103-105

Chapter 103: Mother's Day 

"When does a killer not kill?" 

Flip that question around, and you get: "When does a killer kill?" 

"Hate. Profit." Cody summarized. "Even the super-criminals, those nutjobs, have their reasons for killing. Even someone like the Joker, pure chaotic madness, only showed up at Harvey's place because he wanted to get rid of the Holiday Killer." 

"Whether it's the thrill of the kill, showing off what they can do, or just a simple urge to kill, it always comes back to that 'want.' But for someone to not want to kill you? That tells me the Riddler had nothing to do with either of those things." 

"Or rather, he deliberately steered clear of them." 

"He didn't really have any history with the Holiday Killer, so no hate there. But the Godfather brought him in today to figure out the Holiday Killer's identity – and that definitely messes with Holiday's interests." 

"He didn't kill the Riddler because the Riddler didn't actually damage his interests. He intentionally avoided uncovering the Holiday Killer's real identity. So, the Holiday Killer, just like the rules of April Fools' Day, didn't kill him." 

No shouting, no calling for help. Leaning against the wall on purpose, tensing his body – that's how he kept from getting hit by bullets from moving around. Keeping his eyes glued to the gun barrel? That was just in case the Holiday Killer actually decided to go for the kill, saving whatever strength he had left to fight back. 

The Riddler might not know who the Holiday Killer is, but he sure as hell knows who he isn't... He survived being caught between the Godfather and the Holiday Killer, and he even managed to slip away. 

"Batman suspects Harvey..." Cody thought. "Yeah, that's not good. But hey, at least I did something on Valentine's Day." 

"I called Harvey right after the bombing. That call probably bought him about ten minutes. He only left Wayne Manor after we hung up." 

I was his alibi, Cody figured. Even if Alfred wasn't looking at his watch back then, all Batman has to do is check the time of that call with me and Commissioner Gordon, compare it to the crime time, and Harvey's in the clear for that night. 

The real question is, with those guys out of the picture, who's left? 

Cody's head was pounding. When he was just ruling people out, he could sort of keep track, but trying to connect the dots now? It was too messy. Too many possibilities. Copycat killer, multiple killers, a guy and a girl working together, maybe even the Godfather, Maroni, Two-Face splitting his personalities and doing a few hits each, or even some anti-hero showing up in Gotham. Once you opened the door, you realized you just didn't have enough clues. 

In this city, chaotic and crazy as it is, he couldn't even be sure he was thinking straight. 

Maybe... maybe Batman, that walking disaster zone, should be the one to track down the Riddler? 

Time flies when you're... well, in Gotham. Thanks to the Holiday Killer's indiscriminate attacks, the Roman and Maroni families seemed to have cooled down a bit. Cody was still in limbo. Some members of the Falcone family weren't exactly thrilled about keeping around this "disaster weapon" that couldn't fire and wasn't even technically family. 

The only good news? The boss hadn't said anything about canceling the sixty thousand dollars he was supposed to get in April. 

Putting aside the asset points that seemed impossible to save no matter what, Cody's cash account was looking pretty healthy. After expenses, he still had nearly twenty thousand left. 

As for the not-so-great news? The Riddler was really good at hiding. When he wasn't causing trouble and just wanted to stay alive, a stretched-thin Batman hadn't managed to find him yet. 

Most of Batman's energy was focused on dealing with Harvey Dent. 

"That kid Vernon, he's definitely in league with Maroni. Can't trust him." 

"But this case file... it's the real deal, Gordon." 

"Are you sure you want to keep going with this?" 

"Arrest one of Gotham's most famous citizens?" Harvey shook his head, looking over at Batman. "No." 

"But... if Bruce Wayne really is helping the Roman build his empire... then whatever happens to him, he's got it coming." 

Batman stood there, feeling a bit numb. 

If he hadn't been there tonight to get Gordon's take on the Valentine's Day timing, he might not have even heard this conversation. 

"Bruce Wayne has kept his distance from the Roman for years," he said. "Without him, Gotham National Bank would have been working with the Roman ages ago." 

"And with him? The bank still approved the deal," Harvey shook his head. "I used to think Bruce was a good guy, but now..." 

Batman felt even more numb. 

He couldn't exactly bring up the Poison Ivy situation. He hadn't locked her back in Arkham – her control abilities were too dangerous. Batman had built her a special private containment unit and was planning on adding a similar one at Arkham Asylum. 

They'd argued about private prisons a lot, never really agreeing. After all, his private prison didn't exactly come with official procedures or oversight. Put simply, you could easily call it illegal imprisonment. 

I need to talk to Harvey, properly, as someone else... he thought. At least things hadn't hit rock bottom yet. He was here for this conversation tonight, at least. 

Batman was getting pulled in different directions by his own allies. Nobody saw that coming. And so, in this tense, sticky atmosphere, May arrived. 

[You have a new gig available, please check.] 

"Huh?" Cody raised an eyebrow at the mission panel. This job looked unusually easy. 

"You know a lot... tell me everything you know." 

"Let me out, let me go, and I'll stop his killing. Mother's Day is here." 

One dark, one pale. One outside, one in. Batman and Calendar Man stared at each other through thick bulletproof glass. One wanted the truth, the other wanted freedom. 

"Every son has a mother," Calendar Man said with a smirk. "Even you do." 

"Do you really want your hands stained with blood on Mother's Day?" 

Yeah, the Riddler was tough to find, but Calendar Man was locked up tight in Arkham. Batman wasn't about to miss any chance to gather intel. Plus, today was Mother's Day – and just like Calendar Man said, he really didn't want to see anyone die today. 

But things don't always go the way you want them to. 

"Bat... Batman, help..." 

A stumbling guard collapsed, gasping for air, his face a mask of terror. His voice was broken. "He ran, fourth floor..." 

He couldn't even finish a sentence before he hit the ground, curled up, completely panicked. 

Only one person could do something like that. 

Batman sprinted, racing into the darkness as fast as he could. When he appeared again, he was on the fourth floor, in front of a half-open door. 

Jonathan Crane. That was the name of the inmate held behind that door. 

Chapter 104: Have a Good Dream 

"He... he ran!" 

"His mother came to see him..." 

The two prison guards huddled, trembling, in the narrow corner of the cell. Fear had utterly robbed them of the ability to act. Right now, their minds were like drunks reeling from too much booze, or maybe someone who'd stumbled onto some wild, mind-bending mushrooms up in the mountains. 

"Straw..." 

Batman observed the prison's iron bars. Cold rain washed against the asylum walls, soaking the bundle of straw tied tightly to the bars, making it incredibly tough. 

"Jonathan Crane strangled his own mother years ago – on Mother's Day." 

As he finished speaking, Batman ripped two steel bars straight off the window with his bare hands. The bent metal tore chunks of concrete from the wall. 

Sure enough, that bundle of wet, coarse straw extended downwards, all the way to the perimeter of Arkham Asylum. Amidst the wind and rain, faint moonlight illuminated a slender figure. He was riding a horse, wearing a pointed hat and a straw mask, looking like a scarecrow come to life in a field. 

In fact, his alias was precisely "Scarecrow" – Jonathan Crane, a deranged psychiatrist, one of the supercriminals. His unfortunate family life had caused him immense psychological trauma. At the same time, he was also a chemical genius. 

He had developed a special fear toxin and delighted in bringing this fear to everyone. Everyone has something they're afraid of, and the fear toxin could magnify the deepest shadows in one's heart infinitely, rendering people completely incapacitated. This was what he loved to see most. He was utterly obsessed with the fear of others, yet desperately wanted to escape his own feeling of fear. 

Someone gave Scarecrow a hand. Someone tossed him a lifeline and cut him loose, Batman thought. Then he vaulted out of the cell, dropping dozens of meters. 

In the wind, rain, and night, he spread his black cape, like a flying bat unfolding black wings, cutting through the air with a sharp whistling sound, then diving rapidly towards the Scarecrow, like a huge, shrieking bat monster. 

Not in my city. Not today. He is not getting out there to spread his sickness, Batman thought. 

"You think you can escape! You think you can do this!" 

The enraged bat-monster seemed ready to tear someone apart. He dove, snatched the Scarecrow like a ragdoll, and flung him from the horse, the mask flying clear. 

Wait. 

That wasn't his mask. That was his... head? 

A light, airy straw head fell to the ground. This made Batman realize that the figure on the horse wasn't "Scarecrow." 

It was a real scarecrow. 

A scarecrow dosed with fear toxin. 

In the darkness of the alley, Bruce Wayne, clad in a trench coat, stumbled. 

He walked slowly through this alley. He remembered this alley; it was a place he had walked through countless times in his dreams. It used to be called Park Row, now it's Crime Alley. 

It was the place where Thomas Wayne and Martha Wayne were murdered years ago. 

I wanted Mom to wear the pearl necklace that night... 

Bruce's face was a mask of confusion, his eyes distant as he wandered aimlessly. 

She told me that pearl necklace was only worn on special occasions, and we were just going to see a movie. 

"Mom, can't we make tonight special?" 

The childish voice echoed in his ears. That voice was his younger self. 

"Mr. Wayne, Bruce..." 

A voice sounded behind Bruce, startling him greatly. He twisted his head around. The figure of the blonde, bearded man seemed somewhat familiar, yet also strange. 

"What do you want!" 

He wants the pearl necklace. 

A voice echoed in his mind instantly. Bruce's fear surged, overflowing, hitting its absolute peak in that moment. 

He remembered the man with the gun approaching his mother. Yes! That's right! He just wanted that pearl necklace! 

"Run, Mom, run!" 

Bruce grabbed his mother's hand and ran towards the depths of the alley. He ran desperately, ran desperately, never stopping, so that they would never be caught. 

"Don't shoot!" the bearded man shouted. "Don't run! Bruce!" 

"Run! Run!" 

Cold sweat streamed down Bruce's face. Fear contorted his normally sharp features into a grotesque mask. He remembered nothing but running, running with his mother, running until the gunman could no longer see them, could no longer chase them. 

Are we safe? he thought. Did we make it? 

Just like that, he drifted further and further away with his consciousness. When he finally felt safe, he hugged his mother and wept bitterly. Perhaps he didn't even know what he was crying about. 

They were safe, weren't they? Mom wasn't dead. He had finally brought her out of that nightmare. 

But why couldn't the tears stop? 

"Easy now. Don't shoot." 

The blonde, bearded man lowered the walkie-talkie in his hand, approached Bruce slowly, then froze in place. 

This was Gotham Cemetery. 

Bruce was hugging a tombstone and weeping bitterly. 

And the name on the tombstone was Martha Wayne. 

"Chief, what do we do?" 

Gordon was silent, not knowing how to answer. Just then, a strange melody drifted through the night. 

It seemed to be a tune the Chief had never heard before, gently singing a song the Chief had never heard. 

Although he'd never heard it, it felt very gentle. It seemed a female voice was singing softly. 

"Moon is bright, wind is quiet, leaves cover the window pane..." "Strings are light, tune is pleasing, cradle gently sways..." 

As that gentle voice sang softly, the dark clouds slowly dispersed. Clear white moonlight spilled onto the ground, painting Bruce's face a silvery white. 

Tear tracks still on his cheeks, he fell into a deep sleep in the embrace of the tombstone. 

In his dream, it seemed a gentle figure held him close. What touched him wasn't the cold, wet sensation from before, but a true feeling of warmth. 

That warmth was so familiar, as if he had felt it often as a child. The woman stroked his head, smiling teasingly at him. 

"Little Bruce, how come you're still crying as a grown-up?" "You were so brave when you were little; you should be even braver now." 

"Mom, did I do something wrong?" 

Bruce looked up, asking uneasily, like a child afraid of being punished. Then, he saw the smile from his memory. 

"Bruce, whether what you did was wrong or not, I will always forgive you." "Because you are my son." "And I am your mother." 

Alfred sat by the bed, quietly keeping watch over the sleeping Bruce. The fire in the fireplace burned warmly, making the room feel cozy. 

He saw a small smile appear on Bruce's tear-streaked face, as if he were having a good dream he hadn't had in a long time. He hung up Bruce's trench coat, and at that moment, a white snowman music box fell out of it. 

He picked up the music box and tucked it back into the trench coat pocket, then quietly switched off the bedside lamp. 

"Good night, Master Bruce." He whispered, "Have a good dream." 

Chapter 105: The Whole Story 

Rewinding the clock a bit, it was the stroke of midnight the day before Mother's Day. As usual, I was watching Batman hanging someone from the clock tower when the system suddenly stirred again. 

【You have a new odd job available. Please check.】 

"Now what triggered this?" 

Cody raised an eyebrow. Just watching Batman is enough to trigger an odd job? 

He still vividly remembered the payout from the Saint Patrick's Day gig – it was just a one-time dream. That left him feeling a bit wronged; he'd spent so much effort planting all those trees, only for the reward to be non-repeatable. 

That dream, which could seemingly recreate the deceased based on the memories and wishes of the living, was essentially just comfort for those left behind. For the departed, their souls had long since gone to the realm of death. 

Still, he'd rushed home and slept for a bit in the latter half of the night, then put on a green pumpkin mask and ran around with a water gun, snatching ice cream and candy from kids. That part wasn't half bad... 

Cody shook his head, pulling his wandering thoughts back, and focused on the task panel. 

【Sleepless Night Creature Task Objective: Rising with the sun, resting with the sun – that common sense doesn't seem to apply much to creatures of the night. But that doesn't mean night creatures don't long for a good dream. 

Note: Who are the creatures of the night? Just look up at the clock tower, won't you find out? 

Status: Pending Completion (0/1) 

Reward: Deep Sleep Skill.】 

The task requirement turned out to be just delivering a gift to Bruce Wayne. The gift was the soothing music box he'd gotten from the side quest on Christmas Eve. 

If this task had popped up before, it might have been a bit tricky for him. But things were different now. Last Christmas, he'd even received an invitation from Alfred, representing Bruce's wishes, saying they welcomed him to Wayne Manor anytime as thanks for his good deeds during the holidays. 

He hadn't gone at the time because making congee took a lot of effort, and there were so many kids. Plus, he was also working for Falcone, so basically, any spare time he had, he ran off to the congee stand. 

Watching Batman's figure disappear from the clock tower, Cody casually tucked the invitation into his pocket and lay back down on the bed. 

"Ding dong." 

The next day, the doorbell at Wayne Manor rang. 

Alfred opened the manor gate and saw a young stranger standing outside. He wore wire-rimmed glasses and a cheap suit. Aside from looking reasonably energetic and having clear eyes, he looked pretty much like any other average person in Gotham City. 

Don't misunderstand – to seem a bit more sincere, that suit had cost Cody over $30,000, which was painful for his wallet, but in Alfred's eyes, it really was considered "cheap." 

Alfred, feeling slightly curious but before he could speak, the young man spoke first. 

"Hello, hello! You must be Mr. Alfred – do you remember sending an invitation to 'Santa Claus'?" 

"Oh... so it is you visiting," Alfred suddenly understood. He had a deep impression of the Santa Claus who distributed congee, but he hadn't expected him to be so young in person. 

"To thank Mr. Bruce for his kindness, I specially brought a music box. I bought it from an astrologer; it's quite magical. After I got it, I've barely had any nightmares. However, sometimes it doesn't work well and won't make a sound." 

"Sir, I believe Master Bruce will be quite pleased with your gift. If you wouldn't mind, perhaps you would step inside for a moment? Allow me to make you a cup of tea as well; the wind this morning is quite cold." 

"Oh, yes, please!" 

Over the next period, Cody wasn't sure if he'd committed any social faux pas, after all, the etiquette of a waiter and the etiquette of a guest were quite different. But Alfred's tea and snacks were genuinely delicious. It was almost certain that Alfred's cooking skill was at least 'Advanced,' perhaps even 'Master' level. 

He stayed at Wayne Manor for a good while before heading home, but he didn't see Bruce, which made him feel slightly relieved. 

"Alfred, where did this music box come from?" 

"Oh, Master, that was delivered by Santa Claus during the day." 

Bruce thought hard for a moment before realizing Alfred was talking about Cody, not the real Santa Claus. 

He was a very mysterious person. Anything he sent needed a bit more caution. 

So, Bruce wound the music box and watched it spin, but it didn't make any sound. 

"Master, I'm afraid this music box isn't making any sound," Alfred said, walking over with a cup of tea. "But I can tell the person who sent it was very sincere." 

"I know, Alfred." 

Bruce said this, casually tucking it into his trench coat pocket. He planned to take it to the Batcave for testing after visiting Arkham and finishing patrol, just in case it contained any hacking tech or listening devices. 

It wasn't specifically targeting Cody, of course. In fact, every gift sent to Wayne Manor went through this procedure. 

And then, there was tonight. 

"Master? Master? Are you still listening? Why did you suddenly come back to the Batcave?" 

"I... I have to change clothes. I can't be exposed..." 

Alfred looked worried as he helped Bruce out of the Batsuit and into regular clothes. He desperately wanted to stop his Master there, because he looked truly unwell – but he didn't seem to have completely lost his mind either, which left Alfred hesitant. 

"I'll be back soon, Alfred, I'll be back soon—" Bruce ran out of the Batcave in his trench coat, all the way to the street. By then, half an hour had passed since Scarecrow's breakout, and the gas's corrosive effect was growing stronger, finally overwhelming his last shred of sanity. 

"We're going to the movies, Mom..." he whispered, walking alone into an alley. "...We're going to the movies." 

And then, it was now. Alfred had put the sleeping Bruce back in bed. 

He examined the music box that had fallen out. At this moment, it still wasn't making a sound. 

Could Master Bruce's good dream be related to it? 

He shook his head, casually put it back into the trench coat pocket, said goodnight to Bruce, and left the room. 

"Click." 

The front door opened. Commissioner Gordon and the police officers were waiting outside Wayne Manor. 

"Thank you... for your clear-headed command tonight, Commissioner Gordon." Alfred bowed slightly. "But Master Bruce's mind has been greatly affected; I'm afraid he won't be able to discuss anything with you for a while." 

"I know, Alfred," Gordon sighed. "But you also know, if I don't talk to Wayne, it'll be hard for us to figure out what's going on with his relationship with Falcone – that's why I came tonight." 

"They have no relationship whatsoever." 

"Then, at the very least, we need to sit down and talk openly to clear up this misunderstanding." 

Alfred was silent for a moment, then nodded. 

"I will convey your words to Master Bruce. I believe that after the Master recovers, we will have an opportunity to talk."