Chapter 10 – The Court's Counterattack
The air in the courtroom was thick with tension. The Court of Owls had lurked in the shadows for centuries, weaving their influence into Gotham's very foundations. But for the first time, they had been dragged into the light—and they did not like it.
Dr. Alice Monroe took the stand, her face composed but her hands gripping the edges of the witness stand tightly. Ibrahim Al-Farooq had chosen his next move carefully, and it was a direct strike at the Court's fortress—Arkham Asylum.
He approached her, his voice steady.
"Dr. Monroe, can you state your former position for the court?"
"I was a senior psychiatrist at Arkham Asylum for twelve years," she said, her voice crisp but laced with the weight of past horrors.
"In those twelve years, did you ever witness patients being admitted under false diagnoses?"
A pause. The courtroom leaned in.
Monroe's lips pressed together before she nodded.
"Yes. Many times."
Murmurs rippled through the jury and spectators.
"Could you elaborate?" Ibrahim pressed.
Monroe exhaled sharply. "Certain patients were committed not because they were mentally unstable, but because they were… inconvenient. Journalists. Whistleblowers. Political figures. The Court of Owls had Arkham as their personal prison."
A collective gasp filled the courtroom.
Nathaniel Crane leaned forward at the defense table, his fingers clasped together tightly. He was losing ground.
"Dr. Monroe, are you saying that Arkham Asylum knowingly imprisoned sane individuals?"
"Yes."
"And who authorized these admissions?"
She took a deep breath, then turned her gaze directly at Crane.
"Nathaniel Crane. His signature is on nearly every falsified commitment order I've seen."
A shockwave of reactions spread through the room. The judge's expression hardened. Crane, however, didn't blink.
"Objection, Your Honor," Crane said smoothly. "This is the testimony of a disgruntled former employee with no hard evidence."
Ibrahim smiled.
"I thought you'd say that."
He turned to the screen at the front of the courtroom.
"Lex, bring up the Arkham patient files, year 2016 through 2023."
The display flickered to life, showcasing dozens of documents—each bearing the same signature.
Nathaniel Crane.
The jury stared at the files. The weight of their undeniable proof pressed down on the room.
For the first time, a flicker of unease crossed Crane's face.
Ibrahim let the silence linger before speaking.
"Mr. Crane, do you deny that these are your signatures?"
A tense pause.
Then, Crane smirked.
"I don't deny it."
A murmur of surprise spread through the crowd.
"But let's be clear," Crane continued. "Arkham is a correctional facility. Gotham's streets are dangerous. The legal system has its flaws. Sometimes, we must take preventative measures to ensure public safety. That is not corruption—it is necessity."
Ibrahim stepped closer.
"So you admit to locking up innocent people without due process?"
Crane's eyes glinted.
"I admit to keeping Gotham safe in ways the law is too slow to act upon."
A calculated response. The jury shifted uneasily—Crane was twisting his crimes into pragmatic heroism. Ibrahim could feel the momentum shifting.
Then, Crane leaned forward, his voice low but powerful.
"Tell me, Mr. Al-Farooq—what do you think happens if you win? If you strip the Court's influence away? Do you believe Gotham will suddenly be lawful? That criminals will march into prisons willingly? Gotham is a beast, and the Court is the only thing keeping it from consuming itself."
The words hung in the air.
Ibrahim clenched his jaw.
"No, Mr. Crane. The Court isn't protecting Gotham—it's strangling it. I am here to make sure this city breathes again."
The tension snapped as the judge raised his gavel.
"Enough. This court will recess until tomorrow."
But as the judge stood, Ibrahim's system pinged.
[Threat detected. Incoming attack within 24 hours.]
His heart pounded. The Court wasn't just playing defense anymore.
They were about to make their next move.
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