VECTOR IN DC

 

 

“What did the rogue vigilante want with you?” Gordon curiously asked.

 

 

 

“He said the Outlaws will support me and ensure to keep me safe so long as I continued on this path I have chosen, but if I stray away from it then they would be the ones I would have to fear.” I replied, making it sound to him like I didn’t have a personal relationship with the Outlaws but they intend of doing what’s best for society.

 

 

“That sounds kind of like a threat to me.” He replied as he light up a cigarette. “Do you smoke?” He asked. “Occasionally, yes.” I replied and he passed me a cigarette then lit it up for me.

 

“Thank you. Who are the Outlaws anyway?” I asked feigning ignorance to the group I had founded myself.

 

 

“They are a group of rogues, criminals and mercenaries who aren’t trust worthy as we do not know the reason behind their cause. It is really frustrating because we are suppose to have them arrested, but yet it turns out harmful crimes has had a noticeable decrease thanks to them”

 

 

“They sound like some revolutionary group.” I commented. “Yes, something like that. But they are still criminals, even if they sometimes take down criminals that are of more danger to society.” He replied, taking a long drag from his cigarette then letting out the thick foams.

 

 

“So, what brings you here today?”

 

 

“I heard Scarecrow escaped Arkham.” I replied.

 

 

“Yes he did, that sneaky bastard.” Gordon grunted.

 

 

Criminals escaping Arkham was of no surprise as it was the norms in Gotham City, something I was willing to change. When criminals get locked up, they should stay locked up, that’s what a prison is for.

 

“What about him?” Gordon asked, wondering why my sudden interest in a criminal. “What I’m about proposing isn’t about him in particular but one that would benefit the police and the people of Gotham City.” I teased some more as I piqued his interest in the process.

 

“I was thinking to myself, once these terrorists gets caught and taken to Arkham, we wouldn’t want them escaping like Scarecrow and many others have. That would be too risky, especially since they are likely to want revenge against the police and the city.” I elaborated, still keeping him on suspense.

 

 

“So what do you suggestion or came up with as a solution?” He asked, wanting me to go straight to the point.

 

“Have you ever heard of White Torture?” I asked, squinting my eyes a little as I took a drag from my still lit cigarette.

 

 

“White torture….What’s that?” He asked, confused as were this conversation was leading to.

 

 

“White Torture is something far more sinister than you might expect.” I replied as I took a pause to knock off the ash from my cigarette onto the ash tray he had placed on his desk.

 

“It is a type of psychological torture technique aimed at complete sensory deprivation and isolation, a prisoner is held in a cell that deprives them of all senses and identity.” With this he seemed even more interested as he leaned in a bit closer upon his desk, locking fingers as he gave me his undivided attention.

 

 

“And how did you come about such a thing?” He asked from pure curiosity. “It’s something I came across some time ago, and it is used by Venezuela and by most United States intelligence services.” I replied.

 

 

Upon hearing this, he furrowed his brows as he listened more intensely. Which was perfect because after killing the members of the Sparrows, I would ensure their leader lives a miserable life in jail after his him down.

 

 

“The prisoner is deprived of all colours, their cell is completely white, the walls, the floors, the ceiling, as well as there cloths and food. Neon tubes are positioned above the occupant in such a way that that no shadow appears.” I elaborated.

 

“Sheesh, that sounds like some kind of hell.” He remarked, just imagining it sounded like it was enough to drive a person mad, rather than reform them.

 

“That’s not all, the cell is sound proof and void of any sound, voices or interactions. The guards stand in silence, dressed in all white and padded shoes to avoid making any noise.” I continued, going into more detail.

 

“The prisoner is served white food, practically unseasoned rice, to deprive them of these senses. Furthermore the walls and other surfaces are really smooth, robbing them of the touch sensation.”

 

“I think that’s worst than physical torture, they don’t feel pain but would slowly lose their sense of identity.” Gordon analyzed, getting a better understanding of the picture I was trying to paint.

 

“That is why it’s a psychological treatment.” I replied. “Typically, prisoners will become depersonalized by losing personal identity for extended period of isolation. It is the perfect way to reform criminals and have them completely lose their deranged personalities of committing horrific crimes just for the rush they get from it.” I looked into Arkham’s current way of doing things and this method would be way more efficient for psychologically unstable criminals like Scarecrow and others who has a bad habit of reverting back to their old ways the moment they get out of jail.

 

“What other side effects does it entail?” Gordon questioned, wanting every detail before submitting the project to the mayor and having it executed at once for the safety of the citizens.

 

“Hallucinations and Psychosis.” I replied without taking any sort of brief pauses to think about it.

 

“And how long are prisoners to be subjected to such level of reformation ?” He asked once again.

 

“Probably eight months to a year, that should be enough to reform them into productive citizens of society as they abandon their life of crime behind.”

 

“Creating neighbours and not pretenders who jumps back into a life of causing others harm once they’ve been cleared.” Gordon mused out loud, nodding his head in agreement to my proposal.

 

“I have to run this by the higher ups first, but I assure you it’s a great idea, implementing this upon certain mentally deranged criminals of Gotham would definitely help avoid the rise of a copycat Joker.”

 

 

 

....

 

Deep in Gotham City was a diner with mixed colours of ambient lighting, it’s neon sign attracting those with an appetite for something tasty.

 

Seated at a table at the far end corner was Bruce Wayne, dressed in a casual brown leather jacket over a beige color shirt. And seated right across from him was a reporter from Metropolis, Clark Kent dressed in a navy blue suit and red tie, topped with his nerdy glasses.

 

“Gotham has been having a lot of traction on the media lately, what exactly has been going on?” Showing concerns he looked over to Bruce who just let our a sigh before speaking.

 

“A lot, and I’m doing my best to resolve what’s been brewing beneath the surface. The city has become unpredictable, something has changed and this shift came with a lot of surprises.” The waiter dropped off a cup of coffee on his table as he reached for it and took a sip.

 

“Do you need any help? I can understand being the protector of Gotham City is a lot to handle, especially while also protecting the world along side the League. You have a lot on your plate just being Bruce Wayne, now your night life seem to be taking it own toll.” Clark stated the obvious so Bruce knows he really does need help, especially being short handed as he no longer had a Robin by his side.

 

“Nothing I can’t handle.” Bruce replied with a smile almost creeping across his lips upon seeing how much Big -Blue was concerned for his well being but shrugged it off as usual.

 

“On the bright side, Gotham’s crime rate experienced a twelve percent decrease over the past couple of months. Although the recent acts of terrorism seem to threaten that improvement.”

 

“Yeah, I hate to say it but it seems Red Hood and Ace the Tyrant has a part in that. Jason wants to prove to me that absolute brutality was the only language these criminals spoke, and exercising it upon them was the only way to clearly get the message across to them.” His face showed a bit of disapproval but yet a subtle expression of a proud father.

 

“I know using a brute sense of justice against criminal offenders might seem effective but I’m not in support of that system, it’s not what we heroes should stand for.” Clark was always against violence whenever he could avoid it, and Red Hood’s along with Ace’s history showed criminals either ending up in jail badly wounded, or dead before the police arrived.

 

“I agree with that, and I’ve tried so many times to teach Jason that it wasn’t the right way of handling things but he’s way more stubborn than Dick ever was.” While he spoke, his expression clearly showed that Jason was quite a lot to handle, especially since breaking free from under his wing.

 

“Kids.” Clark remarked as he shook his head. “Now we are on a man hunt for the terrorists who’s been causing the commotions lately, and Jason has turned it into some kind of competition.” Bruce said with furrowed brows, letting out a sigh before taking another sip from his coffee.

 

“He’s always been so competitive, even on the field. So what’s this project Cyborg has been working on for the past couple of months, I do not like the idea of machines making decisions or given permission to uphold the safety of man kind.” Clark’s concerns were evident in his voice as he suddenly had on a more serious expression, clearly against Cyborg’s current project.

 

“I gave him a list of reasons why it was a bad idea but he pleaded with me, saying if anything was to go wrong with project he would immediately shut it down and not even think of something like that again. I agreed and he went on with it. It might be the kind of ‘out the box’ thinking we actually need to save us from ourselves but i still don’t trust it.” He could only hope that he’s concerns does not prove to be true.

 

“Forcefully shutting it down would have seemed like closing the door to a possible reality of peace among man kind.” Clark mused, yet still very doubtful.

 

“Anyway, I have to go now. I have some business that needs tending to.” Bruce said to Clark as he rose from his chair, while Clark raised his hand, gesturing for the cheque.

 

“Don’t worry about that, I already paid before you arrived.”

 

“How did you‐‐‐” Clark was cut off before he could finish up his sentence. “You order the same thing everything.”

 

“Even over dinner you have to be two steps ahead.” He remarked as Bruce waved him a goodbye gesture without looking his way as he walked out the dinner.

 

 

 

 

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