1. Cold

It was darkness.

'Cold'

Then a freezing sensation seeped into the dark. Awareness slowly came to. The cold was felt everywhere. The right side felt... a hard place.

'Ground, cement.'

Then smell came.

'Roses?'

Finally the body linked with the soul. His head moved upwards, and bright brown eyes awoke to the new world. 'Grey.' His visage was greeted with a cloudy, sunless sky, the full view blocked by dark buildings on either side. The cold quickly returned to him, and he realized he was naked. no shirt, no shoes, nothing.

'Cold, so cold'

It took him a moment to stand up, looking around quickly told him he was in an alley. There was a bouquet of roses by him, but he was very sure those were not for him. What was he sure of? Besides being naked and cold. The stuffy air and walls of concrete. The loud noises that seem to echo all around. He could recognize this was a city but...where?

He looks down the alley to see people and cars bustling about. 'Help.' Seeing no sign of any clothes he makes his choice. He moves down towards civilization. Some jump at the naked man suddenly appearing out of nowhere

'Cold'

"Jesus man... you jackin it in crime alley?" A bystander comments, a pencil pusher by the look of it. He moves along like everyone else. Our involuntary nudist feels a hand on his shoulder. He turns to a police officer. The mans badges shines in gold:GCPD

"You lost son?" The officer asks. He honestly does not know what to say. 'No sir, just felt like jackin it in public, in fall?' With nothing to lose he decides on the truth and nothing but the truth.

"Yes s-sir." He says.

"You have a name son?"

"I c-can't remember sir." The officer has a contemplating look on his face. It would be his day to deal with a public flasher. At the very least, the man in question was being compliant. Rather this, than dealing with clowns or two-faced goons. A breeze swept through the street. The stranger shivers.

'So cold'

"Okay, do you know where your cloths are sir?" The policeman asks. The cold nips at the strangers bare skin.

"N-no sir,woke up with n-nothing sir."

" Okay, did you do any drugs son? A stiff drink?"

"I...cant remember sir."

"Okay, so listen.I got a pair of sweats in the police car. I'm gonna bring you down to the precinct. See if we cant figure out what happened to you okay?"

"Yes s-sir."

"For the sake of convenience I will call you John. okay?"

"F-fine with me sir."

The policeman escorts him to the police cruiser. As the officer grabs the sweats 'John' reads the logo on the side of the cruiser.

Gotham City Police Department

"Here you go John." The officer hands him the pants. He quickly pulls them on, relieved that at least 'that part' of him was covered.

"T-thank you Officer um?" John pauses.

"Hewitt."

"Thank you officer Hewitt."

'John' gets into the backseat. Hewitt gets in the drivers seat and pulls into traffic. Others may feel an intense fear or dread in the back of a police cruiser. Let alone one in Gotham. For the man we call 'John', he was getting warm again, and didn't have to worry about being in public nude. Hewitt messed with the radio a bit, bit and pieces coming to him in static.

" Metropolis is still recovering from the recent disaster-"Bzz

"If you've inhaled Joker's laughing gas within the last 5 years, you may be entitled to compensation"BZzz

"The Queen recovery bill will be going into effect-"Bzz

"The coldest september we have had for at least two decades. All im saying is bundle up people!"bzzz

"Queen Diana states their should be no concern of war between-"Bzzzzz

"All I am saying is how long do we tolerate vigilantes, when the police are making no efforts themselves?"Bzzzzz

The Gotham City Police station was having a calmer day than usual. This was strange. Even with the Batmans efforts to reduce it, Gotham City fluctuated in the crime rates with the worst of them. Bank robberies were the minimum. The minimum. If there was not a group of hooligans and/or doped up Maniacs, it was un-ironically strange day.

"Anything on our friend here, Ben?" Officer Hewitt asks for the second time that day. 'John' had been nothing but compliant, save for the fact he didn't know anything. He offered no resistance or questions when they asked for saliva and blood samples.

Wayne-techs support to the police department has been a literal lifeline. Offering state of the art machines for criminal investigations. There were files for everyone. Standard documents, criminal records, past and present identities, the usual, except put into overdrive. It was all very thorough, more so in Gotham. When you lived in the city of the Bat, you had to look at all angles. No corners were cut. At least in that area.

"Nothing Mitch. No ID in any state, hell nothing on a nationwide search. His drug test came clean. No Joker or Scarecrow toxins. Not even that Venom knockoff steroid from that college football scandal a year or so back." Ben pulls up another page on the computer. "Which amazes me, The guy is fit, Really fit. I am talking Olympian athlete."

It didn't add up to Hewitt. He got a better look at the guy than he wanted to. While his wandering, confused state fit that of a druggie, there were no hints of substance abuse. No pink eyes, no scars on his arm from shooting up. he's slim, but like a professional swimmer. If he's homeless he should be starving or dirty. Not fit, not fresh as a baby.

"But no ID?"

"No. Sorry Mitch." Ben pulls up another page. "If the guy is homeless, without any ID or birth certificate. There's not much we can do."

Hewitt looks out to the waiting area, 'John' is sitting on a waiting chair calmly. He wore a generic grey hoody with his pants now, supplied by Sharon at the desk. She had a soft spot for the pitiful. The guy's hands were in his pockets. Hewitt is pretty sure he hasn't moved from that spot since he sat there. He grumbles softly.

"Shit."

'John' sits in the waiting area by the front desk as he was told. The police were patient with him through this ordeal. They had him go through the usual. Thumb prints, blood test, mouth swab. They were finally done with tests once he gave them the urine sample. Once done they told him to wait while he is run through the system. He can see Officer Hewitt talking with his coworker in another office.

The front desk lady, Sharon, is nice though. She gave him a generic hoody to wear. It was probably more to cover up his indecency, than keeping him warm. He was given a generic pair of slip-ons, probably to keep his feet a tad warmer. It was thin material, but he appreciated the gesture nonetheless. Other police officers are bustling about. Some are casually going to and fro. Probably office jockeys. Others are in a rush, he occasionally sees someone in cuffs getting escorted in. Officer Hewitt just kept him close when he was escorted in. For that he was grateful.

Said man was making his way to him now.

Officer Hewitt had a grimace on his face, likely about to bring bad news to him. 'John' just hoped he wasn't some master criminal, or some horrible violator that required immediate execution. He couldn't help but fear that the officer didn't just snap. Waiting till he got closer. Either taking a baton out to bash him unconscious, or just pulling out that beretta holstered on his waist.

He did neither.

"John, come with me for a minute." 'John' complied without question. getting up, he follows the officer to an unused desk. whether it was his or a different officers he didn't know. Hewitt gestures to a seat. After 'John' sits Hewitt takes a seat across from him.

"Now John," Officer Hewitt begins. "Before I start I need to ask again: Are you absolutely certain you do not remember anything?"

"No sir. I just remember being cold, than waking up to that alley." The officer Grimaces again.

"Well John, this isn't good for several reasons. The one good thing is that your likely the victim in this case, also due to you're situation you are not being charged with public indecency. You do not have a criminal record of any kind either. But, that also leads to the bad part." Hewitt stops for a moment, seeing he still has his attention continues.

"You have no records of any kind John. Nothing. No birth certificate, no records of any kind. It is like you just...appeared. Now in this city we are no stranger to weird situations, believe me. Much more shocking and unbelievable thing have occured in this city alone. Unfortunately this doesn't help you in the legal sense at all. You are not under arrest, but we really cannot do more for you."

'Nothing, You are nothing.'

"Oh." His response is simple, solemn. He looks down at his lap. its quiet for a minute. The fingers typing on keyboards and ringing phones drown the silence. Finally he looks up. "Thank you for what you've done for me so far sir. where do we go from here?"

"The next best thing to do is to get you up to speed. There is a public library not far from here. It should still be open for a few more hours. You are free to go right now, but maybe-" Officer Hewitt stops to the sound of laughter. Its a chilling discomforting noise that breaks through the door. Several heavily geared officers slam through the entrance. They are struggling with men garbed in gaudy purple and green. White makeup paints their faces crudely. The men were in the dozens, with double the number of police surrounding them. In spite of that fact many are resisting viciously, trying to break free. several are slammed into the ground. They laugh obnoxiously and carefree, a few quiet down with smacks. Others laugh harder.

'Oh, that's interesting'

"We need everyone on deck! These fuckin clowns are dosed up. get them in lockup!" A particular 'clown' Chuckles.

"No please, eat some donuts and build up your strength. The pork loins will only be sweeter!" He was the only one not struggling. Purple dyed hair and smeared makeup adorned him. Scars adorned his bodybuilder frame. His muscle accentuated by the dirty ripped tank top, jeans splattered with green and purple dye complimented his clown look. He got a hard smack to the jaw for his comment.

"Shut the fuck up bozo!"

"Sergeant!" A gruff older looking man comes into the room. 'John' thought he came out of some noir comic. Short cropped white hair and a well trimmed mustache. Rimmed glasses covered the mans eyes. The classic detective look, white button up shirt with dark vest, was covered by a beige long coat. The man carried a presence, one of authority and respect earned long ago.

"Everyone get the detainees into the brig, these 'men' aren't getting out for a long time."

"So same time next week Gordon?" 'Bozo' remarked,blood trickling from his lip down his chin. The officer reared up for another smack, but Gordon raised his hand, mouthing "no". The clowns on the floor were pushed back upright, and escorted down. Bozo caught a glimpse of 'John' as he passed. He bares a bloody smile at him, gazing with eyes that seem to almost glow green, before disappearing into the cell area. 'John' hears the clowns starting up again, and breathes once the doors are shut.

"Guess its another day with the GCPD."

"What the hell are they on? That diluted Venom strain hitting the streets again?."

With Officer Hewitt occupied, he had to make his time count. He gets up from the desk, legs a bit wobbly from the sudden and bizarre experience. He passes Gordon, who is talking with another cop. He catches the name Bollock. Gordon doesn't spare a glance and he walks out of the police station. The fresh air is nice.

The fresh air grew colder as the day moved forward in time. The bustling crowds withered. The sun was settling into an orange dye, it would bleed red not much longer, followed by cool colors into black.

The walk to the library was easy enough. Some vendors on the street were kind enough to point him in the right direction. One was nice enough to turn him around as he walked right passed it, warning him to get off the street before dark. "Gotham is a different animal at night" The man had said. 'John' had to believe the man, as the number of people on the streets were thinning out steadily.

The Gotham Library was one of the oldest buildings in the city. With it gothic architecture it was hard to miss. 'John' missed it anyway. He wanted to kick himself after realizing it the first time. Entering the building as many others were heading out, the library was a tad more barren. There were some leftover students packing in more study-time. A redhead, neatly dressed was manning the returns desk. Taking a seat at a computer desk he hesitated for a moment. He looks towards another person using a computer and tries to emulate it. He moves the mouse around. Seeing the pointer on the screen respond, he tries clicking on the planet symbol. A web browser pops up. The key board spoke for itself.

He decides to search 'Gotham' first. Many results come in, restaurant locations, upcoming events, Batman sightings.

Wait, Batman? This peaked his curiosity too much. He enters 'Batman' into the search bar. He gets EVERYTHING. Images, Police reports made public, the guy has sidekicks. 'John' might have amnesia, but he feels, no, knows this is not the norm. The positive was this Batman guy was at least working with police. Apparently a crooks worst nightmare. He notices another image.

'Who's the guy in tights? Is that an S?'

1 hour later

'This is too much. 'John' pushed away from the computer. Resting his head in his hands he tries to breath. He could barely process the information he got from this short time alone.

A bat vigilante. A man that flies, able to bench press a warship. Another that could move faster than the human eye could process. Than there was a literal nation of amazons, albeit an island but still recognized on its own. The lost city of Atlantis? Bird people! and this was just scratching the surface. The goddamn surface of the planet that is. He had to stop at the mention of an intergalactic police force. 'Or forces.'

The one good part, these 'supers' are spread around the globe for the most part. The bad part, you could not get away from it. Even worse, he is in Gotham. The criminals here seem a level above the usual. Organized crime was apparently always present here. Even his brief search told him that much. If those clowns were anything to go by, however, its only gotten worse. Gotham was home to the loonies, but that doesn't make it invasion proof. Some of what he'd seen, horrors from both above the sky, in the sea, or even under the ground. How these people constantly move on, tread forward, he can't even begin-

"Excuse me sir, library is closing." A soft voice comes from behind him. He whips his head around fast. His eyes greet a well dressed woman, long red hair pinned up. 'Wow, she's pretty.' His face eases into a sheepish smile.

"Of course. Thank you." he says. She looks past him, looking past his computer screen. Her eyes skim over the article he was on. She looks back at him.

"Crazy isn't it? I have a hard time believing it myself, sometimes.

"You ever get used to it?"

"I practically grew up around it. Yet at some point, I'll see Superman on the news. Or spot that bat signal in the sky. It still amazes and frightens me." She has a fond look on her face in spite of this. Like remembering a brighter point in her life. A childhood memory? His heart sinks ever so slightly. He tried remembering something, anything the moment he was clothed and warm.

Nothing came, a few images, brief moments like snapshots. Filtered too brightly or saturated too darkly for any coherent memory. No face or voice really stood out. Unless he tries to focus, it sinks into the back of his mind. Down the drain, like it was never there to begin with.

"A neverending thrill?" He inquired, curious about those who have seen these living myths firsthand at some point. Those who can remember.

Whether they want to or not.

"In some ways, sadly more people tend to abuse their power. You can't ever underestimate them. Even the 'street-level' ones." Her head is a little down, and her hands grip the armrests tightly. So distracted by the sudden conversation he didn't notice the wheelchair. He wants to ask her how, why? He wanted to, but he won't. It wasn't appropriate. He had no right.

"I've seen some examples today myself. But please, pardon me, you must want to go home yourself." He shuts off the computer. Giving her a wave he moves to the exit. She calls out to him.

"Be careful out there." She said. He turns to her and smiles.

"Will do." Moving through the exit. The cold air greeted him. The Library's old lanterns light his path. A distant thundering grabs his attention and looks outward. He sees the night sky and, noticing the stormy clouds, curses walking down the path. 'A storm? shit.' He was warned more often than not to be off the streets. But now he was here, and he had no home to return to. He knew this the moment Officer Hewitt broke the bad news. He was a literal nobody, a ghost. If someone cares, or cared, they may be long gone. They may have arrived at the police station after he left. Maybe they are the reason he can't remember. His head was starting to hurt.

He sees a public park, one of the entrance lights flickering. He had no better options, at worst he lays under a tree. Maybe a playground is around. His brain draws up images of brightly colored tubes and. little hiding spots.

A scream breaks him out of thought. He. gets off the path, into the dark. He, softly jogs alongside the path. Following the direction he heard the noise from. Trees start covering his view. Another scream Pushes him into a sprint. He jumps behind a tree as he hears feet coming his direction. Scooping up a baseball sized rock he peaks around the tree. A woman comes into view quickly. bare feet muddied. She is immediately grabbed by a hooded figure.

"Gotcha!" He cheers, his arms around her waist tight. She is still screaming. He throws her into a tree knocking the air out of her lungs. Two other hooded men quickly come to view.

"Goddamn don't break her too quick Chris. She ain't that young" The second one says. restraining her.

"She wouldn't shut up. Don't need more people here and shit, Fuckin superman hears it or somethin."

"Hey now, We have three solutions for gagging her." They tore open her jacket

'No'

Whoever he is, or was, he's not gonna watch that happen. She was trying to struggle, failing to break free. The man ripped open her blouse, exposing her bare to the world.

"Aah yeah-" As he reaches out John threw the baseball sized rock. He was aiming for the guys head. He didn't expect it to actually hit. It slugs the right in his ear, it send him tumbling to the ground, swearing obscenities. Johns already running towards the group. He trips the hood that was suppose to be watching out. Reaching 'Chris' he knees the man in the face, just getting up from the rock. Nose busted, he lands on his back again.

John turns to receive a punch. The second man dropped the woman to wail on John. John is punched twice more, before he returns an uppercut. He can see woman getting up. The third man comes at him from the side,punching him in the ribs. John is slammed into a tree, punched several times while he's dazed. As he rears up for another John dodges his head. He barely misses the punch but most of the force hits the tree. The man yelps before John kicks him away.

The second man socks John in the jaw, he turns to block another hit before the third comes back again with the another punch. They were sloppy, but had numbers on John. Two arms wrap around Johns waist, and Chris bodyslams him into the walkway. The wind is knocked out of him as he coughs for air.

"About time you fuckin baby."

"Shut up, the bitch got away." Chris wipes at his mouth, the blood flowing freely from his mouth and nostrils. "Why the fuck didn't you two wrap this up faster. Fuck!"

"Its this fuckin guy, ruining the goddamn night. Motherfuckin- fuck-" A foot lodges itself in Johns stomach. it retracts as another hits him in the back. The men kick John repeatedly, viciously. A foot comes toward his face. His head snaps back viciously. The men stop, he can't comprehend why. Only seeing a cloaked figure engulf his vision. His soul returns to the dreamworld.

Gotham was cold at night. The rain is cold as it free falls downward on the dark city. It quenches some, drowns others. The rain will relieve some, freeze others. It offers chilling discomfort to the woman trudging through it, and mild comfort to the body she is dragging.

This time it is the cold and the pain that awakens him. He heaves a breath before sputtering a cough. Everything hurts.

" -lright, come on." Grunting catches his attention, he can feel himself getting dragged. Movement stops for a moment, before resuming. Fear comes first, until he realizes the grunts were light, feminine. Only a pair of arms were pulling him, slim arms, soft.

"Come on you, don't die yet." The voice confirms a woman is dragging him. Where to he didn't know. He wasn't exactly fat, but he could tell she was struggling. She would pause her dragging of his useless hide, before taking a deep breath and pulling him along again.

He'd help her if he could, but his body wasn't listening. He couldn't see as it is, vision was blurry, distorted. The lights he could see hurt, keeping his eyes shut more often than not. Attempts to move his arms ended with a burning sensation trying to force unresponsive muscles to move. His legs were moving, but not in any direction he wanted them to.

He felt her stop, getting a breath in, then pulling him upwards. He felt his feet hitting steps. after a small struggle to drag him they rested on a flat surface again. He heard her bang on a door. The heavy frame rattled.

"Father, its me, let us in!" To his barely coherent mind those doors sounded thick for a house. There were a lot of steps too. He can barely comprehend the idea of a rich lady rescuing him. He lost consciousness before vision would return to him. Before he would realize the woman saving him was, in fact, the one he saved. Her clothing still torn. He would only see the door opening with a golden light. Another dark figure in the doorway.

"Come child. We must get him in." The kindly pastor grabbed our dear 'John'. Together he, and the woman John had kindly rescued, pulled him into the church. The oak doors rattled as they shut once more,leaving Gotham in the dark. His lost consciousness with a simple thought.

'Cold'