“We were in this together,” he said hoarsely. “Then you were gone—”

“The Batman wasn’t needed anymore,” Bruce responded, disguising his voice. “We won.”

“Built on a lie,” Gordon croaked. “Our lie.” He moaned weakly, in obvious distress. “Now there’s an evil rising from where we tried to bury it. Nobody will listen.” Anxious eyes pleaded with his visitor. “The Batman must come back.”

Does he know what he’s asking? Bruce wondered. “What if he doesn’t exist anymore?” he replied aloud.

“He must,” Gordon murmured, gasping for breath. “He must.”

CHAPTER TEN

Gotham’s Old Town had once been a prestigious place, but the neighborhood had never fully recovered from a series of economic downturns over the last few decades. Affluent families had abandoned it, only to be replaced by successive waves of struggling immigrants, welfare recipients, and squatters.

Elegant townhouses had been subdivided into shabby apartments and left to decay, neglected by absentee landlords who pocketed their rent checks but seldom laid eyes on their rundown properties. Graffiti blemished the buildings’ sooty brick walls. Prostitutes and drug dealers loitered openly on the stoops and street corners. Iron bars guarded the first floor windows. The police and politicians claimed to have cleaned up Gotham, but the view from Selina’s apartment told another story.

Looking away from the window, she admired herself in the mirror of her cramped, closet-sized bathroom. Her new pearls went nicely with the slinky black dress she had picked out for the night’s excursion. She was looking forward to getting out of the dingy apartment for a few hours.

A disturbance in the hall outside interrupted her thoughts.

“I told you!” Jen shouted, loud enough for all their neighbors to hear. “Money first!”

Selina rolled her eyes. Here we go again.

Moving quickly to the door, she stepped out into the hall, where she found Jen backed up against a wall by a smarmy yuppie type who looked twice her size and way too old for her. His face was flushed with anger. “Goddammit!” he swore. “You took my wallet!”

He drew back his fist. An expensive gold watch glittered on his arm.

Intent on bashing Jen, he didn’t even hear Selina pounce. She grabbed onto his wrist, her nails digging into his flesh.

“Get out,” she hissed.

Startled, he glared angrily at her.

“She took my wallet!”

Probably, Selina admitted to herself, but that didn’t matter. Nobody was turning Jen into a punching bag—not while she was around. She twisted the jerk’s arm behind his back and propelled him toward the stairwell. He grunted in pain.

“Now,” she insisted.

The guy got the message. Muttering obscenities under his breath, he retreated down the stairs, glancing back furiously over his shoulder on his way out. Selina waited until she heard the front door slam shut downstairs before checking on Jen. Her reckless young protege was already rifling through the guy’s thick wallet.

Selina sighed.

“I’ve told you not to try it with the assholes, Jen.”