Prometheus sat in his cramped apartment, staring at the television screen with growing horror. The news anchor's perfect smile did nothing to soften the bile rising in his throat.

  "...Vincent Marquez, accused of murdering three children in the Bowery, walked free today after key evidence was ruled inadmissible. Defense attorney Jonathan Crane successfully argued that the confession was obtained under duress..."

  The remote slipped from Prometheus's numb fingers. Vincent Marquez. He knew that name. The man had killed those children—everyone knew it. But his expensive wyers had found technicalities, loopholes, ways to twist the truth until it became unrecognizable.

  If Prometheus had been there with the Truth Ray...

  His phone buzzed. A text message: *Time to come back. We need to talk. - Gordon*

  Twenty minutes ter, Prometheus stood in Commissioner Gordon's office, hope flickering in his chest like a dying candle. Maybe they'd seen the news. Maybe they understood now.

  "Did you know about Marquez?" he asked before Gordon could speak.

  Gordon's face was stone. "I did."

  "If we'd used the Truth Ray—"

  "Sit down, Prometheus."

  The tone killed his hope instantly. Prometheus sank into the chair across from Gordon's desk, dread pooling in his stomach.

  "We've made a decision about your research," Gordon said, not meeting his eyes. "The Truth Ray project is terminated. The device has been destroyed."

  "Destroyed?" The word came out as a croak. "But it worked. It could have saved those children—"

  "It was too dangerous," Chief Webb's voice cut through the room like a bde. Prometheus turned to see the IA chief emerging from the shadows near the window. "Uncontrolble. We need precision instruments, not weapons of mass revetion."

  "It wasn't a weapon!" Prometheus shot to his feet. "It was justice!"

  "It was chaos," Webb replied coldly. "We're reassigning you to a new project. Something more... manageable. A traditional lie detector, but more accurate. One that tells us what we need to know about suspects, not what we don't want to know about ourselves."

  Prometheus stared at them, understanding crystallizing like ice in his veins. "You want me to build something that only works on other people."

  "We want you to build something useful," Gordon said. "Something that serves w enforcement, not something that threatens it."

  "The Truth Ray was useful! It found the truth!"

  "The wrong truth," Webb snapped. "You can't just unleash truth indiscriminately. Justice requires discretion, Doctor. It requires choosing which truths matter."

  "Truth is truth!" Prometheus's voice cracked with desperation. "You can't pick and choose! George Washington couldn't tell a lie—he didn't get to decide which lies were acceptable!"

  Webb's ugh was harsh. "George Washington was president and also human, Doctor. He made the rules. We enforce them. There's a difference."

  Prometheus felt something break inside him, like a dam bursting. For the first time, he truly saw the men in front of him. Gordon, who was believed to work with Gotham's Batman. Webb, who'd bent the rules to protect the system. Chen, who'd made deals with criminals to protect political allies.

  They didn't want justice. They wanted control.

  "So what's it going to be?" Webb continued. "Build us something we can actually use, or find another line of work."

  The ultimatum hung in the air like a threat. Prometheus looked from Webb to Gordon, seeing them clearly for the first time. Not protectors of truth, but gatekeepers of convenient lies.

  "I thought this was about justice," Prometheus whispered.

  "Justice is what we need it to be," Webb replied.

  Prometheus closed his eyes, hearing his ancestor's voice echo across centuries: *"I cannot tell a lie."* But George Washington had lived in a different world, where truth was valued, where honesty built nations instead of threatening them.

  This wasn't what Prometheus had thought he was getting into. He'd believed he was serving justice, but he'd been serving a system built on selective blindness.

  When he opened his eyes, his voice was steady. "No."

  "No what?" Gordon asked.

  "No, I won't build you a machine that only finds the truths you want to hear. No, I won't pretend that truth should be rationed like medicine." Prometheus stood, straightening his shoulders. "And no, I won't work for people who are afraid of honesty."

  Webb's face darkened. "Then you're fired, Doctor Washington. Security will escort you out."

  As the security guards fnked him, Prometheus felt oddly calm. For the first time in weeks, everything was clear. The GCPD wasn't corrupted by a few bad apples—the entire orchard was rotten. But Gotham was bigger than this building. The city was full of liars, corrupt officials, criminals hiding behind expensive suits and false smiles.

  They'd destroyed his Truth Ray, but they hadn't destroyed his purpose.

  Walking out into Gotham's gray afternoon, Prometheus Washington made a decision. If the system wouldn't embrace truth, he'd bring truth to the system. If w enforcement wouldn't use his creation to serve justice, he'd use it himself.

  Gotham was drowning in lies, but Prometheus still had the prototype hidden in his apartment. The fire of truth that he'd stolen from the gods.

  It was time to become the Confessor.