The mont she saw Joker, Barbara instinctively reached for her gun at her waist — only then rembering she had changed clothes and wasn't carrying a gun.
Probably not long after Damian left her room at Wayne Manor, Barbara climbed out of the window. She had to go check on her father, and more importantly, she might have a chance to see her mother.
A sage like Oracle, how could she not have thought that in a universe further back along the tiline, her mother might still be alive. She really wanted to see her mother.
She knew that at this point, her father was probably still imrsed in his work at the police station. As the only diligent and competent officer in a bustling city like Gotham, Gordon always had endless work to accomplish.
At the end of each night's duty, as long as Barbara walked to the bottom of the police station's building and looked up, she could see the familiar light shining in Gordon's office.
When Barbara arrived, the light was off.
She was wearing the Batgirl suit, hence she hesitated whether to scale the wall and enter. However, she didn't hesitate long before the night shift security guard at the Gotham Police Departnt ca to ask what she was doing there.
Barbara didn't understand why the surveillance at the Gotham Police Departnt in this universe was working. Normally it was broken, and only the more than a thousand caras installed by Batman actually functioned. Those surveillance feeds could only be seen in the Batcave, sothing the security guard could not possibly know.
Barbara speculated that the guard could be a secret inforr for Batman. However, she didn't have ti to question it then. If Gordon wasn't in his office at this late hour, it ant he must be out in the field. And that ant there must be so very dangerous and urgent incidents occurring, most likely involving Batman.
The lunatics at Arkham Asylum had made a mass escape again? Joker was staging a kidnapping to force Batman to show up? Mysterious toxins had appeared in the drinking water or the air once more?
Horrifying thoughts crowded Barbara's mind. Without any ti to stall, she grabbed the security guard's arm and asked, "My dad... I an, where did Chief Gordon go?"
"He went ho."
In an instant, Barbara's heart sank. It was very likely that the worst case scenario had happened—her mother, or her counterpart in this world, had been kidnapped. Joker, Scarecrow, or Hugo could all be potential culprits.
With this on her mind, Barbara headed towards her own ho following a familiar path. However, when she knocked on the slightly worn-out door, a family of strangers answered.
When Barbara asked them where Jas Gordon had gone, they could only tell her that they had heard the landlord ntion that na as the previous tenant.
Barbara had no choice but to find the landlord who lived upstairs. She found out that Gordon had moved out a while ago and supposedly bought a new house in the North District.
Barbara hurried to the North District without delay. Luckily, the distance wasn't too far. After passing through a street filled with luxurious cars, her eyes landed on a large gate decorated with Gothic patterns. Hanging on it was a sign that read "Gordon Manor" in cursive English.
Agilely scaling the enclosure, Barbara approached the Manor through the garden. She then climbed to the second floor balcony along a drainpipe, listening to the sounds coming from the brightly lit room within.
"My father will attend my cousin's wedding, I have to return to Sicily Island. He won't tolerate breaking tradition and missing my cousin's wedding, especially since my uncle ca to my engagent..."
"But the planning eting for the concert is really important! Evans! You are particularly talented in this area, where can Gotham find such a scholarly and talented artist like yourself?"
"But what I understand is opera, not rap."
"It's all the sa!"
"Alright, Roy, don't be too anxious now..."
Barbara recognized the voice as Gordon's, only it wasn't as hoarse and sounded much younger.
"How can I not be anxious? Our album's montum is strong right now. In less than a week, we're bound to top the Billboard charts and have a good chance at a Grammy this year. This is a great opportunity for Gotham's tourism industry to make a significant breakthrough..."
"Then let's move the planning eting forward a bit... Who's there?"
Just as Barbara took a step forward, a dark gun barrel parted the curtains, pointing right at her head.
The mont father and daughter locked eyes, both were taken aback.
To Barbara's surprise, Gordon looked way too young.
Of course, Gordon could not be considered a young man. He was quite a bit older than Bruce Wayne, but "young" referred not to the few wrinkles removed from his face, but to his completely different temperant—radiant and vibrant.
Barbara's impression of Gordon had long been deeply integrated with the style of the city. God had not granted him any additional leniency in this terrifying darkness, and like all Gothamites, he appeared tired and aged, only he had not yet beco numb like them.
But there was logic to this. The life of Gotham's final conscience was steeped in the blood of innocent victims and the panic of struggling citizens. This daily erosion had made ti even less forgiving to him.
Barbara had never seen or imagined that she would see such a radiant and healthy Gordon—one who seed to have not worked overnight recently, and who had even had good sleep without nightmares for at least three days.
Gordon, on the other hand, was shocked by Barbara's appearance. He blurted out, "Barbara...sorry, I an...are you Barbara's sister? Why are you dressed like that?"
Barbara knew that the "Barbara" he referred to should be her mother. She couldn't care less about her own shock or even Gordon's gun. She took a large step forward, bursting through the curtains and grabbing Gordon's arm, "Where is my mother?"
"Your mother?" Gordon looked perplexed as he took in her appearance. He examined Barbara from head to toe, then queried, "Pardon for being presumptuous, but there's no way Barbara could have a daughter as old as you. Are you perhaps her niece?"
"I..."
Barbara's mind was in a whirl. Gordon took a step back, inviting Barbara to co into the house.
Seeing that Gordon had a guest, Roy and Evans, who were sitting on the sofa, stood up. Evans nodded at Gordon and said, "You chat, we'll get going first."
After they left, Gordon invited Barbara to sit on the sofa, and then Barbara started telling him about the other universe and how Batman brought them here.
Batgirl looked sowhat helplessly at the finely carved armrest. In her mory, the Gordons had never been so wealthy. Her childhood and adolescence were spent in the anxiety of never quite balancing their budget.
With a finger on his chin, Gordon said, "Bruce did ntion the other universe to , but I didn't expect people would move so quickly between them. So you're telling I married Barbara as well? It seems my decision to text her and nd things was right."
"Jas!" Barbara raised her voice and asked, "What's the story with this manor? Why are you so rich?"
"I didn't buy this," Gordon waved his hand and said. "Alberto gave it to . Don't ask why I accepted. You can't expect to discuss affairs with the Godfather in a dim and shabby apartnt every day, can you?"
"Alberto? The Holiday Killer?!"
"Oh God," Gordon slapped his forehead and said, "Silly girl, you can't shout the Godfather's na in public, or you'll get shot!"
"I'm a little confused!" Barbara looked at Gordon and said, "You really need to explain what's going on in this universe... "
"Sure, but have you had dinner?"
"I..." Barbara was choked up again.
Before she could reply, she saw Gordon stand up. Barbara raised her head to look at him, asking, "Where are you going?"
"To get so BBQ, co on, I'll take you with , but you need to change out of those strange clothes first."
Barbara looked down at her Batgirl outfit, asking a bit lost, "What's wrong with this uniform? Isn't it quite nice?"
"Yes, it's quite nice. It's just a bit too similar to Batman. The BBQ stall owner will think you're so crazed Batman fan, you know, die-hard one? That's not so good."
Having said that, Gordon walked over to the side of the living room and picked up a phone. "Hello? Mr. Little Spencer? It's , could you send a set of won's clothing over? Standard size will do, casual wear, not a dress... No, no, no, don't send another truckload of luxury bags! Wasn't scaring Barbara once enough?"
A little while later, Barbara saw a group of black-suited mobsters walk in. They handed Gordon a box. Barbara's heart was in her throat, truly afraid that in the next second, Gordon would ask sothing like "How's the rchandise?".
When the box was opened, it contained a set of won's sportswear, with a small dog printed on the chest.
After the mobsters left, Gordon handed the clothes to Barbara, saying, "Regrettably, your mother is currently working in Washington, and I haven't completely won her back yet, so you might not be able to see her for a while."
"But, I can introduce you to so of my old pals. I really need to tell them that I made the right choice when I sent that text, made a smart decision that saved my lifelong happiness, and it wasn't so desperate struggle of a dumped stray dog."
Barbara's mind was still a bit fuzzy, but she took the clothes to the cloakroom anyway. A cloakroom! She thought to herself sarcastically, the Gordon ho now has a cloakroom!
As soon as she walked into the cloakroom, she understood what Gordon was talking about on the phone earlier. Don't send her a truck full of luxury bags. Just the value of everything she could see in this cloakroom alone, could probably buy the old Gordon house and the apartnt she's living in now from her own universe.
Barbara gasped as she changed her clothes. After she ca out, Gordon complinted her, "You look at least ten years younger."
A bit uncomfortable, Barbara tugged at the edge of her sportswear. It was like being back in the days when she was a little girl, and her clothes were always too short. In a daze, she followed Gordon outside and got into a Bentley.
"You look like a corrupt cop—a kind that keeps a relationship with gangs in order to make a fortune," Barbara blurted out.
"I am."
Barbara was choked.
"Otherwise, where do you think the luxury cars and mansions co from?" While holding the steering wheel and looking ahead, Gordon said, "They all co from the gangs."
After he finished speaking, he glanced at his wristwatch. Barbara instantly drew a sharp intake of breath. The watch on Gordon's hand could probably buy his house and her apartnt building outright.
Gordon suddenly laughed brightly, looking at Barbara in the passenger seat, "Young lady, you really are just like your mother. Do you know her reaction when she returned to Gotham and saw all of this after I asked for a reconciliation?"
"Surprised?"
"Worse. She slapped and walked away."
Gordon looked back at the road and let out a sigh, turning the steering wheel and saying, "I never dared to hope that part of her which truly loved , loved those things that led to Gotham, so call it stupidity, so call it justice, perhaps they are the sa."
"Then why did you..."
"I've told you, it's a social necessity. If I kept those mob bosses breaking their shoes on the creaking old stairs, they might have demolished the building to build a manor."
Gordon turned to Barbara and flashed a smile she didn't understand, then turned back, lowering his gaze,
"Ask the lamb, and you shall know. I did not submit to them, but spared them. What I received was not a gift, but a sacrifice."
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