The atmosphere in Gotham City had fallen into a strange state; the ominous cloud that Joker represented, which had always loomed over the heads of its citizens, had unnoticeably dissipated, and people had almost forgotten when they last saw the Joker.
"I'm certain that guy is hiding somewhere, concocting some plot with his chemically infused brain," Batman said from his chair, while Alfred stitched his wounds.
"Master Wayne, but the Joker hasn't been seen for nearly three years, and everyone thinks that laughing madman is already dead," Alfred replied with a gentle smile, his stitching skilled. Yet, seeing so many scars on the body of the Wayne he had looked after, he couldn't help but feel a pang of heartache.
Gotham City will always be Gotham City, a place rife with sin. Even though the Joker, the very fiend who caused Batman the greatest headaches and snatched Rachel's life, hadn't appeared in three years, it didn't mean Gotham no longer needed the Dark Knight.
