It was a cold dark night in Gotham, the kind where all the decent folk tended to stay indoors where it was safe, and only the most stoic of hearts dared ventured outside for fear of running into the city's less savory characters.  This was especially true in the narrows where even teh bravest of Gotham's finest dared not go without reinforcements, and yet there was one man who dared walk those forsaken alleyways alone.<br/><br/>He seemed out of place there in his trench coat, vest, tie, collared shirt, and slacks.  The neatly shined dress shoes stepped silently on the pavement, as the figure reached up to adjust his fedora with a gloved hand.  Who he was was a mystery to any that looked upon him, as where his face should have been was nothing.  No eyes, nose or mouth could be seen where his face should have been.  in its place was solely what appeared to be skin.