I made a vow on the graves of my parents. I swore I'd rid Gotham of the crime that took them from me. Instead, things have only gotten worse.
Every year, more violent psychopaths crawl from the woodwork to infest my city. Cults, gang wars, chemical warfare. All these years fighting this crusade and Gotham is no less corrupt than when I began. And my parents are still gone.
I won't stop. But I need to know that what I'm doing is making a difference. There has to be a light at the end of the tunnel. If only I could know for certain.
Alfred says my parents would have been proud of me. Some nights I'm not so sure.