181-185

Chapter 181: The Fallen Kite 

Where did that wind come from? 

In that moment, the same question flashed through both Batman's and Chuck's minds. 

But they didn't have time to dwell on it, because in the very next second, the strong wind quickly swept up both their bodies, sending them flying backward and upward. 

Batman grabbed Chuck and retracted his grappling gun. The force of the wind was terrifying, and he figured he couldn't hold onto both of them with the grapple, so he simply spread out his cape. 

In the powerful upward current of air, a dark black bat spread its wings and flew, carrying Chuck upward with the wind. The two of them accelerated continuously upward, flying higher and higher, soaring over the top of the tower and into the night sky of Gotham. 

Chuck was held by his collar by Batman, staring blankly down at the city in the night. He loved kites, but he had never flown in the air himself this way. From up here, he could clearly see every block and every light of the city, and he could see the stars and the bright moon overhead. 

He couldn't help but spread his hands, like a bird spreading its wings, feeling the sensation of the air current lifting them as they soared through the sky. This was something he hadn't experienced in the past thirty years. 

In this instant, he thought of many things. He thought of the oversized kite he had always wanted to build, one that could carry him flying through the air; he thought of the jetpack he had put aside for a long time; he thought of his past life with his family. 

Batman didn't notice Chuck's state at the time. He was carefully recalling where that inexplicable strong wind had come from just as they were about to land, but he couldn't come up with an answer. 

The next day, Chuck didn't go to the bar. 

He opened the warehouse at his house, the place where he kept blueprints, made kites, and did design work. However, ever since his divorce, he hadn't really opened it much, and since he was fired, it had been completely forgotten. 

He stepped over the kite fabric piled on the floor and went to the metal rack. It was filled with various kites, as well as rolls of mechanical design blueprints. 

The rack, along with the blueprints and the colorful kites on it, were covered in dust, looking lifeless. 

He pulled out a few rolls from the dusty blueprints, and dust from the entire rack shook and fell off. After most of the dust had cleared, the kites revealed their vibrant colors. 

He took the blueprints back to his room and spread them out on the desk. Complex mechanical structures were drawn on them, with various parameters written down. These were his abandoned jetpack and large kite designs. 

His large kite was criticized by his colleagues as a fantasy because it wasn't safe enough. If it were to carry a person, it could crash when there was no wind, and even with wind, it couldn't fully control its flight direction. 

As for the jetpack, there were already products on the market, so it seemed unoriginal. The main reason was that Chuck wasn't in the mood at the time, and he didn't have the money to continue pursuing this hobby design. After he fell into despair later, he completely gave up the idea. 

Maybe I should do something, Chuck thought to himself, gazing at the blueprints. Even if it can't help me get my job back, and it can't help me mend my relationship, this is what I originally wanted to do. 

This is something I like; it doesn't have to have some deeper meaning, as long as it means something to me. 

So he picked up a pen and started writing and drawing on a blank blueprint. He had some new ideas for these two designs he had once abandoned. 

Meanwhile, the news report for the day began on TV – starting with live footage of Mr. Freeze, teamed up with Scarecrow, battling Deathstroke. 

"This city is screwed!" the loud black news anchor couldn't help but be the first to voice his despairing protest. 

"Frank, that's a bit much," the white anchor next to him shook his head. 

"No, no, pretending nothing is happening at this point, that's 'a bit much'!" The black anchor's emotions were still agitated. "These criminals are turning Gotham into their own little war zone." 

"Yes, I agree, that's clear. The current situation is bad, but it's not 'screwed' yet." 

"Ha, let me guess, is it because of Batman – Bill, do you think Batman can set things right and fix all this?" 

"I'm not saying he can completely fix all this, but he's at least an option." 

"Bill, please – Batman? You might as well pray to the air or the wind." 

Chuck, who was drawing, couldn't help but look at the TV. At this moment, he was also thinking about this question – something he had only thought of after experiencing the events of last night: Can Batman really save everything? Or rather, can people really put all their hope on Batman and then just lie flat, throwing their hands up? 

The war between Joker and Riddler had drawn in too many supervillains, people Batman had previously struggled fiercely to catch and send back to Arkham. And now, they were all coming out at the same time. How could this violent vigilante with only a year of experience effortlessly handle all of this while also ensuring everyone's safety? 

Ding-a-ling- 

The phone suddenly rang, interrupting Chuck's thoughts. He put down his pen, picked up the receiver nearby, and said, "Hello? Who is this?" 

However, immediately afterward, an unexpected voice came through the receiver. 

It was Riddler's voice. 

"Guess this riddle..." 

"I love to dance, spin, and leap, Shaking my tail when I start my trip. I rise with the wind, flying higher and higher— So, what am I?" 

Chuck held the receiver for two minutes, then his mind went blank. His hands trembled weakly, and the receiver slipped from his grasp and fell to the floor. 

Of course, he knew the answer was a kite; it was his favorite thing. What shocked him was what Riddler said next. 

That night, on a rooftop in Gotham City. 

"I need to see my son, oh God..." 

Chuck Brown grabbed Batman's shoulder, emotional. "He said it, he said he knew I'd betray him even before he found me, that this was some kind of joke, or riddle, or something else he left for you! He poisoned my son's kite string – that damn kite string!" 

Batman clenched his fists, his face rigid. He had thought the boy just had a fever, but he never expected Riddler had planned to play a riddle game with him using the child's life. 

He saw the man opposite him on the verge of collapse, pleading with him in despair. 

"I have to see my son!" 

Chapter 182: A Rational Lunatic Is Still A Lunatic 

Gotham City. Outside a private hospital room door, doctors and nurses bustled back and forth. It was a long night, the hospital was packed, and everyone had their own stuff to deal with. 

Inside the room, a boy, maybe eight or nine, lay on the hospital bed. A man sat by the bed. 

The little guy's name was Charlie, and the man's name was Chuck. Big Chuck was little Charlie's dad. 

Chuck held his son's hand, his heart twisting seeing him lie there, looking so weak. 

"Dad, I did... a bad thing." 

"No, no, Charlie. You're a good kid. You're gonna be okay." 

Chuck desperately tried to comfort his son, and maybe himself too, but the little boy's head was hazy, and he kept talking, rambling on. 

"I said that word... the one you said I shouldn't say. I said it again..." 

Hearing his son's voice, Chuck lowered his head in agony, tears streaming down his face. He said to his son in a hoarse voice, "Don't worry about that, Charlie. You're gonna get better. Everything's gonna be okay." 

But he knew nothing was going to be okay. Charlie's vital signs were getting weaker and weaker. How could an ordinary little boy stand a chance against the poison the Riddler had carefully picked out? 

He was dying. 

"Dad," he said. "Does this mean I'm gonna die? Am I gonna go to that scary place?" 

"No, no." 

Chuck collapsed onto his son's body, weeping mournfully. 

"No, my son, please, don't..." 

A long time ago, before Chuck got divorced, he'd taken his son out to fly a kite. 

He and little Charlie both remembered that day clearly because it was the first time little Charlie had flown a kite, and he looked so happy. That made Big Chuck happy too. 

Looking at the kite soaring high in the sky, he'd asked his son, "Charlie, you like this?" 

"Damn right I do!" 

Chuck looked at the kite and shook his head. "Just 'right' is enough, pal. You shouldn't say that word. It's not a good word. It's bad luck." 

Little Charlie pulled on the kite string, feeling the wind and guiding the kite with it. "Then why is it a bad luck word?" 

"My mother, your grandma, she used to say... she said if you say that word, you might go to that place. 'Trouble comes from the mouth.'" 

"Oh." 

Chuck lowered his head, seeing his son's slightly unhappy face, feeling a pang of guilt. He said, "Uh, Charlie, I'm sorry, but I might not be able to make it to your party on Saturday. I'm really sorry. I talked to your mom, and we'll take you out next weekend instead." 

"You know, if I could be there, I would. But I... I have a meeting." 

Charlie was still holding onto that kite string, and after a long moment, he finally mumbled a reply. 

"Oh." 

Chuck thought back to those moments from the past, then looked at little Charlie's face. His son's voice was barely a whisper now, almost like a dreamlike murmur. 

"Dad, I... I think it hurts a little." 

And so Chuck's tears flowed harder, unstoppable now. Sobbing, he fumbled in his pocket and pulled out two candies, one milk caramel, one strawberry. He'd been planning to give them to little Charlie the next time he saw him. 

"Charlie, have some candy," he cried, coaxing his son. "Candy is sweet. Eat it, and it won't hurt anymore." 

With trembling hands, he peeled the wrapper and put the strawberry candy in the boy's mouth. It was a little sweeter than the milk one. 

"Beep –" 

And at that exact moment, on the monitor, little Charlie's heart rate finally hit zero, flatlining into a long, straight line. 

Batman stood silently in the shadows behind the curtain, clenching his fists, quietly closing his eyes. This was another life he hadn't been able to save. In this moment, he felt a profound sense of powerlessness and self-blame. 

"Beep, beep, beep –" 

Huh? What's that sound? 

Chuck snapped his head around to look at the monitor. The flatlined electrocardiogram was showing activity again. In that instant the strawberry candy went into his mouth, little Charlie's heartbeat had resumed. 

"Huh?" 

Batman looked at the bed, seeing the color gradually return to little Charlie's pale face. His tightly closed eyes opened again, and his limbs seemed to regain strength. He shot up into a sitting position. 

Chuck, his face covered in tears and snot, stared at his son in utter shock. Just moments ago, he had been completely consumed by despair. This sudden, massive shift from sorrow to joy left him completely disoriented, his brain frozen for several seconds. 

"Dad, I... I think I'm getting better?" 

His son's voice finally snapped Chuck back to reality. He reached out and hugged his son tightly, bursting into loud sobs. 

"Dad, what's wrong...? You're hugging me so tight I can't breathe." 

Chuck quickly let go of his son and pulled out the remaining milk caramel from his pocket, peeling it and popping it into Charlie's mouth. 

He had no idea if that candy had saved Charlie's life, but might as well give it to him anyway – that was Chuck's thought at the moment. 

And as Batman watched Chuck with the candy, memories flooded back into his mind. In that instant, he remembered the conversation in the botanical gardens. 

"I have a milk caramel that can treat toxins," Cody had shrugged. "Simple as that." 

In that moment, Batman finally understood that Cody had been telling the truth. But the first candy had been strawberry... did that mean Cody actually had different types of candy with different effects? 

Batman made a mental note. Next time he saw Cody, he'd have more questions. 

"Chuck," he said to the overwhelmed Chuck. "I'm glad Charlie's okay. I... I almost failed to keep my promise to you. I'm sorry." 

"But now, this boy has been targeted by both Joker and Riddler. So, for now, he can't be 'alive' – understand?" 

The next day, Chuck sat alone at home. He was working on modifying his blueprints while listening to the hosts arguing on TV. 

"Things are worse! At least a hundred people hospitalized! And dozens more strung up on the street by some psycho vigilante we don't even know, with their butts hanging out!" 

"Frank, calm down. So far, nobody's died—" 

"Where is your Batman?!" 

"He's helping! You can see him out on the streets dealing with those criminals!" 

"He's 'helping,' but things are still getting worse! What I see now is a war, and it's a war that needs to end now! We need to pick a side! Gotham needs to pick a side!" 

"What?! Frank, what are we supposed to do? Give Riddler weapons?!" 

"We need leadership! We need to make a choice! If we want to be safe, one side has to win! We have to pick a winner! You want Joker gone? We gotta help Riddler! You want Riddler gone? We gotta help Joker!" 

"This is completely insane..." 

Chapter 183: The Pervert Cyclist and Batman 

Gotham City. It was almost nightfall. 

Cody zipped through the city on his bike, wearing a black robe. Over the past few days, he'd really felt the difference between master-level abilities. As he crisscrossed Gotham on his bicycle, his familiarity with this skill was rapidly increasing. 

"Caw—Caw—" 

Suddenly, dark feathers, accompanied by a crow's cry, fell from the night sky. This was one of the 'eyes' Cody had trained recently. It seemed animals and plants in this universe were connected to their respective elemental networks, and Cody, relying on his mastery of Natural Language, found it easy to communicate with and train them. 

"A bunch of people with guns are hitting the streets?" 

Cody's nerves instantly tightened as he listened to the cawing. He twisted his bike's handlebars, stomped hard on the pedals, and the engine of his heavily modified bike immediately kicked in. 

Whoosh— 

The figure on the bike launched off a rooftop, gliding through the air in a long arc before landing on top of another building. Then he launched again, landing on yet another roof. Even though it was a vehicle meant for the ground, it was flying over the entire city right now. 

Meanwhile, another dark figure appeared in the sky. Unlike Cody, he flew using wings. Batman was patrolling Gotham City as usual. The city had been pretty rough lately, and he was really worried about it. It wasn't that murders were happening. In fact, according to his investigation over the past few days, quite a few murders had been prevented. It was just that the methods used by the person stopping them were pretty brutal. 

Really brutal. 

"The Pervert Cyclist." He thought silently about this guy's moniker, remembering the news reports about him on TV. 

"Recently, multiple murder attempts have occurred in Gotham City, but all were unsuccessful. According to statements from victims and witnesses, after the suspects were apprehended, without exception, they were stripped naked and hung, butt-out, from lampposts or balconies. Although the person doing the hanging caused no physical harm, this method is frankly perverse. A significant number of suspects have reported suffering immense psychological trauma and experienced complete social death..." 

Anyway, it was pretty brutal. 

Really brutal. 

And tonight, Alfred had told him the police found Falcone's guys and a bunch of armed thugs from the East End gathering on the streets. It looked like a shootout was about to happen, so he immediately rushed to the scene and, as expected, saw the figure on the bike. 

That was him, Batman thought. He hadn't been able to catch the guy the last few times, so he couldn't let him get away this time. Doing something like this, in a place like Gotham City, at this hour... it was incredibly dangerous. Being a vigilante wasn't some kind of game. 

So, as the bike landed, he chased after him on the Bat-cycle. He turned his head and saw the figure wearing a black robe and a twisted, grotesque mask on his face. 

"Whoever you are, whatever you're trying to do, don't go any further." His voice was serious and low. "Go back. This isn't a game. You could get yourself killed." 

"If you had things covered, I obviously wouldn't have shown up." 

An unexpected voice came from beneath the mask, making Batman's eyes widen in surprise. When he spoke, the guy didn't disguise his voice, making sure Batman knew who he was. It was the new cop at the Gotham City Police Department, Cody. 

Batman knew he'd given the life-saving candy to Chuck, but he never expected him to be the pervert who'd been showing up in Gotham lately, the one who liked hanging people. 

And when Cody spoke the second sentence, his voice had already turned strange and high-pitched, like the kind of creepy, perverted voice you often hear in horror movies. 

"Close to a hundred cases have popped up in the past few days, and in about fifty or sixty of them, Batman showing up late was the result. That shows you're stretched thin and flying solo." 

"And tonight, this massive shootout that's about to explode... if I don't get over there, can you, by yourself, guarantee that no Gotham citizens will get caught in the crossfire?" 

Batman was silent for a moment. He couldn't answer Cody's question. It had been exactly one year since he first officially took to Gotham's night skies to fight crime. In that year, he'd stopped plenty of crimes, but things weren't like they used to be. The clash between Joker and the Riddler wasn't just crime anymore; it was war. With his current abilities, it was impossible to save every single victim in the middle of a battlefield like that. 

"Right now, there are still two other places in the city where crimes are going down. I've got animal friends who can help, but you still gotta go stop this shootout first, right?" 

Animal friends? Batman immediately thought about the case info from the past few days. Besides the 'butt-naked criminals hung from lampposts,' there was another noteworthy detail: a few of these criminals had simply blacked out and passed out cold, while others had heard bird calls first and then suffered severe frostbite. And the victims all said that just as the perpetrator was about to make their move, their movements suddenly became slow and weak, giving the victims plenty of time to escape and a chance to fight back. 

He'd initially thought Mr. Freeze was behind it, but now he understood this was still one of Cody's special abilities. 

Just then, a hawk's cry echoed in the sky again. Two huge hawks flew down and dropped two flower pots to Cody. Planted in the pots were two strange ice-blue pea plants. Batman had never seen peas like these before; he was almost certain they weren't from Earth – he'd been cramming a lot of plant-related knowledge lately to deal with Poison Ivy. 

Cody casually stuffed the two flower pots under his black robe. Batman had no idea where he put that stuff, and then he saw him pull out two more pots from his pocket, also filled with ice-blue peas. 

"Go on, go on," Cody said, throwing the pots to the two hawks and casually popping two candies into their beaks. "These are the peas that got their buff on at noon... the Ice Pea Shooters with that 'I didn't kill anyone' skill added. Anyway, tonight's still young." The two big birds let out sharp cries and then vanished back into the night. 

"You could totally uphold justice as a police officer, Cody," Batman continued, though his tone had softened slightly. "Daytime is your work shift." 

"Daytime? No way I'm working openly during the day," Cody replied. "Criminals can handle a virtuous, righteous police chief, but they can't stand a legitimate powerhouse killer. If I cut loose during the day, the precinct would get blown up within a week. So, I save people during the day and beat people up at night." 

As they talked, the two of them got closer to the scene. Seeing that time was running out, Batman thought for a moment and finally made a decision. 

"...I can work with you, but you need to stick to the plan. Cooperating like that will help us coordinate and keep things under control." 

"It's a deal," Cody replied. "But not tonight. You don't know how I fight, and we don't have time to hash it out. Tonight's gonna be a free-for-all for now. I'll handle crowd control, and you just react to how that works out." 

Batman thought about it for a moment, then nodded, adding one last thing. 

"Don't kill anyone." 

Chapter 184: Samurai's Blade 

It was night in Gotham City, and the few pedestrians on the streets were rushing, everyone just wanting to get home quickly. 

Due to the war between the Joker and the Riddler, the whole city was on edge. Even though the main battlegrounds were Uptown West Side where Joker was based, the East End where Riddler operated, and Park Row sandwiched between them, folks in other areas were still scared of getting caught in the crossfire. While life in Gotham was never short on gunfire and explosions, having it happen every single day was a whole different ballgame. 

Because of that, even though this was the Fashion District, not many people dared to be out at this hour. 

At least, that's how it was supposed to be. 

Tap, tap, tap... 

A sudden racket of footsteps echoed from around the corner. Emerging onto the nighttime street was a group of about thirty or forty people. They wore weird clothes, their tattoos were gruesome, and their faces looked absolutely brutal. Some were beefy, some had knife scars, but one thing they had in common was the guns in their hands. 

Rifles, handguns, grenades, knives... A motley assortment of weapons, clothes, hairstyles, covered in dense tattoos. Anyone with eyes could see these were those crazy thugs from the East End. 

"Boss, why are we heading to the movie theater?" 

"Idiot! Didn't the boss make an announcement from the stage when we set off? Or are you stone-cold deaf?" 

"I was too busy checking out Poison Ivy..." 

"...If you're trying to get yourself killed, remember to stay far away from me. Don't want your blood splattering on me." 

"Uh, so... what exactly is in the movie theater?" 

"Firefly, you moron! Get it straight, we're here to recruit Firefly!" 

"Firefly? You mean that guy who wears armor like a big ol' housefly and sets things on fire from the sky with a flamethrower?" 

"Riddler said to call him 'Mr.' Firefly—You know he carries a flamethrower, so watch your mouth. Don't tick him off or he'll crisp you into ash, and nobody's gonna cut you a check for funeral expenses." 

"I can't stand that guy. Gotham P.D. said he used to be a firefighter. What kind of firefighter goes insane and starts deliberately setting fires?" 

"If you got burned all shriveled up like a baked potato, unable to show your face to anyone, you'd probably go insane enough to do just about anything bad too." 

Speaking of which, the bald, burly guy leading the group turned back and ordered the others, "Listen up. This guy looks like he's planning an arson here. Just let him burn the place down. Be polite to him—Riddler told us to invite him back, not drag him back." 

"Then why'd we bring so many guys?" 

"Moron! If he doesn't wanna come back with us, we gotta make sure he stays here forever—otherwise, what if he goes and helps the Joker?" 

As they talked, the group reached the side of the movie theater. Through the glass doors, they could see the empty ticket lobby at a glance. 

"Heh." The burly guy scoffed dismissively. "Told ya. Never make superhero movies. Look, not a single soul in the theater on a Sunday." 

At that moment, the underling next to him instinctively asked, "Where's Firefly?" 

Everyone looked around. The street was completely deserted now, only the streetlights and the cold night wind. Even looking up, the clear night sky only held stars and a full moon; there was no supervillain dressed like a big green fly. 

Had Firefly already gone inside? 

The bald bruiser looked at the wide, clean, empty street. The pale glow of the streetlights suddenly felt a little creepy. His eyes darted around, and he immediately sensed a hint of danger. 

"Guns out, everyone," he said. "Something ain't right." 

Just then, footsteps sounded again from the streets on both sides, denser and more rapid than theirs. 

Dozens of Falcone family gunmen appeared from both directions, wearing black suits, ties, each carrying a handgun, trapping the East End thugs in the middle. 

"Joker guessed the plan..." 

"Did Firefly join the Joker?" 

"If he had joined Joker, you'd have seen that giant green fly with a flamethrower when the fighting started." 

"Then I'd rather not see him..." 

On the rooftop nearby, Cody pulled out an ice-blue mushroom and asked curiously, "Why aren't they using machine guns?" 

"They are." 

As soon as Batman finished speaking, windows in the buildings on both sides of the East End thugs suddenly opened, revealing machine guns in the frames. 

"I see it now..." Cody sighed. "This isn't just some gang shoot-out, this is straight-up war. Batman, remember to wait until after the mushrooms explode before you go in." 

"What mushrooms?" 

"These mushrooms!" 

Cody threw hard, tossing three ice-blue mushrooms directly into the crowd in the middle of the street—one on the left, one in the center, and one on the right. 

Batman watched the three mushrooms expand rapidly in the air, a white mist seeming to surge in the surrounding atmosphere. Finally, they exploded in the air simultaneously at three points in the street. 

The entire street was instantly swept away and devoured by a wave of cold, like it had plunged into an ice age. The Falcone family gunmen, the East End thugs in the middle of the street, along with the machine gunners in the windows on both sides, everyone was frozen under a thin layer of ice, like animal specimens trapped and killed in amber. 

"Get in there quick! The freeze lifts in three seconds, and everyone will be slowed down!" 

Cody's voice rang out. He jumped down on his bike, instantly shooting a grappling hook from the tail of the bike that latched onto the building above. He then rode directly down the ninety-degree wall to the street below. 

Batman didn't need to go through all that trouble. He leaped, his cape transforming into bat wings with a shake, gliding silently over everyone's heads. 

Take out the machine guns first, he thought. 

So, as he flew past several machine gun windows, he rapidly threw, sending out six bat-shaped Batarangs that cut six beautiful arcs through the brittle ice, accurately hitting the machine gunners in the windows. The anesthetic on the darts was instantly injected into their bodies. 

The next second, the ice on the street vanished into thin air, and the machine gunners in the windows collapsed to the ground, unconscious. 

At this point, Cody also biked into the crowd. He was wearing a big pumpkin head, pulled out two handguns, and activated his "I Didn't Kill Anyone" skill twice. Within a twenty-eight-meter radius centered on him, no one could die. 

Bang! Bang! Bang! 

Three shots precisely hit three hands reaching for their triggers. Cody's gun skills, honed day after day through endless training (or rather, playing) in the system simulations, finally proved their worth at this moment. 

The bike's speed and maneuverability were pushed to the extreme. Cody became a blur, sometimes weaving through the crowd, sometimes riding along the walls on either side, using his two guns to pick off the slowed-down enemies, every shot hitting a hand. 

【Handgun: Samurai's Blade (Standard Issue) Price: 10,000 USD Asset Points Note: Beretta M9, shmeretta M9, does that thing have infinite ammo? Note 2: Requires achieving an S rating in the system simulation shooting game to unlock purchase.】 

Chapter 185: Irregular Shootout, Old Ma Gets Busy 

After taking care of the machine gunners on both sides, Batman folded his cape and silently dropped into the crowd. He watched Cody accurately picking off all the firing points with dual pistols in the crowd, and instinctively made a mental note. 

"First, his aim is good, or rather, excellent. Maybe not Deathstroke-level good, but definitely close. Second, he has some kind of mushroom that can freeze and slow down people over a wide area. It doesn't seem lethal, but it's incredibly effective for crowd control. Third, he has two kinds of candy that can neutralize nasty toxins. Fourth, he has these really weird plants that don't look like anything from Earth. Fifth, he can control birds. Sixth, his pistols don't seem to reload at all, but he's already fired dozens of rounds." 

"This guy might be trustworthy for now... but he's a real pain." 

Meanwhile, the three groups on the street were already freaking out. 

"What's the deal with this guy? Is he on a bike?! Did that thing have a race car engine in it?!" 

"Batman's here too, dammit! I'm freezing my butt off, can't even fight him!" 

"What the hell, how is that pumpkin-head's aim so terrifying?!" 

CRACK! 

Oh, that last sound was Batman breaking a thug's leg bone. 

"Aim! Aim!" 

"Aim what, your head?! He's riding that bike so fast it's a blur! And my hands are so frozen I can't even hold a gun!" 

"Aim for Bat—" 

CRACK! 

"Agh—" 

Cody, with his unlimited ammo 'Samurai's Edge' pistols, weaved through the crowd. At this point, the two groups who had suddenly been attacked had completely united. Every single thug knew that the most dangerous force on the scene was the team-up of Batman and that pervert on the bike. Not to mention they'd all seen the news recently and knew what happened if the Pervert Cyclist got a hold of you. 

"Fire, fire! Shoot the guy on the bike! Don't let him grab you!" 

"Batman just breaks your bones, but that guy on the bike will make you lose everything!" 

"Stop his bike!" 

But words weren't gonna hurt a pervert. Cody had pulled out his guns instead of, say, an assassin's blowgun, because bullets were way more efficient in a situation like this. 

He was pulling the trigger faster and faster, the gunshots exploding like a string of firecrackers. A storm of metal bullets sprayed from the barrels of his two 'Samurai's Edge' pistols, knocking down every single gunman trying to fight back in the most blunt and brutal way possible. 

To put it simply, he was spinning. If the Batman from Cody's original world saw this, he'd probably start checking right then and there to see if the guy had been body-snatched. 

In two minutes flat, the thugs barely had time to scream a few times before Batman and the Pervert Cyclist had disabled their hands, and some of them had their legs broken too, completely eliminating any ability to resist. 

Three more minutes later, police sirens wailed around the corner. The Gotham City Police Department force arrived on the scene and took the dozens of thugs, who were lying there wailing and groaning, to the hospital. 

On the rooftop, Cody looked down at the street full of gunmen and felt a bit regretful. 

"Why'd you have to call the cops, man? Wouldn't it have been simpler if I just hung 'em all up?" 

"No," Batman's tone was cold and hard. "The hospitals are already under immense pressure. The criminals you hang up would just suffer secondary injuries during the night." 

Cody shrugged. Yeah, he couldn't argue with that. 

"One more thing," he asked. "What do you think about that stuff they're saying on TV?" 

Batman turned his head and looked at him silently. 

"Picking a side... sounds pretty reasonable, doesn't it?" Cody continued, "You saw it yourself. The two of us together, dealing with almost a hundred guys down there... it was like butchers slaughtering chickens. Even if you'd done it by yourself, it would just mean using a few more of those fancy Bat-gadgets and hitting them a bit harder." 

"That's the combat efficiency of metahumans or supervillains against regular folks. The Riddler or the Joker? They don't have a 'no-kill' rule. They'd have an even easier time. If Mr. Freeze or mercenaries on the level of Deadshot or Deathstroke had shown up tonight, those guys down there would be dead in the street." 

"And the Riddler and the Joker have more than just Mr. Freeze, Deadshot, or Deathstroke working for them. Even the two of us together, at best, we're just key players who can influence the outcome, not a third party that can simultaneously overpower those two sides. I'm just saying, if you have a plan along those lines, maybe we could talk it over when the time comes..." 

"How many kinds of candy do you have?" Batman suddenly blurted out, cutting Cody off. 

"Huh? Oh, two kinds. Milk candy heals sickness, fruit candy heals injuries. Why the sudden question?" 

"Your candy saved Chuck's son's life." 

Hearing that, Cody froze for a second. He'd originally intended those two candies for Chuck. Being at the intersection of three major forces, Chuck's situation was going to be incredibly dangerous. He'd even planned to find a chance later to explain what the candies did, but he never expected Chuck to just give them to his son. 

"Who did it?" 

"The Riddler did it. The Joker used a fake bomb, no poison." 

Cody suddenly understood. He remembered that day after he'd gotten away from the bar, he'd gone to find Chuck, only to find him strapped into a bomb vest, bungee jumping off a high tower with Batman. And they didn't even have a rope. So he'd placed a clover plant on the ground. Anything that wasn't touching the ground, that plant could blow away. Back during the bank robbery, he'd used that plant to blow away Scarecrow's fear gas. 

"The Joker made him jump?" 

"He jumped himself. I'd like you to give me two candies." 

Cody casually tossed over two candies. At that moment, he was secretly glad he'd shown up when he did. Back then, the Joker still had that "I didn't kill anyone" skill. If the Joker had forced Chuck to jump, or used a real bomb vest, Chuck actually wouldn't have died. But Chuck happened to jump on his own, and if he'd hit the ground, he really would have turned into Chuck-sauce. 

"Okay, but don't change the subject. The question I was just asking about—" Cody's voice cut off. Batman, who was right beside him, had vanished again. 

"That damn Batman. Picked up this habit after just a year on the job." Cody sighed. He got on his bike and grumbled as he rode away from the scene. 

The next day, Cody went to work. 

"Commissioner Gordon," he heard a cop inside the office asking Gordon, "What should we do? Do we really have to pick a side, like they're saying on TV? Help the Riddler, or help the Joker?" 

"Joseph," Gordon replied, "We're the Gotham City PD. We're the city's official protectors. Working with Batman is already my limit. The Riddler and the Joker... Absolutely not. If the citizens of Gotham saw us doing that, they'd lose all hope." 

"But what do we do now?" Joseph asked. "How are we supposed to win this war?" 

Gordon's voice fell silent. 

Neither of them spoke. After a while, someone knocked on Gordon's office door. 

"Commissioner, there are two delivery boxes on your desk. They both have cards saying they're addressed to you."