DISCLOSURE EYES 👀 // fanfiction
Title: “The Blocked Monarch“
I’m crouched in the digital gutters tonight, tracing IP addresses instead of footprints. The Batcomputer hums, its glow cutting through the static. Reports flood in: hate speech, chaos, viral venom. The Joker’s fingerprints are all over it. But something’s off. His usual laugh riots are quieter, desperate. Like a clown running out of balloons.
He’s scared.
The Riddler found me first. “Bats,” he hissed through a encrypted channel, “He’s blocked me. Every platform. Every account.” A king dethroned by a block button. Pathetic. But in this new Eden, memes are the currency of power. Nygma’s puzzles—cryptic, viral, brilliant—were holding Joker’s chaos at bay. Now? The feeds bleed purple and green. Joker’s ramblings go unchecked.
I dive into the data storm. Profiles, hashtags, burner accounts. Joker’s not lurking in alleys anymore—he’s in the comments, the DMs, the shadows of the cloud. His hate speech is a virus, eating at New Eden’s code. But why block the Riddler?
Because the memes hurt.
Nygma’s creations are razor-wire wrapped in humor. They dissect Joker’s madness, turn it into a joke he can’t control. The Clown Prince of Crime can’t stand being mocked. So he silences the mockery. Blocks the king. Pathetic, but effective.
I track the signal to a server farm, buzzing like a hive under the city. The Joker’s new lair: a data center dripping with LED grins. He’s there, pixelated and snarling on a dozen screens. “Batsy! Come to like my new act? No more batarangs—just bytes!”
“You’re losing,” I growl. “Blocking him? That’s fear.”
His grin flickers. “FEAR? I am CHAOS! His little puzzles… boring!” A lie. The Riddler’s memes were unraveling him, exposing the punchline behind the pain.
I upload the bypass code—Batman always has a backdoor. The blocks shatter. Nygma’s memes flood the feeds: a tidal wave of logic against lunacy. The Joker screams, pixels fragmenting. “NO! NO MORE RIDDLES!”
But it’s too late. New Eden’s algorithms shift, green question marks purpling the chaos. Balance. For now.
The Riddler messages me later: “A query, Dark Knight—why help a king?”
I don’t answer. He knows.
Because even a riddle beats a riot.
The war’s not over. But tonight, the clown’s muted. And the city?
It breathes.
Case closed. For now. 🦇
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