Gotham's Law

Gotham's nights seemed forever the same. The skyscrapers downtown never lacked customers for their upscale restaurants and nightclubs. They splurged fistfuls of cash for physical or spiritual pleasure—whether it was a dinner that cost a poor family half a lifetime's savings, or lavishly toying with young male escorts.

Yet in the alleys not far from those buildings, screams and gunshots rang out from time to time. In the darkness, crime always ruled.

Any kind of criminal act could be found in Gotham. No matter how bizarre the crime itself or the criminal might be, Gotham had it all. This place was a living museum of modern criminal history.

Chaos and order were tangled together. A world sharply divided into black and white had drifted ever farther away, leaving nothing but gray areas all around.

Gotham's nights never changed. At the very least, they never got any better.

After thirty years of working here, James Gordon understood that deeply.

He had started out as a lowly homicide detective, worked his way up to captain, and eventually became Police Chief. As a man, every step had been difficult.

Not only because this world's workplaces were somewhat discriminatory toward men, but because everyone knew he was an upright and incorruptible man. Truly clean people were pitifully rare in this city; everyone, to one degree or another, had ties to things lurking in the darkness.

The mayor was a regular at Penguin's Iceberg Lounge. A senator was secretly selling Arkham's medication to Scarecrow. The Chief Justice had once been Two-Face's superior. Black Mask was affiliated with Gotham Institute, openly using a Chemical Plant as cover to manufacture drugs in the city.

In a city like this, the fact that he had become Police Chief without being killed sometimes felt like a miracle.

But reason always reminded him otherwise. It was no miracle. It was because there had always been a shadow behind him, lurking in the darkness.

That shadow came and went without a trace in the dark, hating evil with every fiber of her being.

Whenever the law could not reach, or the police were powerless to act, she took over. Plenty of people had tried to kill Gordon before, but a woman in a Batsuit always made them abandon the idea.

Fear.

Yes. Anyone with darkness in their heart feared the bat in the shadows. She was meticulous, agile, everywhere at once, and never merciful.

Back when Gordon was still a captain, Batwoman appeared for the first time. At first, Gordon had resisted this Masked Vigilante.

Just because you said you were one of the good guys didn't mean I could let you run around the city in a mask, beating people whenever you wanted. I had to see whether what you did actually improved public safety instead of making the city even more chaotic.

Gotham back then was still far from what it was today. Mafia families led by crime boss Falcone spread across the entire city, and even half the police department was made up of corrupt cops.

Drugs, smuggling, arms dealing, slaves—whatever made money, they did it. Officials had woven them a protective umbrella.

Gordon tried to arrest those gangsters, but obstacles arose at every turn. That was when Batwoman helped him. She used violence to obtain evidence, brought down officials colluding with the mob, and allowed Gordon to use the law to punish them.

And in the end, when Gordon finally faced Falcone in their decisive showdown, the bat shattered Falcone's confidence and utterly crushed the crime lord, allowing sunlight to fall upon Gotham.

From then on, Gordon's attitude toward Batwoman became one of turning a blind eye.

What she did really benefited Gotham. It helped the people. As for dressing like a bat... maybe that was just a personal hobby?

Thinking back on those days, Gordon could not help but smile faintly.

"Captain Gordon, we heard that the bank robber from last night was taken down by a strange woman wearing a Batsuit. What is the police department's view on this?" Reporters had frantically surrounded the entrance to the police station. Gordon, still a captain at the time, was escorting prisoners out of a squad car.

"Absurd! Utterly absurd! Gotham has never had any freak running around in a bat bodysuit." Gordon spoke with righteous indignation.

"But we have footage. We have evidence." The reporters refused to give up, insisting that they had solid proof.

"Fabricated. It's all fabricated. On behalf of the Gotham City Police Department, I express grave concern and the strongest condemnation!" Gordon immediately said sternly.

But after locking up all the criminals, he would sneak off to the storage room on the roof and call Batwoman to complain—telling her that she had made too big a mess again, asking whether she could avoid security cameras before making a move next time, and so on.

Batwoman had been fairly reasonable in those days, and her actions had been more restrained.

But as time passed, word that Gotham had a Batwoman still spread beyond the city. That attracted people like her. Unfortunately, every one of those masked figures was either a villain or a lunatic, and Gotham's public safety rapidly deteriorated.

After that, people calling the police were no longer reporting little things like bank robberies or home burglaries. Instead, every other incident involved some major catastrophe where someone wanted to drag the entire city into hell.

For example, a madwoman might hide a Nuclear Warhead downtown because she wanted to spar one-on-one with Batwoman. Or someone might take hostages in hundreds of buildings and demand that Batwoman play a guessing game.

Fortunately, Batwoman ultimately solved those problems. But inevitably, opponents began to emerge within the city. They believed the bat had drawn all the villains in the world to Gotham.

Batwoman had no intention of explaining herself. She continued to do as she pleased, and her methods became even more brutal.

By then, Gordon had become Police Chief. He immediately ordered a Bat-Signal installed on the roof of the police department and stopped concealing anything. Whenever the Bat-Signal lit up, it meant he had something to discuss with Batwoman: another new lunatic had come to town and needed Batwoman to handle them.

Yes. From that point on, the criminals who appeared were no longer people the police could deal with. They had to rely on Batwoman. The police's role was to wait for Gordon's orders, then clean up the criminals Batwoman left behind. By then, those criminals were often unconscious or crippled.

Fortunately, although Gotham was dangerous in those days, people had not yet become what they were today. At least back then, there were still beautiful hopes in their hearts.

Until Batwoman's greatest enemy arrived.

No one knew where she had come from. She had long green hair, a deathly pale face, and an exaggerated smile permanently fixed on her lips. She also enjoyed carving that smile onto other people's faces with a knife.

She did several major things to show people just how insane she was, and to tell them that madness was a wonderful thing.

No more worrying about death. No more worrying about hunger or poverty. All you had to do was laugh happily every day!

She planted the seeds of madness deep inside Gotham's people, then waited patiently and snickered as they sprouted. Every so often, she would help them along, all because it was more fun that way.

She tangled with Batwoman, getting caught countless times and breaking out of prison countless times. It was as if the entire city had become their stage. She wanted all of the bat's attention focused on her alone.

Until half a year ago, Jester came up with a new game and planned to invite Gordon to serve as a prop. But something went wrong during the kidnapping. Gordon's daughter Barbara was shot in the lumbar spine and became paraplegic. For the rest of her life, she could only live in a Wheelchair.

In the end, Jester was caught by the bat again. Gordon wanted to kill her to avenge his daughter, but Batwoman blocked the barrel of his gun and told him not to be fooled by Jester, not to be ruled by madness, and not to abandon his principles.

Gordon ultimately lowered his gun and chose to follow the law. But the law did not sentence the mentally ill; it only sent them to Arkham for treatment.

But who could treat Jester? The doctor who had once treated her had instead been converted by her, becoming today's Harley Quinn. Not only had Harley helped Jester escape prison, but the two had also created the monster known as Two-Face.

From then on, Arkham stopped assigning doctors to Jester.

This time, Jester seemed to have grown tired of playing. She stayed obediently in Arkham and had not made a move in a long time.

And based on past experience, whenever Jester was captured, Harley Quinn became completely calm, like she had lost her soul. So neither Batwoman nor Gordon cared much that Harley had escaped capture last time. It was better this way. If the two were locked up in Arkham together, something would only go wrong.

About half a month before Su Ming arrived.

As usual, Gordon jolted awake from a nightmare. He shook his head, felt around for his glasses and put them on, then realized he was not tied to a roller coaster in an amusement park by Jester, forced to face some insane spectacle. He was in his own bed at home.

Cold sweat had soaked through the sheets. Wind howled through the window that had not been fully shut, lifting the curtains high into the air.

The electronic alarm clock beside his bed told him it was only four in the morning. He had been asleep for less than two hours, yet his dreams had been filled with Barbara collapsing in a pool of blood while Jester laughed maniacally without end.

Gordon's first wife had divorced him, leaving Gotham and their daughter behind, never to be heard from again. His second wife had been a police officer, killed by Jester while saving infants during an operation.

Besides Jester, both women often appeared in Gordon's nightmares. Now, even his only remaining family—his daughter, who depended on him and whom he depended on—had been turned into a cripple by Jester.

Gordon had more reason than anyone to go mad, but he did not. He still clung to justice and the law.

He took his gun from beneath his pillow, shut the window properly, then carefully checked every room to make sure no criminals had slipped inside. Finally, he came to Barbara's door.

He gently pushed it open. By the moonlight, he saw that his daughter was sleeping safely in her bed. Only then did he relax. He tucked the handgun into the back of his waistband and went to the kitchen to find some water.

There was not much in the refrigerator. When Barbara had been healthy, she had handled the housework and such at home. Gordon was too busy to have much time to shop for groceries.

After searching for a while, he found only half a carton of milk. It probably had not expired yet. It would at least moisten his throat.

Just as he drank some milk and closed the refrigerator door, a figure suddenly appeared behind it. The shock nearly made him throw the carton.

"Next time you sleep, it would be best to shut your window first."

"Pfft—damn it! Batwoman, can't you make some noise? You always show up so suddenly. You're going to scare me to death!" Gordon sprayed milk from his mouth, while Batwoman nimbly dodged aside. Not a single drop touched her cape.

"Because... I am Batwoman." The newcomer answered expressionlessly, her voice clearly altered by a voice changer.

"I know who you are—who you really are. I just don't say it!" Gordon snapped as he searched for a rag to wipe up the floor. "It's four in the morning, and all the lunatics are locked up. Can't you let me get some sleep? Don't you have anything else to do at night?"

Batwoman completely ignored those words. Everyone knew Bliss Wayne was a rich, useless heiress. The people of the city thought she spent every night drowning in luxury and pleasure, but those were merely performances staged by actors she had hired as a disguise.

She got straight to the point. "I need to leave Gotham for a while. If I stay, it will put everyone in danger."

"Oh? What kind of lunatic is it this time? I'll call the department right away." Gordon exhaled, tossed aside the rag in his hand, and went to find his phone.

"I don't know. I'm still looking for clues."

Batwoman shook her head, hidden in the darkness. Her Bat-Cape made her completely blend into the shadows, but Gordon knew her well enough to guess what she looked like right now.

"Then how do you know it's dangerous?" Gordon found that strange.

"Someone told me. In certain respects, he is very trustworthy." Batwoman seemed to be touching something in her pocket, but she did not take it out to show Gordon. "You and Barbara need to leave with me immediately too. Otherwise, those lunatics will use you to force me out."

Gordon fell silent. After a moment, he shook his head. "No. I'm Gotham's Police Chief. I will never leave. Whoever it is, if they want to cause trouble in Gotham, they'll have to kill me first."

"Are you sure? I don't know the details, but from what I know so far, the danger is absolutely beyond anything we've faced before." Bliss tried to persuade him. "Maybe you could take a month off. We could take Barbara around the world and look for doctors while we're at it."

"No. I'm not leaving. You take Barbara and go. I'll stay here." Gordon spoke firmly. Once Batwoman left, if he left too, Gotham would be finished. Perhaps all his work over the past thirty years would be wasted in a single night. "Even if they kill me, you must not come back."

"I'm not leaving either. If my father can stay, then as a woman, I have even less reason to run away."

It was Barbara. Since Jester had crippled her, her life was no longer in danger, but the pain in her waist often made it difficult for her to sleep. Combined with her constant mental tension, even the slightest disturbance woke her. This time, she had heard the conversation in the kitchen and rolled out from her room in her Wheelchair.

"Barbara, you could think it over. Maybe—" Bliss began.

"There's no need. Jester couldn't kill me, so no one else can either. I'll stay here with my father. I think the police department's communications room will be fairly safe, and I can put my computer skills to use there."

Barbara rejected her goodwill, declaring that she would live and die with Gotham.

Bliss hesitated. Seeing the two of them so resolute, even she wanted to stay. But the mysterious person had told her that if she remained in Gotham, not only the city but the entire Earth would be in danger. She had to leave.

With a swirl of her cape, she left Gordon's home and headed to meet Alfred, who was waiting for her.

Gordon held Barbara and cried for a while. Then he strengthened his resolve and solemnly spoke into the darkness.

"We won't leave, Batwoman. Go do what you have to do. I... Wait, she left again? Why can't she ever let me finish what I'm saying?!"

Gordon was helpless. Once again, just like the hundreds or thousands of times before, Batwoman had appeared suddenly and then vanished suddenly. He had never once heard her say goodbye.

"Because that's just how Batwoman is. Can you take me back to my room, Dad?" Barbara covered her mouth and yawned.