To My Hope (Edward Nashton x Vigilante!Reader)

Preview

You just can't seem to forget that look.

Round green eyes behind clear-rimmed glasses, neat, soft bronze locks, simple clothes under his jacket. But he had stared at you while you fought in absolute wonder, his mouth open in disbelief. You had smiled at him warmly, taking his hand and pulling him up.

"You alright?"

And he'd simply stared at you for another long moment, before nodding slowly, stunned.

"I'm alright," he breathed, his eyes wandering your hidden face, a smile tugging at his lips that grew with the next comment. "You're Hope."

"That's me," you'd agreed with a smirk. "And you're a bit hurt, aren't you? If it's not too serious, you should probably go home and patch anything up. So, it was nice meeting you...?"

"Edward," the man had responded instantly. "I'm Edward."

"Nice meeting you, then, Edward," you replied with a smile. "I love your glasses."

Edward's cheeks dusted pink, and his smile twitched in shyness as he looked down. "Thanks."

"I should get going," you told him with a nod. "See you around!"

And Edward had looked back up with a mixed, unreadable, intense look in his eye, his smile matching it almost unsettlingly.

"You will, Hope."

And that was it. Why what he'd said and how he said it is confusing you at this point seems stupid to you now, and you brush it off, giving a reassuring smile to Batman.

"Whatever. I guess I'm still getting used to things."

Batman nodded, not entirely convinced, but deciding not to push it. Instead, his dark eyes glide up to the skies to take in the warning sign.

"Come on," he says, and you nod, following him to the rooftop, where James Gordon was waiting impatiently.

"Hope," he addresses you with a weary smile. "Batman. I need you to see something."

That something leads you to the Mayor's house. Or, the late Mayor's house. Because, as you and The Batman walk through the hallways, the FBI and GCPD crowding the rooms and flashing photos make it clear that Don Mitchell is, in fact, dead. Murdered.

You and Batman receive the usual questioning stares from the officers, though some who meet your eye nod approvingly at you. The officer guarding the door to the main room gives you a hesitant glance when Gordon leads the way, but shakes his head and puts a hand out to stop Batman from going any further.

"Woah, woah, woah," he stops him. "Police action."

"He's with me, Officer," Gordon assures him. "So's she."

"Are you kidding me, sir? You're gonna let him in here?"

Vengeance stares at the officer silently, and you watch with an uncertain, halfhearted smile.

"Martinez," James insists, "let them through."

Martinez sighs as he lowers his hand, and they carry on walking into the room. You smile properly at the officer in an attempt of calming him down, and he nods at you in slight approval before glaring at Batman.

"Goddamn freak," you hear him mutter, but you walk on, into the scene.

And, quite frankly, you've never seen anything like this.

It's the Mayor, one of his hands in a paper bag, his head wrapped in silver duct tape, with the red, bloody lettering of 'NO MORE LIES' written on the front.

"What do we know?" Gordon asks one of the detectives, his torch aimed at the once Mayor of Gotham as he snaps his notebook shut. His eyes follow Batman and then you, as you both get a better angle, your brows furrowing and face screwing up in disgust. All over the walls, the same writing of 'LIES' is scribbled

"Detective?" Gordon regains his attention.

"Sorry, Lieutenant," he starts, "we got blunt force trauma. Lacerations on the head. He got hit a lot of times. And hard."

Gordon examined the head with his own torch. "All this blood is from his head?"

"No," the detective continues, stopping abruptly before he bumps into Batman. "Excuse me. Most of it's from his hand." He pulls the paper bag away to reveal Mitchell's cold hand.

"Thumb was severed. Killer may have taken it as a trophy."

"He was alive when it was cut off," Batman observes, and the men look back at him. "Ecchymosis... around the wound."

Cameras flash and snap while you look around, spellbound at the sight. There'd never been anything as bad as this in Gotham. Never like this.

"Security detail downstairs said the family was out trick-or-treating," the lead detective says, "the Mayor was up here alone. Killer may have come through the skylight."

"You said there were two cards," Gordon asked, and the detective agreed, pulling out two green envelopes.

To The Batman

To My Hope

He opens the first one, where a cartoon image of a skeleton and an owl are on the card.

"From your secret friend," Gordon reads, "Whoo? Haven't a clue? Let's play a game, just me and you. What does a liar do when he's dead?"

"There's a cypher, too," the detective points out, handing him a sheet of paper with an odd type of code written on it in a plastic covering. Gordon hands you the second one when you reach for it, the one addressed to you, and he and the detective watch as you open it, Batman behind you with a focused glare.

It's a card similar to the one for The Batman, but there's a cartoon picture of a girl with a shining halo above her head, hands clasped innocently, big eyes staring. The title reads 'YOU'VE ALWAYS BEEN MY ANGEL!'

Your brows twitch in confusion as you open it up, and identical writing to the other card is written inside, this time with a much sweeter riddle, messy hearts scribbled inside.

"Made by God in pairs, separated at birth on Earth, found after years of search, inseparable for the rest of the time. What are we?" you read quietly, and you feel Batman tense from behind you.

"Soulmates," he says under his breath, and you look up at the disturbed, equally confused stares from the detectives. You look back down with a short sigh, studying the writing and looking back at the envelope.

To My Hope...

This killer, whoever they are, might just be making everything a whole lot more difficult. Because this killer, whoever he is... likes you.