Gotham was dark and still.
Tupperman heard the wolves howl and knew his arrival had been noted by one species at least. It wouldn’t have surprised him if other residents let the wolves be their sentinels.
He knew the way, he had charted it out a hundred times, and he followed it diligently. If he abandoned his usual caution, it was only reasonable under the circumstances.
He reached Grand Central Station and left the bike—with some regret—in the grand departure hall. He wasn’t at all convinced that it would still be there when he returned.
On the other hand, he might never need it again.
Tupperman swallowed, feeling the perspiration gathering in his pseudoskin and knew he would have some fast talking to do, if he could find the outcasts hidden in the old city. For years, he had heard
