#gothamoftomorrow

A Gotham of Tomorrow Character Blog. For each arc, eight characters will be cycled out, but unless...

The docks were a bittersweet memory for Stephanie. She'd been to them often enough, but they always brought up old memories of failure, regret, and trying to tackle something she knew she had no business tackling. Of course, it had worked out better than she dreamed in the end, but not after pain, death, and a lot of bad that just couldn't be repaired simply. It had been funny how she seemed to almost garner new trust when it came back to Batman and her return though, and at the time she hadn't been one to look a gift horse in the mouth. Now though, she knew better. There's always some kind of price for trust with some people.

The night chilled her ears as she watched, tucked in an alley out of sight. She would kill for a cowl when the Gotham chill first ran through its nights. The domino itched a little, so she touched it with one black gloved finger as she watched the pier. She could feel the breeze tug at her hair and shifted her weight. Nothing yet. Maybe it was a false lead? Maybe the intel was off or the mole had been found out. Either way, here she would stay until the mob men appeared. Mob Men? Worst show title ever.

With Gotham in this state, it wasn't a surprise that things would happen over at Arkham. Nothing and no one was at peace these days. Batman had a ping from the asylum itself before anything touched the news, but he knew it was a matter of time. His failures were everyone else's glories, and it drove him mad. Don't think about Cass. Don't think about any of them, just do the job. You might not have been born to it, Tim, but you would be damned if anyone was making you let go of this life now.

While Tim's nights were full of criminals and bats, his days were often a long train of meeting after meeting. This day was no different. Tim arrived back in his office, running a hand through his hair as he noticed someone wait. Whoops. He cleared his throat, straightened his tie, and brushing his hands down his suit. No crumbs, few wrinkles. This seemed about right. Tim shook out his jacket and we went to the desk, sitting comfortably before he gave his guest a professional, if dull smile.