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"If it weren't for the influence I still have at the police station, you would probably be on the wanted list by now. After all, Iceberg Restaurant has just opened. The foot traffic there is heavy and you openly assaulted Oswald..."

"I didn't attack him." Batman said.

"Batman, it's been a long time since we had a talk like this. I'm not trying to preach at you, but I must say you need to cool down and think about what you're really doing."

"Yes, I believe you won't do harm. If a little girl did die, it could have been an accident, or maybe just a mistake. But you should also think about the way you do good. If this keeps going, it will be painful for all of us."

"Why don't you take your own advice?" Batman said, "You should find another way to do good. There's no need for you to stay in Gotham."

"You're just talking in anger, Batman. You know that's entirely different. If you hadn't lost your temper, I don't think you would have gone after Cobblepot in public like that. The fact that you did indicates you may have some problems recently."

Gordon sighed and said, "You don't have to push yourself too hard. There's no need to clean all of Gotham's wickedness in one night. Sometimes, you need to step back into life. You need to live, don't you?"

Before Gordon left, he said, "Go back to your manor. Live peacefully there for a few days. Don't show up for the next few nights, or else, your name will be on the wanted list."

After Gordon left, Batman was left with the whistling cold wind of the Gotham night. Soon, another set of footsteps approached, and a whip coiled around Batman's waist, followed by a warm body pressing against his.

"Darling, I have been looking for you for days. Where have you been?" Catwoman's voice rang out. She said, "You seem... a bit unhappy."

"You should read the newspaper." Batman didn't turn around; he spoke calmly.

"I did, but what of it? I don't believe it's you." Catwoman wrapped her arms around Batman's neck. She said, "In my opinion, you're too good. You would rather sacrifice your own leisure time to save others."

"If you really failed to save someone, it must have been some kind of accident, but it couldn't have been intentional. It seems to me you care more about strangers in need of rescue than you do about me, don't you? My, Jesus?"

Catwoman's teasing tone echoed faintly in Batman's ears, sparking a surge of anger. He couldn't stand how she always treated everything as a game.

He shrugged off Catwoman's hands, pulled her whip off his body, pushed her away and said, "Couldn't you have just seen me in the amusement park instead? It's the same thing."

"Excuse me? What's the matter?" Catwoman was puzzled. She said, "We haven't seen each other for over a week. Don't you want to take a spin with me? Like we used to do, racing on the rooftops of Gotham?"

"Selina." Batman turned around, called her by her name, and said, "Not everyone can treat everything that happens to them with such a frivolous attitude like you do."

Catwoman stared at Batman and said, "Have you ever considered that maybe you're being too serious?"

After saying that, she took two steps back, gave her whip a flick, and then she turned around and left.

Batman took a deep breath and closed his eyes in pain. Everyone around him had this attitude, but he firmly believed he was right.

He should have a plan for everything, strive to increase the success rate of his plans, reflect, summarize, and try to do better, trying to control everything. It's not being too serious; it's the fundamental principle of being Batman.

Batman stood on the rooftop of a high-rise, overlooking the city lights of Gotham. Just then, he noticed a robbery in a nearby shop. He jumped off the building, looking to confront the criminal.

But the shop owner, who was shrieking in panic earlier, picked up a gun and pointed it at Batman after seeing his silhouette. He yelled,

"Batman? Is that Batman? Get out! Get out of my shop or I'm calling the cops!!!"

Batman was focused on subduing the criminal. But the shop owner's yelling had brought others out from their shops, guns in hands. One hot-tempered store owner directly took aim and fired at Batman.

Batman rolled away from the bullets, instinctively throwing a Batman dart in their direction. The shooting shop owner panicked and dodged, the Batman dart grazing past his hair and embedding deeply into the shop door sign.

Batman's silhouette, the terrified expression of the shop owner, and the shop sign with a sizeable hole in it were all frozen on the front page of the next day's newspaper.

Picking up the newspaper from his neighbor's mailbox once again, Bruce sighed, looking back at Wayne Manor. He thought, perhaps, Batman needed a few days off.

The recent events had exhausted him too much, impairing his ability to focus. Even during his ride home the previous night, he had been grazed by a stray bullet from a mob shootout. While he recovered, he could gather evidence to restore his reputation.

Upon returning to Wayne Manor, Alfred was missing from the grand hall. This caused Bruce to frown; usually, at this time, Alfred would be tending to the fireplace.

Just as he was about to head to the backyard through the hall, he heard a bout of intense coughing.

He saw that at the corridor's turn in the manor, Alfred was leaning against the wall, violently coughing until he dry-heaved.

His slightly bended, aged body slowly sank down against the wall. His usually well-kept suit was wrinkled due to his movements.

Bruce's eyes widened as he quickly rushed over, helped Alfred up, and asked, "What's wrong? Are you feeling unwell?"

Alfred shook his head, saying, "No, just a bit of a cold due to the recent drop in temperatures. I've taken some medicine. Maybe I'll be better soon."

"We need to go to the hospital," Bruce declared with serious concern, "This doesn't look like just a little cold!"

With that, he helped Alfred into the car and immediately drove him to the hospital.

After ten minutes, Bruce walked out of the hospital alone, diagnosis report in hand that read "Severe Cold," possibly due to being rained on.

Bruce remembered that previously, when Aisha had run out, Alfred was incredibly frantic. In haste, he had grabbed a small umbrella before heading out into the roaring winds.

Running, it would've been almost impossible to cover his entire body with the umbrella. When Alfred had returned, Bruce was drunk driving and so, he hadn't noticed Alfred's soaked clothing, nor had he thought to immediately bring him to the hospital.

Standing at the doors of the hospital, Bruce looked up at Gotham's gloomy skies, clutching the diagnosis report in his hand.

He couldn't understand why he had messed up everything.

Batman's reputation was tarnished, people no longer listened to him, and now he was like a rat crossing the street in Gotham, likely soon to be wanted by the police.

Dick would rather board at school than return, Aisha was still mad at him, Alfred was hospitalized due to severe cold, Shiller was profoundly disappointed in him for his drunk driving, Gordon felt unable to communicate with him, and Catwoman had also left him.

Standing on Gotham City's sunless streets, Bruce shielded his eyes and then slowly crouched down.

He had ruined Batman's life as well as Bruce's life.

At that moment, Bruce felt an irresistible despair consume him because he knew that once again, he was alone.

Just then, Bruce felt a shadow cover the ground before him. When he looked up, he saw a pale and grinning face.

"What do I see?" The Joker tilted his head, made a crying face and said, ".... a sad little bat! Oh! Come here, let me give you a hug! Ha ha ha ha ha hahaha!"

The Joker opened his arms wide in laughter, and in his embrace, there were only bombs.