William was shoved out the door by security, but he was not discouraged. He bought some food at a convenience store and headed into the dark alley beside the bar.
He dragged over an empty crate and sat down, chewing on an energy bar as he began sorting through his thoughts.
The first thing he recalled was Maroni's phone call.
William had never expected his true identity to be a mob boss's illegitimate son, a mole planted inside the police department to gather evidence of the current commissioner, Norman Steele, colluding with Falcone to embezzle funds and take bribes.
Maroni, of course, wanted to use Batman's disappearance as an opportunity to return to Gotham and install his own puppet in power. For William, bringing down a corrupt commissioner would also help stabilize Gotham.
Clearly, the two of them would enjoy a decent working relationship in the short term.
In the long run, however, murky ties to a mobster posed an enormous risk, especially since this body's original owner was related to Maroni by blood.
That connection meant William could not easily shake him off.
If Gordon and Batman started digging...
At that thought, William suddenly felt less eager to bring Batman back.
But he had no choice. The system's rules meant he could not leave Gotham, and Gotham could not do without Batman.
He faced a dilemma with no easy answer.
Growing frustrated, William scratched his head.
Forget it! I'll take it one step at a time. If all else fails, I still have the system.
It could keep upgrading and unlocking abilities as he won over more people. Perhaps a later ability would solve his troubles.
Putting his worries aside, William took the opportunity to check the system.
Two people were currently marked by beacons. He checked Victor Zsasz's coordinates first. Good, he was safely tucked away in Arkham Asylum. As for Gordon, he seemed to be out on duty. No specific location appeared, but his latitude and longitude kept changing.
Tapping their portraits also let him see their opinions of William.
"A dear friend who breaks my heart!" That was Zsasz's.
"A driven young man. I hope he stays true to himself and doesn't let Gotham corrupt him." That one came from Gordon.
What James Gordon did not know was that this young man he thought so highly of was the biggest mole of all. His admission to the police academy and his entry into the department had both been orchestrated by the mob.
Without a transmigrator stepping in, an Infernal Affairs-style showdown might have played out atop Wayne Tower a few years later.
And William believed that was precisely why transmigrators existed: to arrive with a few little cheats and stir an already chaotic situation into something even murkier and crazier.
He had never been one to complain. Aside from missing his family a little, William was growing increasingly accustomed to life here, to this entirely new sense of chaos.
Perhaps he would feel very differently once a grenade exploded at his feet, or once a piece of shrapnel pierced his right eye.
For now, though, this DC fan simply wanted to enjoy his life after transmigrating to Gotham.
William waited another few hours. The sky grew overcast, and the young man appeared at the bar's entrance again.
But the instant William spotted him, the young man whipped his head around, his piercing gaze shooting into the depths of the alley.
The moment that gaze settled on him, William felt a prickling chill down his spine. Picking him out in a dim alley from across the street-was this Batman's perception?
While he was still hesitating, the young man raised a hand and beckoned toward the alley.
"How long are you going to keep hiding?"
With that, William had no choice but to steel himself and step out.
"Wolf told me about you. You're the cop looking to give me trouble?"
The young man's voice was low, like hard-soled combat boots grinding over coarse gravel. The arrogance in his tone grated on William.
Was this guy really Batman?
"Those guys wanted me to throw a fight, so they got beaten up. Got that? If you do, get lost!"
After that brief explanation, the young man walked away with his boxing gloves slung over his back, without looking around.
William held his temper and followed him.
"Have you lost your memory?"
Those words stopped the young man in his tracks. He turned and looked William up and down.
"So? Are you saying you know who I am?"
"Yes, I think you might be..."
Seeing that he was making progress, William hurried to explain. To his surprise, however, the young man gave him no chance to do so. He merely smiled scornfully, turned, and walked away.
The Black Truffle Bar's main business was underground boxing. About six months earlier, its owner, Wolf, had discovered this young man who had lost his memory.
Since joining the boxing establishment, the young man had won fight after fight, bringing the Black Truffle plenty of business.
What William did not know was that, after learning about the young man's past, plenty of people had already approached him with all sorts of motives. Most of them had used this same flimsy excuse.
"Come with me. I know your background. I can help you find your family."
The instant the young man heard those words, he branded William a con artist.
William should have been grateful he had identified himself to Wolf as a police officer. Otherwise, he would most likely have been lying in a drainage ditch by now, foaming at the mouth.
Of course, everyone's patience had its limits.
When William tried to approach him for the third time, a large hand suddenly lunged at his chest and seized his collar.
William was no lightweight, yet despite standing six foot one, he was lifted off the ground with one hand.
"Listen, cop. This is your last warning..."
The young man's menacing attitude faltered as his gaze fell on the cash clutched in William's hand.
A fistful of bills, roughly a thousand dollars.
The young man had thought Wolf was the only person willing to lavish that kind of money on him.
"That money?"
"You haven't had dinner yet, have you? How about giving me the time it takes to eat a meal?" William smiled, partly delighted that his plan was finally inching forward. Of course, the young man's attitude toward money was even more amusing.
If this guy really was Bruce Wayne, this had to be the biggest joke of his life so far.
William ought to thank his top benefactor, Maroni, for funding his plan to find Batman. Otherwise, he would never have had enough money to buy back the equipment, let alone spend some time alone with an amnesiac Bruce.
Neon lights flickered through the rain and mist. Two lights in the once-illuminated "Sunny Diner" sign had failed, leaving only the first two letters still blinking.
Inside, it was much warmer than outside, with the smells of cooking grease, coffee, and disinfectant mingling in the air.
A few night-shift drivers sat in the innermost booth, chatting quietly while a radio played a muffled late-night news broadcast.
William and the young man sat by the window.
The young man used the edge of the burger box to scrape the dressing off the beef, then pressed the two halves of the bun flat.
He nearly finished half the burger in a single bite.
After taking a sip of lemonade, the young man was the first to speak.
"They pulled me out of the harbor and stripped me of my gear while I was unconscious. My head was a complete mess at the time. Only later did I hear that Batman had disappeared that same night. If I'd known beforehand, I should have kept something that could prove who I was..."
"But now it's too late. Nobody knows who Batman is. Neither do I."
Before you continue