“You’re a Metropolis reporter?” She asked. She frowned at her clipboard for a moment. “And who do you think the Batman is?” Clark asked the woman, curious. He was led through the building by an exhausted-looking orderly, who gave him brisk but reasonable instructions for safety: don’t touch the glass, don’t give anything to the patients (with the exception of a crayon and piece of paper, if required), don’t provoke the patients, don’t fall in love with the patients - what? Oh, don’t worry about it - and don’t panic: they can smell fear, and they’ll be on you like piranhas. And Arkham Asylum was proving to be yet another excellent example of that fact. Gotham didn’t do anything by halves, he thought with a sigh, they invested wholeheartedly in the melodrama. Permanently, if they played their cards right.Ĭlark glanced at the note-paper in his hand, and back up at the enormous, wrought-iron gates before him. If they really did know, any of them could take Batman out of commission. Presumably to sneak back onto the balcony for another cigarette. They all knew.Ĭlark had even talked to one of Wayne’s sons, at that party, and the boy had laughed in his face for a few moments before wandering off.
Everyone else on the other hand: from the police commissioner to the men sitting in holding cells, the children he talked to in crime alley to the diamond-adorned woman hanging off of Bruce Wayne’s arm. In fact, Clark was fairly certain that the only person that didn’t know was Bruce Wayne, Prince of Gotham himself - the man had talked a big game but was clearly covering for the fact that he had no idea. In fact, in the week or so he had been in the city, in the dive-bars and homeless shanty-towns, the high-society parties and every goddamn police department in the city, he had reached a single, infuriating conclusion.Įvery single person in Gotham had some idea who the Batman was, but not one of them would say it out loud.
He could see why Batman thrived in a place like this.Īnd Batman was why he was here: Clark had finally pitched the article in a way that made Perry sit up and take note, and had been carted off to Gotham with a promise not to return until he had something front-page worthy.īut Gotham was horrible, and Gothamites were even worse. It was a horrible city: dark, gothic and crime-ridden, corrupt to the core and perpetually raining.
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