Schiller's car stopped on a brightly lit street, but instead of pulling into a designated parking spot for one of the buildings, it circled around to the back alley and stopped in the darkness. The two people who got out of the car also stepped into the shadows.
Schiller and Pamela stood at the turn on a street corner. It was not particularly concealed, but there were usually no unrelated pedestrians wandering through streets packed with such upscale clubs. Blind spots beyond the windows were everywhere, and Schiller and Pamela stood within one of them.
"Are we not going in?" Pamela asked.
Schiller shook his head. "Judging by what you said during the day, perhaps you have not become obsessed enough to form a hunting club."
"That's ridiculous." Pamela raised her voice. "I haven't actually murdered anyone, at least not yet."
"A law-abiding good girl."
Pamela did not know how to respond. She took a slight step forward and poked her head out from behind Schiller, only to feel a hand settle on her shoulder and gently push her back.
"The first rule of hunting is patience." Schiller's voice seemed to echo inside Pamela's chest.
Following Schiller's gaze, Pamela looked at the building across the street. It was a mansion beside the Gotham River, as lavish and brightly illuminated as every other building on the street. Faint music drifted out, and the ball inside was at its peak.
Are we going to break in? Pamela wanted to ask, but she recalled the rule Schiller had mentioned earlier and ultimately remained silent. Schiller turned and gave her an approving look.
"Do you know Oswald Cobblepot?" Schiller asked Pamela after straightening up and no longer watching that spot.
"I've heard of him. He's a second-year student with an exceptional talent for running