Another ordinary morning in Gotham, while two extraordinary conversations unfolded simultaneously in the reception rooms of Wayne Manor.
Schiller and Gordon had arrived together, one to see Batman, the other to see the Pale Rider.
Seeing the two of them show up together, both Batman and the Pale Rider had a very bad feeling.
But they had no reason to refuse them, because too much had happened in Gotham lately. The two of them alone could not possibly handle it all; they needed help.
Besides, they could hide for a while, but not forever. What was coming would come eventually. Even if they had only come to offer their condolences, the Pale Rider and Batman could only cooperate and mourn.
Perhaps seeking some psychological comfort, Batman had arranged for the two pairs to speak in adjacent rooms, as though that would allow them to offer each other spiritual support. But he had still underestimated the situation.
The moment the reception room door closed, the Pale Rider saw Gordon standing gravely before the sofa, hands on his hips, his trench coat swept back behind him. He looked at him and said, "Jack, tell me. Where did you put Cobblepot? Batgirl couldn't find him."
The Pale Rider frowned deeply. Staring into Gordon's eyes, he said, "Why are you looking for him?"
This was a very bad sign, the Pale Rider thought. Gordon was not someone who acted arbitrarily. He usually did not take action without informing others, and once he did, it meant he had made up his mind about something. No one could sway him.
"I need him. Gotham needs him." Gordon sounded casual, which meant he was not trying to persuade anyone. He was merely describing a fact that was about to happen.
The Pale Rider's sense of foreboding grew