Chapter 108: 108

Words : 922 Updated : Oct 5th, 2025

Harvey Dent had once been one of Gotham's most dedicated and principled attorneys. His defining case was the prosecution of mob boss Sal Maroni. But during the trial, Maroni threw a vial of sulfuric acid at Dent, horrifically scarring the left side of his face and hand. The physical disfigurement shattered more than just his appearance—it destroyed his life. His fiancée, Gilda, left him, unable to bear his transformation. Devastated and unable to cope with the loss of his looks and life as he knew it, Dent spiraled into despair. He embraced fate as his new guiding principle, mutilating one side of Maroni's signature two-headed coin. From then on, he let the coin decide whether he acted for good or evil. Eventually, the trauma fractured his mind. A second personality emerged: the cruel and chaotic "Two-Face," distinct from the more controlled "Harvey Dent." The two shared control of the body, alternating in months-long stretches. When one was dominant, the other was unaware. Over time, the Two-Face personality grew stronger and more dominant. After finally murdering Sal Maroni—then operating under the alias Anton Karoselle—for good, Dent consumed by emptiness and lament for his lost life attempted suicide in a safehouse. But he survived. The bullet missed his brain, only worsening his mental state. Two-Face's presence grew, and Dent found himself regaining control less and less frequently. He tried therapy—some willingly, others under threat—but nothing worked. Psychic metahumans were rare, expensive, and too risky to trust given the number of people who wanted him dead. When Dent did resurface a year ago, he discovered he was running a fully operational criminal gang: racketeering, robbery, extortion, acting as judge and enforcer within Gotham's criminal underworld. Harvey Dent was no saint. He had still murdered Maroni in cold blood. He was less selfish than Two-Face, but not selfless. His goal, however, was clear—true justice. A world where everyone got what they deserved. A world where he was the only one he could trust to deliver it. Or rather, where the coin was. He continued running the gang toward that vision and stopped trying to end his own life. An unspoken agreement had formed between the personalities: Two-Face wouldn't cross certain lines, and Dent wouldn't sabotage their growing criminal empire or attempt suicide again. But Dent remained unsettled by how little time he spent in control. When a commotion stirred outside his building one night, the coin flipped and landed on heads—he would meet with the intruder instead of having his gang put holes in him. Now, in a private meeting room, it was just Dent and the intruder. His men were all outside ready to storm in if things went south. "So, who are you?" Dent asked, leaning back in his chair. "I'm assuming you're not just another of Gotham's nutjobs. You said you wanted to make a deal." "Bullseye," the masked man replied. His outfit was plain: dark clothes and a dark blue ski mask. "I want you to control Gotham's underworld." Dent arched a brow. "What do you think I've been trying to do? You think Gotham's gangs are easy pickings?" "I do," Bullseye said plainly. "I could take all of you down in a year at most. It'd require extensive scouting and research but I could. But if I did, new parasites would pop up. Crime in this city is a hydra. You cut off one head, two more grow back. It needs order. Structure. One person in control, enforcing the rules." Dent studied him. Was this a rival's ploy? Or some kid with a god complex and a mask? But the confidence in Bullseye's voice was chillingly grounded. He believed every word. "And what rules would you enforce?" Dent asked. "No hard drugs. No trafficking. No civilian casualties. Keep the crime in your world. In return, I'll help you eliminate your competition." Tempting. Their goals aligned. But Dent was cautious. Two-Face was unpredictable. And this stranger? Too unknown. "How do I trust you?" Dent said. "I don't even know what you're capable of." "Want me to get rid of Two-Face?" the man replied. Dent stiffened, quickly standing up and drawing his twin .22LR caliber Arminius HW-9 ST revolvers—one blued, one stainless. "Is that a threat?" "I'm talking about the personality." The guns didn't lower, but Dent froze. Very few people knew about his dual personalities. He had ensured their silence. "Who told you?" "No one," Bullseye answered calmly. "I figured it out. And I can fix it. Just say the word, and I'll remove it—in two minutes. But only if you agree to my terms." Dent lowered the guns. If this man was bluffing, he was doing it well. If he wasn't... this could be the chance Dent had prayed for. Still, could he trust him? He reached into his pocket and pulled out the coin. "Heads, I trust you. Tails, I don't." He flipped it. It landed on tails... then bounced strangely and landed on heads. Dent stared at the coin, then at Bullseye. Bullseye only shrugged. "If I had telekinesis, I wouldn't have dodged your guards shots." Dent exhaled. The coin had never failed him before so why doubt now. "Alright," he said. "What do I have to do?" "Sit down and look me in the eyes," Bullseye said. Dent obeyed—and in the blink of an eye, found himself in a blank white void.

Chapter 108: 108

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