The silence that followed Max's passionate plea is broken by the simultaneous beeping of all our walkie-talkies. The red light bulbs on top of our devices are flashing, indicating that someone pressed their emergency key. I promptly grab mine, lifting it closer to my face. My two colleagues approach to hear the output, and I crank the volume up.

"This is Dorothy Chapman speaking. I need twelve emergency technicians ready to be on the move. All EMTs available should meet up at the ambulance bay. I will join you and explain the situation shortly. Over."

According to the slight irregularities in her voice, it would appear that our boss was speed-walking while she transmitted her message.

I push the button of my contraption to activate its speaking function and communicate into it steadily: "Copy. This is Constanza Aguayo speaking. Colin, Maximilian and I are already at the ambulance bay. Over."

I lower my radio's volume and the box itself, distractedly listening to Ms. Chapman's reply and other miscellaneous transmissions.

"We should go back inside," states Colin, stepping back excitedly as though he is about to hop to the door.

"Of course." Before I follow the two men, I conclude the conversation I was having prior to the call, "Hey, Maximilian? I'm glad we cleared the air."

The youngest of us three spins on his boots, smiling. "Yeah, me too!"

We enter the large, hollow room, and it instantaneously drowns my senses with its bland lighting and its trademark overpowering smell of disinfectants. I always feel a negligible numbness when I find myself indoors. I have always been in love with nature, there is nothing like feeling fresh air travel through my lungs and glide across my skin, or looking up at an endless sky - whether it be navy, bright blue or gray.

Colin's vibrant voice resonates in the wide space surrounding us, "What do you guys think this is about?"

"Whatever it is, there are enough injured people for Dorothy to request twelve technicians. Something major happened, probably not just an accident," I state, without any hesitation in my tone. "A shooting, maybe," I guess, inattentive, realizing a bit too late how unbothered I may have sounded.

"Like, with an active shooter?" inquires the new EMT, blatantly anxious.

My fellow paramedic reassures him: "It's extremely unlikely that you would get shot, Max, even if there is a mass shooting. We usually stay away from immediate, ongoing danger."

Admittedly, perhaps "reassure" is a bit of an overstatement. I aid Colin in his attempt, simply telling our younger coworker, "You have more chances of dying a boring death from unhealthy life habits than getting murdered on the job.

"We live in a hellhole! It's more probable that we'll all get killed by a psycho with a stupid, creepy name."

Colin is nonchalant, and even laughs at his own remark, however there is a tense undertone to his words. Before I can wonder about it for more than a minute, our chief enters the room, closely followed by a handful of other emergency medical technicians. Leah is among them, she is scanning the ambulance bay with her dark eyes. Once we have established eye contact, she trots toward us.

Immediately, she asks the slimmest of us: "Max, are you okay?"

He silently nods at her, while Ms. Chapman positions herself to address those of us who are present. The redheaded woman is clinging onto her cellphone in one hand, her arm extended rigidly next to her body, whereas the other is tucked behind her lower back. Her voice rings loudly and impressively in the echo-prone room, as she begins:

"I want to start by saying that panic will be of no use, and that any kind of frenzy is ill-advised and won't be tolerated." She sucks a breath of air between her front teeth, preparing for her true announcement,

"The supervillain known as The Joker has been reported to have launched two bombs on a mall next to Robinson Plaza. As I am sure you understand, the damage is considerable, and our help will be crucial to reducing the rate of civilian and non-civilian deaths. Regardless, we have been ordered to remain put until further instructions. When the Commissioner confirms that the threat has passed, we will move in with speed, but caution. You may talk among yourselves, but stay alert, as we could leave at any given moment."

A few additional technicians came in, in respectful subtlety, during her briefing, and a low wave of chatters and whispers instantly flows through the small crowd.

We do not receive information directly from Commissioner Gordon, of course. Maybe himself, or one of his subordinates, contacted the board of the hospital, who summoned Doctor Jenkins-Ferguson, and she is the one who communicated all these orders to Dorothy. Although it could potentially be shorter, I admit that this chain of command seems relatively straight-forward. One of the few advantages of working in emergency operations is that we obtain knowledge and details quicker than anyone else in the city, even the nosiest of reporters.

"See? It's not a shooting after all," Colin cheerfully teases Maximilian.

"Villains are more dangerous than shootings, Colin." He exasperatedly sighs, suddenly reiterating with a focused air, "Hey, this might sound dumb, but... Do you think we could meet Batman?"

A hopeful expression of awe momentarily takes over his slightly anguished face. Empathizing with his foreseen disappointment, I gently reply:

"You never know... I think we'd rather not meet him, though, because that would mean he hasn't caught The Joker yet. When we get there, both of them will be long gone, if we're lucky."

I shrug, and Leah eagerly responds to my rational comment.

"You know, I've met him once! The Batman." She speaks his name with a laughing yet ceremonious tone.

Maximilian's eyes widen, and he avidly inquires: "Really? When? What happened!? Did you talk to him?"

My colleagues are all Gotham City born and raised, unlike myself. Obviously, they were not drawn to the Gotham General Hospital because of its state-of-the-art equipment or the town's ground-breaking medical advances. Its network of medical facilities is not exactly pushing the boundaries of medicine or reinventing patient care. The only thing that is revolutionary about the Gotham City healthcare system is its symbiotic connection to Arkham Asylum.

Therefore, my fellow paramedics share a fascination for the Batman. Understandably so. They are allowed to admire the beloved superhero who has been protecting their hometown since before their birth.

Leah regularly mentions her encounter with the mysterious hero, but she has not done so in front of Maximilian yet, apparently. She begins her story, visibly thrilled to relive that experience, even vicariously.

"Exactly 14 months ago. I was answering an emergency call with Scott. The Penguin and Two-Face had a shoot-out on The Westward Bridge, and they needed us to tend to the passersby who had been wounded, right? So, we get over there in the ambulance and all that. Now, we're only  a minute away, or so, when Chief C puts us in contact with the police department, and they're telling us that we're allowed to stop our ambulance and wait, because apparently, Two-Face still has not been apprehended... "

A prideful smile curves her full lips, while she intentionally creates an instant of suspense. Our crewmate goes on with her tale. As expected, Scott and her did what I would have done as well: close in to the location and help. What good would it have done to wait a mere stroll away from the victims?

"I assumed Two-Face had escaped far from the bridge, right? So, there I am, bandaging up this child and trying to help her grandma whose side had been scratched and burned badly when their car crashed. Keep in mind, The Penguin and the other idiot wrecked the bridge at noon in the middle of lunch hour traffic. Suddenly, I hear this wave of really loud, but muffled gunfire. And I thought it was coming from the ground, which seemed crazy... But I was kneeling close to this manhole, right on my left and BAM!" She opens up her hands for dramatic effect, and I cannot help but be entranced by her storytelling, drinking the words straight from her lips as they pour out. "The cap just blows right off, sending sparks and sewer water everywhere! By reflex, I threw myself over the girl and her grandmother. I had my eyes closed, but I heard this huge thud on the asphalt and clicking. Naturally, I open my eyes and turn to see Two-Face, lying face down on the pavement, being handcuffed not even five feet from me! There was this great shadow over me, and when I stopped shielding my patients, there he was..."

"The Batman," Colin specifies, with greater admiration than amusement, in a nearly worshipping tone.

Half-giggling, half-squealing, the young woman prepares herself to conclude the anecdote:

"He was so tall and frightening, and he slightly leaned over to ask me if I was alright. I told him I was, then he left with Two-Face, dragging him along. Oh, and I was more than fine. Batman in real life is even hotter than on TV or in the papers. He's got this really sculpted jaw and his suit fits his muscles so nicely..! He definitely works out, not that anyone doubted it. And his voice was so deep and it just captures you with this warm feeling. You could tell how intense he is, despite how broody and stoic he looked with the mask and all."

"Yeah, okay, save the details for your boyfriend, he's the one who should be hearing all this."

Colin's remark causes Maximilian to blush slightly, and I chuckle, crossing my arms over my abdomen.

Leah retorts, joyfully, "Actually, he'd probably like it better if I were the one wearing the suit!"

In fact, her boyfriend adores Batman, luckily not to an unhealthy extent. I have interacted with him a few times, and if he were not a heavily asthmatic, gangly individual, he would undoubtedly become Batman.

Our conversation lasts another three minutes, before our boss' crystal clear voice spreads into the vast room once more.

"Attention, all! The Joker has been arrested. Take four ambulances and leave. Now!"