is murdered by what seems like the Vigilante, the Question, who made his presence known about a month ago. While people have tolerated him in spite of being scared, after this incident, any approval he had has plummeted off of a cliff."

Vic sighed, putting the phone back down, while looking up at the ceiling, staring without seeing for a few seconds, wondering how King had done this of all things now.

He did do something to make my work harder. Way harder.

Walking to where his bag was, Vic took out a small packet of the powder, and taking out the powder itself, Vic sniffed it with one nostril, letting himself fall to the floor, eyes closed, the journalist lost in this temporary pleasure which he knew was risky for him, but this was all he could think of doing in the moment to process the fact that his alter-ego had been framed by the assassin who was after him.

A bunch of gangsters from two different gangs was one thing, but a rich and popular businessman was another entirely, even if he was a corrupt one.

Things really have gotten out of hand. And yes, me too. Just tasting some more defeat.

Captain Eric Wallace stood in front of the press, which included Dennis Kolchak of the KBEL News, his mic pointed at the police captain, alongside everyone else's.

"What'd you have to say about the murder, Captain Wallace?" Kolchak asked him, a bit conflicted, since he remembered the Question had saved him. "Do you truly believe the Question has done it?"

"We've the footage with us, that is proof that he did do it", Wallace pointed out, Kolchak running a hand across his head.

"But someone who was considered kind of a hero until now, why do you believe he'd turn around and murder someone for no reason, Captain?" A female reporter inquired, causing Wallace to scoff in what seemed like a mix of annoyance and amusement.

"Someone who goes out putting a beating on people is not a hero. Remember, he might have beaten up a bunch of criminals, but he is the same man who also put a few cops in the hospital with his punches, so trust me when I say this- he is no hero!" Wallace declared to the press conference. "He is just a freak in a faceless mask who is beating people up instead of getting the therapy his parents never got for him."

"What'd you think should be the department's next course of action, Captain?" One more reporter asked Wallace, who leaned into a bunch of mics, speaking loudly and clearly so everyone could hear him.

"We have tolerated this vigilante long enough. The law is the law. And now that he has crossed to committing murder of a respected businessman like Douglas Yates, it is time for us to bring him in. Hear this, Question- you've two days, surrender yourself to us. Either way, we're coming for you with arrest warrants. Don't make this any harder than it has to be."

Myra watched the news, putting her drink down, still irritated by Calloway's threat and the people protesting against her from earlier, especially during election time.

"Guess you're no longer their favorite either", she muttered to the absent Question, feeling a sort of kinship to him in this moment. While she didn't know him, obviously, she'd noticed that he only exposed and injured people. This was the first she'd heard anything of Question actually killing someone.

She got up, walking off to her laptop to look a few things up, and also to get her mind off of the allegations against her, and the election also, since that was stressful.

While the allegations weren't true, as long as they stuck, her campaign was in peril, during this election time.

KBEL News Office

Vic sat before Bear, groaning, his boss looking at his face with some concern. "You okay, Vic?"

"Yeah boss", Vic muttered, grasping and shaking his head. "Just a little peachy. What's going on?"

"As you know, the Question got accused of murder, and there's video footage to prove he did it too", Bear started telling Vic.

"I mean, we sure it wasn't someone else who got a faceless mask and wore the same kind of clothes to frame the Question?" Vic asked, causing Bear to raise an eyebrow.

"What makes you say that?"

"Well, because Question hasn't killed anyone until now. Injured, sure, but not killed", Vic replied to Bear, before pointing at him. "Plus, he did save you, boss, right?"

Bear sighed, having to concede to that point by his star (and really weird) employee. "Yes, he did save me, told Bolton not to kill me, fought him when he tried to do it still. I do want to believe its not the Question, but until we get evidence to contradict that video footage, I'm not sure what we can say that doesn't sound like one of your conspiracy theories."

"I mean, aliens are-"

"Give it a break!" Bear scoffed, leaning back in his chair. "Still, if you get anything, feel free to tell me. Go for it, Vic."

"Thanks boss."

Later

Tot opened his door, seeing Vic standing in front of him, causing Tot to look at the man up and down, no emotion visible on his face, after which he turned around and walked to his desk, Vic coming in and closing the door behind him. "Look, I know you're still mad, but-"

"You're here about the murder of Yates, right?" Tot asked Vic as he spun around, Vic nodding. "You think the assassin did it?"

"The only possibility, Tot", Vic told his friend.

"You sure it wasn't you under the influence of drugs?"

Vic's eyes widened, Tot walking closer to him. "After all, considering everything else, and your drug addiction, that could be possible too, right?"

Vic immediately denied it. "No! I didn't take any drugs until-"

"Until when?" Tot asked, raising an eyebrow, Vic groaning, realizing Tot had caught him again.

The drugs are making me blunt. Still nice though. Not harming anyone else, right?

"…..today morning."

Tot scoffed, taking off his glasses and cleaning them, before sitting back down on his desk. "Until you give this nonsense up, you're not making this city a better place. How'd you expect to fight for the city if you can't even fight your own worst instincts?"

"Look Tot, you can lecture me all you want", Vic started, walking to where Tot was, and leaning in near him, looking right into the man's eyes, Tot putting his cleaned glasses back on, staring back at Vic fearlessly, holding his gaze. "But this is more important, alright?"

Tot sighed. "You're right, it is." Vic moved off, standing behind Tot, who began typing at his laptop. "If he's got the city believing you're a murderer, it's only a matter of time before the wrong person finds you first."

"According to the footage, he wore a mask just like mine", Vic told Tot. "But you're the only one still out here who has any Pseudoderm, and I know you're not the type to just give it away. While Twain and Kane are both in prison, so I know its not them either. What else can it be?"

"I'll try to find out, why don't you check out the crime scene?" Tot suggested, Vic nodding as he walked off. "And don't take any drugs in the way."

Vic opened his mouth to reply, then stopped himself short, deciding it wasn't worth it. So, he just opened the door, walked out, and closed the door behind him.

Vic, now having his Question mask on his face, stood at the site of the murder, seeing an outline drawn around where Yates' body had lain after being killed. He looked up at the camera, seeing it was off now, since this was a crime scene at this point.

The Question walked around the outline, looking at the blood at the table, mixed with some skin, and the blood on the ground, concentrated at the spot where Yates' head had been after he'd been killed and fallen down over here.

Orwell King, he was already copying my style against the gangsters to frame me. Now, he got a mask like mine too, and a camera to be seen doing it. Unless I get anything that says otherwise, no one will believe that Question is not the killer.

That was when Vic did a double take at the blood on the table, leaning closer to see the skin he thought it'd been mixed with.

Only, when he was really close, he realized something.

This wasn't skin at all!

Holding out his hand, Vic scraped that flake off of the table, holding the finger up to his hand and sniffing it.

Looks glossy, and feels brittle. Definitely a clue.

Vic put the little flake in his own pocket now, deciding this could help in tracking down King, and whoever had gotten him the mask and all.

Later, Tot's workshop

Vic dropped the tiny vial onto Tot's cluttered workbench. The lab smelled of solder, oil, and something chemical that made his nostrils itch, as if it was going against the drugs he'd taken earlier. Tot looked up from a half-disassembled device, eyes narrowing over thick glasses.

"So, this is the murder flake?" Tot asked, voice flat but curious.

"Not just any flake," Vic said. He leaned forward, resting his elbows on the edge of the bench. "This one's meant to make it look like me. But it's not my mask. Something cheaper, weaker. Which you and I both already know, they don't have any Pseudoderm or anything, after all."

Tot put it under the magnifying lens of a microscope and held the fragment against the light. "You always bring me the weirdest things," he muttered, then squinted at the microscope. "Huh. You weren't kidding."

Vic stood silently as Tot adjusted dials and flicked switches, the little machine whirring to life. The flake glimmered under the lens, rigid and brittle.

"Latex?" Tot said finally. "No. Some kind of synthetic polymer. Not Pseudoderm. Not even close. It's… off. Baked too much, too brittle. Whoever made it didn't care if it lasted. Just wanted it to fool the eye for an hour or two."

Vic nodded. "Fools the eye, not the touch. He is sloppy."

Tot tapped a button and a screen lit up with magnified images. "See that?" He pointed at the microscopic pattern in the polymer. "Those streaks? That's industrial-grade solvent residue. Very specific. I've seen it once before — small-time prosthetic and mask shops, nothing fancy. Definitely not the labs or studios that can work with professional-grade Pseudoderm if they had it, which they don't. This is… local. Cheap. Disposable. Perfect for a hit-and-run mask for sure, just good enough to frame you for this murder, make it look like you did it, ruining the Question's reputation."

Vic let the words sink in. "Local." He crossed his arms. "So, we're looking for someone small. Hidden. Someone the city's forgotten. Someone who'd be unknown, discreet enough to the point most wouldn't even acknowledge his existence. And since the police just think I did it, they wouldn't look into such leads anyways. After all, I took the flake so we could look over it."

Tot smiled faintly, before it faded just as quickly. "I'd say that you're looking at a place near the train yard. There's an old mask shop at that spot, it has been there for many years, nothing official though. The guy who works at the shop, he makes props, party masks, horror masks, occasional prosthetics. His name is Harvey Grinell. He used to sell to carnivals, street performers. It's the kind of place that wouldn't even show up in your usual city maps, since he went under later on due to bad business, but he still tries to keep the shop open, and sells things to anyone he can at this point."

Vic nodded slowly. "Near the tracks. Good. Shadows, noise. A place to hide." He let the thought linger. "Grinell."

"Yeah," Tot said. "I can tell you more. This solvent's traceable. The batches are small, ordered in the hundreds of grams. You can follow it. Ask him questions, see if anyone unusual has been in. Someone who fits your mask-murder profile. Which is of course, Orwell King. Would be the best opportunity to get your hands on the guy this time, before he gets away to kill someone while posing in a cheap version of my mask again."

Vic leaned back, hands resting on the edge of Tot's bench. "So, our killer comes to a little shop to get his mask made. Cheap, disposable, built to last for an hour or two maximum. And the guy's probably scared out of his mind to talk, considering what Orwell King is capable of.."

"Most people are," Tot replied. "They see a faceless guy like you in the city and they think you're a ghost, or worse. But Grinell's the type who'll talk if you make him feel safe… or cornered. Both work, in my experience that is."

Vic considered that, rubbing his jaw. "Safe, or cornered. One way or another, I'll get the truth. This King can't be let to go on, using my no-face to commit crimes."

Tot leaned back in his chair, propping his glasses on his forehead, nodding in agreement at that part. "There's one more thing." He picked up the flake again, rolling it gently between tweezers. "This stuff doesn't last long on skin in general. A few hours, maybe a day before it crumbles. Whoever wore it — they were depending on the mask staying in place just long enough. They weren't thinking about the consequences, just the illusion."

Vic's lips pressed into a thin line. "Illusion. That's what it's all about. The mask doesn't have to be permanent. Just convincing long enough for someone else to pay for their mistakes."

Tot looked at him and grinned faintly. "Sounds like someone's philosophy all over again. But this time, it's someone bad." Vic smiled faintly, realizing Tot didn't see him as bad even after the drugs, though he definitely did not condone drug use, which he could understand. But would he stop using the drugs to make himself feel better every time he took any kind of hit?

He honestly didn't know yet, he hadn't tried. And he wasn't sure he even wanted to try.

Vic tapped the table with a finger of his, putting the thoughts of his little drug addiction out of his mind, for now at least. "Then we find him. And the mask maker leads us right to him. No more shadows. No more lies."

Tot nodded. "If you go tonight, don't get sloppy. Train yard's quiet, but it's not empty. Freight comes through all night. And don't take any drugs, they'll just make your vision and senses all blurry, and then he could get the better of you, which neither of us wants to happen."

Vic placed the vial in his coat pocket, wincing a little, but nodding nonetheless. "I'll keep my eyes open. And my hands cleaner than his."

Tot shrugged. "Do whatever you want to do here. Ask questions. Watch people. The truth's always under the surface, but sometimes you need a little microscope to see it."

Vic moved toward the door, shoulders tense, ready for the hunt to finally catch and stop Orwell King once and for all. "Then let's see what truths are hiding in the tracks tonight."

Tot watched him go, muttering to himself with a shake of his head. "Faceless or with his face, but never silent. That guy. Why does he do drugs?"

Vic slipped into the night outside, the vial's fragment burning weightlessly in his pocket, a tiny key to this killer's undoing.

Myra narrowed her eyes in front of her laptop, seeing an article from a few years ago, with a picture of Wesley and Yates shaking hands with smiles, which was when the door closed behind her, Myra turning around to see it was Wesley, just having entered. "Hey darling."

"Hi", Myra echoed, getting up and giving him a quick kiss to his lips. "How was your day?"

"The usual. Look, I know that whole accusation against you sucks and all, especially during election time, and its bogus, but we'll get through it, you'll win, and you've me by your side", Wesley assured Myra while grasping her shoulders, Myra smiling gratefully, as Wesley looked over her shoulder to see the picture of himself with Yates. "Ah, looking up that guy?"

"Just got curious after seeing the news of his murder", Myra confessed, turning around to look at the article again. "And wasn't in the mood to go out due to the whole embezzling thing. He funded your campaign when you were running, huh?"

"Yeah, was a nice guy", Wesley said, turning away so Myra didn't see the look on his face. "Sad, what happened to him." With a little smirk, he added. "And don't worry, before your ex asks, I'd nothing to do with this. If I did, you'd never be able to find the body, darling." That made Myra chuckle in response, though she found her chuckle lacking in humor, for reasons she could not tell yet.

Vic moved through the alley, keeping low, eyes scanning the shadows between flickering streetlights. The smell of smoke and burnt rubber was in the air. The smell of weapons. The city never slept, but tonight it was breathing tension itself, a thin, sharp thing that scraped at his nerves.

Ahead, the streets were scarred by the latest gang war from not too long ago.

King's Men and Steel Vultures had carved up blocks like a butcher with a slab of meat, like they always did.

Broken bottles and glasses glittered here and there on the streets, and the sound of shouting echoed between the walls.

He remembered when he had saved a grocer from a stray bullet here earlier, but that was before, when bullets were closer than the fear that these people now felt due to what King had done while posing as him.

He ducked behind a dumpster as a group of teens huddled near a corner, peering at him wide-eyed. Even the grocer he had saved stepped back, hands raised defensively. "Q… Question?" He muttered, sound very uncertain.

Vic's face remained still beneath the mask.

The Vultures' colors and the King's Men's jackets marked their territory like an open wound. Several figures stepped forward, laughing, jeering.

"Well, if it ain't the ghost himself," one of King's Men said. "Thought we'd seen the last of you after—" He stopped mid-laugh when he looked at the rigid, unreadable posture of Vic.

Another spat on the ground. "He saved you, stupid man," a Vulture muttered, nodding at the grocer. "And now you're scared of him? Ha! Figures. That's what these people usually do, they love to scare. Like that Arrow guy, and the Bat guy and all, if he is real."

Vic didn't respond. The air currently was too thin for any hesitation. He just moved out of the shadows, letting the faceless mask stare down anyone who was stupid enough to step too close. The teen ducked behind a stall, muttering under her breath. A few other people nearby scattered, shuffling back, glancing at him as though they feared a sudden storm would follow in his footsteps.

Three gang members from either side lingered, enough for a fight, but not a crowd. And they did want to fight, because they were moving towards him.

No guns, they want a good old-fashioned beatdown.

Vic shifted his weight, fists loose as he cracked his knuckles, his unseen eyes tracking their hands, their posture, the subtle way they tried to mask their hesitation with bravado and mockery.

"You think that little save earns you respect?" One said, stepping forwards with a smirk. "You killed a bunch of us before, remember? Smashed our heads and left us bleeding. Don't think you'll get away from all of that stuff scot-free, no-faced freak!"

Vic didn't answer. He leaned away slightly, letting the first punch by this guy swing past his shoulder. His footwork was simple but precise, designed to keep him unbalanced but ready. The second punch came low, and he ducked, spinning into a short jab that landed on a jaw. The man staggered back, surprised and stunned.

The second gang member lunged at him. Vic blocked the blow with a forearm, then shoved the man into a pile of trash cans nearby. A clang echoed in the alley. "You're quick," one said mockingly, holding a makeshift knife. "But a ghost can't bleed. Can't die. Your days of head-smashing end here, you freak!"

Vic's voice was calm. Flat. "Neither can a lie bleed or die," he said. "The days of head-smashing murders will end for sure though, I can assure you of that." Then, Vic moved. First, he gave a low kick to the shin, following up with a push into the wall, and then a hit to the shoulder that left the knife uselessly clattering to the ground.

The third man charged, swinging wildly, his anger overriding his strategy. Vic pivoted, sidestepping to avoid his punches, after which he landed a series of short strikes aimed not to cripple but to unbalance. Each movement was precise and restrained, striking the man at the side of the throat, the side of his chest, and his guy, leaving the man stumbling against the wall, winded and cursing.

The three collapsed into a heap of groans and muttered insults.

Vic didn't gloat. He just stepped back, mask gleaming in the dim light, the silence that followed broken only by the distant roar of a freight train.

The grocer Vic had saved earlier now looked at him differently, eyes wary. "I… I didn't think—"

Vic's hands flexed at his sides. "I am not here to earn gratitude."

Another grocer from a nearby stall shook his head, muttering, "We saw what you did, but… still…" He trailed off, watching Vic vanish into the alley's darkness.

Vic continued forward, stepping over broken glass and scattered debris, letting the city's pulse guide him. Inside, he was careful not to let satisfaction seep in. Not for the fight, not for proving them wrong. Emotions were just a luxury, a distraction he couldn't afford. Yet, in the briefest moments, he allowed a recognition of fear: his presence altered the world around him, even if the people didn't understand it.

A teen who had been huddled by a wall muttered under her breath as he passed, "He's… scary."

Vic simply noted what was going on now, considering the winds always blew to change the directions of everything.

They fear what they don't understand. And they fear me because I am not them. Even without the murder accusation, they'd be scared of me for many reasons. I do not hope. I do not regret. I do not lie. I only pursue the truth.

His steps slowed as he approached the outskirts of the gang war zone, the streetlights now flickering in an uneven rhythm. Somewhere between broken glass and graffiti, the echoes of gunfire and laughter were swallowed by the city's hum.

He glanced at the alley behind him. The gang members were still groaning in pain, and the eyes of the civilians remained wary for the most part.

it didn't matter to him.

Vic didn't seek admiration. He didn't need any validation of any sort.

His path was clear.

Emotions are for others. Truth is the only thing worth the fight. That is why I drown my emotions when I feel them.

A slight gust carried the smell of smoke and oil as he moved past the streets now emptying in cautious retreat. Somewhere ahead, Grinell's shop waited, the neon humming faintly, a small beacon among the chaos. The flake in his pocket was a promise. The mask-maker would speak. The truth would emerge.

Vic's hands tightened slightly, but his face remained calm behind the faceless mask.

He was not a hero.

Not a savior.

Not even a ghost.

He was merely the question — the one who would unravel lies, and let the guilty answer for themselves.

The alley ended. The train yard lights flickered in the distance. He adjusted his pace, blending with shadows, muscles loose, senses alert. There was no fear, no pride, only the silent drive that had carried him through every street, every fight, every deception.

Truth. Nothing more.

And tonight, it would be uncovered.

Vic slipped into the shop.

Mannequin heads, jars of chemicals, and half-finished masks crowded the shelves.

Grinell jumped, dropping a small headpiece onto the counter.

"Q—Question?" He stammered.

"Yes. I need your help," Vic said, voice steady. He held up the tiny flake. "You recognize this?"

Grinell took it from him, turning it over. "That… that's from my shop. I—I didn't make it for anyone except…" His voice faltered.

"Who?"

"Some guy calling himself Orwell King. He made me do it. He said if I didn't, he'd—" Grinell swallowed, shaking. "He'd make sure I vanished. I thought… I thought you were him for a second."

Vic nodded slowly. "He's not me. You didn't do anything wrong. But I need everything you know. How it was made, where, when, and anything else that you can tell me."

Grinell's hands trembled. "I can tell you… but I'm scared. He's ruthless. He doesn't leave mistakes. He'll kill me if I talk."

Vic leaned on the counter. "You'll be safe here. Nobody touches you tonight. I'm not leaving until the truth comes out."

Grinell glanced at the masks. "I—I made a batch. Synthetic polymer. Cheap stuff and all that. He picked it up himself. Paid in cash. Said it had to look like… like you. Only for a night. Just to fool someone, not to last. He wanted to make sure it lasted long enough to sell the illusion. He didn't want any full mask or anything."

Vic's eyes narrowed beneath the mask. "He knew it wouldn't hold. That tells me he only cared about the immediate result. Not long-term consequences. Typical."

"He came back twice," Grinell continued. "Always impatient, always threatening. Said I'd better have it ready on time. Never explained why. But now I know."

Vic's mind worked quickly. "And you know his name, of course."

"Yes! Like I said, its Orwell King. That's all he told me."

"Alright then."

Grinell's voice dropped to a whisper. "I swear, I didn't know he'd kill anyone after that, and then frame you for the murders that he'd commit."

Vic nodded. "Good. That's enough for now. You've been honest, and it matters. Now I need you to help me set the next step in motion."

Grinell blinked. "Next step?"

"I want you to call him," Vic said, voice calm. "Tell him there's a flaw in the batch. He'll want to see it himself. Bring him here. I'll be waiting."

Grinell paled. "You want me to call him? Here?"

"Yes. Tell him he has a problem. He won't suspect anyone else. He trusts you. Or at least he trusts that you're too scared to talk to anyone and trick him. That's the angle. He comes, we end this."

"I… I don't know if I can," Grinell whispered.

"You can," Vic said firmly. "You want to live. You want this nightmare over. You call him, you tell him the batch has an issue. You do exactly that. He comes. That's all. Nothing more. I handle the rest."

Grinell looked at the flake in Vic's hand. "I—I can do that. But if he—"

"He won't," Vic interrupted. "Not tonight. I won't let him hurt you."

Grinell nodded, trembling. "Okay. I'll call him. I'll say… the masks aren't holding. That it's a flaw. He'll come."

"Good," Vic said. "And Grinell…"

"Yes?"

"Stay inside. Lock the door. Wait for instructions. Keep calm."

Grinell swallowed and nodded again. Vic stepped back into the shadows of the shop, mask stiff, senses alert. The faint hum of the neon sign outside marked the quiet before the storm.

"Tonight," Vic murmured to himself, "we see if the truth can survive a face without a mask."

He stood, waiting, every muscle ready. Somewhere, King was walking into the trap, and Grinell's honesty was the key.

King stepped through the shop door, eyes scanning the cluttered shelves, expecting Grinell to be cowering somewhere. Instead, Vic stood in the center of the room, mask unflinching, fists clenched, body taut.

"So, the little shopkeeper sent me a message," King said, voice low and cold. "Thought you'd help me, old man. But someone else answers instead."

Vic stayed silent. He shifted his weight, watching King closely. King lunged with a straight punch. Vic ducked and hit back with a quick jab to the ribs.

King grunted and took a step back, adjusting his stance. Next, King went for a sweep kick. Vic jumped back, countering with a push that sent King stumbling into a stack of crates.

Vic landed two punches to King's shoulder. Then he blocked a hook and responded with a short punch to King's jaw. King spun away, grabbed a knife from his belt, and slashed forward.

Vic ducked, feeling the blade slice the air where his head had just been.

He countered with a kick to King's thigh, followed by two quick punches to the midsection.

King staggered but came back swinging, throwing a punch, then a kick, then ducking under Vic's counter.

Vic read King's movements.

He focused on the subtle shifts in weight and King's shoulders twitching before each strike. He sidestepped a jab, pivoted, and landed two quick punches to King's side.

King blocked and retaliated with a sweeping kick. Vic jumped back and countered with a jab to King's shoulder, then pushed him into the edge of the counter.

King hissed and slashed the knife in a wide arc. Vic ducked, rolled forward, and came up behind him, hitting King's back with two punches.

King spun, striking with a knee and punch combination. Vic blocked the knee, grabbed King's arm, and twisted it, forcing King to stumble into a shelf.

A jar rattled and broke, but Vic didn't stop. King recovered and swung the knife low. Vic leaned back, kicked King's leg, and landed a punch to his shoulder.

King ducked under another strike, slashing the knife toward Vic's side. Vic blocked with his forearm, then landed two punches to King's ribs, followed by a kick that sent King stumbling back.

"They'll never trust you," King spat. "Even if you win, you lose."

Vic didn't flinch. He circled, predicting King's next move. King lunged with a right hook and then a left uppercut with the knife, aiming to unbalance Vic. Vic stepped back, leaned sideways, and hit King's shoulder with a punch, then followed with a quick jab to the jaw. King countered with a kick, which Vic blocked.

Then Vic hit back with two short punches to the ribs. King's knife flashed once more, slashing low. Vic ducked and pulled on King's leg, sending him off balance as he got back up.

King stumbled but regained his footing, swinging the knife in a wide arc. Vic sidestepped, grabbed King's wrist, and twisted, forcing him against the wall.

King grunted and elbowed Vic in the side, but Vic saw the opening. He threw a punch to King's chest, then another to his jaw, pushing King back. King tried a spinning kick.

Vic jumped back, countering with a shove and two rapid punches to the midsection, then backed off. King slashed downward with the knife.

Vic ducked, rolled, and came up with a kick to King's knee. King stumbled, cursed, and swung the knife in a quick series of thrusts.

Vic blocked the first thrust, ducked the second, and landed two punches to King's ribs.

Vic narrowed his eyes, watching King reset, knife in hand, stance tight.

He anticipated King's next moves: feint left, stab right, then a kick to unbalance him. When King lunged, Vic sidestepped, using King's momentum against him.

Vic threw a punch to King's shoulder, then hit him with a quick strike to the side.

Finally, he twisted King's arm and kicked him, sending King stumbling toward the open door.

King's knife hand struck against the door. King's knife clattered to the floor as Vic's next punch caught him off balance.

Vic grabbed King by the shoulder and pushed him off, then threw a low kick to his shin. King staggered, scrambling for the knife, but Vic's fist caught him on the jaw.

King's eyes widened with pain as Vic countered him.

Vic took advantage of the opening, landing two quick punches to King's ribs and one to his shoulder. King spun and swung his fist wildly, but he missed. Vic ducked, countered with a punch to the midsection, then pushed King, sending him reeling toward the train tracks outside.

King scrambled to regain his footing, trying to stay upright. Vic approached cautiously, fists ready. King lunged with a swinging fist. Vic ducked, stepped aside, and delivered a punch to King's shoulder, followed by a jab to his jaw.

King attempted a kick, which Vic blocked, countering with two punches to the ribs. King staggered and became unsteady. Vic circled, watching closely, observing each twitch and movement. He could see King's next sequence before it happened: right hook, low punch, spinning kick.

Vic moved before King struck. He delivered a punch to King's chest, a jab to his ribs, and then a push that sent King closer toward the tracks.

King stumbled, hands grasping at the air. Vic landed a final punch to King's shoulder, forcing him closer to the edge.

King teetered, trying to regain balance, but it was too late.

The train's horn blared, lights flashing.

King's foot slipped. He fell onto the tracks.

The train hit moments later.

But King had recovered, and was already on the other side.

Vic stepped back, keeping distance from the noise, watching without emotion.

The two looked at each other from opposite sides of the track when the train's carriages did not obscure their views.

Then, King was gone.

Silence settled over the tracks, broken only by the fading rumble of metal on steel.

Vic turned back toward the shop, where Grinell emerged with wide eyes.

Vic walked toward Grinell, who looked scared yet relieved.

"He is gone, but he is not going to come back for you, as this plan has failed. Everything is as it should be now," he said.

Grinell nodded, trembling. "I… I'll call the authorities. I'll tell them everything. They'll know it wasn't you."

Vic's mask tilted slightly, acknowledging. "Good. Make sure they know the truth. That's all that matters."

With that, he turned around and walked off.

Vic's coat flapped gently in the night breeze.

His task complete, he disappeared into the shadows, leaving the aftermath behind.

The faceless illusion was gone. The truth had survived.

Next morning, KBEL News Office

"…and with the statement from shopkeeper Harvey Grinell, it has come out that the man who murdered Douglas Yates is an assassin named Orwell King, with known ties to organized crime. The mask was made by Grinell under threat of his life. With this revelation, the Question has been cleared of murder, but the reactions of everyone in Hub City towards him continue to remain mixed", Vic finished speaking on the news. "Will Question ever be considered a hero? Will there be more imposters? More tonight."

Wesley watched from his office, sipping his drink.

"Well, that went better than expected. Another connection to me shut down. And where did King go after this?"

Ending credits play.

Chapter Text

At nighttime, the planks at the door of a boarded-up building were kicked a few times by someone, breaking into pieces, after which, the figure walked inside, holding a tank of gasoline (or something like it) in their hands. Opening the tank up, the figure began pouring the "gasoline" all over the ground, the walls, and the stairs, drenching the entire building with the "gasoline" within a few minutes.

When they were done, the figure rubbed a matchstick against the matchbox, lighting their match up, after which, they walked out.

Turning around, they threw the match at the building, the structure now catching on fire, slowly finding itself consumed in the flames.

The fire reflected in the eyes of the figure.

"Burn it all."

The figure walked away, disappearing into the night, the fire spreading onto a few nearby structures as well.

A question mark is shown over what appears to be a blank face, alongside various pictures and newspaper clippings attached via tape, the title card saying 'THE QUESTION' appearing, as'THE QUESTION - Original Instrumental Music - William McCarthy'plays in the background, whispers being heard over the noir music.

Vic and Tot looked at the news, where the anchor was saying. "Just last night, another block of old buildings in the Hubard neighborhood has been destroyed. Witnesses say-"

Tot just shut it off, commenting. "That makes six in the past week. A lot of people would try and end up calling this redevelopment—I'm calling it arson."

Vic already had an idea of what to do. "Then we find the matchstick man."

He got up, about to walk out, only for Tot to say. "You remember what we talked about?"

Vic sighed, knowing exactly what Tot was referring to. "I remember, Tot."

"What'd you do about it?"

"I…." Vic trailed off, Tot folding his arms and leaning back in his chair.

"Until you do anything about it, I won't stop bringing it up. Keep that in mind, Vic."

Vic simply nodded. "I will." Then he walked out, closing the door behind him, Tot watching the spot where he'd stood in concern.

Outside, Vic went to an alley, and taking out some powder, sniffed it gladly, feeling a bit relieved, and put his hand against the wall, closing his eyes and kneeling to the ground, finding this a very pleasing feeling.

I'm doing this about it…

Vic was at the site of the crime now, walking through the ruins of the building, trying to find something, anything.

"Melted glass", he muttered, seeing some glass lying here and there. "Ashes. Lots of ashes. They must be forming a pattern." He staggered a bit, putting his hand on the burnt wall to steady himself now. "So, this pattern, what would it say? Something about the next target, all targets? Hmm?" He rubbed his head, getting down on one knee, finding some strange liquid on the ground. "What's this?"

He could hear Tot's voice in his head.

"Sniff enough truth, Vic, and you'll start seeing faces in the smoke."

Vic shook his head, and took the sample of that liquid, putting it inside a packet, before pocketing it and standing up, making sure no one had noticed him doing it.

"What'd they think of why I'm taking this? Would they think I've a thing for gasoline? Someone might have a thing for it, for many reasons", Vic rambled to himself, not even realizing that he was doing it for no reason at all, distracting himself from the fact that he'd a clue now.

"Vic?"

"Oh!" Vic spun around, seeing Myra standing in front of him, and pointed at her. "Hey Myra, good to see you, I think? Have any problems with Calloway recently? Is he a cannibal? All good there? Any progress on the election?"

"…What?" Myra asked, raising an eyebrow, confused by his tirade, before stepping over some ash to walk closer to him. "You alright, Vic? You're rambling things randomly."

"Right, right", Vic shook his head again to try and clear it up. "What are you doing here, Myra?"

"Heard about the building burning down, wanted to come see it myself", Myra said sadly, looking around at the ashes that they were standing amongst. "The destruction….its just….I don't even have words for it. Who could have done something like this?"

"Someone sick", Vic muttered. "Need to bring him in, save people and all."

"At least it was empty", Myra said, sounding relieved about that. "And it was just the building that ended up burning."

Vic gave her a look. "Just a building?" He snapped, causing her to blink in shock. "That's what they said about Rome also, look what happened to that entire Empire."

Myra was only getting more confused about what he was saying. "Uhhh…what?"

He took out his notepad, flipping pages too fast, before writing about his 'liquid' clue, his hand shaking, Myra putting a hand to his shoulder. "Vic, you're spiralling again." She still hadn't fully forgiven him for accusing Wesley, but then he was right to warn her about Calloway, she clearly hadn't been prepared to deal with that mess, and had briefly paid for it too.

He did care about her well-being, even if she didn't agree with his methods of doing things.

"The lines of ownership form a spiral too", Vic simply told her, just confusing her more. "Who owns this building? And the other buildings that got burnt down. Who're the owners of it?"

"You know….I actually don't know", Myra told the reporter, her eyebrows lighting up. "Let's find out together, huh?"

"Yeah, let's go", Vic muttered, Myra walking off as Vic looked at the ashes once more. "These patterns, the spirals, the lines of ownership, need to know more, need to know what's at the end of this long line of things, we must find out."

One guy walked by them. "You looking into this?" He nodded at Myra, knowing she was the candidate and all.

"We are", she confirmed to him.

"Well, saw a guy in a hood leaving the scene, make of that what you will", the man told them before walking off, both sharing a look before moving ahead.

Vic and Myra entered the city records building, Myra looking around at the state was in with a look of quiet shock, Vic noticing her reaction to this.

"First time here?" He asked, eyebrow raised, Myra turning to face him.

"…..Yeah." There was shame in her voice.

She was selling herself as the Mayor who would take Hub City to new heights, and help everyone leave the crime and corruption behind.

Yet, she did not even know that such an important place of the city was in such a weak condition. The city records building! With barely any workers!

They walked to the guy at the desk, who looked up, and did a double take on seeing Myra was here, plus the fact that Vic was here again.

"Oh! Miss Connelly, what can I do for you?" He asked her, Myra wanting to say something, but stopping herself due to the fact that she was still processing the condition of this entire building.

"The buildings that are being burnt since last week, we need records on them", Vic said immediately, then added. "If you don't help us, she'll fire you when she becomes Mayor."

The guy gulped, while Myra gave Vic a glare, after which she turned to the man. "No, I won't fire you. But your help would be much appreciated."

"Yes ma'am!" He walked up to the back, while Myra looked at Vic with folded arms.

"What was that?"

"Just giving him some incentive is all", Vic shrugged. "The guy needs it, clearly."

Myra rolled her eyes at his habits. These were the kinds of things that had made her break up with him, and while she still cared about Vic, this was not a decision she'd want to reverse even if she wasn't engaged to Wesley Fermin.

The man came back, holding some files, and put them on the table. "Here we are."

Vic and Myra took some files each, then walked off, sitting down, flipping through the files, Myra going through them slowly, Vic going through them a bit faster, his hands still shaking, which Myra noticed.

"You alright?" She asked a second time, and Vic just nodded.

"Yes, totally fine."

As they flipped through the files, both noticed a few common names in them.

"All of the owners of these buildings….." Myra noted. "They're shell companies."

Vic raised an eyebrow. "Who owns them?"

Myra looked ahead, not wanting to believe it.

"Wesley."

Vic almost fist-pumped, but barely stopped himself, rationalizing this was not the time, even if he was happy over the fact that he'd been proven right about Wesley after all, and perhaps Myra was going to see it now.

Myra put the files in front of Wesley, next to another folder that was out, while Wesley looked down at the files, then up at her disappointed face, Vic standing behind her, giving him a smug smirk while raising both eyebrows, as if to say 'well, what're you gonna do now, eh?'

"I thought you were trying to revitalize this city, not burn it down!" She said to him. "Why not tell me all of these shell companies that bought these buildings had connections to you? Is it because you gain from this arson?"

Behind her, Vic did an exploding gesture, just to display to Wesley how screwed he was now that Myra herself was questioning him.

Wesley walked behind his desk, his expression eerily calm. Then, he sighed.

"Myra", he said softly. "I think I understand the confusion." He reached into the folder on his desk and pulled out another stack of files, neatly clipped and marked with seals. "These are the acquisition documents for those buildings. They weren't bought by me, not directly. They were part of the Development Initiative we launched last year. Delegated contracts, handled through the Urban Renewal Board."

He slid them across to her, his fingers just brushing hers. "Here. You'll see my authorization covers only the funding—not the purchases. Those were overseen by the board's procurement officers. Look—" He pointed at a page. "—signed by Deputy Commissioner Rourke. Not me."

Myra frowned, flipping through the papers. Her anger began to falter as the official stamps and signatures now found themselves in her sight. "But these shell companies—"

"Were vetted," Wesley said quickly, almost stepping on her words, trying to make himself sound legit, "by independent contractors. I had no reason to question their legitimacy. Clearly someone in the chain misused their authority. I've already ordered an internal audit." He gave a little laugh, one that sounded self-deprecating. "You know me, Myra. If there's rot in my administration, I'll root it out myself."

Behind her, Vic snorted. "Yeah, real inspiring. You run the show, but somehow the clowns keep setting the tent on fire."

Wesley didn't look at him, he just adjusted his cufflinks. "You're welcome to check the city records, Mr. Sage. Everything's above board." He turned back to Myra, his voice softening again. "I would never risk this city. Or you."

She hesitated, the papers trembling slightly in her hands. "It's just… it looks bad, Wes. These names, the timing…"

"I know," he said, leaning forward, his tone now low, even intimate. "It's meant to. Someone's using me as cover. Whoever's torching these buildings is smart—they know what strings to pull to make me look guilty." He reached out, touching her arm gently. "But I'll find them. You have my word."

Vic's voice cut in again, sharp and mocking. "Oh, sure. The noble Mayor betrayed by his own people. I've seen this movie."

That earned him a glance—a cool, almost pitying look from Wesley. "Vic, I think you've been reading too many conspiracy blogs. And writing a few of your own. Do you write them? Hard to keep track nowadays, what with all your ramblings and everything."

Myra finally looked over her shoulder. "Vic, please. Not now."

He raised his hands. "Fine. But don't say I didn't warn you when your fiancé's the one holding the match over this city."

Wesley gave a quiet sigh, turned to Myra again, and said with the calm of a man who knew he'd the upper hand in this situation. "I'll have my office send you copies of everything. Transparency, isn't that right? That's how we do things."

Myra's eyes softened. "Right." She gathered the papers, her voice quieter now. "I just needed to be sure." She smiled at him. "Now I am."

"Of course you did." Wesley smiled back, the perfect public face reassembled. "You're too good for me, you know that?"

Vic muttered something under his breath that might've been a laugh—or a curse.

"She is", he muttered. With that, he walked off, brushing his shoulder against Vic's, the reporter sighing while he briefly watched the man retreat, then turned to Myra, who was looking at him.

"He had no part in this, he proved it", she insisted on seeing his look. Of course, he didn't even budge.

"You actually believe that nonsense?" He asked, causing Myra to glare at him. "All of this is just a bunch of layers to cover up his own role with this. Don't play into his hands, Myra."

Myra shook her head, putting her hands on his shoulders, feeling some of the shakes slightly. "You can't keep doing this, Vic. Not every shadow hides a monster."

Vic scoffed and walked off. "No, but every monster casts a shadow."

Myra watched after his retreating form sadly, and as he disappeared from her view, she sighed and turned away.

Vic crashed in his apartment, his back to the wall, finally coming down from the high he'd been at not too long ago.

"Did I just…..mime an explosion in front of Wesley?" He muttered, then groaned as he punched the wall. "What in the…?" Going over to his board, he took out a marker and started scrawling some lines.

"There is a pattern, behind these fires, I just need to know is all, yep, that's it-"

Later

Vic dropped the packet on the table between Tot and himself. It was not that much bigger than a normal-sized matchbox, wrapped in some plastic, the grey dust at its very edges.

Tot looked at it, then at Vic. "You carried that in your pocket then?"

"Souvenir," Vic said, slumping into the chair across from Tot. "Something the fire clearly forgot to eat."

Tot pinched the plastic open with tweezers and brought it under the desk lamp. The light caught a faint shimmer. "You sure it's from the site?"

"Oh yeah, found it there, smelled funny, so I took it."

Tot bent close, nostrils flaring once. "Not kerosene. Not paint thinner either. Something mixed." He tapped the tweezers on the glass dish. "You ever see a foam suppressant used like this?"

Vic rubbed his face. "Not since that warehouse fire back in March. Firefighters were using some new brand of suppressant—expensive stuff. You thinking what I'm thinking?"

Tot straightened. "Only a firefighter would think of using that, Vic."

The words hung between the both of them for a moment. Vic's eyes narrowed. "Firefighter," he repeated, like he was testing the sound. "Makes sense. Knows where to set a blaze so it spreads fast but doesn't look deliberate. Knows how to make an accelerant pretend to be an accident."

Tot watched him pacing. "Don't get ahead of yourself."

"I never get ahead," Vic said. "I just run in place faster than everyone else."

Tot didn't laugh. He never did when Vic got like this. He just sat back, arms folded. "You're still buzzing," he said quietly.

Vic paused mid-stride. "Buzzing?"

Tot raised a brow. "What about what we talked about?"

The silence stretched. Vic tried for a smirk but it faltered. "Tot, come on. I needed a lift. A little pick-me-up. That fire site was a mess—ash, soot, red tape."

"Don't lie to me."

"I'm not lying."

"You're avoiding." Tot's voice stayed calm, but the disappointment in it was sharp enough to make Vic look away. "You can't keep doing this, and I'll keep saying it until you realize it and replace the conspiracies in your head with my words."

Vic stared at the floor. "You make it sound like I've got a choice."

"You do."

Vic exhaled through his nose, pulling a small packet of powder from his coat, and turned it in his fingers without taking it out. "If I don't take something, I stop thinking. And if I stop thinking, I stop seeing. Then what's left of me, huh?"

Tot took off his glasses, rubbed them with a cloth, then put them back on. "Maybe something human."

Vic laughed once, brittle. "Humanity is overrated. You of all people should know that."

"Funny," Tot said. "I thought you still believed you could save this place."

"I can." He leaned on the table, eyes bright again. "This—this is a start. Firefighter. The pattern fits. Someone who knows the old stations, maybe even used to work for the department. I can pull employment files, disciplinary records."

Tot frowned. "You'll need access."

Vic grinned. "Access is what I'm good at."

"You mean breaking in."

"Semantics."

Tot picked up the little packet again, sealing it in a new envelope. "You're going to chase this until something else burns, aren't you?"

"Probably," Vic said. "But hey, at least we've got a direction. That's more than most people in this city."

Tot looked at him for a long time. "You think finding who did this will fix you?"

"No," Vic said. "But it'll keep me busy while I wait to break again."

Tot sighed. "You ever think about rest?"

"I rest between disasters."

That earned a short, humorless chuckle from the older man. "And when the disasters stop?"

Vic smiled faintly. "Then I'll know I'm dead."

Tot stood, moving to the cabinet to stow the sample. "You're chasing ghosts and calling them evidence."

"They're real enough to burn buildings", Vic said. "And if a firefighter's our ghost, I'll find his name."

He reached for his coat. Tot didn't stop him, he just said. "Promise me you'll come back here before you start tearing into city files."

"Scout's honor."

"You were never a scout."

"Exactly. So, you'll never know if I'm lying."

Tot turned away, shaking his head. "You think this is a joke, but one day you'll run out of luck."

Vic was already at the door. "Luck's a renewable resource, Tot. I just mine it deeper than most."

"Vic—"

He stopped, hand on the knob.

"Find the truth", Tot said. "But don't lose what's left of you doing it."

Vic gave a small salute without looking back. "Too late for half of that." He stepped out, letting the door close behind him.

Tot stood alone, staring at the packet under the lamp, the faint shimmer of the powder still visible through the plastic. He whispered, mostly to himself. "Firefighter."

Outside, Vic took out the powder he hadn't wanted before, sniffing it gladly, feeling himself lose to the pleasure.

He grinned without humor.

"Guess I found the spark," he murmured, and walked off into the night.

Vic leaned over the map, thumb pressing a tack into the latest spot — the warehouse on Fifth and Grayson. Another fire. Another black dot on Hub City's scarred skin. He stepped back, hands on his hips.

"Alright," he muttered. "Let's see where you're hiding."

He ran a line with a marker, connecting dots — one to the next, like he was threading a wound shut. Each fire site was circled, annotated in his jittery handwriting- "Vacant 6 months," "Bought under alias," "Insurance claim pending."

From above, the pattern looked random.

Up close, it was too neat.

To Vic Sage.

"No such thing as coincidence," Vic whispered, leaning closer. "Coincidence is the drug of the lazy. You snort enough of it, and you start believing the world makes sense."

He flicked the pen against the paper, thinking. His mind raced — too fast, too sharp, the way it always did when he'd taken a little too much earlier in the day.

Everything felt so connected.

The hum of the refrigerator, the sounds from the TV, even the creak of the floorboards — all of these were whispering clues to the man.

He spread open another file — property sales records.

Same shell companies.

Same attorney signatures.

The same subtle ink stamps from the redevelopment initiative Wesley had pitched years ago, back when the city still believed in the idea of a clean slate.

"Urban renewal," Vic said, bitterly. "Clean the rot, burn the disease. Always easier to start fresh when the old's gone to ash."

He shoved another folder aside, pulling up scanned news reports regarding a firefighting incident.

His eyes darted from one page to another, lips moving as he read.

"Slum fire, East End. Five dead, one firefighter fatality. Attempted rescue, collapsed structure."

He stopped there. His pupils dilated, heartbeat ticking faster. "One firefighter."

He found the name at the bottom of the report: Thomas Chase.

"Chase," he murmured. "Chase. Chase." He said it like an incantation, like if he repeated it enough, the city would whisper the truth back.

He pulled another map from under the pile — an older one, back when the redevelopment plan was just lines and dreams. He pinned it beside the current one, overlaying them until the two versions of Hub City stared each other down.

The red marks matched. Almost perfectly.

Vic laughed, a soft, uneven sound. "Well, look at that. History repeats itself — or maybe it just never stopped."

He sat down, fingers tapping the table in an erratic rhythm. "Old man dies saving strangers. Son watches him burn. Years later, the son burns what's left of the city that killed him. Classic Hub City morality play. Everyone gets their tragedy, no refunds."

He leaned back, eyes distant. "But wait. Wait. What if someone wanted him to burn them?"

The idea crawled into his head like smoke under a door.

"Think about it. Chase lights the fires, sure, but who's handing him the matches? He's a ghost — disgraced, forgotten. Yet somehow, every site he hits links back to the same redevelopment line Wesley used. Shell companies, forged sales, tidy paperwork… like breadcrumbs in reverse."

He grinned faintly. "You don't get patterns like this by accident. You get them by design."

His gaze shifted to the photographs pinned to the wall — Myra at her press events, Wesley shaking hands, reporters smiling.

All masks. All performers.

"Wesley gets sympathy for the burned blocks, insurance money for the shell companies, and public praise for promising to rebuild. Meanwhile, Chase gets his vengeance fix. Two men, one fire, different reasons."

He snorted some of that powder again, closing his eyes while exhaling, then threw it off across the room.

"Maybe Wesley doesn't even need to talk to him. Maybe he just knows people like Chase. Knows they'll crawl out of their holes eventually. All you have to do is leave the door unlocked, then blame the thief when he comes in without knocking, because you wanted him to come."

He scribbled on a notepad, the pen cutting deep grooves in the paper.
FIRE SITES = OLD PROJECT LOTS
CHASE = FIREFIGHTER = REVENGE
WESLEY = INSURANCE / REDEVELOPMENT
MOTIVES PARALLEL, NOT INTERSECTING... OR ARE THEY?

Vic paused, staring at his own handwriting until the words blurred, causing him to hold himself against the wall for some support.

"You ever notice," Vic muttered to no one, "how every conspiracy sounds insane right up until someone proves it true? Then it's history. Before that, it's just a crazy man talking to walls."

He rubbed his eyes, the edges of exhaustion sneaking in but not enough to stop the mental current.

The city map stared back — a design of suffering.

He whispered. "You think the city's alive, Tot? You think it heals by burning off the infected parts?" He smiled at the silence. "No, of course you don't. You're too rational. But me? I see it breathing through the smoke."

Vic tapped the spot where the first fire had started — the oldest wound.

"It all began here, didn't it? The fire that took Thomas Chase. The ghost story that never died."

He clicked on a file he'd pulled from the city archives — the redevelopment initiative's early sponsor list.

Wesley's name appeared halfway down. Same date as the East End fire.

Vic exhaled a shaky laugh. "Of course. You were already in the ashes before the fire even started."

He leaned forward, scribbling another note:
WESLEY CONNECTED TO REDEVELOPMENT BEFORE SLUM FIRE
CHASE'S FATHER DIED IN THAT FIRE
NOW CHASE IS LIGHTING THE REST.

The dots connected. The logic was messy, but it fit. Like broken glass arranged into a mosaic.

He stood, staring at the wall — at the pattern he'd created, or discovered, or maybe just imagined. It was hard to tell anymore.

The TV crackled softly in the background, playing some late-night host rambling about urban decay, economic recovery, and rebirth through destruction.

Vic chuckled. "Even the airwaves get it."

He turned off the light.

The map glowed faintly from the streetlamp outside, a constellation of red and black scars.

In the dark, his voice was low, almost reverent. "Thomas Chase died trying to save this city. His son's burning it trying to do the same. And the man behind it all smiles for the cameras."

He looked at the faint outline of Wesley's photo pinned to the corkboard. "You think you're safe behind signatures and smiles, Mayor? You think paper burns slower than wood?"

Vic flicked a lighter open, flame trembling. For a second, he thought about touching it to the corner of the map — just to watch the lines burn, the way the truth always did.

Instead, he closed the lighter, tucked it away, and whispered. "Not yet."

He stepped back, surveying the chaos.

The map. The files. The ghosts.

And somewhere beneath it all — the sound of fire still crackling, quiet but constant.

The terminal screen blinked like it was breathing. Green text over black. Lines of old records dragged out of a system that hadn't been updated since the time of Richard Nixon and Watergate, which said a lot since the Internet wasn't even a thing back then.

Vic's fingers typed across the keyboard, one eye twitching from too much caffeine, too much powder, and too little sleep.

"Fire Department records, employment logs… come on, don't hide from me," he muttered. "Even ghosts have paperwork."

He scrolled through names. Dozens of them. The dead, the retired, the resigned, the forgotten. He scanned them like a gambler waiting for a winning hand.

Then there it was.

CHASE, DANIEL A. — Discharged.

Vic leaned closer. The page loaded slow, a digital cough.

"Reason for termination… unstable behavior, insubordination," he read aloud. "Yeah, sounds like a guy I could get a beer with."

He kept reading. His voice dropped, slower, more deliberate.

"Repeated accusations of corruption in zoning and fire code enforcement."

He stopped. The hum of the computer fan filled the silence.

"Zoning and fire code… Wesley's old redevelopment board."

He sat back in his chair, letting the connection sink in. "Of course," he said softly. "Of course it's the same hand turning the match."

He highlighted the entry, cross-referenced it with the date of the East End slum fire — the one that killed Thomas Chase.

Father and son, both tied to fire, both consumed by it in different ways.

The same tragedy rewritten with fresh gasoline.

Vic smirked, rubbing his jaw. "Like father, like arsonist."

But there was something about Danny's file that didn't feel like villainy.

He wasn't torching for fun. There was purpose — maybe even purity — under the madness.

"Unstable," Vic whispered. "That's what they call people who see what's really happening."

He saved the file, pushed back from the desk, and stood.

His mind felt like running again.

Vic walked into Tot's place, holding a printed page.

"Got him."

Tot didn't look up. "Got who?"

"The firebug. The phantom of Hub City. Daniel Chase."

Now Tot looked up, sliding his glasses down his nose. "The name sounds familiar."

"Should. His father, Thomas Chase, was the firefighter who died in the East End slum blaze. The one that started all this redevelopment madness. Danny followed in his footsteps until the department kicked him out for shouting about corruption."

Vic dropped the paper on the table. Tot picked it up, scanning the text with slow, steady, glass-covered eyes.

"'Insubordination. Accusations of zoning fraud.' That's not exactly casual."

Vic grinned. "You see it, right? He wasn't wrong — just early. Same people who got his father killed built their empire on the ashes. And now Danny's giving the city back what it gave him."

Tot sighed. "Revenge."

"Revenge, justice — difference is branding", Vic said. "He's doing what I do, just with more kindling."

"Stop with the drugs. You literally beat up Lyle for killing people."

"….Right."

Tot set the file down. "Murder can't be excused, Vic."

Vic sighed. "That…is true." He smacked his head.

They spent hours chasing Danny through paper trails. Vic typed; Tot cross-checked.

Vic muttered as he read invoices and purchase records. "Two surplus chemical orders, last month. One billed to a fake construction company — Paragon Infrastructure. Sounds legitimate, smells rotten."

Tot typed on his own screen. "That company's dissolved. No active listing, no employees, no physical office."

Vic pointed at the monitor. "That's how you know it's real."

Tot ignored the jab. "The orders were paid in cash through a middleman — local supplier called Dunn Industrial."

"Let me guess — Dunn doesn't remember the buyer."

"Of course not. But he logged the sale. Signature's smudged."

Vic leaned over the table, tracing the ink with his finger. "D, maybe. Curve of an 'h' or an 'n.' Danny Chase, buying accelerant in bulk. He's careful but not invisible."

Tot shut the file. "So now what?"

"Now," Vic said, standing, "we follow the ghost."

They found Danny's old address from the termination report — a third-floor walk-up in the north block, officially condemned but still standing defiantly.

The door gave in after one kick from Vic.

Inside, the air smelled like rust and smoke. Little furniture.

The walls were covered with black-and-white newspaper clippings, all nailed up in uneven rows. Headlines about "URBAN RENEWAL," "MAYOR FERMIN'S NEW BEGINNING," "SLUM CLEANUP PROJECTS UNDERWAY."

Every single headline had red ink around it.

Tot stepped inside slowly. "He's keeping score."

Vic ran his fingers over one of the clippings. "Guess the fire didn't start in the streets. It started right here."

They found boxes stacked near the window — half-burned uniforms, cracked helmets, melted badges. Vic knelt, digging through them until he found a framed photo: Danny, younger, smiling beside his father in turnout gear. Both proud, unaware of the tragedy that would befall.

Vic's jaw tightened. "He watched his old man die trying to save a slum Wesley wanted gone. You think that kind of thing leaves a man normal?"

Tot crouched beside him. "No. But it doesn't justify what he's doing."

Vic looked up. "You ever think maybe he's not trying to destroy Hub City? Maybe he's trying to purge it? Fire's cleansing. Biblical. That kind of logic—if you stare at it long enough, it makes sense."

Tot's tone was flat. "Only if you're high."

Vic laughed under his breath. "You always ruin my poetry."

Tot ignored him, picking up another clipping. "Look here. This one's from before the first fire — a zoning proposal Wesley pushed through for the redevelopment district. Danny circled the signatures."

"Let me guess — same ones that show up on his father's death report."

Tot nodded. "He's not just burning buildings. He's burning names."

Vic stood, pacing. "A one-man revolution. Or a crusade. Depending on who's writing the headline."

"He's dangerous," Tot said quietly.

"Yeah. And smart. That's what makes him dangerous."

Vic stared at the wall again — the mess of paper, the web of ink. It looked a lot like his own apartment.

Too much like it.

He exhaled. "You ever feel like you're looking at a funhouse mirror, Tot? I dig for rot with words, he digs with fire. Two sides of the same lunacy."

Tot's eyes softened a fraction. "You're not him."

Vic laughed once. "Not yet. But I tried to excuse him. I might be."

He moved to the window, looking out over the city. "He's still here somewhere. He won't stop until every piece of Wesley's empire is ash."

"Then you'd better find him first", Tot said. "Before he takes someone else down with him."

Vic nodded slowly. "He's got a list. I just have to read ahead of him."

He turned back to the room, eyes scanning the clippings again.

One corner of the wall was bare, except for a single pinned note — a name scrawled in red: STATION 17 — CLOSED.

Vic pointed. "That's next."

Tot frowned. "You sure?"

Vic smiled, faint but certain. "Patterns don't lie. People do."

He picked up the photo of Danny and his father, tucking it into his coat. "Every fire leaves fingerprints. Even the ones meant to erase them."

Tot followed him to the door. "You plan to talk to him, or stop him?"

Vic hesitated. "Depends which version of me gets there first."

Tot sighed. "I don't like that answer."

"Neither do I", Vic said. "But it's the only one that fits."

He stepped into the hall, his voice low. "Fire cleans. Smoke hides. Truth burns slower, but it still burns."

He looked back once, eyes gleaming in the half-light. "Danny Chase thinks he's burning out the corruption. Maybe he's right. Maybe he's just beating me to the punch."

Then he was gone, the sound of his footsteps fading down the stairwell, leaving Tot alone in the ruined apartment.

Vic stepped towards the station, now having his blank mask on.

He could already smell the gasoline.

Danny Chase was moving through the shadows, wearing an oxygen mask.

"I'll burn it all!"

Vic's voice broke through, calm but sharp. "You think you're burning them out. But all you're doing is proving them right — that this city can't be saved."

Danny froze, half turning, face wild with exhaustion and conviction. "Save it?" He spat. "You wear a mask to find the truth. I'm just showing people what it looks like when it burns."

"Truth doesn't need a match."

"Maybe not for you", Danny said, grabbing a hose from the tank. "But mine only talks through fire."

He twisted the valve. The hiss filled the place.

Vic lunged.

They slammed into a wall.

Danny swung a wrench, but Vic ducked, and countered with a punch to the ribs.

Danny grabbed a gas can and flung it.

The splash hit Vic's coat.

He stumbled back, blinking hard.

His vision stuttered.

Firelight was flickering where there wasn't any yet.

Danny saw the slip. "You're not steady", he said, grinning. "You're like me."

Vic tried to focus. The voice in his head whispered too loud, too fast.

He's right. He's the mirror. You're just cleaner glass.

He charged again, caught Danny's arm, and slammed him into a pillar.

"Stop this!" He shouted. "Your father died saving lives, not erasing them!"

Danny headbutted him hard.

Vic reeled, dizzy. He saw double — two Dannys, both burning at the edges.

"You don't get it!" Danny yelled. "He died for nothing! They rebuilt over his ashes and called it progress!"

He grabbed a flare from his belt and lit it. "This is the only truth they'll see."

Vic lunged, knocking the flare from his hand.

It rolled across the floor.

Both men froze as the red glow crept toward a puddle of gas.

Danny hesitated, torn between rage and memory.

Vic used it — one hit, clean across the jaw. Danny went down, the flare sputtering out inches away from the spill.

Vic staggered back, breathing heavy.

When his eyes cleared, Danny was gone.

Vic stared at the flare still smoking on the floor.

"Poetic", he muttered, voice low, shaking. "Fire forgets who started it first."

He pulled the mask tighter and walked out into the cold air, head pounding, the smell of gasoline following him.

Vic didn't sleep. He stood in front of the board, red strings cutting across photos, property deeds, and names that kept repeating — the same shell companies, the same burn sites.

Chase's father had died in one of those buildings.

The same buildings Wesley bought through proxies.

Vic stared at the pattern, eyes burning. "You're not the arsonist, Danny", he muttered. "You're the match they struck."

Later

A crowd gathered before Myra, cameras flashing, Myra standing at the podium.

"These crimes will not define Hub City. We'll rebuild — stronger, together."

Wesley stood beside her, hand on her shoulder, face full of sympathy. The perfect image — concerned fiancé, public servant, savior.

Vic watched from the edge of the crowd.

His pulse thudded in his ears.

Myra's smile was real; she still believed him.

Wesley leaned in to whisper something to her, and she nodded.

Vic's jaw clenched. He turned away before the applause began.

"She's standing next to the fire", he said under his breath. "She just can't smell the smoke yet."

Vic finally pieced it together over cold coffee.

He'd run all angles.

All the redevelopment zones, every old city asset touched by Wesley's companies. The next phase of "urban renewal" included one key demolition still pending: the 14th Precinct, condemned but still half-occupied. Under Wesley's jurisdiction. City contract delays, backroom deals, excuses.

A building with cops inside.

Perfect symbol. Perfect revenge.

Vic whispered. "You're not aiming at property anymore, are you, Danny? You're aiming at people."

He put on his mask, grabbed his coat, and left the apartment.

Danny moved inside the closed-up precinct, few cops inside it, too few to come out and see him enter, rows of drums across the place.

"They called him reckless. Said it was his fault. My father died saving their city, and they buried him in paperwork." He kicked a drum, watching it rock slightly, then steadied it again. "No one saves them this time."

The Question's voice cut through from the shadows. "You think fire redeems him?"

Danny froze, then turned, eyes wild and tired all at once. "You again."

"Couldn't stay away", Vic said, stepping closer. "You torch this place, you'll take a dozen uniforms with it. Not the suits. Not the Mayor. Just people who don't even know your name."

"They wear his badge!" Danny barked. "They enforce his city! You can't separate them!"

"Funny," Vic replied. "You sound just like the people you hate — burn first, justify later."

Danny laughed. "You think this city deserves saving? You think people like Wesley don't need fire to stop them?" He jabbed a finger at Vic's chest. "You wear a mask so you can tell yourself you're different. But we're the same. You just pretend there's a cure."

The smell of gasoline filled the air. Vic's head throbbed.

"You're trying to make me forget the rot", Danny went on. "You can't fix this city. Only purify it." He grabbed a matchbox.

Vic lunged — they slammed into the wall, drums rattling.

The matchbox flew, scattering across the ground.

The cops ran out, seeing what was going on.

"Freeze!" One yelled, all of them taking out guns.

Danny roared, punching Vic thrice, the cops struggling to aim.

"You don't get it!" He shouted, grappling with Vic. "Wesley started this!"

"I know he did!" Vic growled back, twisting himself arm free before decking Danny, sending him back. "But you're giving him his alibi!"

Danny hesitated, and Vic punched his ribs.

Danny staggered back into a drum, which tipped and began to leak, gasoline pooling around them.

Vic froze, realizing something.

He looked around — the fuse lines, the placement, the setup, all ready to light up the precinct.

"You've already wired it."

Danny smiled weakly, blood on his teeth. "Fire's already lit."

Ignition cords flickered toward the far end of the room.

Vic dove, grabbing Danny by the collar, dragging him toward the exit, while yelling to the cops. "Come on! Get out of here!"

The cops ran past them both.

Danny struggled. "Let me go! I'll finish it!"

"Not today", Vic snarled, pulling harder as flames spread.

They burst out into the street just as the windows exploded.

The firefighters who arrived minutes later found Danny coughing while being cuffed by the cops.

"Wesley is the rot! I'm just burning the rot!"

Vic stood at the rooftop, looking down at Danny on the ground, the cops who'd survived around him.

Tot's voice echoed in his memory.

"Replace the conspiracies in your head with my words."

Vic exhaled. "Tried, Tot." He at the blazing precinct. "But this city keeps talking louder."

Wesley stood beside Myra. Papers were on the desk. "These," he said, "prove the acquisitions were fraudulent. My own team misled me. I've already terminated the contracts."

Myra's shoulders softened, relief showing.

"You didn't know," she whispered. "You were trying to fix the city."

He smiled faintly. "That's all I've ever wanted."

Vic stood amongst the ashes of the building Danny had burnt earlier, mask on.

"He staged the whole thing. Every piece."

Vic tilted his head

"One of these days, you'll slip up, Wesley. And I'll be there when you do."

The wind shifted.

Vic didn't move.

Ending credits play.