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Chapter 9: Batmans Second Guess

Gordon undid a button on his shirt collar, twisted his neck to relieve some tension in his shoulders, and then turned his head to gaze out of the window at the dark and rainy night in Gotham. It was as cold and damp as ever.

His colleagues exchanged greetings as they left the police station at the end of their shifts. One of them turned to Gordon and said, "Hey, buddy, you shouldn't have taken that tricky case in the first place. Dozens of people gone missing? You're probably going to be digging through files all night again."

Gordon gave a resigned smile and replied, "You said it – dozens of people missing. I have to stay on top of it."

After his colleagues had all left, Gordon brewed a strong cup of coffee for himself. He intended to work through the night.

The disappearance cases in Morrison District were peculiar. In previous missing persons cases, even if the abductions were discreet, the victims' corpses would eventually be found. But among the 46 people missing in Morrison District, not a single corpse had turned up on the streets of Gotham. That was highly unusual.

Gotham was not a city known for upholding the law. Gangs were plentiful, and none of the seasoned gang members bothered with hiding corpses. They would simply toss them off a building, knowing full well that they wouldn't fool the police. However, in the case of the Morrison District disappearances, there was no sign of any corpses.

The missing individuals in Morrison District came from various professions, and they had virtually no common patterns. The only thing they shared was their status as permanent residents of Morrison District.

At this time, Gordon was still young, merely a low-ranking officer at the police station, far from becoming the commissioner. This was a case no one wanted to touch, a hot potato, but Gordon, driven by a sense of justice, had taken it on despite knowing that it might be a thankless task. He was determined to do his best and seek justice for the victims.

As he stayed up late sorting through files and grew increasingly tired, he suddenly sensed movement behind him. He turned around to find a massive shadow looming over him. Gordon instinctively reached for his holster, but his handgun was not there.

The person before him was clad in a tight black suit, with two pointed ears on their head and a black cloak draped over their shoulders. They were tall enough to obscure most of the overhead lights. Gordon spoke cautiously, "Who are you? And why are you here at the police station?"

"You can think of me as a vigilante. I'm investigating the disappearances in Morrison District. I noticed you went there today and yesterday. You must be the detective in charge of this case. I hope to obtain the files of these missing individuals from you," the stranger replied.

Gordon was about to refuse when the stranger continued, "Of course, I have some leads to offer in exchange, or we can work together to solve this case."

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"A vigilante?" Gordon thought. It sounded absurd. Gotham was not a place where such individuals existed; otherwise, it wouldn't be known as the city of crime.

Gordon's initial encounter with Batman was not pleasant. They faced off in the police station for a long time, and it was clear that the newly arrived Batman had not yet grasped the art of finishing a conversation before leaving. They clashed with Gordon for a considerable duration, and Batman eventually grew impatient.

Batman realized he was in an unfortunate situation. Gotham had numerous neglectful police officers, but he happened to encounter the most diligent one. Gordon was willing to protect those files with his life, and Batman had no intention of harming him.

After dealing with the Sewer Gang, Batman was deeply moved by the homeless man he had rescued. Though he had ultimately saved the man, he had to reflect on his actions. He decided to start small, focusing on simpler tasks.

Morrison District, the starting point of his superhero journey, was far from peaceful. The number of missing persons cases had reached a dangerous level, considering that the district had only a few hundred residents. Batman was determined to make this case the beginning of his career. And he had someone to suspect.

A university professor who stayed up at night, sneaking into the streets where Gotham's gangs roamed for no apparent reason. He would appear and disappear mysteriously. Was there anyone more suspicious?

Batman had considered confronting Schiller directly, but he knew he might not win in a verbal battle with the professor. Their two previous encounters had ended in defeat for Batman. He believed he needed substantial evidence before bringing Schiller to justice.

On this day, Batman returned to Morrison District. Since he couldn't obtain the missing persons case files from Gordon, he decided to infiltrate the home of one of the missing individuals in search of other clues.

As he crawled out of a window, he spotted Schiller's figure not far away, standing beneath a streetlight. Schiller held a black umbrella and was gazing at a wall across the street. Batman noticed that Schiller was fixated on the spot where the homeless man had once been, even though the man had been taken to Gotham's finest hospital, with all his medical expenses covered by Batman. Despite having both legs amputated, the homeless man had survived.

Due to the homeless man's frequent presence against that wall, a dark stain had formed, and a small puddle had collected where he used to sit. The dim light from the streetlamp cast a yellowish glow, and Schiller stood across the road, staring at the puddle, lost in thought.

Young Batman couldn't contain himself any longer. He leaped down and appeared before Schiller.

"Good evening, Batman. I remember that's how you introduced yourself last time, so I'll call you that," Schiller said.

Batman's eyes behind the mask were fixed on Schiller as he replied, "Let's not beat around the bush. You know why I'm here."

"You're here to be a savior, I know. Just like when you rescued that poor beggar."

"Did you have any involvement in the disappearances in Morrison District?" Batman inquired.

Schiller shook his head, and Batman continued, "You're the only outsider here, and you have no apparent reason to be here."

Schiller responded, "Clearly, you already have an answer in your mind, so why bother asking me? You're quite skilled at turning what you've already concluded into a question to interrogate others."

"If you get an answer that satisfies you, you're content. But if you don't get the answer you want, you become angry."

"If I were to say I'm not the culprit, you'd become furious. But your anger doesn't stem from your sense of justice; it's simply because I didn't provide the answer you desired."

"You consider yourself infallible, don't you?" Schiller asked.

"I've said it before, don't beat around the bush. You are the only one here with suspicion..."

Before Batman could finish speaking, he noticed a bat-shaped dart fly past Schiller's neck. It seemed he had let his guard down a bit. Whether it was this young Batman or the Batman of the future, they did not kill, but they often brutally subdued criminals, breaking their limbs before sending them to the hospital.

However, it appeared this young Batman was missing a step.

Schiller remained quiet for a moment before another bat dart narrowly missed his neck, leaving a small cut that started to bleed. At that moment, a series of hurried footsteps echoed from the end of the alley, and a voice shouted, "Stop!"

Batman turned his head toward the end of the alley, where, under the streetlamp, Gordon was aiming a handgun at the two men.

"Gordon, detective, hello," Schiller greeted.

Gordon, holding the gun, approached slowly and said, "Put down your weapons and don't move."

Schiller shrugged, indicating he had no weapons, while Batman put away the bat dart he had clenched in his hand.

As Gordon got closer, he noticed the blood on Schiller's neck, which had also soaked his shirt.

Schiller remarked, "Batman, you made a mistake. You said I'm the only suspect, but this detective obviously doesn't think so."

"People with no motive to be here, besides me, include you," Batman said.

"I'm here to investigate the disappearances," Batman continued.

"So am I," Schiller replied. "But evidently, neither of us is more noble than the other, because we're not the police. Right now, only Detective Gordon has the authority to do this."

"I'll find evidence," Batman asserted.

"If you also need evidence, then what distinguishes you from the police?" Schiller suddenly asked.

Batman found himself momentarily speechless. He had always believed the police to be quite useless, as they required evidence for everything, even if a murder occurred right before their eyes. Without seeing the perpetrator, they wouldn't arrest the most likely suspect.

He thought, if he needed evidence too, why not become a police officer at the Gotham Police Department? But if he didn't need evidence and arrested anyone at will, what would differentiate him from criminals?

Batman regretted approaching Schiller. Every conversation with Schiller left him deeply shaken. This kind of psychological and intellectual turmoil was the most dreadful.

After each encounter with Schiller, Batman would spend at least two or three days reflecting, finding answers to the questions raised, bolstering his confidence, and then returning to action.

He felt it was no different from attending college classes. A teacher posed a question, students contemplated, wrote essays, and at the next meeting, aside from checking assignments, new questions awaited. It felt like an endless cycle.

Schiller, on the other hand, was equally frustrated. He thought, this Jonathan was indeed quite adept. Stealing most of the fear gas hadn't slowed down his research pace; it had actually made him more fanatical about kidnapping test subjects. This left Schiller unable to sleep at night, as he had to clean up this rotten mess.