I hit home runs without stepping up to the plate, and I bake delectable desserts with the intensity of my gaze. England’s top rugby teams scout me for my sense of smell and rugged handsomeness, David Tennant styles his hair to imitate mine, and Harry Potter is a loose biography of my life so far.
I have been in a morgue.
I am both an unstoppable force and an immovable object. Schrödinger’s Cat is actually dead, thanks to me.
I consume slightly more water per week than the average human.
I have traveled the world, supped with kings, pirated cargo ships, faxed documents, discovered elements, and dressed myself in the morning. I built Rome in a day. I was the last person to see the Hanging Gardens of Babylon, and the first to eat Wonder Bread.
“Because he’s the hero Gotham deserves, but not the one it needs right now. So we’ll hunt him because he can take it. Because he’s not our hero. He’s a silent guardian, a watchful protector. A goddamn moose.”