Doing Good Deeds in Gotham

The rain in Gotham never truly stops.

It only changes form: sometimes it’s an acid mist that corrodes steel, sometimes snow that buries the bloodstains. Tonight, it is the purest kind: cold and relentless, like God’s futile attempt to wash this city clean.

Huang Hao stood before Gotham Police Headquarters, the ink on the transfer order in his hand already blurred by the rain into clusters of writhing shadows. He looked up.