Christmas Eve in Gotham City.
Snow began falling heavily again. The thick layer of snow looked somewhat pale beneath the moonlight, like dead ashes after the flames had burned out.
The towering, black Arkham Asylum was faintly lit by scattered lights in the darkness. It stood silently amid stern guards and iron railings encircling the entire asylum. Its enormous, indistinct silhouette was almost blending into the night, like a beast lurking in the darkness from some strange legend.
Today was Christmas Eve, and after midnight, it would be Christmas.
Commissioner Gordon looked grim as he hurried along beside Batman. Tonight should have been an ordinary Christmas Eve, yet he had been forced to leave the soup kitchen and come all the way here—to this heavily guarded prison built specifically to contain supervillains and lunatics.
Days of exhausting work, crime-ridden Gotham, and the Holiday Killer still on the loose—each of these was enough to keep his nerves taut. Fortunately, a small soup kitchen had recently appeared in the East End, and it had eased his mood somewhat. Every time he went there to check on the children, he felt as though his body was filling with energy again.
Of course, that might also have been because he had drunk a bowl of porridge himself.
"Joker 'escaped' again. He's already attacked several families—good Lord, he didn't kill anyone, but he took all their Christmas presents."
"I know."
In response to Gordon's report, Batman, walking ahead of him, gave only that brief reply.
Commissioner Gordon raised an eyebrow and looked at the two pointed ears atop Batman's head. He instinctively retorted, "You know? How? We only just received the news, and—never mind."
After working with the Bat for so many years, he had realized that whenever Batman managed to do something beyond the