Central City's urban environment was a hundred times cleaner than Gotham's.
At least there was no stench of backed-up sewage, and no addicts on street corners ready to pull a gun at any moment.
After spending so long in Gotham, seeing somewhere this peaceful felt a little strange at first.
Yang Ming drove a rented black Chevrolet along Central City's main thoroughfare.
Bright billboards lined the streets, the shopping malls' glass facades gleamed, and someone was even walking a dog leisurely across the road at a traffic light.
This place felt a little unreal.
Yang Ming parked outside an ordinary hotel and glanced up at its sign.
"Silver Star Hotel."
The name was tacky, but the rooms were clean.
He carried his suitcase into the lobby. A brown-haired young woman was chewing gum behind the front desk.
"How many nights?" she asked.
"A week, for now."
"ID, please."
Yang Ming handed over a newly issued ID.
His name hadn't changed.
His background had.
Attending physician at a private clinic in Gotham's East End, consultant to the Wayne Medical Foundation, and a participant in multiple emergency trauma care projects.
The credentials were half true and half false.
The deeper anyone dug into the true parts, the more frightening they became.
Wayne Enterprises' legal department would fill in the false parts for him.
After checking his ID, the young woman glanced at Yang Ming's suit.
"Doctor Yang, are you in Central City for a medical conference?"
"Something like that."
"What kind of conference?"
"Getting to know a few patients."
She didn't understand.
Yang Ming took his key card and headed upstairs.
Half an hour later.
At the newsstand across from the hotel.
Holding a black umbrella, Yang Ming bought that day's Central City Gazette.
The front page wasn't about city affairs or