Jack Houston stepped off the bus, watching the bustling street warily, his gleaming, hungry eyes taking it all in from behind his thick glasses. Ever since the decaying city had been established, come hell or high water, Gotham's roadways had consistently remained crowded. Those who dared not venture into the labyrinth of traffic jams could be found walking down the city sidewalk, alongside hundreds, sometimes thousands of other pedestrians. Countless odors filled the air, a dozen languages could be heard in as many minutes, and every corner had something to offer, whether it was a reggae musician attempting to solicit a few bucks for his talents, or a street walker in a Catwoman costume.
He loved working in places like this. The loud, chaotic flow of people made it very easy to vanish, to slip away without a trace. Not that he needed it to be easy, mind you. He was the best, an unparalleled professional in a field where few lived long enough to reach his skill level. Still, even the most accomplished of experts occasionally sought solace in the bits of good fortune that came their way.
Across the street, a vagrant looked up hopefully, willing the newcomer to walk over and give him some change. Houston ignored him, saving his money for whatever sustenance the nearest fast food joint had to offer. After trying and failing to locate one for twenty minutes, he decided to lower his standards, swallow his pride, and make for the nearest gas station.
The teenage clerk at the counter ignored Houston as he walked into the store, not bothering to look up from his magazine. The selection was terrible, with only a few bags of plain potato chips, the occasional generic candy bar, and only one lonely Coke stranded with a conglomerate of Diet Mountain Dew. A faded sign told him that the nachos were "buy one, get one free". He peered into the uncovered vat of boiling cheese, saw a greasy hair longer than an Alaskan winter, and concluded that the manager didn't want anyone to leave his store alive.
Like many great men, he made his choices based on instinct. His gut told him to avoid the nacho cheese at all costs. It also told him that he was under surveillance, being watched by men who knew who he was and what he did for a living. There was nothing to indicate that this was the case, but he could feel their eyes on him. It was his sixth sense kicking in, the kind that a man only acquires after years of being hunted.
He paid for the Coke and a bag of chips and left the inconvenient convenience store.
In his line of work, the Bible didn't come up often. But there was one specific verse that he kept very close to his heart, a bit of divine wisdom that he had applied to his career more times than he cared to count. For almost two thousand years, Matthew 10:16 had been instructing it's readers to be as cautious as serpents, and as innocent as doves.
Houston was no longer innocent, having been tainted by years of sin. But a more cautious snake had never lived.
After pushing and shoving his way into exceptionally rude throng of passerby, he walked down the street for a few blocks, ducked into a back alley so dismal only Gotham could have spawned it, and doubled back. He slipped into the front lobby of a high end hotel, admiring it's tasteful artwork and expensive lounge furniture before entering the restroom. He locked himself in a stall and began to peel off his face.
Little by little, the pale flesh was shed, revealing a tanned complexion that reflected his numerous trips to the Cayman Islands. He winced as the powerful adhesive refused to relinquish his skin without a fight. Finally, after several minutes, he had completed his transformation.
The mask that he had been sporting since he had arrived in Gotham was made of a very special latex, one that would vanish as easily as he could. He dropped the tattered remains in the toilet, along with his jet black wig. He removed a small capsule from the back pocket of his reversible suit jacket, tossing it in the porcelain bowl along with his old identity. Within seconds the chemical agent in the capsule had completely dissolved the toilet's contents.
After he had turned his suit jacket inside out, changing it from a neon orange suede to a stylish black armani, he tossed his absurdly thick glasses in the trash can. He contemplated fishing the ugly eyewear out of the waste basket and snapping them in half, purely out of spite, finally deciding to let it pass.
He emerged from the lobby having added added twenty years to his face in ten minutes. Without any hesitation, he began walking down the street, taking confident, powerful strides through the urban jungle called Gotham. With conservative clothes, tousled blond hair, and an innate arrogance about him, he could have passed for one of the dozens of stock brokers and bankers heading for their boring white collar jobs. It wasn't his most interesting ruse, but would do for now. With a pompous smirk that fit him as well as his newest personage, he vanished into the crowd.