Chen Mo slowly leaned back in his seat.
"Wow."
On the screen, the man jumped down from a fire escape.
He even stumbled when he landed.
"The ground, dear ground, you're a little gloomier than the ground in Washington. Gotham, you really should consider getting yourself a new designer, or at least installing a couple of lights that don't want to murder pedestrians."
That was Deadpool's first time in Gotham.
To be precise, it was Deadpool's first time following Spider-Man's trail all the way to this city that absolutely did not welcome outsiders in red spandex.
He asked around along the way.
First, he asked two punks.
"Have you seen Spider-Man?"
The two punks looked at him.
Deadpool patiently elaborated, "Spider. Man. Shoots webs, not the pet store kind, and not the kind in your corners. I'm looking for a live one. Talks a lot, gets around well, looks good on a cover."
The punks drew their guns.
Deadpool sighed.
"Gotham people really only have one way of communicating."
Three minutes later, the punks were hanging upside down from a streetlamp.
Deadpool squatted on a trash can lid, holding half a bag of chips he'd searched off them, eating as he gave the matter serious thought.
"Clue one: Gotham has no Spider-Man. Clue two: Gotham has lots of helpful citizens willing to shoot strangers. Clue three: these chips have expired. What an information-packed day."
Then Batman arrived.
Batman was in bad shape at the time.
Not his movements.
Not his judgment, either.
Just his mood, and his mental state was pretty bad too.
As though something had pressed his whole being another layer deeper into the dark.
After Chen Mo disappeared, Gotham hadn't stopped to wait for him. Crime was still crime, sirens were still sirens, and Arkham was still