[You have altered the fate of Edward Nygma. Skill Point +3]
Marco stared at the notification floating in his mind's eye. With the one he already had, that made four total. It was enough to finally unlock something useful.
He pulled up the system interface and dumped one point into the meteor icon, already knowing what would happen.
[Skill Level: 3]
[Required Points: 1/4]
[*******************]
"Screw it," he muttered, and dumped all four points in.
[Skill Level: 3]
[Required Points: 4/4]
[Possession:
Randomly borrow a portion of extraordinary power.
Duration: 15 seconds
Cooldown: 240 hours
This skill cannot be upgraded]
Marco read the message twice, trying to decide whether it was useful or just another way for the system to mess with him. Fifteen seconds of random power once every ten days, with no control over what he got.
Still, it was better than nothing. And who knows? Maybe he would get lucky and pull something useful instead of something ridiculous, like the ability to make flowers grow or talk to pigeons.
He dismissed the notification and fell asleep feeling slightly less doomed than usual.
---
The next morning, Marco walked into the precinct's new building cafeteria and found Edward already sitting at one of the tables.
"Ed, shouldn't you get more sleep? You just took drugs."
Edward looked up, fork paused halfway to his mouth. "I've slept enough. About the fear toxin, I want to turn it into a practical sample as soon as possible. If we can isolate the active compounds and develop a counteragent, we could..."
"Yeah, yeah, science shit. I get it." Marco walked over to the kitchenette and started pulling ingredients from the fridge. "You want breakfast?"
"I just finished eating."
"That's not what I asked."
Edward watched with curiosity as Marco cracked four eggs into a bowl and whisked them with a fork, then diced the sausage and pepper. Within minutes, the kitchen filled with the rich smell of cooking and sausage.
"What is that?" Edward asked.
"Frittata." Marco flipped the pan expertly, letting the eggs cook evenly. "You want some or not?"
"Sure. Thank you."
Marco slid half the frittata onto a plate and handed it to Edward, then grabbed the other half for himself and sat down across from him. They ate in silence for a few minutes.
"This is good," Edward said eventually.
"Yeah, well, don't get used to it. I'm not running a diner here." Marco took another bite, chewing thoughtfully. "You doing okay?"
Edward set his fork down, considering the question. "I think so. The experience was clarifying. I confronted some things I've been avoiding. And I think I came out the other side with a better understanding of who I am. Or at least, who I want to be."
Before Marco could respond, the door to the cafeteria banged open and Darnell came running in, a half-eaten burger clutched in one hand.
"Yo, Marco, we've got a..." He stopped, staring at the food. "Are you cooking? What's that?"
"Frittata. What's got you running around like your ass is on fire?"
"You need to see this." Darnell jerked his thumb toward the window. "There's something weird going on outside. And they don't look like they're waiting for the bus."
Marco exchanged a glance with Edward, then stood up and walked over to the window. What he saw made his good mood evaporate.
The street outside the building was packed. Fifty, maybe sixty people crowded together, spilling out into the road and blocking traffic. Most of them looked like they had come straight out of the Narrows or Crime Alley.
They held up crude signs, words scrawled across torn pieces of cardboard with thick black marker.
HAND OVER THE DEVIL'S DAUGHTER
GOTHAM DOESN'T WELCOME DEMONS
POLICE + DEMONS = CORRUPTION
And they were chanting.
"Hand over the demon!"
"No devils in Gotham!"
"Protect our city!"
A thin line of uniformed officers stood between the mob and the precinct entrance, looking nervous. More people were gathering at the edges.
Marco muttered, "Who the hell organized this?"
"Probably that church," Darnell said. "They've been getting more aggressive lately."
Marco pulled out his phone and called Anna. She picked up on the second ring.
"Sir?"
"Anna, listen to me. Keep Raven inside. Lock the doors, close the curtains, and make sure she stays away from the windows. Don't let her come to the precinct today."
"Is something wrong?"
"I'll explain later." He hung up before she could ask more questions, then turned to Edward. "Can you get to the surveillance room and pull footage? I need to know who's leading this thing. There's got to be a ringleader organizing them."
Edward nodded and left immediately.
Marco turned to Darnell. "Come on. We need to grab gas masks and get downstairs before this gets worse."
They headed for the stairs, taking them two at a time, and nearly collided with Bob coming up from the first floor.
"Chief, outside..."
"I saw it." Bob pulled out a handkerchief and mopped his face. "You're going to deal with it? That's great. But listen to me. No lethal force. I don't care if they're idiots. And I don't care if they're threatening you. You don't shoot civilians."
"I wasn't planning on it." Marco kept moving toward the equipment room. "I'm just going to grab some tear gas."
"No!"
Bob grabbed Marco by the arm hard enough to stop him in his tracks.
"Use your brain for five seconds. What do you think happens if we gas a crowd of protesters? Think about tomorrow's newspaper headlines. Think about the evening news." He counted on his fingers. "'East End Police Gas Unarmed Citizens.' 'Chief McGinnis Uses Chemical Weapons on Gotham's Poor.' 'GCPD Brutalizes Protesters Seeking Justice.'"
Marco opened his mouth to argue, but Bob cut him off.
"We're trying to secure more funding and autonomy right now. Wayne Foundation money is on the line. The mayor's office is watching us. Internal Affairs would love an excuse to justify their existence. And you want to hand them a gift-wrapped scandal?"
"Then what do you want me to do? Go out there and reason with them? You see those people? They're not here for a rational discussion."
"I don't care." Bob let go of his arm and straightened his tie. "You're not solving this with force."
He turned and headed up the stairs. "Fix this without making me look bad. That's an order."
Marco watched him go, then looked at Darnell. "I hate this job."
"It could be worse. You could be the guy who has to clean the holding cells after we arrest all those people."
"Don't remind me."
They circled around to the back entrance of the old building. Inside, the officers stood in small groups, checking their gear.
Marco grabbed a megaphone from the equipment locker and headed for the front doors.
"Where are you going?" one of the officers asked.
"To have a conversation."
He opened the doors and stepped outside.
Every head turned toward him. The chanting faltered, then surged back louder. Dozens of voices screaming at once.
Marco walked to the top of the steps, positioned himself where everyone could see him, and raised the megaphone.
"SHUT THE HELL UP! Here's how this works. You stay quiet, you get twenty bucks each. But if even one person shouts without permission in the next ten seconds, everyone loses the money. Your choice."
A few people started to protest, but the ones next to them clamped hands over their mouths.
Marco counted to ten in his head, then nodded. "Now raise your hand if you can answer this question. What does the Devil's Daughter look like?"
The crowd exchanged glances. Nobody raised their hand.
"Nobody knows?" Marco looked around. "You're out here screaming about the Devil's Daughter, demanding we hand her over, and you don't even know what she looks like?"
Finally, someone near the front raised their hand hesitantly. "Uh... she's female?"
"Okay." Marco turned toward the door and shouted, "Dominique!"
A tall, athletic policewoman stepped out and stood next to him. She was nearly six feet, built like she could wrestle suspects into submission.
The crowd murmured. Someone called out, "She's too tall!"
"Too tall?" Marco looked at Dominique. "You hear that? Apparently demons can't be tall. Who knew?" He waved her back inside. "Bronnie!"
Bronnie came out next. The protesters immediately started shaking their heads.
"She's too... uh... fat. The demon should be skinnier," someone called out.
"Oh, so now we're body-shaming demons?" Marco shook his head. "Unbelievable." He sent Bronnie back inside. "Petty!"
Petty stepped out.
"She's not Black!"
But before Marco could say anything else, Petty went off like a bomb.
"Oh, so demons can't be Black?" She stepped forward, one hand on her hip, the other pointing at the crowd. "That's what you're telling me? You ignorant, prejudiced, small-minded..."
What followed was a verbal assault that would have made a Marine drill sergeant blush.
The protesters forgot all about the twenty dollars and started shouting back, and Bronnie turned around and came back to support her colleague.
Marco slipped back into the precinct while the argument escalated.
Darnell was waiting just inside the door. "How'd it go?"
Marco leaned against the wall, watching through the window. "They ready?"
"Yeah. I called them ten minutes ago like you said. They should be here any second."
Sure enough, less than five minutes later, another crowd appeared at the far end of the street.
STOP DISCRIMINATION
ALL LIVES MATTER IN GOTHAM
EQUAL RIGHTS FOR ALL
They marched straight toward the protesters, chanting loudly.
"Whose streets? Our streets!"
"No justice, no peace!"
At the same time, from the opposite direction, another group arrived. They looked pissed off and ready for a fight.
Petty and Bronnie immediately recognized the Anti-Racism Coalition and the Women's Rights Alliance. They pointed at the religious protesters and shouted:
"These guys are racist!"
"They're sexist too!"
The two waves of counter-protesters crashed into the religious crowd.
"I'm not racist!" one protester shouted, trying to shield his face. "We're just looking for the Devil's Daughter—"
"The Devil's Daughter can't be Black? That's racist!"
"You're judging women by their appearance? That's misogynistic!"
"I can't be the Devil's Daughter because I'm a man? That's sexist!"
"So demons can't be tall, short, fat, or too thin? Who made those rules? Your church?"
"But she's really not Black—"
"You keep saying that like it matters! That's discrimination!"
Fists started flying. Signs became weapons. The chanting dissolved into screaming. The original protesters tried to retreat, but the counter-protesters had them surrounded.
Marco watched from the window, nodding slowly. Darnell stood next to him, munching on chips.
"How long do we let this go?"
"Until they're tired." Marco picked up the radio. "All units, maintain perimeter. Don't intervene. Let them burn themselves out. When they're exhausted, we move in and start making arrests."