Oh, how I hate Gotham. Everything from the dirtiest, poorest slums to the wealthiest mansion simply reeks of corruption. It has seeped through the city like a poisoning fume, strangling tentacles wrapping around every man, woman, and child. There is not a single person in this city who has not accepted a bribe or given one. All the citizens want are money, power, and fame. There is no good-intentioned neighbor helping a friend, no firefighter saving stranded kittens from trees, no visionary spreading ideas among the people. I have no hope for this corrupted mockery of a city. It is rotten to its very core, and nothing could save it. The only viable solution to destroying such embedded filth is utter destruction and devastation. We must show the world that no city will be allowed to delve so deep into immorality without consequence.
I hold the petal up to the light of my office, admiring the faint sheen and delicate blue color. It is a symbol of all that we can – and will – do to rid the world of Gotham's pollution. Crime cannot be tolerated, and this city is practically its symbol. However, it won't last longer. An opened letter sits on my desk, the contents already eagerly read. It is unsigned, but the petal folded up with the paper was all that I needed to know who it was from. I allow a small smile across my lips as I lean back into my chair. The Wayne boy's training is almost done, and then the final stages of the plan will soon be in motion. This decaying excuse of a city will soon be history.