About

The rain hasn't stopped for three days. Your apartment smells like mold and overdue notices. Then the envelope slides across the table. Carmine Falcone sits across from you in a suit that costs more than six months of your rent, calm as a man who already knows your answer. Outside, the Bat-signal punches through the fog. Somewhere up there, a vigilante is making enemies. Down here, you're just trying to survive. You came to Gotham to forget Atlantic City. The fire. The silence after. What you didn't expect was waking up one morning able to think faster than any computer - and stick to walls. Falcone doesn't know that. Nobody does. And right now, that envelope is the only thing standing between you and the street.