In the warm room, Gordon sat on the sofa holding a thick newspaper. It reported yet another Arkham breakout, along with trashy anchor Vicki Vale's criticism of the Gotham Police Department.
Gordon knew what kind of person that woman was. To make money, she not only worked for the television station but also submitted articles to the Gotham Observer.
Today's front-page headline read: "Mad Criminal Escapes Again, 'Crime Nemesis' Helpless."
No one knew where that woman had secretly photographed Gordon speaking with the director of Arkham Asylum. Under the dim streetlamp in an alley, the two stood sideways as they talked, apparently passing something between them. At first glance, it looked like they were conducting some private deal.
They had actually been showing each other a search warrant. The woman had deliberately made the photo unclear, simply to provoke the readers' imaginations.
Even so, no matter how much he disliked her, she was still a lawful citizen. As a good police officer, Gordon could not—and would not—take any measures against her.
"I hate this. Every time that lunatic Joker gets locked up, I pray to God that he'll just stay in there." Holding a pair of scissors, Gordon wanted to cut out the article and file it away for analysis. With a cigarette clenched between his teeth, he said indignantly, "But then he escapes, and all we can do is sit by the phones at the station without a clue, praying instead that he doesn't do anything too horrific."
Hearing her father complain, Barbara approached with two cups of hot cocoa, saying irritably, "Dad, when are you going to leave work at the office? Relax a little and rest like a normal person for once, okay?"
Gordon smiled and nodded, tipping his chin toward the coffee table to indicate where