Director Gordon regained his memory. At this moment, he was on his way back to the station in his car.
The journey from Arkham Island to the station was quite long, requiring passage through several bridges and tunnels, followed by traversing a city area that wasn't particularly safe. In that area, Two-Faced Woman and her subordinates were especially rampant.
Before going mad, Two-Faced Woman Harvey Dent was a rising star in Gotham, a famous young prosecutor.
However, her extensive legal knowledge in the past led to her being quickly paroled even if Bat Heroine caught her, since Batman could never appear in court to testify against her.
Since Bat Heroine left, Gordon had been on guard, but nothing happened. Until last week, the bureau received a call for help from citizens claiming the circus was on a rampage, burning, killing, and looting in the streets.
He immediately dispatched people to maintain order while he drove to Arkham. Whenever the circus acted like this in the past, it often meant the Jester was at it again.
However, when he arrived at Arkham, after passing through layers of security to see the Jester, she was sitting cross-legged on the floor of her cell, elegantly using a plastic knife and fork to eat a roasted rat.
He had nothing to say to the Jester. After confirming she was properly locked up, he planned to return to the bureau and continue dealing with the city's unrest.
Gordon was an experienced detective. Such situations wouldn't make him lower his guard. The circus's actions made him sense something unusual, so every day since then, he would visit Arkham to personally confirm that the Jester was still inside, only then could he feel at ease.
Although the Bat Lamp on the police station's roof was always on, it served solely as a deterrent to criminals. The Bat had left, and Gotham was now unattended.
Today's visiting time was over. He didn't talk to the Jester. The whole process involved him silently watching her through thick bulletproof glass as she drew on the small room's floor. After a few strokes, she would seem to think of something, burst into mad laughter, then continue drawing, and then run around the room, gesticulating wildly.
Making him want to rush in and beat her up.
Yes, he hated her, but certain rules could only achieve so much.
In this regard, his views were similar to Batwoman's, but vastly different from Deathstroke's. People like Cindy and Su Ming never delayed revenge overnight.
Gordon couldn't wait to see what she was drawing. He was already leaving the bureau later than usual today because someone had called for help about ninjas appearing downtown and attacking someone.
An entire day and half a night, Gordon was investigating the matter.
Unfortunately, the rain was too heavy, leaving no clues, not even the police dogs could pick up any scent.
It was just past midnight now, and he should return to the GCPD to pick up Barbara and head home. Maybe they could stop by a gas station for some donuts or hamburgers as a late dinner, although he wasn't sure if the fast-food joint they often passed would still be open in this weather.
Driving in the rainstorm was a strange experience; you couldn't see far-off scenery, only hear the monotonous sound of raindrops beating against the car.
Gordon turned on the radio but quickly turned it off. The sharp and excited voice of Gotham City Radio's announcer reminded him of the mad, reminded him of the one he'd just seen.
Perhaps he should someday investigate that announcer; it always felt like she was a member of the circus.
The solitary journey left Gordon musing incessantly. He pondered how his daughter had ended up in a wheelchair at such a young age, filled with heartache and worry. Although she remained kind and lovely, these regrets often put her at a disadvantage and inconvenience in choosing a partner in life.
Outside the window, the torrential rain kept pounding the car's glass, the sound of water moving and streaming down like waves that rose and fell. As Gordon drove, he found it hard to calm his mind.
Bat Heroine had mentioned that there might be a way to heal spinal nerve damage, but what could it be?
She said danger was approaching, but what exactly could it be?
A few days ago it was the circus, today it was the Shadow Dancer Alliance. What exactly are these people plotting?
With a mind full of questions, Gordon squinted his eyes, trying hard to see through the windshield completely blurred by the heavy rain. He needed to hurry and pick up his daughter to take her home; the car couldn't afford to flood and stall here.
However, at a junction ahead, right around the corner, he noticed someone in bizarre clothing lying by the roadside in the puddles.
Despite the dim light and rain affecting visibility, he was sure he had seen someone down, the heavy rain mercilessly drowning her body.
He slowed the car down, carefully observing the situation. There were no suspicious individuals, and the buildings by the roadside were tightly closed. The residents of Gotham had long passed the stage of getting involved in others' affairs; no one would attend to someone lying by the road, as it might be fraud or a trap.
But in most cases, the person lying by the roadside was truly dead, with various possible causes.
Frozen to death, starved to death, murdered, and so on...
He slowly stopped the car, unfastened his seatbelt, tightened his trench coat, and checked his handgun.
As a police officer, even as a director, he couldn't ignore someone lying by the roadside; that's the duty.
The wind and rain intensified; it wasn't like this when he left Arkham, and now, it was nearly impossible to see anything ten meters away. The strong wind held the car door firmly, requiring great effort for him to get out.