RPAGF Chapter 463 Unnamed Draft 5
Chapter 463 Unnamed Draft 5
Chapter 463 Untitled Draft 5
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01.
It's raining in Gotham.
This city is always shrouded in dark clouds. The thick dark clouds isolate the light from the city. The dark city exudes a damp and cold breath at all times. Sin is a vine that grows wildly under the shadows. It blooms the most beautiful and charming luxurious flowers, attracting batches of martyrs to follow one after another.
Batman shot out his grappling hook and nailed it into the wall, which made almost no sound. He used the force to leap to the roof of the Gothic building and overlooked the city he protected from above.
The helicopter's searchlight hit his side several times, but each time it just avoided the Dark Knight's body. The red and blue flashing police lights were not eye-catching against the backdrop of the neon lights. Only the sirens that echoed through every street, causing residents to lock their doors and windows and hide under the sofa or bed to beg for God's mercy, were the main theme of the night.
It had come to an end. He had spent the entire night hunting down the criminals who had fled into the city. They had broken through the lines of defense of Arkham's guards and had swaggered down Gotham's busiest streets on Thanksgiving Day, firing the first shots of the night, repaying the city of sin with sin, which went against the teachings of Thanksgiving.
Fine raindrops hit his black Kevlar bat cloak, and the sound was no different from that of raindrops falling on an umbrella. The rain gathered into several streams and flowed along the lines of the armor. In just a few seconds, the rain got heavier and heavier, and his communicator rang.
"Master, you can still catch the hot turkey on your way back now, otherwise you will have to wait another thirty minutes to put it back in the oven."
"Ten minutes, a penny apiece. I must see the gates closed again while they are escorted back to Arkham."
“It’s a really tough decision, and until then I’m going to do my best to keep it warm.”
"Thanks, one penny."
After that, he stayed on the roof in the rain for another ten minutes, tracking the vehicle escorting the prisoners into Arkham. The iron gate slowly closed, sealing the crime inside. The guards were on high alert again. Searchlights and people holding heavy guns were wandering in the yard. In the distance, there were snipers who adjusted the position of the crosshairs at any time. Although it did not play any role in most collective prison breaks, it prevented and deterred rebellious young people who wanted to seek excitement in the middle of the night.
The sirens were still sounding. It was destined to be a sleepless night. The city had suffered a terrorist attack on Thanksgiving Day. Scarecrow gas filled the streets and alleys. Poor people who were screaming in fear and suffocating could be seen everywhere. They covered their ears or pinched their throats as they were carried into ambulances. They struggled to break free from the bandages to prevent themselves from hurting themselves. The hospitals were crowded with medical staff and patients' families. The medical system was on the verge of collapse.
Batman moved his fingers and dialed a number. Ten minutes later, vehicles loaded with logistical supplies set off for various hospitals. Huge BW logos were printed on the cars. This was the magic of money. When a city's vigilante is also the richest one, everything becomes simple.
He found his Batmobile in the alley, shook off the water on his body, got into the driver's seat, set the automatic return route, slowly leaned back in the chair, and let out the first groan of the day.
Two ribs were broken, but they didn't pierce his lungs, so he's safe. His left shoulder was dislocated but has been put back in place. There were bruises of varying degrees on his waist and abdomen, with fist and footprints, which is the one he least worries about. He felt a little dizzy and had slight nausea, which might be a concussion, which is why he doesn't drive himself.
Along the way, he met several rescue fire trucks. Some permanent residents of Arkham particularly liked the big explosion scenes instead of holiday fireworks. Many buildings were blown up, but even more were newly built. The housing insurance under Wayne's name solved some of the resettlement problems. Green tents were built next to the ruins, and the food relief stalls were full of people...
Batman moved his fingers again.
The Batmobile drove out of the city center and came to the suburbs. After passing through the tunnel, it drove into the underground passage. The roar of the engine like a drum seemed to create another earthquake here. At the end of the tunnel, Batman saw his butler, codenamed Penny One, real name Alfred Pennyworth, standing there with a clean absorbent towel, and then he was hit by a disapproving look.
"When you said it would take another ten minutes, I thought that was the time you would be back at the manor, Master Bruce. Is everything going well tonight?"
"Yes, Ah Fu. Not many criminals have escaped. Some have paid a price but no one has escaped."
"I'm so glad for you. I hope the price doesn't refer to your badly damaged body."
"It's just a minor injury, Ah Fu, I need to replenish my energy first."
Batman took off his helmet and tucked it under his arm, then took the towel and wiped his face and the water vapor flowing down his neck. The bat cape is rainproof but the helmet is not, and the rain pours in when his chin is exposed. It's a simple truth, but he doesn't plan to change it. He is very satisfied with the design of his battle suit.
He sat in the chair in front of the Batcomputer, reached for the chocolate chip cookie, swallowed a few whole and drank them with a sports energy drink, and then he felt some strength restored.
"Before we put dinner back in the oven, I thought I should check on your injuries?"
"Of course..." His men quickened their movements, calling up surveillance cameras from several urban areas and adjusting the angles so that they would be able to have a clear view even when lying down later.
Alfred took off his bat suit, which made the old butler feel relieved. There were no fatal wounds or major fractures, and he didn't even have to find an excuse for extreme sports to go to the hospital for treatment.
"I really hope you can keep the injury to within two ribs every time."
After sewing up the last wound, Alfred cut the stitches and brought clean pajamas to Bruce, who had taken off his bat suit. "You seem to be preoccupied."
"It was a heavy blow. For many families, this should have been a peaceful day, with candles lit around the table and expressing their feelings, but it was ruined. I saw many civilians injured and had to wait in the hospital all night. All they had was worry and crying." Bruce sighed, "I really wish this had never happened. I should have stopped them."
When he was upset, the old butler pinched his shoulder and said, "You have tried your best to change the status quo. You are better than anyone else."
"It's still far from enough." Bruce shook his head. The more he saw the lingering haze behind this city, the more he felt how small and powerless his own strength was every minute he fought against it.
The power of corruption drags everyone deeper into the quagmire of Gotham, and the more they struggle, the deeper they sink.
"This won't happen overnight, Master Bruce. You need to eat, rest, and take some time to heal. Only a healthy and strong body can keep you alive every night fighting dangerous criminals."
"Thank you, Afu. It's hard to imagine how terrible it would be without you by my side."
“You never have to say thank you.”
Bruce knew he was dreaming.
In the dream, he was holding his mother's hand and she was holding him in her arms. His father was standing beside him, looking at him with tolerance and smile.
They walked in the dark alley. There was no light on the long, dim street. The road under their feet seemed like a shortcut leading to the abyss. Countless hands reached out from the darkness, pulling at the corners of his clothes, trying to snatch him away from Martha's arms.
He clutched his mother's clothes tightly and reached for his father, but he disappeared, and the next moment Thomas was lying in a pool of blood, blue eyes watching Bruce's panicked figure reflected in his eyes.
The blood kept flowing, almost covering his ankles, and devilish whispers were heard all around him.
Bruce felt his body getting heavier and heavier. He was left there by Martha, watching her back moving away from him step by step. He screamed loudly to call his mother back, but when she turned around, Bruce saw the red muzzle blooming on her chest.
A hand was around his neck, strangling his organs and making it impossible for him to breathe.
He stretched his arm as far as he could to touch Martha's hand, and then he heard a gunshot, and a string of white beads broke in front of his eyes, dripping onto the ground, like the sound of rain hitting glass on every rainy night in Gotham.
Ding-ding-ding-ding-ding
ding-ding-
He was drowned in blood, which choked his lungs, filled his mouth and nose, and penetrated into his ears. He had a splitting headache, and when he opened his mouth, more blood poured in.
Bruce suddenly woke up from the nightmare, breathing heavily, his forehead and body were soaked with sweat, as if he had just been pulled out of the bathtub. His whole body was emitting heat, but he felt as cold as falling into an icy cave.
"Are you all right, Master Bruce?"
He took a moment to catch his breath before looking up at the door, where Alfred was standing, staring at him with a worried look, "I heard you exclaim, what happened?"
"It was a dream." Bruce took another deep breath and slowly exhaled. He felt much better. There was no longer any strong dizziness or pain stirring his nerves. "Martha and Thomas, they haven't appeared in my dreams for a long time."
Alfred nodded knowingly, "There must be some reason for this."
"Yes, I saw a child. He was standing in a pool of blood, with his parents lying next to him." Bruce recalled and narrated the brief experience of last night. "They were attacked by the Joker Gang, and their life or death was unknown. I was fighting Bane at the time and had no way to be distracted. When I made time to look again, they were no longer there."
"Oh my god, this is such a nightmare, I'm so sorry to hear about it, I hope he and his family are okay, if you want you can track their travel history later and confirm if they are okay, if they have been to the hospital you can send condolences in the name of Martha's Charity."
Bruce glanced at the wall clock in the distance, the hour hand and minute hand pointed to seven and one respectively.
"I will, Alfred."
"But not now, Master Bruce." Alfred said firmly, "You have been without sleep for more than thirty hours. It has only been three hours since you lay down. You are not going anywhere until you are sure you have enough sleep."
"It's just that in the Batcave—"
Alfred just looked at him, and after a moment, Bruce knowingly gave in, "I'll rest."
"Very good." Alfred was satisfied. During the conversation, he had changed a clean quilt and pajamas for Bruce. "Then I wish you a good dream." He chose to ignore the other party's action of reaching for the mobile phone on the bedside.
In any case, staying in bed had done a good job for him so far, and Alfred knew that Bruce would not get any real peace unless he dealt with this matter.
He closed the door with the clean quilt in his arms, and silence returned to the room.
02.
At night, the Batmobile roared like a gust of wind, carrying the surrounding air as it left the Batcave under Wayne Manor. The bats roosting on the top of the cave were frightened and fled in all directions. Hundreds of them gathered together like a black hurricane.
After getting enough sleep, Bruce spent some time investigating the information of the dead on the Gotham platform and nearby. A total of twelve people died in the chaos last night. Only two of them were permanent residents of Gotham, and the rest were outsiders who were attacked when passing by on a train and were forced to stay on the platform and wait for their transfer.
Two of them died in a robbery and all their money was taken away. Seven died on the way to the hospital or on the operating table. Two of them were missing a few days ago. Their bodies were found in a kicked-over trash can and had begun to rot.
Among them, there are four women and eight men. The oldest is over fifty years old and the youngest is just an adult.
He hacked into the police system and found no information about deceased couples or parents with young children, but that didn't mean their chances of survival were increased. People disappeared in the dark every day in Gotham, and most of them would never be found.
Then he entered the Gotham Medical System and checked every patient admitted since last night. This was much more difficult than investigating the dead. Both the huge amount of information and the patients that still crowded the hospital lobby 17 hours later proved this point. Since he only caught a glimpse of the child's back last night, he couldn't use the facial capture system to identify the identity. As the coffee at hand gradually cooled down, he had to escape from hundreds of strangers' faces.
Intercepting police radios gave him something to do, whether it was an average of three robberies a day or a bank robbery once a week, it gave him a reason to go out.
Luckily, after the Thanksgiving attack, notorious criminals were being carted off to Arkham Asylum, which meant that it was just some low-life thugs and henchmen roaming the streets, and he was able to take care of the situation with barely any injuries.
Standing on top of a tall spire-like building overlooking the city, he was thinking about whether to return to the scene to investigate and collect evidence. Although it had been cleaned up and the huge population flow in Gotham made it impossible to preserve the crime scene for a long time, he was the best detective in the world and could always find clues.
Gotham did not give him time to act. When the Bat-Lantern streaked across the sky and hit the cloudy sky, Batman shot out his grappling hook, and the black figure flew between the buildings and landed in front of the Bat-Lantern in an instant.
"Good evening, Bat." Sheriff Gordon, who had not waited long, raised his chin slightly to salute him.
"Long story short." Batman said in a deep, hoarse voice like a devil. He was in a hurry.
"He is a human smuggler who traffics in infants and young girls. I have been undercover for half a month, but the only contact person died in the attack last night. I only know that a transaction will be carried out on a ship within three days, but I don't have the specific time, location or ship information."
Time is running out, they must take action at the trade fair within three days, otherwise these girls and children will flow into the black market and disappear without a trace. He doesn't have much time left.
Of course, this kind of smuggling business is everywhere in Gotham, and the fact that it has attracted the attention of the police now is worth the GCPD's full deployment, mainly because the reporter is very important and has offered an offer that is difficult to refuse.
"The informants, Mr. and Mrs. Garcia, are food suppliers to the GCPD and the owners of the third largest family-owned enterprise in Gotham's food industry chain. Their seven-year-old daughter disappeared after school fifteen days ago. It was initially considered a kidnapping case for money, but there were no subsequent ransom calls or letters. Their daughter just disappeared without a trace. This is their testimony and the police investigation—"
Gordon lowered his head and took out a stack of documents from the file bag. When he looked up again, Batman had disappeared.
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