Gotham. In a relatively remote apartment building in the Upper West Side, the place felt cramped, with corridors far too narrow.
It had originally housed illegal immigrants, comparable to Hong Kong's Kowloon Walled City, perhaps even worse.
There were plenty of horror stories about this place.
Among them was the rumor that streetwalkers who failed to hand over enough money would be beheaded on the spot by their pimp boss, and the stories were told in vivid detail.
But that was in the past.
A temporary bill strongly pushed by Harvey Dent had granted these illegal immigrants temporary green cards.
They had been thrown directly into Gotham's massive reconstruction plan.
Gotham was like a nineteenth-century steam engine.
Though ancient, it still possessed surging power during its reconstruction, enough to keep pace with the changing times.
Of course, it also required vast amounts of fuel to burn.
In contrast, several figures who stepped into the area were braving pea-sized raindrops falling from the sky.
They ran here.
To this soon-to-be-demolished "dangerous building district."
Everyone here had moved away.
The place stood as empty as a haunted house, though some unusual figures had appeared as well.
"I must have been out of my mind to believe you guys and come here with you!"
Up front,
Nashton, wearing a dark green raincoat and white-rimmed prescription glasses, stared at the iron railing blocking the way ahead.
Along with the shadows flickering across the surrounding floors, it made him clench his fists through gritted teeth. He hated being in danger.
He felt he was better suited to planning from behind the scenes, slowly laying out schemes, just like... his teacher, Edward Nygma, becoming a great mastermind.
Controlling those people's lives, deaths, and power from the shadows.
Guiding them with riddles.
Then making them suddenly wake