Days as a Spiritual Mentor in American Comics

Gordon unbuttoned a button from his shirt collar, twisted his neck, relaxed his shoulders, and then turned his gaze towards the bleak, rainy night in Gotham. Cold and damp as always.

His colleagues wished each other goodbye and left the police station after their shifts ended. One of them said to Gordon, "Hey, man, you never should have taken that complex case. Dozens of missing people? I bet you're going to spend the whole evening going through the files."

Gordon helplessly chuckled and replied, "You got it, dozens of missing people. I have to put my heart into it."

After all his colleagues had left, Gordon made himself a cup of strong coffee. He planned to pull an all-nighter.

The mass disappearances in the Mosenge District were mysterious. In past disappearances, even if they were well covered up, some of the deceased victims' bodies would still be discovered. But of the 46 individuals who went missing in the Morson district, not a single body has been found in the streets of Gotham. This was utterly abnormal.

Gotham was never a city that played by the law. It was full of mobs, and no seasoned mob member would bother to hide a body. They would merely toss them from tall buildings. Even though they knew this wouldn't fool the police, the police didn't hold much authority in Gotham.

Among the dozens of people who disappeared from the Morson district were individuals from all walks of life, with little to no common characteristics. The only shared trait was that they were all permanent residents of the Morson district.

At that time, Gordon was still young, just a rookie in the police department and far from becoming the commissioner. The responsibility for this unwanted hot potato of a case fell ultimately to him, driven as he was by a strong sense of justice. Even though he knew it would be a thankless task, he was determined to do his utmost to seek justice for the victims.

Just as he was burning the midnight oil sorting through the case files, already at the point of exhaustion, he suddenly sensed a stir behind him. As he turned around, a massive shadow enveloped him. Gordon instantly reached toward his waist, but his pistol wasn't there.

The person in front of him wore a tight-fitting black suit, had two pointed ears on his head, and was wrapped in a black cape. His tall stature almost blocked out all the lights overhead. Gordon cautiously asked, "Who are you? Why are you here in the police station?"

"You can consider me a vigilante. I'm investigating the disappearances in the Morson district. I noticed you visited there today and yesterday. You must be the detective in charge of this case. I hope to access the files related to the missing people."

Just as Gordon was about to refuse, the figure spoke again: "Of course, I also have some clues to exchange with you. Or rather, I can collaborate with you to solve this case."

A vigilante? Gordon thought. That's absurd. No such person could exist in Gotham, otherwise, it wouldn't be known as the City of Sin.

Gordon's first encounter with Batman was far from pleasant. The two stood off against each other in the police station for quite a while. Clearly, Batman, the newcomer, hadn't mastered the art of making a swift exit mid-conversation. After a long standoff, he finally showed signs of impatience.

Batman felt as though he had been monumentally unlucky. There were many cops in Gotham who shirked their duties, but he happened to run into the most diligent one. Gordon even seemed dead set on protecting those case files. Batman didn't want to hurt him, so he didn't have any good alternatives.

After dealing with the Gutter Gang, Batman was deeply shaken by the encounter with the beggar. Even though he had ultimately saved the beggar's life, it led Batman to reflect on his actions. He stopped striving for the unreachable and decided to start with the basics.

The starting point of Batman's superhero journey was the Morson district. Apart from the Gutter Gang, this place wasn't exactly peaceful either. The missing persons case in the Morson district had reached a dangerously high number, with over forty out of just a few hundred residents now missing. Batman decided to consider this case as the starting point of his career.

And of course, he had a suspect in mind.

A professor who frequented the streets controlled by the Gotham Gang late at night for no seeming reason before disappearing just as inexplicably, could there be anyone more suspicious?

Batman had contemplated confronting Shiller directly, but he was aware that, in terms of rhetoric, he might not be able to best the professor. In their two previous confrontations, Batman had been at a disadvantage. He decided he must first gather more concrete evidence before bringing him to justice.

Batman went to the Morson district once again. Since he couldn't get the files of the missing persons case from Gordon, he decided to sneak into the home of one of the vanished residents to look for other clues.

As he climbed out of a window, he spotted Shiller once more. Under a streetlamp not far away, Shiller stood holding his black umbrella, gazing at a wall across the street. Batman spotted him.

Shiller was observing the spot where the beggar used to sit. However, the beggar was no longer there. Batman had sent the beggar to the best hospital in Gotham City and covered all of his treatment costs. Although the beggar had lost both his legs, at least he had survived.

Due to the beggar spending years leaning against it, a dark stain had formed on the wall, and a small puddle from the rain had formed at the spot where he used to sit. The reflection from the dim streetlights illuminated the scene. Shiller stood on the other side of the street, gazing at this puddle, lost in thought.

The young Batman ultimately couldn't control his composure; he leaped off the building and appeared in front of Shiller.

"Good evening, Batman. I recall you introduced yourself as that last time, so I'll call you that," Shiller greeted him.

Under the eye holes of his mask, Batman stared intently at Shiller and said, "Stop beating around the bush. You know why I'm here."

"You're here to play the savior, I understand. Like how you rescued that pitiful beggar."

"Are you responsible for the missing persons in the Morson district?" Batman asked.

Shiller shook his head; Batman retorted, "You are the only outsider, and you have no apparent motive for being here."

Shiller says, "Clearly, you already have your answer, so why would you ask me? You're always good at turning things you've already confirmed into questions and asking others."

"If you get an answer that satisfies you, you will naturally feel content. But if you don't get the answer you want, you become incredibly angry."

"If I say I'm not the killer, you would feel angry. But your anger doesn't arise from your sense of justice; it's simply because I didn't give you the answer you wanted."

"You think you're a great predictor, don't you?" asked Shiller.

"Like I said, don't play games with me. You're the only suspect here…."

Before Shiller could even respond, he noticed a Batman dart whizzing past his neck. He had underestimated, whether it was this Batman or any one in the future. Even though they don't kill, they often beat criminals mercilessly, even breaking their legs, before sending them to the hospital.

However, this young Batman seemed to be missing that protocol.

Shiller was silent for a moment, as another Batman dart grazed his neck. This time, Shiller didn't use his Spider-sense to tilt his head in advance, he just quietly watched Batman.

The Batman dart left a cut on his neck, from which blood seeped. Suddenly, at the end of the alley, a rush of footsteps came, followed by a voice: "Stop!"

Batman turned his head to look, seeing under the streetlight, Gordon pointing a gun at them.

"Detective Gordon, hello." Shiller greeted.

With gun in hand, Detective Gordon cautiously approached, instructing: "Put your weapons down and don't move."

Shiller spread his hands, indicating that he had no weapons. Batman stored away the Bat Dart in his hand.

As Gordon got closer, he noticed the blood flowing down Shiller's neck, staining his shoulder and even wetting his shirt.

Shiller said, "Batman, you've made a mistake by declaring me as the only suspect. Detective Gordon, evidently, doesn't think so."

"Among those who have no reason to be here, there's you along with me."

"I'm here investigating the missing people case." Batman stated,

"So am I," retorted Shiller, "But clearly, you are not superior to me as neither of us are police. It would seem only Detective Gordon has the authority here."

"I will find evidence," Batman assured.

"If you also need evidence, what sets you apart from the police?" Shiller posed unexpectedly.

Batman found himself at a loss for words. He had assumed Shiller was going to ask for evidence. Batman was aware that, regardless of Shiller being where he shouldn't be, it didn't qualify as evidence to prove criminal activities. So, he was fixed on finding solid clues to indict Shiller as the murderer.

However, Shiller's question hit right on the mark. Batman thought about how he'd always seen the police as extremely useless since they constantly needed tangible proof. Even though a crime has been committed right before their eyes, if they didn't directly witness who'd committed it, they wouldn't arrest the biggest suspect.

His parents were victims of such ineptitude. Not one officer provided a satisfactory explanation, not one offender was brought to justice. His parents were dead, and yet, no one paid the price.

He wondered, if he needed evidence as well, why didn't he just join the Gotham Police Department?

But if he didn't require evidence, randomly arresting anyone, how would he be any different from the criminals?

Batman regretted initiating the conversation with Shiller. Every single dialog with Shiller left him somewhat shaken. This psychological and conscious disruption was worse than anything.

After encountering Shiller, Batman would usually spend days in deep contemplation, pondering over the posed question, seeking his own answers and strengthening his beliefs before resuming his activities.

To him, this felt similar to attending university lectures. The teacher poses a question, the student ponders, eventually writing a thesis. But at their next meeting, in addition to reviewing the work done, there was always a new question waiting. An endless cycle of questions.

Meanwhile, Shiller was complaining in his heart that this Jonathan was truly relentless. After Shiller had stolen most of the fear gas, it hadn't slowed down his research pace at all. Rather, it drove him to kidnap more test subjects, robbing Shiller of his mid-night slumber and leaving him to clean up the mess.