Commissioner Jim Gordon sat in his office, cool and composed, his shirt sleeves rolled up and a glass of bourbon steady in his hand. Behind him, the Bat-Signal lit the Gotham sky like a warning. Outside, the city simmered with tension. Inside, Gordon was calm — maybe even amused.
The door clicked open, barely audible.
He didn’t turn around. “You’re late.”
A man in black gloves stepped forward, pistol raised, voice smooth. “You made enemies, Commissioner. The kind who don’t forgive.”
Gordon took a sip of his drink. “You came all this way to make a threat? That’s disappointing.”
The man cocked the pistol. “No, I came to finish something.”
Gordon finally turned, eyes steady, no fear in his face. “Funny thing about Gotham,” he said, nodding toward the window, “nothing ever finishes the way you plan.”
The thug smirked. “You think Batman’s coming?”
“No,” Gordon said, and smiled.
The window behind them exploded — glass rained down as a dark figure burst through the frame like a hurricane. Batman landed between them in a blur of cape and fury. The thug fired, but Batman was already moving. In seconds, the would-be assassin was disarmed and unconscious on the floor.
Batman stood tall, barely breathing hard.
Gordon glanced at the broken glass, then back at his drink.
“You always make a mess,” he said dryly.
Batman didn’t respond right away. He stared at the man on the floor, then at Gordon. “You knew he was coming.”
“Of course,” Gordon said, setting the glass down. “I leaked the file. Figured it’d draw out someone stupid enough to try this.”
Batman tilted his head. “Bait.”
Gordon gave a half-shrug. “You hunt in shadows. I lay traps in daylight.”
Batman looked out the shattered window, the Bat-Signal still glowing above the city.
“You’re not slowing down,” he said.
Gordon picked up the phone and dialed for cleanup. “Why would I? Gotham isn’t.”
Batman gave a small nod, and without another word, vanished into the night.
Gordon sat back in his chair, satisfied. He wasn’t tired. He wasn’t broken.
He was just getting started.