A man in shabby clothes stood on the beach, his arms resting on the railing, looking at the gray sea. The clouds blur the connection between the sky and the sea, and the world seems to exist only in the area that can be seen.
Suddenly, a chill ran up his spine, and a familiar voice emerged from the haze in his mind.
"Who are you?"
"I am Gotham." A female voice as gentle as a mother speaks in eternity.
Conception: