In the aged, grand hall of Wayne Manor, Gordon sat on a leather sofa, fidgeting.
Before joining the Gotham Police Department, he was just a grunt in the American army, his days filled with running, eating, missions, and sleeping or dying.
He had never seen a hall this lavish, as magnificent as a king's castle in a fairy tale.
Of course, Gordon felt a pang of self-consciousness.
But his unease wasn't due to his own insecurities. It stemmed from a gruesome murder that had occurred twenty minutes prior.
Over forty members of the upper class had been found brutally murdered in an old building.
This incident would have a profound and devastating impact on Gotham.
You see, it wasn't just the forty people; their families were also found dead in their homes.
The relatives and friends of the deceased would put pressure on the police, and the bureaucrats they funded wouldn't let Gotham PD off the hook either.
So, before Gordon left, the entire police department, from the commissioner down to the stray dogs they fed, was dispatched to find the killer. The goal was to catch the killer quickly and give those wealthy gentlemen an explanation.
What was even more chilling was that their heads were separated from their bodies. A notice was posted on the white wall, stating that they intended to kill Bruce Wayne.
This was also the reason he rushed over. Wayne Enterprises was the solid pillar for Gotham.
If the sole heir, Bruce Wayne, died, the impact would be immeasurable.
Wayne Enterprises would fall into chaotic infighting and might even be devoured by outside capital.
For the sake of this city, Gordon had to ensure Bruce Wayne's safety.
"Mr. Gordon."
A voice from the staircase broke Gordon's worry.
Bruce Wayne, the young billionaire, was descending the stairs in a loose, luxurious bathrobe, followed by his loyal old butler.
Bruce looked sleepy, as if he had just gotten out of bed. His face was tired, and the lipstick marks on his face easily associated him with a playboy.
"What do you need?" Bruce asked lazily, his head drooping.
"Mr. Bruce."
Gordon stood up and shook hands with the young man, then began to recount everything that had happened twenty minutes ago.
A long list of names of the deceased, all famous figures in Gotham City.
Bruce listened, his expression becoming somewhat grim.
"So, you're worried those thugs will break into Wayne Manor to kill me?"
Bruce shrugged, the gloomy look vanishing, replaced by his usual air of nonchalance. "Alright, what does Officer Gordon want me to do?"
Gordon sighed. "I'd like Mr. Wayne to leave Gotham for a while."
Bruce nodded and looked at his butler, Alfred.
"Master, I believe there's a helicopter on the roof of the castle. We can use it to go to your other private estate and then catch a connecting flight out of Gotham."
Bruce chuckled, snapping his fingers lightly. "Let's do that."
"If you'll excuse me, Mr. Gordon." Bruce turned, nodded to Gordon, and, as if he were terrified of dying, left with his butler, heading for the top floor.
Watching Bruce leave, Gordon also stood up and walked out of the manor. He got into his old car and drove towards the crime scene. He had a lot to do today.
"Rumble."
Not long after Gordon left, the sound of a helicopter's roar quickly filled the air.
Inside the helicopter, Alfred was piloting the aircraft, steadily gaining altitude. He called back, "I hope you can protect yourself this time, Mr. Bruce. Don't get yourself all battered and bruised again."
"I understand, Alfred, I understand."
Behind him, Bruce was putting on his protective gear.
"Click."
As the black shoulder armor clicked into place at his wrist, Bruce looked at the bat mask and took a deep breath.
Alfred fiddled with the signal receiver, reporting to Bruce, "According to the latest news from the police, the murder scene is located at the old Wayne Enterprises site."
Hearing Alfred's words, Bruce flinched slightly.
He thought again of the mysterious masked man from that night. Could it be that guy?
Taking a deep breath to dispel the inner turmoil,
Bruce gazed at the city beneath him, the city he both loved and hated.
"Gotham."
Bruce heard himself say it, and then, he picked up the Bat-cowl and put it on.
As the half-mask covered the upper half of his face, those originally melancholic and deep eyes instantly turned cold and sharp.
Right now, he was Batman!
Gripping the sides of the cockpit with both hands, he kicked off with his legs, releasing his grip.
Like a screaming cannonball, he launched out of the cockpit, diving towards Gotham under the night sky.
In the reddish-orange clouds of the evening, Bruce spread his cape behind him, the fabric snapping in the wind.
It was as if a giant bat had descended from the heavens, ready to bring fear to the city.
Wayne Enterprises' old site.
This abandoned skyscraper was now surrounded by orange caution tape.
Gordon, with a cigarette dangling from his mouth, gazed out at the night.
He remembered the horrific scene he'd witnessed at the crime scene.
The terrifying, headless corpses were neatly arranged inside the enormous office building, and on a dusty round table lay a collection of grimacing heads.
"Whoever did this is insane."
Gordon inhaled deeply, letting the nicotine-laced smoke fill his lungs. He dropped his half-smoked cigarette and crushed it under his heel.
After coming to Gotham, he realized just how twisted, perverted, and insane this damn city truly was.
"Crack～"
A faint sound came from a skyscraper not far away.
The two police officers on night watch with Gordon were already fast asleep.
If it weren't for the vigilance Gordon had retained from his time in the force, he might have overlooked these movements too.
"What's going on?"
Gordon gripped the pistol at his waist. He slowly took a step, then another, crouching under the police tape as he headed towards the high-rise building.
In the pitch-black night,
Gordon listened to his own breathing as he climbed the stairs, arriving at the fourth floor, the scene of the crime.
A thick, pungent smell of blood invaded Gordon's nostrils.
He peered into the crime scene.
The floor was covered with silver body bags.
In the thick darkness of night, a faint, eerie light flickered.
"Who's there!"
Gordon's nerves were on edge. He raised his pistol instantly.
In this bizarre murder scene, only the firearm offered him a small measure of comfort.
"Easy."
A low, raspy voice spoke.
Gordon watched as the eerie light moved upwards, revealing the familiar, pointed bat ears.
"It's you, the masked man." Gordon's face hardened, and he gripped his gun more tightly. "Did you do this?"
"No, I'm here to help you."
The figure shrouded in darkness spoke slowly. He turned, looking at the wall as if he didn't care if Gordon would shoot him in the next second.
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