Marvel's The Caped Crusader

Chapter 10

Wayne Manor, Ballroom, 11:30 pm

The ballroom's applause still echoed faintly through the manor's corridors as F/N slipped into the warm, golden light, hugging the shadows at the edge of the room. He kept to the periphery, letting the darkness mask his presence while his eyes scanned the scene. At the heart of the stage, Harvey Dent shook hands with a few supporters before taking his place at the podium. The crowd's energy was palpable—cheers, flashes from camera bulbs, the hum of anticipation that came before every pivotal moment. F/N's gaze lingered on Harvey a second longer than intended, noting the composure of a man ready to lead and the fire of someone who refused to be broken by Gotham's darkness.

F/N lingered near the edge of the ballroom, his posture loose yet deliberate. His mind was already working—scanning the crowd, cataloging faces, noting patterns in movement. Wealthy donors chatted in tight circles, political power brokers hovered near the front, and a handful of unfamiliar faces drifted just enough to catch his attention. It was habit, instinct—his other life bleeding into the one he wore like a mask tonight.

Harvey stepped into the center of the stage, the light glinting off the champagne glass in his hand as though it were a torch in the dark. "Thank you... thank you, everyone!" His voice rang out with commanding warmth, pulling the crowd's attention to him like a tide. The applause faded, anticipation replacing it. "A humble District Attorney like myself isn't accustomed to such a resounding endorsement—even one who has fought to cut Gotham's crime rate in half." His gaze swept the room, unwavering.

"For too long, our city has been choked by corruption and greed under Mayor Hill's watch. But tonight, I tell you—enough. A vote for Harvey Dent isn't just a mark on a ballot; it's a declaration. Together, we can stamp out the flames consuming Gotham's soul and rebuild something worthy of her people."

His voice burned hotter with each word, conviction searing through every syllable. "We can reclaim this city. We can cleanse it, protect it, and let her light shine again. But only if we stand united, shoulder to shoulder, against the darkness." He raised his glass high, the crystal catching the chandelier's glow like a spark of hope. "Together, we will save our great city!"

The response was thunderous—applause roaring back at him, a wave of energy drawn to the raw, unshakable determination in his words.

F/N found himself genuinely stirred by Harvey's words, joining the crowd in their applause. From the corner of his eye, he caught sight of his longtime childhood friend, Rachel Caspian, standing slightly apart from the throng. She clapped with quiet enthusiasm, her olive-green eyes—flecked with warm hazel—glittering in the chandelier light, a radiant smile lighting her face. The gleam of an engagement ring on her hand caught his attention, and a fond smile tugged at his lips. He had been the one to introduce her to Harvey, a match that had changed the course of her life. Rachel had once been on the path to joining the convent, until meeting Harvey at a gala two years ago—an introduction F/N recalled with amusement. Harvey, usually all charm and effortless charisma, had been a complete wreck that night, fumbling over words and losing his composure entirely in her presence. Since that evening, the two had been inseparable, often seen together on evenings out... and sometimes, much to F/N's mock annoyance, inviting him along as the self‑proclaimed "third wheel."

F/N drifted in close, his steps silent as the shadows seemed to carry him until he was right behind Rachel. "Nice ring," he murmured with a sly smile.

She let out a soft gasp, spinning around before giving him a light slap on the shoulder. "F/N! You know I hate it when you do that," she scolded, though the sparkle in her eyes betrayed her amusement.