Gordon walked over with a stack of freshly printed preliminary identification matches, looking even grimmer than when he had first arrived.
"We've confirmed some of their identities," he said. "Missing persons. East End, Blackgate district, the dockside shantytowns, and a few kids registered on the Wayne Foundation's assistance list."
Batman took the documents, his lenses scanning rapidly.
Gordon continued, "Some don't have complete identity records. They might be undocumented immigrants, homeless children who were never registered at all. We need time to match them."
Chen Mo stood nearby, still holding a small fragment of his web-shooter. His voice was a little flat. "The ledger has numbers."
Batman handed the ledger to Gordon.
"Match them against the container numbers. The transport routes, payment records, and people handling the handoffs are all in there."
Gordon flipped through two pages, his face gradually darkening.
Even Gordon, who knew perfectly well how rotten this city was, wore the expression of someone sickened by every new way it found to rot.
"Black Mask isn't getting away this time," Gordon said.
Chen Mo glanced up at Black Mask on the streetlight.
Black Mask was looking down at them, too.
He no longer had the strength to curse like before. His face was ashen, but a certain venomous refusal to admit defeat lingered in his eyes. Even hanging from a streetlight, someone like him would think he had merely traded his seat for a temporarily less dignified one.
"Of course he isn't getting away," Chen Mo said. "He's already become a streetlight ornament."
Gordon looked at the streetlight and fell silent for two seconds.
"Very artistic."
Chen Mo was perfectly unabashed. "Of course! Art comes from life, but rises above it, too."
Gordon looked at Batman.
Batman nodded.
"He'll find where he belongs in Blackgate Penitentiary."
"Seriously?