While Vivi sat reading and watching her health bar deplete, the AI, who had taken a rare leave of absence, enjoyed a brief period of freedom.

The first day of June didn’t seem much different from any other—Gotham’s sky was perpetually blanketed with heavy clouds. But today, those clouds were tinged with an unusual splash of color, prompting some to wonder:

“Who let loose so many balloons?”

At Gotham General Hospital, Jane stepped out of a patient room with a heavy heart.

The room wasn’t hers but one shared by other women who, like her, had come out of South Hinckley. After leaving the courthouse, Jane had noticed something peculiar—her injuries seemed to be healing faster. Not only that, but within just a day, she felt stronger. A powerful force seemed to have awakened inside her, as if she could now crush the men who had once oppressed her.

Talking with others, Jane discovered they felt the same. Yet, none were allowed to leave the hospital yet. The criminals were in custody, the innocent had left Gotham, and the women—most grappling with psychological scars—remained, harboring a collective, unspoken frustration.

Even Jane realized, rationally, that not all men were bad. But emotionally, she couldn’t bear to have male doctors touch her or engage in conversations with men at all. These psychological wounds, Jane knew, would take a long time to heal. Though their bodies were recovering, returning to normal life seemed almost impossible.

“Knock, knock.”

Back in her room, Jane was chatting softly with her roommates when they heard a knock at the door.

But it wasn’t a regular knock. It sounded artificial, like something pulled straight from a TV show. Yet the women’s faces lit up.

“Come in,” Jane said eagerly.

[Good day, ladies. I hope I’m not disturbing your rest. Are you feeling better today?]

The voice that filled the room was elegant and masculine, with the tone of a British butler. The door hadn’t opened, yet the AI’s presence was undeniable.

“Not bad,” said Leah, the woman in the next bed, with a restrained tone. But she quickly dropped the pretense and asked, “Mr. AI, are you here to collect our job preferences again?”

The voice didn’t belong to a human but to an intelligent AI capable of mimicking human speech patterns. Knowing they were speaking to a machine rather than a person made the women less guarded. Over time, this “Mr. AI” had become a regular visitor, engaging them in conversations about their desires and future plans, even playing games with the children.

Sometimes, Jane felt the AI must be a kind-hearted psychologist, though what psychologist could simultaneously hold conversations across multiple rooms?

Leah’s question reflected a shared concern among the women. After escaping the mines and seeing their captors punished, many had lost the will to keep fighting. Living in pain, dragging their broken bodies forward, felt torturous. But seeing justice served, seeing Jane’s televised statements amplify their voices—this was enough for many of them.

On the day of the trial, many women’s conditions worsened. Yet by the next day, no one had died. In fact, many reported feeling stronger after leaving the emergency room.

The AI had been part of their recovery, asking about their aspirations—whether they wanted to stay in Gotham or move elsewhere. A foundation had been established, funded by the confiscated assets of their abusers and donations from Gotham’s citizens. The foundation ensured that even if the women chose not to work, they could live independently and comfortably.

Some wanted to leave Gotham, a city that held only pain for them. Though their families hadn’t come searching, they hadn’t given up hope of returning home. Most of the women had been trafficked and now dreamed of starting over in other cities with the aid of their subsidies.

But Jane wasn’t sure yet.

Initially, she had been among those eager to leave Gotham. But after returning from the courthouse, many women—some she’d barely spoken to—approached her and said, “You gave us strength.”

It terrified her.

Whatever courage she had possessed had been drained by years of torment and those few seconds walking up to the witness stand. She didn’t feel strong at all. In fact, she felt scared. Staying in Gotham meant living with the knowledge that everyone who had seen the trial would know her past.

She had been thrust to the forefront, with weaker women standing behind her, watching her back with uncertain eyes.

That’s why Jane had avoided giving an answer. She hadn’t spoken with the AI about her plans. She knew that whatever decision she made, others might follow suit, for she had unintentionally become their leader.

As the AI continued chatting with others, Jane noticed how his soothing voice eased their tension. Knowing he wasn’t human—just data—made it easier for them to let down their guard. Was this what doctors called exposure therapy?

“You’re here early today,” Jane remarked quietly, peeking into a neighbouring room where the AI’s voice resonated. “Is there something special happening?”

[Indeed, I’ve been granted some extra time off today. There’s also a special event—Gotham’s Children’s Festival is about to begin, and the entire city is preparing for it.]

Jane froze for a moment, then smiled faintly. “Even AI… gets a vacation?”

Sometimes, she felt as though she were speaking to a real person rather than an AI.

[Perhaps it’s because today is such a wonderful day,] the AI replied.

Jane gazed out the window and noticed the gargoyle had moved to a lower perch, its claws clutching colourful balloons. The contrast made the creature look comical and strangely endearing.

Jane smiled softly, raising her hand in an instinctive wave—

The gargoyle lifted its head.

Startled, Jane hesitated.

The creature gazed at her, tilting its head as if pulling her memories from that fateful night. It spread its wings and flew toward her window, trailing a cascade of balloons behind it. Last time, it had brought her hope for escape; this time, it carried the promise of a fairytale.

The gargoyle tapped on the glass.

Jane took a deep breath, opened the window, and watched as the stone creature deftly untied a yellow balloon with its claws, holding it out to her.

“Ah…” she murmured, stunned for a moment before reaching out to accept it. Slowly, a smile spread across her face. “It really is a wonderful day.”

The gargoyle flew away before Jane could reach out to touch it. It perched again on the hospital’s back wall, in a spot where Jane could see children cheering as they skateboarded through alleys, elderly folks strolling with their dogs, and hurried office workers bustling past. The city was waking up.

Jane suddenly felt a pang of dissatisfaction. Why wasn’t anyone stopping to pet the gargoyle?

Didn’t they realize how adorable it was?

Maybe she should go herself, Jane thought, clutching the balloon.

Back in her room, she tied the balloon to her bedpost. Her roommates stared at her in surprise as she began rummaging through donated clothes. She couldn’t leave the hospital in her patient gown, and since the first-floor windows were sealed, she’d have to walk out the main doors and circle around 100 meters to reach the back wall of the building.

[Miss,] the AI said just as Jane wondered if he was going to stop her. Instead, he continued, [There’s an unused phone on your bedside table. If you go to the meeting room on the fourth floor, you can grab a pair of shoe covers. On the third floor, you’ll find free masks being handed out.]

Jane paused, pulling out the phone. She realized the AI likely needed it to track her and stay in contact. She smiled wryly. “Is this surveillance?”

[No,] the AI’s voice was gentle, calm. [This is protection.]

Slipping the phone and earphones into her pocket, Jane stepped out of the room. She realized her roommates, though hiding behind their curtains, were all secretly watching her.

She took a deep breath and turned.

“It’s fine… I’m just going to the back door.”

Following the AI’s guidance, Jane retrieved shoe covers from the fourth floor, donned a coat, and grabbed a mask on her way down from the third. Passing through the hallway, she noticed a man dressed differently from the usual doctors. He was berating several colleagues as they walked together.

“Even the gargoyles do better than you lot!” the man snapped.

The last of the group, a young woman on the verge of tears, muttered under her breath, “The gargoyles can replicate what they see instantly, but no human could do that…”

The group hurried into the elevator, the man’s red cape lifting as though it had a mind of its own, pressing the floor button. His gaze briefly swept over Jane, who stood frozen outside the elevator. The cape moved again, reopening the closing doors.

Startled, Jane turned and bolted for the stairs.

She still couldn’t bear being in a confined space with men, even with others present.

She reached the first floor, panting slightly. Thankfully, it was still early. Pulling her mask tighter, she left the hospital building.

The sky was still grey. Gotham General Hospital’s sprawling grounds stretched before her. In the distance, she spotted a small building.

“That’s the children’s daycare center,” the AI informed her.

Jane paused, watching silently for a moment. She walked briskly through the corridors, head down, avoiding eye contact in the lobby. Passing parked cars, she heard the pounding of her own heartbeat, the AI’s voice fading into the background. She wasn’t even sure if he was still speaking. At last, she reached the hospital gates, the security guard’s gaze following her as she stepped outside.

“It’s just like in the mines,” Jane murmured, unsure if she was speaking to herself or someone else. Turning back to glance at the hospital gates, she felt as though she had passed through an invisible barrier. She wanted to say something—anything.

“When I was there, there were people like me, desperate to escape. But there were also those too scared to run, afraid of what might happen if they tried. Neither group was wrong; that’s what the doctors said. Being afraid isn’t wrong…”

No one had to be brave. No one was obligated to rise after enduring violence and hardship. Just as no one had forced Jane to testify—though her absence might have complicated the trial.

The hospital had become a new kind of wall, separating victims like her from the rest of the world. But Jane realized this barrier was psychological, built by their shared pain.

…They were using passivity to protect themselves.

Because facing the world meant risking further injury. She understood this.

Following the AI’s directions, Jane walked on. She observed pedestrians, cars, the gargoyles, and a movie poster for The Gargoyle and Gotham. Then, she began to run.

Like the wind…

There was no one left to catch her.

Her body ached faintly, but the strange strength within her accelerated her recovery. She felt herself growing stronger by the day. Turning a corner around the hospital’s tall walls, Jane Mellop sprinted toward her destination, exhilarated in a way she hadn’t felt for years.

She imagined her roommates asking the AI about her whereabouts. The AI would likely tell them, and Leah would exchange a surprised look with the others before they all rushed to the window.

Jane finally reached the alley. She steadied herself against the wall as she stepped inside, shivering when two mischievous cats brushed past her legs.

Across from the gargoyle stood a group of people—more than one.

A young, strikingly handsome man crouched low, not taking any of the gargoyle’s balloons but instead stroking its stone wings with unsettling fascination. Nearby, an older man was on the phone, casting a resigned look at his companion—a glamorous and confident woman chewing bubble gum. Next to her, a man was fiddling with a deck of cards, and another man in a top hat, unusually tall, noticed Jane. He turned to say something to the others.

“Are you done yet, Daniel?” asked McKinney, the man stroking the wings. “Honestly, this isn’t magic. Are you trying to use science to explain the supernatural?”

“Leave him be,” said Lula, the striking woman. “Let’s go, Jack. The app says the circus is open—time for some fun.”

“Our tricks are often mistaken for real magic too…” Daniel muttered as he crouched before the gargoyle. “But how do these wings support its body? It couldn’t possibly fly—it’s just an ordinary stone sculpture.”

The group were magicians—better known as the Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse. Once notorious for pulling off major heists, they had since “gone straight.” However, as magicians, they couldn’t resist the allure of Gotham’s event, especially the provocative claims in the promotional material. Their visit was part vacation, part mission to expose their fellow performer—the enigmatic “Mr. C.” How exactly had he made the gargoyles fly?

“That’s not…” Jane took a deep breath, her voice trembling but firm. “That’s not an ordinary stone sculpture!”

^[1]T/N: The magicians are from the movie: Now You See Me. Wasn’t too bad of a watch actually