Sky Island Gotham was like an isolated island forgotten by the world, hanging at the edge of the sunset's afterglow, drifting between the sun's arcs of light. It gleamed brilliantly, like a temple half-hidden among the clouds.
The ruins throughout the city that had yet to be restored carried a desolate beauty, while the countless rumbling machines brought an unprecedented vitality.
A nimble figure crouched atop the highest crane, gazing toward the sunset gradually sinking beneath the sea. Catwoman's sleek silhouette made her look like a cutout from a painting.
Another figure leaped onto the crane. Catwoman turned and saw Batman. She flicked her whip like a cat swishing its tail, then jumped down from the heights. Batman followed close behind, his cape trailing a long streak through the golden light where sea met sky.
The sun slowly sank below the horizon. Its remaining light was like an old, feeble hand, ultimately unable to grasp the fireflies drifting within it, gradually losing its color and warmth.
Batman entered Wayne Manor on the heels of a nighttime rainstorm. The children were all asleep, and only the study light remained on.
After cleaning up and changing into pajamas, Batman knocked on the study door. When he entered, he found Schiller bent over his desk at work.
Batman sat by the window nearest the fireplace. Schiller looked up as he wrote and said, "It seems today still didn't go well?"
Batman lowered his gaze, staring wearily at the flames in the fireplace. Whether or not Schiller had the time to look at him, or whether he was merely placing his hopes in that inexplicable yet miraculous psychoanalysis, he silently nodded.
Schiller's pen paused, then resumed its smooth strokes. Still staring intently at the paper, he said, "Even if you came to me, it