175-177

Chapter 175: Little Floyd's Scorn 

Batman was absolutely seething when he called the hospital in Metropolis. 

He'd rushed to Metropolis in the Batwing right away and had seen with his own eyes the old woman with her artery slit by Joker, left in an alley. Thinking about her life of hardship and resilience, how someone like that could be targeted... his fists instinctively clenched. 

After confirming the old woman was out of danger at the hospital, Batman immediately flew the Batwing back to Gotham City. He was consumed by rage now, even feeling a killing intent towards Joker. 

But this wasn't the first time he'd felt this way. He'd had specialized training for it, so he was still able to control his anger quickly and channel it into his motivation. 

He returned to the Batcave and immediately started looking for info on people connected to Joker. He finally found a guy named Charles "Chuck" Brown. This guy, along with three others, had once built Joker Mobile for Joker. Afterward, three of the four were killed – only Chuck survived. 

According to his statement, he didn't even know why he lived, but he insisted he'd been forced to build Joker Mobile for Joker – even though the police found Joker had deposited a chunk of change into his account, he still maintained he had no dealings with him. 

So the cops confiscated the money as proceeds of crime, but didn't press criminal charges against the aerodynamicist, because the surveillance video clearly showed him with a revolver pressed to his head. 

But Batman didn't care about any of that right now. All he knew, filled with rage, was that Chuck Brown might know how to find Joker. 

When he found the bar Chuck hung out at, Batman realized another guy he knew was also inside: that cop, Cody. 

Batman originally planned to just drag the guy straight out of the bar and dangle him from a gargoyle on the Gotham Clock Tower to clear his head, but seeing Cody, he cancelled the plan. The two of them seemed to be talking pretty happily, and Cody might have actually saved that old lady's life. 

Outside the bar, he thought back to a few things Cody had said to him at the Botanical Gardens: 

"When someone doesn't want to answer your question, you have no right to force them. They don't owe you that; they're not a criminal." 

"Neutral parties don't pick fights unless someone actively pushes them to the opposing side, and your attitude is pushing people away." 

"You should use 'please' when asking someone for help. Even kids know that basic courtesy, unless their parents didn't teach them." 

Recalling those three sentences, Batman's rage started to truly be reined in by reason. After being warned by the police, Chuck Brown really hadn't gotten involved in criminal activity again. In other words, he was a regular citizen. 

He had no right to demand that a regular citizen help him find out Joker's location. Everyone has the instinct for self-preservation – wanting to stay away from a lunatic and wanting to live. There's nothing wrong with that. 

So he left the bar and went directly to Chuck's place. 

Ultimately, Batman unusually spent a good amount of effort talking him around, not using his usual cold, hard commanding attitude, but persuading Chuck to agree to do it voluntarily. 

As it turned out, Chuck Brown seemed to indeed be a regular guy who was coerced. His condition for Batman's request was "my son's safety," not "money." 

Chuck didn't have Joker's contact info, but luckily, he had the number for someone else who could reach him. 

So he called that number and arranged a meeting time. 

"Uh, hey, I don't know if you remember me, Floyd. It's Chuck, Chuck Brown." 

Amidst the brightly lit skyscrapers, Chuck stood on a rooftop. He looked pretty nervous, his tone was cautious, even a little shaky. 

He wasn't afraid of the height; he was afraid of the man standing next to him. 

Floyd Lawton Jr., Codename: Deadshot. He didn't have any superpowers, but he'd made it into the ranks of supervillains purely through skill. 

There's a saying about names, but nicknames? His is spot on. Deadshot's strongest suit was his marksmanship. 

"The World's Deadliest Marksman," "The Most Accurate Shot on Earth," "Top Tier Mercenary" – those were his titles. If you were to measure his skill with a gun, whether it was the two Jokers Cody had seen or Clinton, who had spent a full half-year on the 'Old Jack' bus, their skill wasn't even in the same league as his. 

If you were to rate it system-wise, Deadshot's marksmanship rating would undoubtedly be above Master. Within a range of two to three thousand meters, he could fire ten shots from his specially modified sniper rifle and hit ten coins. 

Handguns, rifles, sniper rifles, submachine guns... He was proficient with almost every type and caliber of firearm. His superhuman physical ability and close-quarters combat skills also made him practically without a weak spot. His custom armor helped dampen recoil and was bulletproof, able to withstand a hail of bullets. The scope on his armor's mask had built-in radar and thermal vision, significantly boosting his situational awareness, including sight and hearing. Sometimes he didn't even need to aim, or even look with his eyes, to hit the target. 

Facing a mercenary whose combat prowess was maxed out, with a terrifying track record, Chuck was naturally nervous. He was weighing his words carefully, terrified he might say something that would set him off. 

"If you don't remember Chuck Brown, maybe you remember back when Joker had someone build a Joker Mobile? I did some... key work on that, I helped design the aerodynamics part." 

"I mean, uh, there were four of us doing it back then, and he killed the other three, so..." 

Deadshot took a drag from his cigarette. He didn't answer, and it was unclear if he even heard Chuck's rambling. After a moment, he finally handed the nearly finished cigarette butt to Chuck and said, "Hold this steady." 

So Chuck did as he was told and kept talking: "I figure, maybe it's because he thought I could still be useful to him down the line if he needed me, so he didn't kill me." 

"So now, it looks like he's about to start a war with Riddler. I figure, maybe I should reach out to him myself." 

"Hold it higher." Deadshot still didn't answer him but gestured for him to raise the cigarette butt. 

And Chuck obediently raised his right hand, holding the cigarette butt a bit higher, like a frozen statue. 

"I was thinking, since you're on his side, maybe I should come talk to you... Maybe you could put in a word for me or something... I'll do anything, just gotta help." 

"Okay." 

"Huh?" 

Hearing Deadshot's sudden reply, Chuck was thrilled. He looked up and saw him standing a few feet away, giving him a thumbs-up. 

Then he clenched his fist, revealing the dark muzzle on his specialized wrist gauntlet. 

Bang! 

"Ah--!" 

Chapter 176: Holy Crap, How The Heck Did You Get In My Place?! 

Up on the rooftop, Deathstroke and Chuck Brown faced off. Deathstroke suddenly aimed the gauntlet on his wrist at Chuck, who was holding a cigarette butt, and fired a shot. 

The searing metal bullet whizzed past Chuck's ear, the rush of air causing him to cry out in pain and fright. He clutched his ear, and the cigarette butt in his hand dropped to the ground, immediately going out. 

"Ow, ow, ow... that hurts..." 

Chuck yelled out in pain, covering his ear, but at this moment, his heart was filled only with terror. There wasn't much anger, or rather, he didn't dare be angry, and he certainly didn't dare show it. 

Deathstroke, meanwhile, just fiddled with the gauntlet on his wrist, not even looking at him. 

"Yeah, I figured. Calibration's a little off. Bullet's drifting right." 

Only after he finished did he look up at Chuck Brown across from him. 

"Mind sticking around a little longer? I think I've got a pencil somewhere. You can hold it for me." 

Chuck, still clutching his ear, took the pencil from his hand. 

"No, Chuck, this won't work!" 

Chuck, wearing a blue suit and holding a bottle, imitated Batman's voice to Cody, though it wasn't a great impression. His voice, slurring and wavering from the alcohol, sounded kinda comical: "The number you got from Lawton leads to a non-existent network provider, untraceable, totally useless! Jeez, that guy has no idea what I went through up there on the rooftop!" 

Cody patted his shoulder and topped off his drink. "And? Did he hit you? Or grab your collar and rough you up?" 

"Nah, not really..." Chuck mumbled a couple of words. "He said he'd give me a hundred grand. Guy's loaded, alright..." 

Hearing that price, Cody immediately grabbed a bottle and chugged a few gulps of happy juice. 

This bitterness in my gut... why isn't I making that money? I just need a piece of the action; Chuck can have the cash. "I can negotiate too, I can go talk to Deathstroke! Man, I'm so jealous..." 

Chuck, his eyes glazed over with drink, didn't pay attention to Cody's rambling. He continued, "Anyway, I agreed to use that phone number to set up a meeting with Joker. I'll be there, Joker will be there, and Batman will be there... Jeez, I can't even picture what kinda scene that's gonna be." 

I can picture it, though... Cody thought to himself. If Batman actually shows up, Joker's probably gonna get beat up pretty bad. 

"Forget it, let's not talk about that. I gotta call Joker... wait, wait a minute..." 

Chuck squinted, looking at the couch he was sitting on, then around at the familiar walls, furniture, and the bottle in his hand. Finally, his gaze landed on Cody next to him. "Hold on, didn't I remember being at the bar drinking? How'd I suddenly get home? Holy crap, how the heck did you get in?!" 

"Man," Cody sighed. "When you drink too much, you just wanna talk to people. So when I'm drinking and talking with you, remember to say 'Thanks, Cody' instead of 'Holy crap, how the heck did you get in?!' Don't be ungrateful like that. Don't ask me why I'm at your place... 'cause you were passed out on the bar counter, man. Without me, you would've been stuck there all night!" 

As Cody explained, Chuck gradually remembered getting plastered at the bar earlier that day. 

Yeah, because he had to call Joker to set up that meeting, he was in a worse mood than usual, so he had a few extra drinks at the bar. Besides, he was a regular; the owner, Leers, wouldn't just toss him out onto the street. 

In his semi-drunk state, he did recall a voice asking for his address, and he did indeed tell the person. Then, when he came to again, he was home, drinking. 

"Cody, thanks, man..." 

Chuck shook his head hard. He was still pretty spaced out, otherwise, there's no way he would have spilled everything about Batman and Joker. 

Wait, wait a minute... what did he just say to Cody? 

When he finally realized he'd revealed Batman's plan because he was drunk, his face instantly turned pale. 

"No—" 

"Chuck, what are you mumbling about?" Cody asked with a bit of concern in his voice. "Are you sober now? You were rambling on about Joker and Batman and stuff. I had to play along a little... Geez, have you been reading too many Gotham stories? How could those psychos possibly have anything to do with regular folks like us? And that hundred grand... are you outta your mind wanting money that bad?" 

When Chuck heard him, he was stunned for a few seconds. The despair in his heart quickly turned into a surge of relief and luck. He immediately jumped in to agree with Cody. 

"Ha, haha, yeah, well, you know, Cody, that's just me... Broke as heck lately, no job security, just babble nonsense when I drink too much. Fantasizing about helping superheroes fight crime, or imagining I suddenly hit the jackpot or something... Man, please don't tell anyone about this. It's too embarrassing." 

"Alright, alright," Cody readily agreed. "You really need to cut back on the drinking, Chuck." 

With that, he looked up at the clock in the living room, put down the empty bottle, and stood up. He patted Chuck on the shoulder. 

"It's getting late. I should head out. Don't worry too much, Chuck. Remember to drink some hot water. You'll be fine." 

The door clicked shut, and Cody was really gone. 

Chuck stared blankly at the door for a few minutes, then took another deep swig of his drink. He finally relaxed his body and slumped back onto the couch. 

He was so relieved that Cody hadn't believed his drunken ramblings and that the secret hadn't gotten out. 

"Huh... what's this...?" 

He looked down and suddenly saw two candies left on the table: a milk candy and a strawberry candy. 

"Did Cody leave these?" 

He thought about it for a moment, then casually tossed the candies into his pocket. They weren't worth much; Cody probably wouldn't mind him taking them for his son. 

Plus, Batman had given him a hundred thousand dollars! That meant he could take his son out for a nice meal. Of course, what he really looked forward to was flying kites with his son. 

Thinking of that, he picked up the phone and dialed the number. 

Ring, ring, ring... After a short ring, the call was answered. 

Chuck took a deep breath and calmed himself down. He was actually pretty nervous facing such an unpredictable lunatic. 

"Uh, hello, Mr. Joker. If you remember me, I helped you design Joker-mobile once." 

And on the other end of the line, a voice that made your skin crawl replied. 

"Hmmph? Joker-mobile... doesn't ring a bell. What do you want?" 

"Uh, I thought you kept me around because I was still useful." 

"Kept you around? What's your name?" 

"Brown, Charles Brown. You can just call me Chuck." 

At this moment, Joker's reply caught Chuck by surprise. 

"Oh, Chuck Brown." 

"I remember you. I remember your name." 

Chapter 177: C'mon Out and Fight Me, Ya Got The Guts?! 

Why would a regular guy be remembered by Joker? 

Even the world's greatest detective, Batman, would probably struggle to find the answer to that question. 

Because, as was said before psycho doesn't need normal logic. Even if he's smart enough to understand it, he's still a lunatic. 

"Mr. Joker, I'm really glad you remember me... it's a huge honor." 

"I used to read some comic books. They were funny, at least they used to be funny... Do you read comics, Chuck? There's a 'Chuck Brown' in there. I thought that was kinda amusing at the time." 

"Okay..." 

"But now, they're not really that interesting anymore, no laughs at all. Chuck, do you still think they're funny?" 

"I haven't—" 

However, Joker didn't seem to care what Chuck's answer was. He just kept talking, rambling on without waiting for a reply before launching into another monologue. 

"Nine writers sitting in a boat. One jumped into the river. How many creators are left?" 

"Huh?" 

"The answer is none. The rest are just plagiarists. Is that a joke, or a riddle?" 

Chuck listened to Joker's question, speechless and unsure how to respond. 

The next evening, inside the bar. 

Cody sat at the counter, sipping orange juice and eating steak. Turns out, Leers' cooking wasn't half bad. While it didn't quite hit Cody's skill level, it was still pretty tasty. 

Since he didn't have to cook himself, Cody was enjoying his meal. Leers, on the other hand, wasn't so happy. 

Every time he saw the juice sitting next to Cody, it kinda bothered him. 

"Hey, kid," he rapped on the counter. "Can you go eat in the corner? This is a bar, not some kiddie restaurant." 

"Another one, please, thanks." 

Cody pulled out a fifty-dollar bill and handed it to Leers along with his empty glass. 

"No problem." 

Leers quickly scooped up the bill and grabbed a bottle of orange juice from under the counter, pouring Cody a glass. 

Cody shrugged. He didn't really want to buy this overpriced orange juice, 'cause it felt kinda stupid, but he had to wait for someone here, and he didn't drink alcohol. 

He'd just picked up the glass when he suddenly put it back down, because someone had just walked in – but it wasn't Chuck. 

A seriously jacked dude, wearing an orange-yellow shirt and baggy jeans, muscles bulging everywhere, walked over. He was easily twice the size of a normal person. If Cody hadn't sensed a little bit of his deal, he might have even thought this guy was Bane. 

"Listen, kid," the guy said in a deep, rumbling voice. "Don't drink juice here and don't eat steak here. Get outta here." 

Cody looked at the orange juice left in his glass, then at the big guy. He picked up the glass and gestured with it towards the guy, as if contemplating where the best place to splash it might be. 

Seeing his action, a flicker of almost imperceptible panic appeared on the big guy's face. 

"Just finish your juice and beat it." 

"It's not impossible," Cody shrugged. "But I just dropped fifty bucks on this juice and fifty on the steak. That's a hundred bucks total. If you want me to leave, you gotta pay me back." 

Anger flared up on the big guy's face, but his eyes darted to the men and women drinking in the bar and the rows of liquor bottles behind the counter. He ultimately suppressed his rage. 

"You wanna step outside and settle this, kid?" 

"Nah, I can't beat you up." 

Cody replied matter-of-factly. "But if you try to start somethin', the boss'll kick you out." 

At this point, Leers, standing nearby, had already grabbed the shotgun from under the counter, though he didn't raise the barrel. "Look, kid, I don't care what kinda beef you got, just don't cause trouble in my bar. Big guy, he's drinking his juice, what's it to you?" 

Obviously, on one side was a regular, a tenant, and on the other was a stranger. Leers could figure out who to side with with his eyes closed. 

The big guy gritted his teeth, then actually pulled a hundred bucks out of his pocket and handed it to Cody. "This enough? If it is, just leave." 

"Plenty, plenty! Generous boss, you are," Cody chuckled, downing the orange juice in one gulp. He then shoved the steak into his mouth in two bites, wiped his mouth, and walked straight out the bar door. 

After leaving, he first checked his phone, then hummed a tune as he headed home. 

The big guy followed him out the door. After watching Cody disappear around the corner, he pulled out a phone and made a call. 

"Yeah... Boss, yeah, he's gone. Uh-huh, right, he shouldn't have noticed me..." 

Chuck was walking towards the bar. 

He'd only just arranged the meeting with Joker yesterday, but the time wasn't set for today. The other guy needed time to prepare too, so Chuck's life today was pretty much the same. He was still planning to go get drunk at the bar. 

Clink! As he was walking, a crisp sound suddenly came from by his feet. He felt like his toe had kicked something. 

"What's this?" 

He looked down and saw a small square shape on the ground, glinting under the street light. 

"Hmm? Someone's lighter?" 

He picked up the lighter from the ground. It was shiny, but felt light in his hand. It wasn't metal, but a cheap plastic one. 

There was a kite logo on it. The logo was really cool-looking, but it wasn't a famous brand either, probably from some unknown little workshop. 

"Huh, this kite looks kinda neat... what's in this little space? A tiny plant seed? This design is really something..." 

Chuck fiddled with the lighter, looking around the area, but couldn't find the owner. After thinking about it, he decided to put it in his pocket anyway. 

"Figure the owner probably isn't gonna come back specifically for a cheap lighter like this." 

He walked towards the bar with a lighter step. 

"Huh? Cody didn't come today?" 

When Chuck arrived at the bar and saw that Cody, who had been frequenting the place lately, wasn't there, his mood immediately soured. 

Losing a drinking buddy is obviously sad, but he was more worried about something else. Last night, when he was drunk, he'd told Cody about Batman's plan, including the meeting with Joker. Even though Cody had acted like he didn't believe it at the time, Chuck couldn't be sure if he was lying. 

If Cody did believe what he said and decided to avoid the danger, or planned to try and get something out of it, of course he wouldn't show up today. Because he knew this place was about to become ground zero for a clash between Batman and Joker, maybe today, maybe tomorrow. 

Either way, it could mess up the plan. 

"Hey, Leers," he called out to the bartender. "Gimme a tequila. How come Cody didn't come today?" 

"He was here, but a big guy ran him off," Leers slid a glass towards Chuck. "That guy was a real jerk, but man, he was built like a tank." 

"Big guy?" Chuck asked, relieved but also remembering the huge guy he'd seen outside the bar entrance. 

"Orange-yellow shirt, jeans?" 

"Yep. How about that, you saw him?" 

"Saw him, alright. That guy was built like death..." 

Chuck and Leers talked and drank as usual. 

Meanwhile, a pair of eyes quietly watched the inside of the bar through the window.