The March of Progress

[Sylvester Pemberton]

Gotham City: quite possibly Senator Pemberton's least favourite place in the entire United States.

And that was really saying something: his work had taken him to all kinds of hell-holes. He'd even done visits to Afghanistan and Iraq, and preferred those war-torn locales to here. It wasn't a matter of feeling safe, though anyone concerned about their well-being in Gotham was perfectly justified in doing so; the Senator had seen enough action in his lifetime to know that he could handle himself. It was more about what Gotham stood for; what it represented.

When this great nation had been founded, one of the Founding Fathers had the inspired idea of taking all of the undesirable aspects of America and bundling them all up in New Jersey: and Gotham was the worst of the bunch. Officials here were so notoriously corrupt that they probably couldn't even pee without someone bribing them to do it first; and the worst part was that everyone knew, and just accepted it. That was what Pemberton hated: the oppressive cloud of resignation and acceptance that suffocated the city even worse than the industrial smog. As a man who had spent his career - spent his life - striving for betterment and progress, Gotham was the prime example of just how far America still had to go.

Though the Gothamites had given up however, Senator Pemberton had not. Through his work on various Senate sub-committees, and through the altruistic research efforts of his company, STAR Labs, Pemberton was about to take Gotham by the scruff of the neck and drag it into a brighter future.

"Gotham City has been -"

A frown creased the Senator's brow as he paced back and forth in the jet's comfortable but not overly large interior. Any moment now, someone would appear to tell him that the horde of journalists congregating outside were ready for him: that it was time for him to step out into the fray and make the speech that could very well make or break his efforts in Gotham. Granted, most of the contracts had already been signed, and the deals had already been made. Whether Gotham liked it or not, STAR Labs would be building the world's safest and most efficient nuclear generator underneath the Gotham river, and it would provide clean and cheap energy that would begin the process of freeing America from the stranglehold of fossil fuels.

For the Senator however, it was perhaps more important that the people of Gotham saw this for the opportunity that it was, and welcomed the change. Their acceptance and enthusiasm - a sentiment that his speech was required to instil - would be a sign; a cause for hope. If Sylvester could get Gotham City to embrace green power, well -

Perhaps they're not such a lost cause after all.

The sound of footsteps alerted the Senator to the fact that he was no longer alone, but he waited until the sound of a voice clearing before he turned. The young blonde looked a little uncomfortable in her grey jacket and pencil skirt ensemble, but she did her best to keep her nerves at bay. "They're ready for you outside, Senator."

A smile tugged at the Senator's lips, the result of more than a little pride in the young woman that he'd first met when she was still in diapers. "Thank you, Courtney," he replied with a curt nod, and dutifully followed his assistant out through the hatch and down the waiting stairway.

A podium waited for him; cameras and dictaphones trained themselves on him like rifles. He stepped forward, resting his hands gently on either edge of the microphone-laden lectern, drew a breath, and began.

"Gotham City has been in the stranglehold of industry since the very earliest days of this great nation. You have been an engine, one of the strongest driving forces in the development of our country. Our cities, railways, Navy, skyscrapers: they're all built upon the vital contributions that Gotham makes. But that contribution hasn't come without a cost: that industry has polluted your skies, your streets, and your society. It's about time the United States paid you back."

"For the last twenty years, STAR Labs has poured it's money and expertise into solving the riddle of curing America's addiction to fossil fuels. Like any addiction -"

[Roy Harper]

"- it has serious ramifications for our health and survival; and for the survival of our entire ecosystem. But, like any addiction, it can be hard to see a future without something that we desperately need. There are alternatives - solar power, wind power, hydrothermal; but these are the nicotine patches designed to wean us away from our unhealthy habit. What we need is a clean break."

The television's sound cut off abruptly as the mute cut in, the remote tumbling from Roy's fingers an instant later. "My god," he grunted, slumping at the foot of the hotel room's disconcertingly weak-springed mattress. "Have you heard this guy?"

Falling backwards onto the evidently cheap bedsheets, his eyes sought out patterns in the textured paintwork of the room's ceiling, arms draped idly across his chest. Admittedly, the hotel wasn't the worst dive he'd ever spent the night in, but it wasn't exactly pricey. It was the strange irony of the League of Assassins: all those zeroes on the price tag for a kill, and yet they dump their assets in the cheapest venue they can find.

Economics at work, he supposed. Every successful business had to cut costs somewhere; and unless there was an Assassins Union that he wasn't aware of, people in his line of work were ill positioned to complain if employee welfare was one of the areas that felt the pinch.

"They can keep their money," Roy called, raising his voice enough to be clearly heard from the adjoining bathroom. "I'll shoot this guy just for the satisfaction of getting him to shut up."