He can survive anywhere. Anytime. Surviving is what he does. - Grant Morrison

Gotham City.

Donde los sueños se vuelven sólidos y sangran. Donde los fantasmas existen y los monstruos dejan las huellas de sus pisadas entre el polvo. Donde vive el hombre sin precio, el hombre que no puede ser comprado ni vendido, ni apartado de su singular rumbo.

Sometimes it’s only madness that makes us what we are.

"But where in all of this description is the essential chair? Have we yet come even close to a full description of it? Did we even mention that several hundred years ago, it wasn't a chair but a tree? Where is it now? Here? Or in memory.
We cannot even fully describe a chair and yet we say "I am." "I am...". Understand. There is no "I am." Nothing "is." Try to describe all that you are. Simultaneously discern the logical flaw in what I've just said. Now! Feel the white flame."