They call me the Batman. I just came from the Gotham dump. I usually find garbage of all kinds there: rusted weapons, syringes used for Venom injections, and bodies. Criminals have become more practical the past couple of years: instead of dumping bodies at the dump, they dump them in the river. Or try to dissolve them. Or just leave them to rot. They never think of the dump anymore. Today, after a long time away from this cesspool, I see the garbage has collected. Hundreds of bodies and, from what I can tell, they are mostly homeless. I can see it from the look in their eyes and the condition of their bodies. Some died from other causes but most were found with a bullet hole through their skull. All the same M.O from the body I found earlier. It is impossible to say who killed them but it is possible to say who dumped them here: the GCPD. Under Jim Gordon, the place has been mostly clean of dirty cops. I was wrong. This was a recent job it seems, a month at most. They were all located in two mass graves, right next to a pile of dirty toilet seats and broken toys. I check the homeless statistics to see there has been a significant drop off in the past two months. Every body I see I ask the same questions to myself. How could I be so blind? Was it because of my limitations of being only human? Sometimes I wish I could be something more, to become the omniscient night. There is only one thing left to do: make things right.

I shake down a few low-level GCPD investigators before I get the signal. They knew nothing, only that the order came from someone on top. And the order was that all homeless were not to be handed over to the coroner after the initial crime scene investigation. It would be logical to deduce it would be Jim Gordon, but that would be a misstep. Jim Gordon is the only man besides Alfred that I trust in Gotham City. He is the closest I ever had to a father. To distrust him would destroy my foundations. It would be like blowing up the Batcave and pissing on the ashes. The only name that comes to mind when they mention the "top" is Harvey Bullock, a good cop known to make some bad decisions.

I arrive to see Jim Gordon and Harvey Bullock next to the Batsignal. I hide in the shadows before I feel it is right to come out.

"Why do we have to bring in this freak, Commish? The GCPD can handle this situation on its own!" Bullock rants.

"Do you think every GCPD officer has first hand knowledge of every rogues' methods in Gotham? That is one thing you cannot learn at the academy." Gordon responds.

"I trust them more than having some lunatic in tights running around acting like an officer!"

I've had enough of this conversation.

"I'm here, Jim." I say from the darkness.

I exchange the cloak of anonymity for one of visibility.

"Good to have you with us, Batman. Let me bring you up to speed. One of the guards in Arkham found Calendar Man trying to kill himself in his cell. Somehow he managed to find a way to slit his wrists and use the blood to write a message on his cell."

"What did it say?"

"There was a lot of smearing. We couldn't make out most of it but from what we can tell, he says that someone is after him. We found this note in his cell. We think it is from the person who has been killing the rogues."

I look at the note to notice the calling cards of an amateur madman. Letters from various magazines and newspapers used to create a threat or uneasiness in its recipient. But, that name. Joe. Who could it be? Joe Chill back from the dead? Could it be an alias? No one is that stupid to write their own name on an incriminating note. But who would want to kill Calendar Man? A man who has been in Arkham as long as I remember and, at best, a nuisance to everyone else. The wanton killing of homeless, the death of old rogues. The puzzle pieces still do not fit.

"The clearest part of his message is that he wants you to protect him."

"If he wanted to kill himself, why does he want me to protect him?"

"Apparently he thought this was the only way to gain the attention of the guards."

Calendar Man. Still not the brightest criminal mastermind out there.

"Did he say who I have to protect him from?"

"He wouldn't say. He's been quiet ever since they found him near death. They still have him hooked in critical at Arkham's medical ward. Probably you will have better luck getting something out of him."

"Are there cops protecting him now?"

"Of course."

"Whoever this is, they will do anything to kill Calendar Man. Set up cops around Arkham. I will be there shortly."

I am about to take off when a stubby hand grabs me from behind.

"Hold it, freak. The only people to give orders around here are either me or the Commish. You have no jurisdiction here." Bullock demands.

I grab his hand and throw it off my cape.

"As far as I know, Bullock, you are in no condition to make decisions."

"What are you insinuating? That I'm a dirty cop?"

"No. I am insinuating that you cut corners with the coroner."

"Is this about those homeless bodies you have been pushing my guys about?"

"If you won't tell me who has been doing it, I will have to find out from more of your 'guys.'"

"Oh? Why do you think it came from me? Just because someone means the top you have to point the finger at me? Personally, I think it cleans up the amount of paperwork and the bodies that keep on filling up the morgues every time one of those freaking Crises come around!"

I try my hardest not to punch him square in the jaw but my id triumphs. He falls to the ground—hard. I can see the surprise and anger on his face as he wipes away the blood. He gets up in an intense fit of rage, reaching for his gun, but Gordon steps between us like a referee at a bloody boxing match.

"That's enough! I will not have infighting on my watch! Bullock, we'll talk about this later. Batman, any GCPD officer who has not been sending homeless bodies to the coroner will have to answer to me. I will not have this incompetence on my watch."

Just the words I expect to hear from Jim Gordon. Without a word, I dive into the night. I have missed too many opportunities to catch this murderer. This time, I will make sure not to. Before I leave, I hear this amongst Bullock's cries for my arrest.

"How can you give so much control to this madman?"

"Because he is the only person in this crazy town I truly trust."

Knowing this, I feel safer. I head off into Arkham like Dante entering into Hell.