It was two in the morning in Gotham.
A television in the GCPD's underground interrogation area was playing a news segment on repeat.
The footage shook violently.
The burning mayor's office.
Shattered floor-to-ceiling windows.
Blood and flesh strewn across the floor.
And Yang Ming standing amid the wreckage, covered in blood.
The female anchor sat before the camera, looking as solemn as if she had just attended a funeral.
"At eleven forty-seven tonight, Gotham Mayor Hamilton was killed in a terrorist attack inside his office."
"Police have detained the only suspect found at the scene-Yang Ming, operator of an illegal clinic in the East End."
"According to inside sources, the suspect may be connected to the recent upheaval in the East End's underworld..."
Smack!
Gordon slapped the top of the television.
The screen flickered twice, then went black.
The office fell quiet.
The newly delivered evidence report lay on the desk.
A bloodstained scalpel.
A partially burned fragment of trench coat fabric.
And a surveillance recording marked "successfully recovered."
In the footage, Yang Ming emerged from a pink Space Door and rushed toward the mayor, who backed away in terror.
The next instant, the image shook violently, and an explosion swallowed everything.
It looked complete.
Too complete.
With a cigarette between his lips, Gordon stared at the report without speaking for a long time.
Harvey Bullock pushed the door open, carrying a bag of cold doughnuts.
"Commissioner, the media's already swarming downstairs."
"The City Council's called three times."
"The Federal Bureau of Investigation is on its way, too. They say this case might involve interstate terrorism, and they want to take Yang Ming."
Gordon looked up.
"Let them wait."
Bullock froze.
"Jim, it was the mayor who died this time."
"I know."
"Everyone out there is calling that Asian doctor