Commissioner Gordon wiped away the remnants of his thoughts as he drove back to the precinct. The road from Arkham to the GCPD wasn’t short, winding through a handful of bridges, tunnels, and some of Gotham’s less-than-safe districts. The streets weren’t exactly calm, either. After all, Two-Face’s former associate, the crazed Harvey Dent, was still out there with her loyal gang causing chaos.

  Harvey’s sister, Havi Dent—known as the 'Lady of Duality' before her descent into madness—had once been Gotham’s golden star, the promising young district attorney. Yet all her legal brilliance couldn’t keep her locked up for long. Even after Batwoman caught her, she’d managed to wrangle an early release, the legal loopholes nearly impossible to close without Batwoman herself testifying.

  Since Batwoman’s departure, Gordon had been on edge. Every day, he checked in at Arkham, making sure that Harvey’s crazy accomplices weren’t pnning something. But so far, nothing major had happened. That is, until st week, when a distress call had come through about a circus—a circus of all things—setting the streets on fire, robbing, and murdering as it rampaged through the city.

  He'd sent out backup to manage the riots, but it was clear this wasn't just about a circus show gone wrong. No, the Clown Prince of Crime was most likely behind this. So, Gordon drove straight to Arkham, ready to see the madness for himself. And when he got there, after a series of intense security checks, he found her—The Jester. She was sitting cross-legged in her cell, eating a roasted rat with pstic cutlery, a perfect picture of calm lunacy.

  He had nothing to say to her, confirming she was locked up tight before heading back to the precinct to deal with the city's test disturbance. He didn’t like to let his guard down, not with Gotham being as unpredictable as it was. His instincts screamed that something wasn’t right. From that point on, he made sure to check in on Arkham every single day. It was only when he saw her in her cell that he could breathe easy again.

  Despite the Bat-Signal always lighting up the roof of GCPD, Gotham was without its protector. Batman had left, and now, it was up to the people to handle the chaos. The Bat-Signal was nothing more than a reminder to criminals that Gotham had a history of not being very forgiving.

  Today’s visit was no different. He hadn’t exchanged a word with The Jester, just watched her from behind the thick bulletproof gss as she sketched madly on the floor of her tiny cell. A few strokes here, and she would break into hysterical ughter, only to dash around the room in a frenzy before settling down again to draw more.

  It made him want to storm in and knock some sense into her. He hated her, but there were rules, and he would follow them.

  Gordon wasn’t na?ve. He knew the difference between vigintes like Batwoman and ruthless killers like Deathstroke. People like Cindy and Sumi didn’t wait for justice to pass—they made it their own way. The harsh reality of Gotham was that it sometimes required more than just the w to survive.

  But that wasn’t his job. Not today.

  He’d stayed ter than usual at the precinct. The call about a group of ninja attacking citizens had taken up most of his day, and for hours, he’d followed every lead. Unfortunately, the torrential rain had washed away any traces of the assaints. Not even the police dogs could pick up a scent.

  Now it was past midnight, and the weight of the day bore down on him. He was supposed to pick up Barbara and head home, maybe even grab a couple of burgers and donuts along the way. He wasn’t sure if the local diner would be open in this kind of weather, but it was worth a shot.

  Driving in the rain was a strange experience. The world outside seemed distant, lost in a blur of mist and water, while the monotonous sound of raindrops hitting the roof and windows filled the car.

  Gordon switched on the radio for a moment, but quickly turned it off. The voice of the Gotham radio host was too high-pitched, too manic. It reminded him of someone, and not in a good way.

  Maybe he should look into that radio host one day. Something about her voice felt... off. Like she was a part of the circus that had recently wreaked havoc on the city.

  The loneliness of the drive made Gordon's thoughts drift to his daughter. She was still so young, but her wheelchair was a constant reminder of how fragile life was. He hated seeing her struggle, even though she never showed it. She was still kind, still ughing, but he couldn’t help but worry. She faced so many more obstacles than other people, and that hurt more than he cared to admit.

  Outside, the rain beat down harder, a constant, overwhelming rhythm that matched the unease in his chest.

  Batwoman had mentioned that there might be a cure for spinal injuries, but what was it? What danger was lurking? What were the circus and the Shadow Dancer Alliance pnning?

  Gordon squinted into the dark night, his thoughts tangled with uncertainty. He needed to pick up Barbara. The st thing he wanted was for his car to break down in the middle of this storm.

  But then, at a turn in the road, he noticed something—someone—in the rainwater pooling at the side of the street.

  A figure, hunched, with strange clothing—almost primitive, like they were dressed in fur.

  Gordon’s instincts kicked in. He slowed the car, squinting into the downpour, trying to make sense of what he saw. The figure didn’t move. He could barely make out anything. The rain, the darkness, and the storm made it hard to see clearly, but he could definitely tell someone had fallen.

  He slowed the car to a crawl, trying to make sense of the situation. Nothing seemed out of pce around him—no suspicious cars, no strange figures lurking in the shadows. The buildings around them were all shut up tight. Gotham’s residents had long since learned to mind their own business.

  But someone lying in the street? That was usually a sign of trouble. It could be an ambush, or it could be someone in need of help. Most likely, though, it was a corpse. Gotham had more than its fair share of those.

  He stopped the car and unbuckled his seatbelt, adjusting his coat. He checked his gun. As a police officer, even a commissioner, he couldn’t ignore someone lying in the street. It was his duty, no matter how much the city had chewed him up over the years.

  The wind had picked up, and now, the rain pelted him relentlessly as he stepped out of the car. The gusts made the door harder to close, but he managed. The cold hit him immediately. The water reached his ankles, sending a sharp chill up his legs.

  He looked down at his gsses, now wet with rain, distorting his view.

  "I’m getting old," he muttered to himself. "My knees, my joints—they all ache in this weather."

  He could feel it all—the pain, the weariness, the burden of years spent in Gotham’s war against crime.

  But this wasn’t about him.

  He squinted ahead. The figure was closer now. It was a woman. Young. Her clothes—furs, like she was some kind of savage.

  Gordon wasn’t surprised. Gotham had never cked for strange people. If you could dress like a bat and fight crime, why not dress like a cavewoman and get in on the madness too?

  But this one was different. He could tell by the way she was lying there. Something told him she wasn’t here by accident.

  "Ma’am! Are you conscious? I’m Commissioner James Gordon, Gotham PD."

  He had to make his move. No one else was around. He called out, hoping she wasn’t just pying dead, hoping she would respond. If she didn’t, he’d have to take more drastic action.

  Gotham’s ws didn’t leave much room for hesitation.

  The woman remained motionless, not even a twitch.

  Gordon leaned in closer, studying the lifeless woman before him. Her pale face was a grim reminder of her fate, the rain having soaked and bloated her skin. A rge wound marred her side, deep and jagged, a precise cut from a sharp instrument. It had torn through a third of her organs, causing fatal blood loss.

  From the looks of it, this wasn’t where she had been killed. She had been moved here, dragged from another location. There was no nearby mud under her nails, and the soles of her feet were unscathed—this pce was too clean, too dry. It looked like she’d been killed in an upscale club or lounge, the kind where the rich and influential came to py.

  But the rain had washed away most of the evidence. Gordon could only make out these few details before him. The woman’s eyes remained fixed on the sky, her expression frozen in a deathly stare, as if she were unable to rest in peace.

  Gordon sighed deeply. This meant more work for the GCPD. Gotham wasn’t just a city full of maniacs—it had its fair share of ordinary people who would kill for all sorts of reasons.

  He still couldn’t identify the woman. He’d have to call in the coroner. Turning, he trudged back toward his car, ready to make the call.

  But just as he reached the vehicle, the doors of the nearby building swung open. A group of women in bck suits poured out, their footsteps synchronized. They wore old-fashioned felt hats, and before Gordon could react, they surrounded him. Guns raised, the barrels of their submachine guns pointing straight at him.

  “Commissioner Gordon,” the leader of the group said, her smile cold and forced. “Our boss invites you to join us.”

  Several bck vans rolled out from behind the building, and she gestured for Gordon to get in.

  Gordon adjusted his gsses, trying to keep his focus, but his nearsightedness didn’t help the situation. "Who’s your boss? Penguin? Bck Mask?"

  He noted their ck of personality—this kind of dull efficiency only came from a ck of individuality, a sign they were mere pawns. Even if he was being kidnapped, they seemed somewhat rational... maybe he could still turn this around.

  The woman chuckled, though there was no warmth in it. "Oh? It seems you've forgotten an old friend. Only remembering the new ones, huh?" She grinned before fshing a cruel smile, baring her teeth. Then, with a swift motion, she smmed a fist into Gordon’s stomach. "Don’t worry, once we’re there, you’ll remember soon enough."

  The sudden blow sent Gordon crashing to the ground, his knees sinking into the wet mud. For a moment, everything blurred around him, but the image of the lifeless woman from earlier remained burned in his mind. Now, it felt like her vacant eyes were watching him, accusing him.

  “Her,” Gordon gasped, clutching his stomach as he gred up at the woman. “That woman over there—did you kill her too?”

  The bck-cd woman sighed dramatically, scanning the area as the rain pounded around them. “You’re still concerned about a dead body? We’ve already sent another team to pick up your daughter. You should be worried about her—whether she’ll end up like that poor soul." She snapped her fingers, signaling her subordinates. "Take him away.”

  With a chorus of heavy footsteps, Gordon was roughly hauled to his feet and shoved into one of the bck vans. The vehicles revved to life, and soon, they all disappeared into the rain-soaked streets, leaving behind only the wreckage of Gordon’s car and the rain-drenched body of the woman in furs, now hidden beneath the curtain of the downpour.

  Meanwhile, Su Ming and Cindy fought against the wind and rain, pedaling hard on their unicycles. Their bodies, honed by rigorous training, allowed them to push through the storm without feeling the usual fatigue. They had already covered thirty kilometers in just ten minutes.

  The rain shed at their faces as they sped through the streets, reaching speeds over 150 kilometers per hour. Only someone like Deathstroke, or another enhanced individual, could manage such a pace. If it weren't for the downpour, Su Ming was sure the unicycle’s bearings would be overheating by now.

  Through the thick sheets of rain, a silhouette emerged in the distance—a towering structure with a beautiful domed roof. It was Gotham’s courthouse. On the opposite side of the street, separated by a small park, was the GCPD headquarters.

  The area was eerily quiet. This part of the city was a high-end business district, a rare spot where crime rates were retively low. During the day, the park saw families, office workers, and casual passersby. But at night, things were different. Even though the GCPD was right across the street, Gotham’s underbelly was alive with shady deals, drug transactions, and the occasional illicit trade.

  Su Ming felt the chill in the air, as if the weather itself mirrored the coldness of Gotham. The temperature had dropped to just above freezing, and the rain pierced through the seams of his armor, his body losing heat with every gust of wind.

  Cindy was still ahead, a few steps in front of him. She was probably feeling just as cold as he was, but there was nothing to do but keep pushing forward.

  “If I’d known the rain was going to get this bad, we should’ve grabbed a drink at Harley’s pce before heading out. At least we’d be warmer,” Su Ming muttered, patting his backpack where he’d stashed some alcohol, taken from Wayne Tower.

  Cindy, still riding ahead, sighed. “I had the same thought. At this point, I wouldn’t mind a drink and a hot dog.”

  “There should be a vending machine at the station. We’ll just smash one open and grab something to eat. You guys have microwaves here, right?”

  “Of course we do. It’s a household appliance.”

  Su Ming’s mind wandered for a moment. The world seemed to have everything—a wide range of electronics, advanced communication devices, even refrigerators. But for some reason, there were no flying vehicles. It was like that piece of technology had been forgotten, as if no one had bothered to invent them.

  But they didn’t have time to dwell on it. Their goal was simple: infiltrate the GCPD, knock everyone out, and abduct Gordon. Gotham was falling apart, and Su Ming knew Gordon would be working te—he was too dedicated not to be. Once they had him, the next step was clear: take over the TV station and use Gordon as leverage to draw out Batgirl.

  Su Ming didn’t think Batgirl would let Gordon die. No matter what universe she came from, she was Gotham’s only superhero, and that carried its own weight of responsibility. He had no doubt that, even if this city was on the brink of colpse, Batgirl would show up... but he wasn’t sure she could save Gordon in time.

  "Wait," Su Ming murmured, slowing his pace. "Do you hear that?"

  Through the wind and rain, the faint sound of gunfire reached his ears. It wasn’t thunder, not tonight. The constant rumbling could only mean one thing—explosions or gunshots.

  Cindy pulled off her helmet, her golden hair immediately soaking in the downpour. Her expression grew more serious as she listened closely.

  “Yeah, that’s gunfire. And a grenade explosion... sounds like it’s coming from inside the precinct.”

  Both of them exchanged a look. Something had changed. They kicked their unicycles into higher gear, heading straight for the chaos that was unfolding.