"A middle-aged man who ran a dry cleaners, with his wife and daughter still in the hospital, struggling to pay their medical bills."
Jason's tone carried a hint of conflicted emotion.
"He kept his powers, too. He can control electricity. Unlike those gangs running wild, he started out just patrolling Gotham's streets, hoping to help people who needed it."
He paused, then added.
"I followed him for two days. I watched him chase off petty thieves and gather with a bunch of ordinary people who also had powers. I thought he'd end up being consumed by his power, too, but he turned out to be more clearheaded than I'd expected."
"Of course, he's still a bit rash, and a bit stupid."
There was finally movement in the corner.
Wilson used a surge of electric current energy to force the garbage out of his mouth.
Forced to calm down, he had listened to the entire conversation between Red Hood and White Hood. Now, at last, a trace of doubt stirred inside him.
Wilson struggled to prop himself up on his belly, then rolled over. Ignoring the dust-covered lock of hair blocking his vision, he urgently challenged Jason.
"You say they're all bad people. What proof do you have?"
"What, haven't you watched the news while you've been working at your dry cleaners during the day?"
Jason scoffed.
"After Gotham cleared out the virus and reopened, a bunch of reporters came over from Metropolis next door. They've stayed here for days, digging up breaking news. You can find reports of that superpowered gang's terrorist attack on the orphanage everywhere."
Wilson's face flushed crimson, his bulky body writhing wildly inside the restraints.
He rolled around the room like a fat maggot until Jason raised a foot and pinned him down.
"The news? Who