How Can You Become a Grandmaster If You Use Martial Arts When You Have a Gun?

Blackgate Penitentiary's visitation center.

"That's where things stand. My medical team has found a treatment for your wife's illness. I believe she'll recover before long," Bruce told Victor.

"Thank you, thank you—" Victor bowed sincerely to Bruce. "My research materials and data are in the apartment I rented. The password is Nora's birthday. You're welcome to use them."

"All right..."

"I never imagined the superpower Father Roland mentioned would be getting you to help me," Victor said. "That was quite a surprise."

After seeing Victor off, Bruce requested a visit with someone else.

"Bruce Wayne. I didn't expect you to come see me." Black Mask sneered. "What, aren't you looking for your little Tommy?"

"He's dead," Bruce said flatly.

"I know. But I didn't do it. Would you believe that?" Black Mask paused, then gave a mocking laugh. "Someone shot him from hiding before I could make my move. You'll never find out who killed him!"

"I know. He staged his death." Bruce's expression remained unchanged. "He was the Batman in bandages."

"What?" Black Mask sprang to his feet, heedless of his wrists bleeding against the restraints. "It was him?"

The guard barked at him to sit down, but Black Mask ignored him and glared at Bruce.

"It was. After he staged his death, he appeared in Gotham City as Batman—until the real Batman killed him."

"...So that's what happened."

"Yes. I've lost another friend." Bruce's voice grew heavy. "Roman, I don't want you going down that road too."

"Friends? What a joke!" Black Mask snapped. "When my parents were abusing me, you and your Tommy were inseparable. When my companies were about to collapse, you bought them and left me with nothing. And now you call me your friend?"

"No, Bruce. I'm not your friend. I'm your enemy."