In the black alley, faint reflections of moving armor intertwine with a deeper, denser fog.
In an instant, the gray mist solidifies into a figure, stopping at the end of the alley. The sound of armor rubbing against each other ceases. Heavy footsteps stomp on the still-wet puddles, creating eerie echoes.
"Deathstroke?"
"That indeed is your death."
As soon as the words fall, a flash of blade appears. Schiller instantly disappears on the spot and reappears behind the figure.
"Who is your employer?"
"You don't need to know."
"It seems you have confidence in your skills."
Schiller dodges two darts with another flash, then faces Deathstroke and says,
"You shouldn't kill me."
"I can kill anyone, as long as someone can afford the price."
Schiller reaches out his hand, flames igniting within it.
"No matter who your employer is, he didn't pay you enough."
Deathstroke falls silent for less than a second, then turns and leaves.
"…Goodbye."
"How will you deal with your dishonest employer?"
"It depends on the situation."
"Kill him. I'll pay."
"You can't afford it"
"The world's richest man will pay the bill."
"Goodbye."
Schiller watches the figure in armor and within a few breaths, he disappears at the end of street. He thinks to himself, his enemy does have some skill to hire Deathstroke to kill him.
Multiple consecutive flashes consume a lot of Schiller's energy. No cars can enter such deep and narrow alleys. So, he plans to make his way back slowly and call for a car to pick him up once he reaches the church.
He turns into a small alley, arrives at the main street, and then he looks back, noticing some happenings in the end of the street.
Meanwhile, Batman stands in an extremely dilapidated, dark, and narrow room.
The environment here is so bad, the worst room Batman has ever been in.
It is a room on the third floor with all windows nailed shut. The outer layers of the walls have completely peeled off. The room is incredibly damp, and the floor is slippery with greasy tiles. All the furniture is misplaced. Everywhere else is filled with trash.
The owner of the room sees Batman as an unexpected guest, he freezes for a moment, then lowers his head, glances at his own feet, mutters incomprehensible words, and turns hunchbacked to pick up a salt shaker and tries to pass it to Batman.
Batman takes the salt shaker, which is empty, with nothing inside. Then the man waves his hand, seemingly trying to get him to leave.
He is a shrunken, stooping old man with dark skin. His eyes are deeply sunken in his eye sockets, walking with a limp, constantly muttering swear words.
It seems a neighbor downstairs hears something and pokes their head out from under the staircase, saying, "What are you doing with this old guy? Who are you to him?"
"What's wrong with him?"
"What else could it be? Can't you see? He has Alzheimer's and doesn't recognize anyone now. Even if you know him, he won't know you."
The neighbor can't see Batman's appearance from their angle, they can only vaguely see a figure and say, "This old guy can't afford the rent. Every time the landlord comes, he gives them a salt shaker. Maybe back in his day, salt shakers were valuable. But that salt shaker has been empty for a long time."
"But he's lucky in a way. His landlord seems to have died at the hands of the mob. This attic is worth nothing, and killing him would have meant disposing of the body, so he's lived until now."
"No matter who you are, just leave him alone. He can only scavenge a little bit of trash thrown down from upstairs to eat every day. But his upstairs neighbor moved away a few days ago, I reckon he won't live much longer."
After speaking, a "bang" is heard from downstairs as the neighbor closes the door.
Batman holds the salt shaker, looking at the rickety who sits silently in a chair, staring at the table. Drool flows down from his mouth.
He notices Louis' hand. It is a pair of very rough hands, with almost all joints distorted from years of heavy lifting, and the prominent veins on the dry palms are visible.
"Are you Louis?"
Besides the sound of Batman's own voice, there is no response.
"Do you remember Thomas Wayne? Do you remember Martha?" Batman feels his voice trembling.
An extreme anger rises from Batman's chest, and he squeezes the salt shaker tightly, making it creak.
His enemy doesn't remember all the innocent victims he has hurt, he has forgotten all his crimes completely.
This isn't a punishment for him, instead,it allows him to escape the self-condemnation in his heart, Batman thinks.
He repeatedly asks Louis,
"Why don't you remember anything?! Do you really not remember Wayne?! What about Edward? Falcone?!"
Just as Batman mentions Falcone, the elderly Louis suddenly lets out a strange and agonizing scream. His mouth is wide open, and the long-inactive jaw makes a snapping sound.
Trembling all over, he falls from the chair, shouting and throwing anything he can reach at Batman. Tears, mucus, and saliva flow down his face.
Batman sees endless fear in his eyes.
Batman thinks, Falcone doesn't deceive him. When he killed Lave, he indeed frightened many people.
Including Louis.
Schiller walks to the middle of the alley and looks up. Only one room on the third floor is lit, and there is a shadow with pointed ears inside.
He stands at the bottom of the building and waits for a while, then sees Batman come out. Batman also seems surprised to see Schiller, but his mind is a bit slow now.
Schiller glances at Batman and notices that he isn't injured and has no signs of fighting with anyone.
Then his gaze falls on the salt shaker in Batman's hand.
Schiller doesn't know what it is. But evidently, Batman, who is now in a complicated mood, needs someone to talk to. So, before Schiller can ask, Batman tells him the whole story.
They walk and talk, passing by the front of the church. It is nearly dawn, and Batman holds the salt shaker, saying,
"He doesn't remember any of it."
As Batman says these words, it isn't anger anymore, but a complex sentiment contained in his tone.
"You said he remembers one person."
"Yes, he remembers Falcone. Why doesn't he remember Wayne but remembers Falcone..."
Schiller sighs, looks into the distance, and says, "Because of fear. Fear is the deepest and hardest to eliminate scar engraved in the human soul."
"He has forgotten everything, except fear," Batman speaks.
At this moment, it is the darkest time before dawn, the thick darkness almost engulfs everything. All the buildings are covered in shadows, obscuring their outlines.
Soon, the heavy toll of the Gotham Cathedral's bell wakes Batman from his thoughts. The muffled sound spreads far, penetrating the same way darkness does. Even in the most gloomy and alley, can feel the quiver.
Batman realizes, fear, fear.
If he can't exact his true revenge on those events and those people from that time. If the murderer he has been striving to catch, the one he wants to revenge, has completely forgotten everything, making all his anger and hatred in vain.
At least, he reminds Batman of one thing, that sometimes, more terrifying than death itself is the fear.
In that case, Batman thinks, he will become the Dark Knight, bringing endless fear to all the criminals of Gotham.
Years ago, accompanying the death of his parents, were the bats that flew through the sky, casting feared shadows. Many years later, he will ultimately bring the fear of the bat to all the criminals of this city.
Just like the Gotham Night Bell, permeating through every street, every dark corner.