146-150

Chapter 146: The Justice Trio Using Sons Against Fathers (Yeah, right!) 

"Alberto, is that you?" 

Falcone's voice held a slight, almost imperceptible tremor, and a flicker of hope. In this moment of helplessness, with hardly any trusted family members left by his side, seeing a call from the youngest son he'd longed for was like a spark igniting in a heart that had almost turned to ash in despair. 

Even though he knew there was a high chance his youngest son was in deep trouble, and even though he suspected something was off with this sudden call, he didn't want to think about anything else right now. The only thing he wanted was to confirm if his most beloved youngest son was alive or dead. He wasn't in the mood to think about anything more for the moment. 

The voice coming from the phone froze him on the spot. 

Because it was indeed his youngest son's voice. 

"Dad, I..." 

Those two simple words made Falcone's hands tremble. He gripped the phone receiver tightly, as if afraid it would vanish any second. 

"Son, my Alberto..." 

At that moment, the voice on the phone suddenly changed. It was someone else, someone the godfather knew very well, someone he hadn't expected, someone he'd always thought he and Maroni had wrapped around their finger, someone he'd thought was no longer a suspect for the Holiday Killer. 

"Mr. Falcone, there are some things I'd like to discuss with you." 

"Harvey Dent—" The Roman's eyes widened in fury. In that instant, all the clues connected in his mind. He thought he had finally discovered the truth of the matter. 

All the killings were his doing. Harvey Dent was the Holiday Killer—just thinking that way explained the conflict between the two gangs, the shootouts, and even today's confrontation. Thinking that way also made it clear why his son would fall into the other party's hands. And thinking that way helped him understand how Harvey, this small-time District Attorney, could navigate so smoothly and play both sides during the conflict between the two criminal organizations. 

After Maroni and his son were shot, the conflict between the two gangs became irreparable. That's why he didn't make any more moves. That's why the Holiday Killer completely vanished. Because his goal had been fully achieved. 

The enraged godfather forcefully suppressed his anger at this moment, saying word by word, "Whatever you want to do, come directly at me. I can give you whatever amount of money you want. But Alberto is innocent. If you dare touch a single hair on my son, you will know—" 

"Mr. Falcone, are you perhaps mistaken about something?" Harvey's voice came through again, this time with a slight hint of amusement. "I'm the District Attorney of Gotham City, not a criminal. I wouldn't use violence against innocent civilians, and I certainly wouldn't do things like kidnapping or extortion." 

Falcone was stunned. 

Harvey's words negated all his guesses. He was still insisting on his identity as the District Attorney and had refused his offer to pay for ransom. In other words, he wasn't the Holiday Killer—at least, he wasn't planning to use that identity to make this call. 

So, had he accidentally saved his son? 

"I'm sorry, Mr. Harvey." Thinking this, Falcone immediately changed his tone. "I apologize for my... rudeness just now. May I ask where you are? I really want to see my son right away. I imagine you can somewhat understand how I'm feeling." 

"Oh, I'm calling precisely about that. Mr. Falcone, I have some very important things to tell you regarding your son. If possible, I'd prefer the address I'm about to reveal not be known by anyone. Actually, I'd prefer the rest of this call not be heard by anyone." 

The godfather frowned slightly but still waved his hand behind him. About half a minute later, the assistant in the room opened the door and left, closing the door behind him. 

"Alright, Mr. Harvey, you can speak now." 

"He's in a secret safe house, under temporary custody by the Gotham City Police Department, Mr. Falcone." Harvey replied. "Next, I'll give you the address of the meeting location. If you want to see him, come meet him after you're disguised." 

"Just a reminder, Mr. Falcone, it's best if you come alone and don't let anyone else know about this. That's my advice—but if you don't listen, I respect your choice. Just remember, I won't stand by and do nothing if illegal activities occur." 

What did that mean? Why was his son being held in temporary custody by the police department? 

The godfather's head was full of questions, but when he tried to ask further, the other party hung up the phone first. 

Beep 

Listening to the dial tone on the receiver, the godfather's expression suddenly turned grim. Alberto was alive, which was certainly great news, but he seemed to be caught up in some big trouble, trouble he apparently couldn't fix with money. 

"Custody..." Falcone lit a cigar, took a deep drag, using it to help him focus his thoughts. "Alberto, what exactly have you been through?" 

On the other end, Harvey hung up the phone and nodded to the two people in the room. 

Commissioner Gordon, standing nearby, looked at Alberto sitting at the table. He sat there quietly, his gaze somewhat vacant, seeming to still be replaying his conversation with his dad from moments ago. 

"Alberto, you'll be seeing your father tomorrow. Whatever you want to say, you can think about it beforehand—once you're inside, you might not get many chances to see each other." 

"...What do you guys want from him?" he asked. "You've hidden me for so long, kept my whereabouts quiet, and now suddenly you're contacting my father—what do you want him to do for you?" 

Commissioner Gordon shook his head at this point and answered him. 

"Not 'do for,' but 'help.' Your father helps us, and we help him. Ultimately, it's a mutually beneficial arrangement. We're not thugs. There's a fundamental difference between how we operate and how you guys do." 

Hearing this, Alberto didn't say anything more, while Commissioner Gordon and Harvey left the room, one after the other. 

Outside the room, Cody was waiting, looking bored, holding three paper bags. Seeing the two come out, he casually handed the bags over. "Here, burger combos—What'd Falcone say?" 

"Falcone didn't say anything, but I'm guessing he agreed to the meeting," Gordon replied. "Still, I'm not sure if this is the right time to reveal Alberto." 

"If we don't play the hand now, the cards will go stale. Old Ma's suggestion was right," Harvey reached out and took a burger. "Using Alberto here is enough to finish off both Maroni and Falcone." 

Cody added, "Anyway, based on my guess, if you were to ask how much Falcone is willing to give up for his youngest son—" 

"Maybe everything he has." 

Chapter 147: The Dead Alberto Falcone 

The next day, inside the building where Harvey and Falcone had agreed to meet. 

Knock, knock. 

A muffled knocking sounded. Just two knocks, and the door was opened. 

A man in a black trench coat and a felt hat appeared outside the door. Underneath the trench coat was a suit and tie, and a long white scarf was wrapped around his neck. The collar covered the lower half of his face, and sunglasses hid his eyes. 

This outfit was very sharp and imposing. In fact, ever since Roman became the city's real power, a lot more people around town dressed like this, often ready to pull a submachine gun from under their coats at any moment. This was typical mafia attire. 

"Come in." 

The person inside murmured, inviting the man in, then closed the door, cutting them off from outside eyes. 

"Mr. Falcone, you even insist on sticking to the mob style when you're in disguise?" 

Roman didn't answer Harvey, who was leading the way. He took off his sunglasses. It had been a long time since he'd worn this Italian mob getup, and he felt a bit out of place. Black suit, white shirt, a bow tie, and a red rose in his pocket—that was his usual attire: elegant, upper-class, and imposing. 

"Where is my son, District Attorney Harvey?" 

"Come with me." 

Harvey led him further inside and finally opened a door. It was the door to the basement. 

Falcone's eyes narrowed slightly. He wasn't happy. A place like a basement was usually used to hold prisoners, and his Alberto was actually being kept here. 

"District Attorney Harvey, let me remind you. If anything happens to me or my son, the Falcone family will burn all of Gotham to the ground." 

"Mr. Falcone, your son is a dangerous individual. We couldn't just put him anywhere, not even at the police department. Only the basement is suitable for him." 

"Dangerous individual?" Falcone frowned tightly. He never expected to get this kind of answer. "What kind of crazy talk is that?" 

At this point, the two had gone down the long stairs and entered the basement. A voice greeted them, answering his question. 

"Yes, a dangerous individual, Mr. Falcone. Your son is cruel and cold-blooded killer. He killed four gangsters in a car one after another, then caused a car explosion to attack Maroni's restaurant and slaughtered many members of the Maroni family, as well as a gunsmith in Chinatown. And finally, he shot Maroni and his father." 

Commissioner Gordon in the basement walked over and handed him a photocopy of a confession, placing it in the godfather's hand. 

"Your son, Alberto, is a serial killer. He's the—" 

"Holiday Killer." 

Falcone looked at Commissioner Gordon, listening to each sentence he spoke, his expression somewhat blank. The sheer volume of information almost overwhelmed him, making his brain feel like it was about to shut down. 

"My son, Alberto, the Holiday Killer?" He opened the confession in his hand in disbelief. The contents were shocking. 

It was Alberto's self-statement. He confessed to these crimes without hesitation. Except for the deaths of Johnny Viti and the Irish Mob, he fully admitted to all of them. 

About how he picked his holiday 'gifts', how he ordered a .22 caliber handgun from the gunsmith who was later silenced, how he tampered with the shooting range data, how he got information about Maroni's associates from within the family, how he faked his death on the New Year's Eve yacht, and finally how he was caught red-handed when attacking Maroni and his father. 

Perhaps, in his view, these were his medals, not crimes. If he hid them and didn't admit them, it would be like putting on fine clothes and walking around at night, unseen. 

Roman could see that the signature at the end was indeed his youngest son's handwriting. That's why he felt particularly incredulous. In his memory, his youngest son had always been a good kid; obedient, sensible, loyal, and he'd stayed out of the family's messy business, which had been a relief. 

Falcone Imports was originally the first step in cleaning up his act. In the future, the legitimate businesses would be left to his 'clean' Alberto. That's why he insisted his youngest son stay far away from the family business. But now, that dream was shattered. 

At this point, Commissioner Gordon led him to a door. It was a small partitioned room in the basement. 

"Alberto's in there. You can talk to him yourself, Mr. Falcone." 

So, Roman forcefully suppressed his emotions and pushed the door open. 

The furnishings inside the room were simple. Under the dim light, there was just a table, a chair, and a person handcuffed – his youngest son, whom he had thought about day and night. 

"Alberto, my Alberto..." 

Seeing his father, Alberto's face finally showed some expression. He smiled at Falcone, a smile mixed with a little guilt. 

"Dad, you're here." 

"Alberto, why did you... Is everything they said true?" 

"It's true, Dad... I'm sorry." 

"Alberto, listen to me. I can get you out. Just stop spouting nonsense about being the Holiday Killer. Just say you attacked Maroni and Luigi, only admit to that—" 

"Dad." Alberto suddenly cut him off. "You don't understand why I had to do this, do you?" 

"I..." 

"You don't even know when my birthday is, right? Even though you love me so much, you're busy with business every year—here's a hint: my birthday is also a holiday." 

"Alberto, I thought you would understand me." 

"I understand you, Dad, but you don't understand me." 

Alberto sighed. "My birthday is on Valentine's Day." 

Alberto was wrong. His father knew his birthday. On Valentine's Day, the godfather had placed a bouquet of flowers on his grave. 

"I wanted to help, I wanted to step in and make a difference. But you didn't agree. You wanted me to stay far away from the family business. But you didn't see that Gotham City had changed, the times had changed—since you wouldn't agree, I had to take matters into my own hands. Otherwise, a law-abiding mob is like a precisely operating machine; if some rogue crazy breaks just one gear, the rest of it grinds to a halt." 

"If there's anything in this world that made me happy, Dad, it was that dream on St. Patrick's Day. I pretended to be someone in a dream, and you pretended to be someone who couldn't wake up. No family business, no shootouts, just my father and me. I was really happy that day." 

"You love me a lot, and because of that, Dad," He sighed deeply, "I had to help you get rid of the Maroni family, in my own way." 

"Gotham doesn't need the mob anymore. I'm proof of that. Look at me, Dad. As the Holiday Killer, I carried more weight than all of them put together." 

"So, the Alberto of the past had to die. And the me of now, I am the Holiday Killer." 

Chapter 148: Leaving Behind a Better World 

Falcone had a thousand words he wanted to say, but in the end, nothing came out. 

He couldn't sway Alberto in the slightest. After his son firmly declared, "I am the Holiday Killer," he could only leave the room in dejection. 

"That's the whole story, Mr. Falcone." Commissioner Gordon shook his head and locked the door with a key. "Maroni and his son worked with us to set a trap, and we finally managed to catch your son red-handed. After discussing it with D.A. Harvey Dent, we decided to hide Alberto temporarily to prevent him from being taken out right in the precinct by that angry father and son, or maybe even Maroni family hitmen." 

Falcone looked up at Gordon. The commissioner's words seemed like a show of goodwill, but they were also a threat. 

We could take your son to the precinct right now and prepare for prosecution. We could even let you manipulate the court and the trial outcome to bring him home. But how can you be sure he won't be taken out by the enraged Maronis? 

Don't forget, Harvey Dent already faced extreme retaliation from Maroni in court once, and he didn't even fire a measly .22 caliber handgun at them. It's the same deal here; if they want to get to your son, 

there's no way he'll make it to trial. 

Negotiate... what the heck is there to negotiate? 

"Mr. Falcone, Commissioner Gordon actually saved your son's life. Glaring at him won't change that fact." 

Harvey walked up and spread his hands. "Right now, the most important thing is how to protect your son,and deal with the upcoming sentencing. With the number of lives he's taken, it's highly unlikely he'll ever get out of prison. You should be thankful our state doesn't have the death penalty right now, otherwise he'd probably be headed for the gas chamber." 

Falcone watched the two of them, who seemed to be working in concert, with a dark look. A thought flashed through his mind, causing his hand to instinctively brush under his trench coat. While he didn't usually carry a heavy submachine gun, a handgun and grenades weren't hard to conceal. Conveniently, Harvey hadn't frisked him when he came in. 

"I suggest you keep your game within the courtroom." A third voice suddenly spoke from the darkness. "Once you start a war with the GCPD, Alberto's life is over for good. No matter where you run and hide with him, I'll bring both of you back to Gotham City to face judgment. And right now, you'd better not even try to draw that gun." 

Roman was startled. He recognized the voice. 

"Batman..." 

As if in response to his words, the dark, imposing figure of the tall bat emerged from the shadows. To his left stood Commissioner Gordon, stroking his mustache, and to his right was Harvey Dent, flipping his coin. Three intense stares were fixed on Falcone's face, the three countenances covered in large shadows under the basement light, appearing particularly grim and terrifying. 

"Mr. Falcone, what do you say?" 

Falcone's face was ashen. It was the first time in his life he'd been threatened like this, but after a moment to compose himself, he had to pull his hand back from inside his coat. 

"You caught Alberto, hid him for so long, and now you suddenly come looking for me. It's obviously not just to inform the family of a prisoner. Tell me, what do you want?" 

Harvey and Gordon exchanged a look, a hint of satisfaction hidden in their eyes. This was working. 

By the time the Godfather returned to his apartment, it was dusk. It was late autumn, and a hazy golden light filtered through the clouds, hitting him but offering little warmth. Instead, a biting cold wind swept through, carrying withered yellow leaves. 

The Godfather thought back on their conversation, his heart feeling as scattered and weary as the late autumn evening. 

"Mr. Falcone, we're going to be straight with you. Gotham City has been run into a city of crime by your family and Mr. Maroni's family. Whether you intended to or not, Gotham's order has rapidly deteriorated over the years. The justice system is corrupt, graft is rampant, and poverty and disease are everywhere. We know you've always been indifferent to these accusations, but District Attorney Harvey Dent and I aren't going to just stand by." 

Hearing this, Falcone clenched his fist. He had wanted to just pull out his gun right then and there. After so many years, hardly anyone in Gotham dared to speak to him with that kind of accusatory tone—except for Batman. 

Harvey, seemingly unfazed by his expression, picked up where Gordon left off: "You've seen Alberto. You know Commissioner Gordon and I aren't lying. Maroni and Luigi can't just sit back and let the Holiday Killer, who attacked them and slaughtered members of the Maroni family, continue to live. But you can't let your own son die at their hands. Only one of you can survive this." 

The Godfather still didn't speak, just watched the two of them coldly. 

"We're not trying to stir up trouble, but the fact is, you two tigers are fighting, and it's bound to end in both sides getting hurt. 

And that's exactly the outcome we want to see." 

"You want Alberto to inherit the Falcone family with a clean slate? We can grant that request. We won't prosecute him for these crimes. We'll just send him to Wayne Penitentiary to serve time – a real punishment, but his reputation won't be tainted. Think about it, Roman." 

"Under normal court proceedings, he might never get out. But as his father, you can reduce his sentence. You just need to agree to help us take down Maroni and assist us in executing the Gotham Reconstruction Plan." 

"We want a new Gotham, a Gotham City not controlled by mobsters. If you help us carry out this plan, it will definitely succeed." 

"Give up your fortune, Mr. Falcone. Give up the ill-gotten gains you've squeezed from Gotham, and let the Falcone family start over. When this plan is completed, you'll go to prison, and your son, Alberto, can come out and start a new life. We promise to support the reformed Falcone family. This family name can stand in the sunlight again, passed down with dignity." 

"Haven't you gone to great lengths just to legitimize your family, Mr. Falcone? This is the best chance. Sincerely atone for your sins, re-establish the order you destroyed, and your son can have a new start." 

"Or, what kind of Gotham do you want to leave for him?" 

"What kind of Gotham do I want to leave for him...?" 

The Roman stood by the apartment window, muttering to himself as he looked at the hazy twilight sky. If it were the old him, he'd probably explode with rage at these terms. 

Generations of my mob family's enterprise, and you think you can just tell me to give it all up with a few sentences? 

But he thought of his youngest son, thought of his loyalty and his love, and thought of his own original desire to legitimize the family. 

Falcone wasn't some hot-headed mob brute. He knew the tide of the times was rolling in; he knew what would be eliminated and what would survive. 

After weighing the pros and cons, the Godfather decided to first look into Wayne's private penitentiary. 

Chapter 149: Business Trips are Just Part of the Gig, Gotta Deal With It 

Getting the lowdown on the situation inside the Wayne Prison wasn't tough. 

The Godfather's assessment only took three days, and just like that, Alberto doing time became a done deal. 

He was cornered. For Alberto's sake, he had to go to the mat with the Maroni family. But the day Luigi got hauled into the joint too, the Falcone family's power would inevitably be cut down by seven or eight parts. Add in Gotham's new system constantly transforming mob guys into regular citizens through rehabilitation, and he basically had no way left to fight the combined force of the D.A.'s office (teamed up with Wayne) and the GCPD. Getting pinched was a matter of time; picking out a decent cell ahead of time was actually the smart play. 

From the looks of it, aside from a considerable amount of manual labor, the only downside to the Wayne private prison was that you "couldn't buy your way out." But "no fighting, no bullying, and no violent behavior allowed" also made the place pretty safe. 

"Alberto, forgive me..." 

Falcone, his heart heavy, dialed up Commissioner Gordon. 

Smash! 

"Is that son of a gun really gonna keep fighting us to the bitter end?!" 

In the Maroni family mansion, Luigi slammed the phone down hard. The Godfather had already been sending signals about making peace, and they'd even set a time and place to hash things out. 

That had actually given Luigi a little breathing room. Going toe-to-toe with Falcone had cost him big time lately, even making him consider maybe playing the long game for a bit. 

Even though a bunch of his core crew had been killed, and his son was possibly kidnapped, if he thought about it, the Holiday Killer thing might not have been Falcone's doing. A lot of time had passed since Alberto got nabbed, and the Maroni family hadn't seen a second psycho running around shooting things up. Plus, the Roman hadn't been secretly tearing the city apart looking for his son. That suggested Falcone might not actually know what Alberto had been up to. 

Could he honestly think his son was dead? 

Luigi, finally getting a handle on the situation, took a close look at the current mess. Both the Maronis and Falcones were seriously weakened, which cooled his head down. He figured if they could just swap some info, maybe they could find a better way to handle this. Even worst-case scenario, things couldn't get any worse. At most, they'd just keep duking it out. Harvey was a good weapon; he was confident he could hit the Roman where it really hurt. 

But right after that, more bad news rolled in. 

Falcone had changed his mind. He straight-up canceled their meeting and swore he'd wipe out the Maroni family completely, leaving only one mob family left in Gotham City. And he promised to pay back Sal Maroni for all three shots he took as a kid. 

"He's pushing it too far! Does he really think the Maroni family is scared of doing jail time?" 

Luigi spat fiercely. "Roman wants a war? Fine, we'll give him a war!" 

Guess they really are father and son, saying the exact same stuff. 

And just one day after Luigi declared that, Cody got a call from Harvey. 

"Things are on track, old man," he said. "Falcone agreed to our terms for his kid. Maroni's yelling his head off, says he'll fight him to the death." 

As soon as that came out, the system panel popped up with new notifications. 

[Ding] 

[Your gig work in Gotham City for this phase is complete. The work location, Gotham, is about to undergo an upgrade. According to system prediction, during the upgrade period, the number of local odd jobs will sharply decrease.] 

[This phase's work performance evaluation: Excellent] 

[Settlement rewards for this phase: Skill - Batman's Friendship, Skill - Group Up and Go] 

[Extra reward for this phase: Skill - I Didn't Kill Anyone] 

[Note on Batman's Friendship: Since you got this thing, you should know it's pretty useless. Batman won't cross you off his counter-measure list because of it, and he won't hit you any softer when he beats you up.] 

[Note on Group Up and Go: For these kinds of devils and outsiders, forget honor codes! Everyone, shoulder to shoulder, let's go!] 

Cody looked at the first reward, a mix of emotions swirling in his gut. He even felt like slugging Batman, because the note was spot on. 

But when he saw the second reward, his spirits lifted instantly, and he carefully checked out its effect. Simply put, when he went on business trips to other universes for work, he'd get permission to bring people along. He could pick friendly characters from his current world who had already earned his "Friendship." As long as they agreed, they could hitch a ride with him, traveling back and forth to that other universe. 

"Oh, sweet! So when I go on a trip, I can just bring Batman along? Wouldn't that just be taking off?" 

Thinking about it though, Batman wasn't always free. He still needed to be mentally prepared to go alone. 

[Note on I Didn't Kill Anyone: I'll use a gun to turn people into sieves, I'll break spines with railings, I'll use a metal bat to hit heads and send people flying ten feet, I'll smash a motorcycle directly onto people, I'll throw people off windowsills onto the street below—but no matter what, bottom line, I didn't kill anyone. I'm innocent. -by Kiryu Kazuma] 

[Note 2: Batman liked that.] 

"Seriously, pal?" 

Cody looked at the note and griped, "You two are on the same wavelength now?" 

Jokes aside, the skill was seriously powerful. It was an active skill, currently only affecting Cody himself, lasting for twelve hours. As the note said, as long as this skill was active, no matter what weapon Cody used to attack, he couldn't actually cause the "target dies" result. He'd always leave them with a breath of life. 

This range could be upgraded, but upgrading seemed to cost a ton of asset points. The first upgrade cost a hundred thousand dollars, and its effect could be expanded further, allowing Cody to designate two targets. The skill would last on them for twenty-four hours. If the range was upgraded, its effect would become "people within the skill's range cannot kill others." 

As for how much the second upgrade cost, Cody wasn't too curious. He only had a hundred and fifty thousand dollars in asset points right now and planned to save it for a rainy day. 

[Searching for new odd job location...] 

[Found an employer with strong intent...] 

[Odd job location search complete. This odd job is a special business trip mission. Upon completion, employee authority will be upgraded, and the system will open up permission for work travel outside of Gotham City.] 

[Hint: This employer can only provide knowledge skills as compensation. You can choose to refuse, and the system will search for a new business trip commission.] 

[Compensation for this business trip: Advanced Mechanical Mastery, Master Aerial Dynamics Mastery, Master Kite Skill Mastery] 

[Destination for this business trip: Gotham City - The War of Joke and Riddle] 

Chapter 150: Sisyphus Who Couldn't Cry 

[DING!] 

[Relevant intel for this business trip has been automatically issued] 

Just like the side quest during the last Christmas, a scene suddenly burst forth from Cody’s mind again. 

"Hahaha! Heeheeheeheehee!" A sharp, cackling laugh echoed in his ears. 

Whose laugh was that? It sounded familiar, yet somehow strange. 

The man struggled to open his eyes. His head felt heavy and his vision was blurry, like he’d just been punched in the head. 

It must have been a really hard punch, he thought, otherwise his head wouldn't hurt this bad. 

Through dark red goggles, he saw that he was wearing a dark green bodysuit. On his chest was a light green diamond symbol, like a small kite. 

Oh, I remember now. That laugh was Joker’s. 

So, maybe I'm supposed to be a superhero? 

Maybe I'm super strong and can punch a whole bunch of bad guys away? 

Or maybe I have super speed? Able to save everyone on the scene the instant something explodes? 

Or maybe I’m bulletproof? Or super-rich? 

No, that’s not right. None of that’s right. 

My head was slowly clearing up. Looking at the cheap, crappy costume I was wearing, the seams were even busted open where I’d been punched, and my helmet was loose and about to fall apart. 

I’m not a superhero. I don’t have any superpowers. 

The man finally managed to lift his head and saw everything before him. 

It was high noon, and a cold wind was blowing through the huge floor-to-ceiling windows of a towering skyscraper. Outside the window was a vast, cloudless sky and the tiny city far below. 

The sun outside wasn't blocked by clouds, and the sunlight streamed directly into the room through the window. Even so, he still felt no warmth. 

The window glass was shattered into shards all over the floor. An ordinary person in jeans and a white shirt was lying in a pool of blood. Their groans and cries of pain were completely drowned out by the insane laughter, making them sound so small and helpless. 

Not far away on the ground was the man's severed half-arm, currently bleeding profusely. 

Joker spread his arms wide, cackling wildly in the sunlight and the biting wind from the high-rise, laughing with joyous abandon. He even had a knife stuck in his raised left hand, but he seemed completely oblivious to it. 

Beside Joker, Riddler, dressed in a dark green suit, hung his head slightly. He looked lost, silent, but just half an hour ago, he had almost become the King of Crime in Gotham City. 

As for the farthest figure, it was that black shape with his back to the sun. 

He stumbled and fell to his knees, his body almost completely devoid of strength. His wide black cape trailed on the ground like broken bat wings. But he had no visible injuries, and his muscles were still strong; his eyes just lacked any spark. 

He had lost his will to fight. Batman had lost his will to fight. 

Looking at Batman and Riddler before him, the man finally remembered everything. 

I’m Kite Man. 

An unemployed aerodynamicist, a failed husband, an incompetent father, a normal guy with no powers, a third-rate villain, a joke. 

A funny joke. 

I couldn't keep my job, I couldn't keep my wife, I couldn't save my son, I don't have some grand, epic life, and I couldn’t even be a good villain. 

I gave up everything to come here for revenge, and then I got knocked down with one punch, treated like a joke. 

I’m Kite Man. A funny joke. 

[Business Trip Mission Issued] 

[Mission Objective: Sisyphus Who Couldn't Cry - Introduction: Charles "Chuck" Brown once told his son an old story. 

A long, long time ago, there was this guy who had to push a giant rock up to the top of a mountain. But this guy had a curse on him, so every time he just got the rock to the top of the mountain, it would roll back down again – that was the curse. He could never get the rock to stay at the top. 

But he had to get the rock up there, so he'd run back down to the bottom of the mountain and try again. He'd push the rock back up to the top, watch it roll down, over and over, forever and ever. 

"That's a joke, right? It's hilarious! – He gets to the top, he's happy, and then... oops! The rock falls down again! Hahaha, haha." 

"And that's me, little Charles. That's all of us. We're all pushing a rock like that. 

No matter how hard we try, we see it roll back down. And then we hear the gods, the heroes, the demigods, and fate laughing beside us, laughing at how shallow and humble we are, laughing at how mediocre and useless we are, laughing at how we're just flesh and blood, laughing at how our destiny is already set." 

"We can only stand at the top of the mountain and listen to them laugh. But the key is, you have to laugh along – you have to. You just have to." 

"Because I'm a joke. I'm ridiculous. There's nothing I can do but laugh with them. But at least at that moment, I'm still laughing." 

Note 1: If someone is always laughing, they must never have been truly happy. 

Note 2: If someone is laughing with tears in their eyes, they must be a tough, courageous person. 

Status: Incomplete Rewards: Advanced Mechanical Mastery, Master Aerodynamics Mastery, Master Kite Skills Mastery Special Mission Reward: Kite Man's Friendship] 

It took Cody quite a while to digest this huge amount of information. He roughly understood the destination of this business trip – it was Gotham City in another parallel universe. 

The goal of this trip was also relatively simple: to help a third-tier villain he'd never heard of. Even so, Cody could still learn a little about this obscure character from the information the system provided. 

[Do you wish to decline this business trip mission? The system will automatically search for the next one –] 

"Yeah, I'll take this one." 

Cody sighed, "A loser helping a loser, that actually fits pretty well – but judging by how out of commission this universe's Batman looks, is this trip gonna start ramping up the difficulty for me?" 

[Business Trip Confirmed. You will begin this business trip in 48 hours. Please prepare during this time.] 

"But since I have this time, it'd be a shame to waste it... Maybe I should try and grab someone else?" 

"Going far away? Nah, Old Ma, I don't have the time right now..." 

Harvey sat in his office looking exhausted. There was coffee, strong tea, and Cody's herbal tea on his desk, which was practically buried under mountains of case files and legal documents. 

Or rather, the office itself was almost completely filled with these things, barely leaving any room to stand. 

"You can see for yourself, the lawsuits that have piled up lately are about to overflow the District Attorney's office. There's no way I can get away right now. Forget going far away, I can't even leave the D.A.'s office door." 

Cody patted him on the shoulder sympathetically to show he understood. Looks like Harvey couldn't come along. He'd just have to go ask the other three.