It was a cramped space. Dozens of chairs had been arranged inside, and on those neatly ordered seats sat motionless figures. "They're all dead." Gordon watched Batman weave past the chairs and stare at the shriveled faces. Beneath the skin protruded bulging eyeballs and strange smiles curled at the corners of their mouths. They were all dead, and the scarlet lipstick on their lips reminded Batman of an old acquaintance—a mad, lawless, chaotic existence and the gift he had left behind, a gift wrapped in dozens of human lives.