They had playwrights. They had playwrights and novelists lined up to write the scripts. They planned to reveal a hopeless gotham dystopia awash in the throes of a never-ending crime wave. Villains so terrible, so exceptional, that only an exceptional and terrible anti-hero could fight them. It was going to be like nothing ever seen on television, challenging, groundbreaking.
They found an actor, suave and handsome, had a real edge. His voice was an engine at full rev, power barely held in check. He was a playboy and a cad, and rumors swirled he would be the next 007. He was the embodiment of their vision, a bored socialite forced by circumstance to fight for the life and soul of a city. They were set to make drama, to make history.
And then he put on the suit.