Jimmy struggled to keep up, camera bouncing against his shoulder as he sprinted after Lois through the rain-slicked streets of Gotham.
Inside the upscale boutique, Downton—cool as marble—settled onto a velvet sofa, utterly unfazed by the ring of GCPD officers aiming their weapons at his chest.
After shifting into a more comfortable position, he deliberately tucked his pistol into his belt, right in front of them. Their fingers tightened on their triggers.
The moment he appeared disarmed, one officer lunged forward—but Downton caught his wrist in a vice-like grip.
He turned his gaze past the trembling cop to Commissioner Gordon.
"You're all seasoned Gotham officers," Downton said, voice smooth as silk. "Act like it."
He leaned forward slightly, eyes sharp.
"So why assume I'd sit here like a sitting duck without backup plans? I let that sharp-tongued reporter go out of courtesy. Do you really think I'd be this calm if I didn't have leverage?"
A beat of silence. Then, softly:
"Now tell me—when do you think the bomb I planted will go off? And in which crowded corner of your precious city?"
With that, he yanked the officer closer, gripped his throat just long enough to make a point, then shoved him back into the line. The cop staggered, jaw clenched.
Behind him, whispers erupted among the officers:
"A bomb?"
"He's rigged the city?"
"Keep it down—press is outside!"
Too late.
Outside the store's glass facade, a sea of reporters—led by Lois Lane—had already caught every word. Camera flashes erupted like strobes in the dim afternoon light.
Lois, who had been at the front of the pack, now froze. Her expression hardened into pure revulsion as she watched Downton preen like a stage actor.
Gordon exhaled slowly, jaw tight. "Why?" he asked, voice low. "What's the endgame here?"
Downton smiled. "Simple: I needed a new phone, a decent watch, a tailored suit, and a wallet that doesn't scream 'fugitive.' Mission accomplished."
Gordon stared at him like he'd lost his mind.
"Don't insult my intelligence. You kidnapped the daughter of a U.S. senator and the Deputy Secretary of Defense. You're threatening to blow up Gotham. That's not a shopping list—that's a declaration of war."
Downton sighed, as if bored by the skepticism. Then his eyes lit up with theatrical flair.
"Fine. Since you insist…" He spread his arms wide. "I'm here to announce myself. To let Gotham know its new emperor has risen from the ashes. I want my name on every tongue, my shadow over every street. And what better stage than this?"
He turned toward the press, locking eyes with Lois.
"You—Metropolis reporter! Get in here. Interview me. Or I detonate the device right now."
Gordon's eyes narrowed. "You're bluffing."
Downton's smile vanished. "Try me."
The standoff stretched, heavy and silent. Gordon knew he couldn't gamble with thousands of lives.
Finally, he gave a curt nod—not of surrender, but of tactical retreat.
Downton beckoned to Lois.
She hesitated—only for a second. Then, chin high, she stepped past the police line. Jimmy's voice cracked behind her:
"Lois, don't! He's playing you!"
"If I don't go, people die," she said, not looking back. "That's the job."
Gordon moved to intercept, but the Mayor's aide yanked him aside with a sharp whisper about "containment" and "optics."
Lois approached, microphone extended like a weapon.
"Lois Lane, Daily Planet. What drove you to this? Why terrorize a city that—"
"Wait." Downton's eyes narrowed. "Daily Planet? Metropolis?" He let out a dry laugh. "You're not even local press."
"Huh?" Lois Lane was slightly taken aback. "What's the difference?"
"The difference is monumental! You're just trying to fool me!"
Meeting Lois's suddenly widened eyes, Downton grabbed the hand holding her recorder—not a microphone; she wasn't live on air, just gathering quotes.
"Don't move!"
"Sit down!"
"Don't move!"
In an instant, Gotham PD officers snapped to high alert. The sharp click-click of safeties being thumbed off echoed through the plaza. From the edge of the cordon, Mayor Hill's voice crackled over a bullhorn:
"Can't you just take him out? If this hits the news before tomorrow's vote, City Hall's done for!"
Beside him, Commissioner Gordon kept his voice low but firm. "Sir, he's not your average thug. He's delusional—but clever. A stray shot might trigger whatever he's rigged… or worse, give him the martyrdom he wants."
Before Gordon could finish, Downton yanked Lois in front of him—using her as a shield, not pulling her onto his lap.
Gordon's pulse spiked, but he was too far. The line of officers froze; protocol warred with panic.
Downton leaned in, his breath hot against Lois's ear. "I remember now… Lois Lane. Daily Planet. Clark Kent's partner." He grinned. "Famous."
"Y-yes… it's me," Lois stammered, her voice tight but steady—because Lois never breaks, not really. Not even when fear claws at her throat.
Noticing her rigid posture, Downton gave a mock-soothing pat on her shoulder. "Relax, Lois. You seeing anyone?"
"Not that it's any of your business," she shot back—sharper, more her.
Nearby, Jimmy Olsen, crouched behind a news van with his camera, finally couldn't stay silent. "Let her go! Her father's a general—Sam Lane! U.S. Senator, too!"
A ripple went through the police line.
"General Lane's daughter?!" one officer hissed.
"Why didn't anyone say that?!"
"We can't risk this—"
"Hold your fire!" Gordon barked. "One wrong move and we lose her and this city!"
But Downton just chuckled. He pressed a sleek, unmarked burner phone into Lois's palm.
"No boyfriend, huh? Good. Keep this. I'll call. And don't hand it to your boy scout in the glasses."
Lois blinked—then seized the opening. "I'll take your call. Exclusive interview, dinner, a front-page spread… whatever you want. Just tell me there's no bomb." Her voice dropped, urgent. "Don't hurt anyone else, Downton."
He leaned close again, lips nearly brushing her ear. "There was never a bomb, Lois. Just me… and the chaos I bring."
He shoved her gently toward the police line—not with violence, but with theatrical flair—and stepped backward into a plume of acrid smoke that erupted from a hidden device at his feet.
When the haze cleared, he was gone.
"He vanished!"
"Again!"
"Third time this month—flames out of nowhere!"
"That's not fire… that's hellfire."
Reporters and cops alike staggered back, murmuring like witnesses to an omen.
Jimmy rushed to Lois, eyes wide. "Lois! Are you okay?"
She stared at the phone in her hand, then met his gaze—pale, shaken, but already thinking three steps ahead.
"I'm in trouble, Jimmy," she whispered. "Big trouble."