It was not Gotham. It was about two hundred kilometers from the city. This place was bare, a plain inside a small dark forest with bare trees. The sky was always sheathed in gray clouds. But Winnifred was right. The people from this city either stayed, either went directly to Gotham. Those who went on neither pathways were never heard of again. Usually because they had nothing to say. Not that the people wanted to hear anything anyway.

The light bulb strained to give off some more light. The basement was thrown in dimness when Johnathan entered it. He quickly scanned the room for anyone's presence, then locked the door. Throwing the keys on the table counter next to the adjacent wall, Crane approached the work desk, piled with flasks and various notes. Sitting down, he glanced over them, trying to find the thought. Strangely, today it was lingering somewhere beyond his grasp. Throwing the pen down in exasperation, Johnathan took off his glasses and passed his hand across his face. He was extremely tired. He had to get out of here. Shoving the chair aside, Johnathan got up and walked out. The grey corridors passed like a blur in front of him, soon he was walking down the concrete steps and into the forest. The dry, brownish leaves crunched under his feet, the cool spring air penetrated his skin like a syringe. Johnathan aimlessly walked on the faded path through the forest; he had no where to go, and as far as company, the bare trees were good enough. Suddenly, he thought he heard a light splash. Johnathan halted. Light, almost weightless, splashes, somewhere to the west. Crane involuntarily started towards the sound, disregarding the growing thicket around him. The lightweight splashes became louder. Johnathan fastened his speed, and soon, the low rumbling sound of a brook shook the atmosphere. The trees thinned out, exposing the lonely figure sitting next to the stream. Jonathan squinted.

"Freddie?"

She turned around and smiled.

"Hello," she nodded and turned away again. She cast her arm back and sharply lunged. A pebble rocketed across the water's surface. Winnifred turned around to Crane, following the pebble with his eyes.

"Come, sit," she patted the ground next to her. Johnathan's eyes slowly transferred back on her. She expectantly waited. Then the corners of his lips slightly curled.

"Why aren't you at college?" He asked, propping himself up on the elbow and lying down next to her.

"Dummy, we don't work on Saturdays and Sundays," Winnifred lightly scolded him.

"Which can't be said about you who works 24/7." Johnathan slightly smirked, looking at the water rushing by.

"I have a night shift." Winnifred nodded and sent another pebble. The ripples were almost unnoticeable from the fast current. They sat in a small silence.

"Why are you always dress so strictly?" Winnifred asked, resting her head on the tree behind her.

"Strictly? Do mind to explain yourself."

Winnifred meaningful stared at his work shirt, loose brown tie, and brown work jacket, thrown messily beside him.

"Don't you find wearing a bloody suit every day quite tiring?"

"I find it convenient and fitting to my work," Johnathan replied, tilting back his head. A small shade of a grin roamed around his face. He was obviously enjoying himself.

"And if you worked as a janitor?" Winnifred persisted, throwing another pebble.

"Then I would reconsider my garment options." Winnifred sighed and lunged a pebble right into the brook. There was a loud splash.

"Any more questions?" Johnathan inquired, merrily watching her from the corner of his eye. They always played this question game, as a method to get him talking. A trite psychological tactic, but Johnathan nonetheless enjoyed it. Winnifred looked down. Charcoal, smooth pebbles shimmered in her palm. She thoughtfully rubbed them with her big finger, then sighed and lifted her head up.

"How did it feel to kill your grandmother?" She quietly asked. Johnathan fell silent. Winnifred warily watched how his face gradually loses the joke, becoming more serious and distant. His blue eyes darted to her. Suspicion lingered in them.

"Why do you ask?" His voice was taut. Winnifred felt the threat hovering in it.

"Just answer me," she averted. Johnathan pressed his lips and turned his gaze away from her. For a moment, he was motionless. Then, he steadily, almost carefully lowered down on his elbows, lying down fully on the crisp grass and resting his head on his arms. His cheekbones seemed sharper from the expression of detachment on his face.

"After the initial shock and adrenaline of the moment," he started in a flat voice,"I did not feel remorseful, guilt, or even traumatized by what I've done. Nothing of that sort."

"Then what did you feel?" Winnifred quietly pressed on. Johnathan was quiet for a moment, then shifted a little. Winnifred felt the pebbles slowly slip from her palm and pull down on her fingers. She patiently waited. The current rolled around the rocks, the leaves lightly murmured in the trees. Winnifred loyally waited, moving the pebbles back and forth between her fingers. She waited.

"Relief," Johnathan quietly said.

"Just relief?" Winnifred specified.

"Just relief."

"And in high school?"

"That was different," Johnathan cut her short, abruptly lifting up. He rested his hands on his knees and after a moment of hesitation continued in a calmer tone.

"That was different. That was revenge. Revenge is harbored by anger and results in satisfaction."

"So you were happy?" Winnifred specified.

"Yes. Yes, I was content," Johnathan confessed. He lowered his head, apparently lost in memories. Winnifred was also lost in thought, aimlessly staring at the river. Suddenly, she threw all the remaining pebbles into the water and abruptly stood up.

"C'mon, let's go and look for Heath." She tossed to Crane, already walking away.

"Wait, wait, hold on..." Johnathan quickly got up and grabbed her by the arm.

"Wait...why do you need to know all of this?" His eyes were burning with an unkind flame. Winnifred smirked.

"I was just curious." She said, easily freeing her hand from his grasp.

"I mean, it's not that I meet professional assassins every day, right? I was just curious about what a professional assassin feels when he assassinates people."

"I am not an assassin," Johnathan quietly responded, starting his way through the trees.

"In fact, I am not sure if you can call my acts murder even."

"Then what are they?" Winnifred quickly ran up to him and stopped in front. He calmly looked at her, both hands in pockets and his jacket hanging on his elbow.

"Fitting punishment from committed crimes," he composedly replied and resumed walking. Winnifred scoffed, trying not to fall out of his step.

"Crimes? You call their whims crimes? If I didn't know you better, I would've said that you're a fucking madman!" Johnathan laughed and slightly hugged her by the shoulders.

"We all are in our way, Miss Lewly, we all are."