51-53

Chapter 51: Instant Cure 

The shadow of Bat, wings spread, glided through the streets and alleys of Gotham. This was his nightly routine: patrolling the entire city, saving some poor unfortunate souls, breaking a few criminal bones, and stringing a couple of guys up on bell towers. 

For him, it was pretty standard stuff. But today was Thanksgiving, so there seemed to be hardly any crime on the streets. It was like even the criminals had families to spend time with, making tonight's work a bit quieter. 

After his patrol, instead of heading straight back to the Batcave as usual, he stood among Gotham's tall buildings, silently watching the scattered lights in the darkness. The dazzling neon signs and the scent of holiday cooking drifting from little rooms blended together, creating a different kind of festive atmosphere. 

What good things will there be to be thankful for in the coming year? 

Meanwhile, on the streets of Gotham City, Cody was carrying a paper bag containing the Horn of Plenty he'd made. 

Not bad. At least this Horn of Plenty doesn't really stand out. If I run into that psycho killer again, at least Batman won't zero in on me. 

Thinking that, Cody touched the disguise mask on his face, and the mask on top of that. From now on, when he did jobs like this, he planned to be fully disguised. He absolutely couldn't let some psycho killer see his real face. 

He didn't notice a familiar figure reappear behind him, still wearing the black round hat and oversized trench coat, face indistinct, with rough men's gloves on his hands. 

The figure in the trench coat saw the paper bag in Cody's hand, walked up naturally, grabbed it effortlessly, and immediately turned and ducked into a small alley. 

"Crap! Who snagged my Horn of Plenty—" 

Cody just felt his hand lighten, and the Horn of Plenty he'd prepared vanished without a trace. He cursed reflexively and spun around to look, but could only see a dark shape disappearing into the depths of the alley. 

At the same time, the mission completion notification popped up immediately. 

Thanksgiving Horn of Plenty Mission Description: Don't overthink it, this is just another case where a customer needs a Horn of Plenty. Do it well and get a reward, mess up and there's no penalty. Note: Low risk, high reward. This job was specifically left for you. As for last time - you just screwed up your own delivery. Status: Completed (1/1) Reward: A Horn of Abundance that can continuously produce food. Relying on it, you can survive in the most extreme environments. The food it produces can even provide some health recovery and life-steal effects. Don't worry, it's not a magical item from this world either and requires no cost. 

Cody examined the Horn of Abundance in his hand. It was huge, really huge. It looked as long as his calf and as thick as his thigh. He could even shove half his forearm into the opening. 

Are there goats this big in the world? Cody wasn't sure. His own goat horn was bought from a store, but even that wasn't as big as this one. Carrying it around would be a little too eye-catching. 

This thing is gonna be tough to take out in public... 

"Add an appearance disguise effect to the Horn of Abundance? Only one hundred asset points required." 

Seriously, you're all about the money, aren't you? Wait, does the jack-o'-lantern have this effect? 

"Small Jack-o'-Lantern can have an off-light effect added. Only one hundred asset points required." 

"...I already have a small jack-o'-lantern that doesn't light up." 

The night Batman found the restaurant, what Cody took out was a standard small jack-o'-lantern customized from the store. It looked just like the magic one, but had no magic. 

Given Batman's sharp senses, he would never dare to take out the magic jack-o'-lantern directly. Regardless of whether the chance of exposure was one hundred percent or one percent, there was a one hundred percent chance he'd be detected when Batman reviewed the situation later. 

Wait, what the heck?! The guy's gone! 

Cody quickly put the Horn of Plenty into his system inventory. He had originally planned to use a remote surveillance item to follow that psycho killer from a distance and see who he was planning to kill this time, but he just got distracted for a second, and the guy was gone. 

Cody hesitated for a moment. Since tracking was out of the question, maybe he could go back to the hospital and use the Horn of Abundance to treat Harvey Dent's wife, Gilda? 

No, thinking it over, that was too risky. He'd only met Harvey Dent once. What would it look like if he suddenly showed up with fruit? 

He thought about it and decided to take out the Horn of Abundance disguised as a popcorn bucket and head home, eating little strawberries. 

As for why it wasn't popcorn, that's because the Horn of Abundance only produced fruits and flowers, not modern food or meat. This disappointed Cody quite a bit; he had originally hoped to rely on the Horn of Abundance to cover all his food expenses. 

The good thing, though, was that he wouldn't need to buy groceries anymore. It said "fruits," but it was actually "fruits, vegetables, and grains," because tomatoes and corn were among the Horn of Abundance's output. The former is both a fruit and a vegetable, and the latter is a grain. So the Horn of Abundance could produce other vegetables and grains too. 

He walked through the streets and alleys, passing by the windows of the luxurious Astoria Towers Hotel, hearing the sounds of clinking glasses, celebration, and raucous singing from inside. The sound was familiar, making him instinctively spit. 

Ugh, those five rotten bastards. They'll get what's coming to them sooner or later. 

The guys having a blast inside the hotel room, of course, couldn't hear Cody grumbling. Their faces were beaming, dressed in sharp suits, completely different from their earlier lowlife appearance. 

The entire Irish gang was celebrating, gloating about the day's earnings, mocking the prosecutor's stubbornness, Gilda's gullibility, Captain Gordon's anger, Batman's silence, and the entire justice system's incompetence and weakness. 

"It's Thanksgiving, I'll drink to that!" 

"To The Roman, to the guy who paid for this damn feast!" 

"To The Roman!" *4 

The delicious food on the table sent up steam, the special Thanksgiving turkey from the Astoria Towers Hotel. The enticing aroma mingled with the red wine in their glasses, combined with the huge joy of striking it rich overnight, completely clouded their minds. They became euphoric, almost completely drunk on the holiday atmosphere. 

Then, the door was kicked open. 

Glass cups shattered on the floor, expensive red wine spilled freely. Before they could even use their knives to carve the delicious turkey, the few men frantically reached inside their jackets, trying to pull out handguns. But the high-class tailored suits were a hindrance now, trapping their hands. 

Too bad. Death's patience had run out. 

"Bang!" 

Chapter 52 A World Where Only the Roman Gets Hurt 

A .22 caliber Clipper pistol with the serial number filed off, eleven shining metal casings, a broken baby pacifier, and the vibrant red and blue Horn of Plenty on the table. 

The Thanksgiving turkey on the dining table was uncut, the delicious dishes were overturned and spilled, expensive red wine splashed on the floor, mixing with the sticky blood, making it look even more vivid. 

Finally, there were five cold bodies in suits scattered around the table. 

The same method, the same symbol, the same weapon, bringing the same death. Looking at the five people whose heads were blown open as reported in the newspaper, Gordon fell into a long silence. 

...... 

"Ring-ring—" 

The ringing of the phone woke Harvey Dent, who was dozing by the window. He rubbed his sleepy eyes and walked quietly out of the room with tired steps to answer the call. 

"Harvey? Where are you?" 

"Gordon? I'm at the hospital. Gilda just woke up this morning." 

"You were there all night? Man, well, thank God, at least we finally got some good news this morning." 

Harvey heard something off in Police Chief Gordon's voice and went straight to the point: "Did something happen?" 

"The five Irish guys went to a private room at the Astoria Tower Hotel last night for a feast, and then got their brains blown out by the 'Holiday Killer'." 

"Holiday Killer..." Harvey's gaze suddenly froze, because he saw Gilda's smooth neck in the room. 

The cross necklace wasn't there. 

"Those five guys had money to blow at the Astoria Tower Hotel, which means they made a score—off me." 

"...Yeah." 

"So that's why you asked where I was last night." 

"Harvey, I just needed to rule you out." 

"Gordon, we go way back. I'm not gonna get mad at you over something like this, but honestly, I gotta admit, I'm kinda tempted to cheer for the guy who did it—" 

"Harvey Dent." Gordon cut Harvey off. "You're the District Attorney of Gotham City. You represent the law and justice." 

Powerless justice... 

Harvey couldn't help but think, but he immediately shook his head hard, pushing the thought away. 

I am the District Attorney of Gotham City. I must represent the law and justice. 

"Gordon, all I can tell you is that I was by Gilda's side all night. She was unconscious the whole time, and I slept by her hospital bed all night." 

"I'm sorry, Harvey. Get some rest. If you need it, I can take some time off and stay with Gilda for you for a day so you can get some sleep." 

"No thanks, Gordon, you got your hands full." Harvey declined Gordon's offer. "I've still got some things to look into." 

He hung up the phone, confirmed that Gilda was still asleep for now, then pulled back the curtain and looked at the beds next to hers. 

There had been another patient and a family member there last night, but that bed was empty now. Clearly, they had checked out this morning or last night. 

Could it have been that patient? 

He thought for a moment, then turned and went to find a nurse. 

"Hi, I'm Harvey Dent, District Attorney for Gotham City. I'd like to request some surveillance footage from my wife's room from hospital management... Yes, it might be connected to an important case..." 

...... 

Cody's life had been pretty good lately. 

Living expenses were down again thanks to the Horn of Plenty. For cooking, he usually just needed to buy some meat; even a purely vegetarian meal was fine. The ingredients produced by the Horn of Plenty were really high quality; even eaten raw, they tasted way better than many poorly cooked dishes. 

Now he was constantly munching on fruit because it was genuinely delicious. 

Poorly cooked was also a term that had nothing to do with him anymore. After completing the 'Blocking is Worse Than Guiding' task, Cooking Proficiency had become the only advanced skill he currently mastered. Combined with the Horn of Plenty, there was no way he'd get tired of the food, even if every meal was vegetarian. 

"With this cooking skill, maybe I could just apply to be the Falcone family's head chef? Wouldn't the salary just be through the roof?" 

Thinking of his bright future, he couldn't help but hum while snacking on fruit. 

"Oh wait, just remembered, there's one more thing I haven't spilled yet." 

...... 

The moment he saw the surveillance feed turn to static, Harvey's fists tightened a little. 

Although the whole thing only lasted about fifteen seconds, he was sure that this was the only time frame throughout the night when someone could have entered his room and taken the necklace from Gilda's neck. Whenever anyone else had entered the room and approached the bed, he had been awake. 

Only these fifteen seconds were missing. And the patient and family member in the next bed were fast asleep in the footage; they couldn't have seen who did it. 

This person also has some hacking skills, Harvey thought silently. They precisely masked the fifteen seconds where they appeared on camera. They also knew the hospital hallway cameras didn't cover the area right outside my room door. 

"Ring-ring—" 

The phone rang again. The caller ID showed no name. Harvey raised an eyebrow, his guard instantly up. 

"Prosecutor Dent, congratulations on making it out alive." 

"What exactly do you want?" 

"A cut, Mr. Harvey. It's splitting time. Falcone put a decent bounty on you. Instead of letting the Irish gang pocket it, how about you take it as compensation for your losses? What do you say?" 

"You stole their bounty money?" 

"That's right. And I've already used it to anonymously pay for your house repairs. But from the looks of it, Falcone really wanted you dead, so there's still a large chunk of the bounty left." 

"You can handle it however you want. Honestly, even trying to confiscate this money through proper legal channels feels a little iffy. But if you go with my suggestion—since it's money earned risking your life, it makes perfect sense for you to take it. Leaving money like Falcone's with him would just turn into crime money anyway, wouldn't it?" 

"A very convincing argument." Harvey didn't commit either way. 

"Anyway, I spent nine thousand bucks, and I only took nine thousand bucks. The rest is buried in your basement. It's all up to you what you do with it." 

"One more thing. I didn't kill the Irish guys." 

"If we're lucky, we won't meet again, Prosecutor Dent." 

"Beep—Beep—Beep—" 

Harvey Dent hung up the phone, his thoughts tangled. 

This guy didn't seem to have any ill will towards him, no greed for money, and no reason to lie, since he could have just not contacted him at all. 

So, if it wasn't him, who killed the five Irish gang members? Who was the Holiday Killer? 

And what should he do about the bounty money in his basement? 

Morning light streamed through the window into the room, falling on the hospital bed. Gilda's eyelids fluttered slightly, then slowly opened. She saw Harvey, his brow furrowed, by the bed. 

At that moment, she reached out and took his hand, and his brow gently relaxed. 

Chapter 53: Every Family Has Its Troubles 

"Bullets again this time?" the old man's voice asked. 

"7.62 and 5.56, nothing new," a low voice replied. 

His black bodysuit and cape were set aside. The man stood shirtless, revealing his impressively thick and strong musculature. From front to back, his body was covered in dense, overlapping scars; there was barely an inch of unmarked skin. 

The old man looked at the scars on his body and suddenly fell silent. 

There were knife wounds, bullet wounds, burns, cat scratches, large animal claw marks, puncture wounds from an umbrella, bruises from blunt force, arrow holes from crossbows – old ones, new ones, layered upon each other. And still bleeding were over a dozen fresh wounds. 

These were just the external injuries. This body was riddled with holes internally too. 

How many more scars would he accumulate before he finally rested? How many more wounds would this city inflict upon him before it found salvation? 

"Allow me to remind you, sir, your armor plating is bullet-resistant, not bulletproof... and your stimulating herbal tea is almost gone. We cannot grow or replicate the key substances within it – you need proper rest." 

"I'll go back to microsleeping. Five minutes of rest every so often." 

The old man was speechless. 

In that moment of silence, a red alert location suddenly appeared on the computer beside them. 

"Massive shootout at 176 East District Old Street Apartments! All units respond immediately! Repeat, all units report to 176 East District Old Street for support!" 

Watching the man stand up and reach for the Batsuit lying nearby, the old man opened his mouth. In the end, with a thousand thoughts swirling, he could only manage a brief instruction. 

"Please come back soon, Master Bruce." 

... 

"Gotham's Holiday Killer strikes again recently! Five members of the Irish mob wiped out!" 

"Who is the Holiday Killer? Is Gotham about to face another serial killer?" 

Cody sat on a small stool, the little pumpkin lamp casting a glow as he read the newspaper in his hands. Today, he didn't have much going on. In fact, it would be more accurate to say there was nothing he could do for the moment. 

"Aaahhhhhhh!" 

A figure leaped out, screaming as they fell from a window several floors up, nearly landing right on top of him. 

"Whoosh—" 

A swift shadow streaked through the air, yanking the person up sharply. It then spread its black bat-wings, gliding and circling for a moment before depositing them back on the ground. 

Though the action was a little rough. 

A crisp snap sound echoed. Cody was getting pretty numb to it. That's right, he'd heard that sound dozens, maybe hundreds, of times that night in the restaurant. Every time Batman broke a bone, that sound would ring out. 

He even heard the snap of breaking bones occasionally in his dreams that night, sometimes jolting him awake. 

Perhaps that experience was a bit too intense. Now, Cody was somewhat desensitized. He sighed and turned the page of the newspaper. 

"Ah! My leg's broken! My leg!" 

"Yeah, yeah, yeah... would you quit whining?" Cody sighed, putting down his newspaper. "Can you try to be a man for a change? You guys chose to have your little war in this building. You should consider yourselves lucky you didn't get shot. How about showing some gratitude to God, or maybe Batman?" 

"Bang! Bang!" 

"Bang!" 

Upstairs, thick gray smoke and the endless sound of gunshots still poured out of the windows. Cody could even see yellow muzzle flashes from below. 

Clearly, Cody's indifferent attitude deeply stung the burly gangster. Perhaps he was used to ordinary people fearing and avoiding him, so being looked down upon now felt particularly galling. 

"You son of a...! Get me a damn ambulance! Or I'll put a bullet—" 

Snap 

"Ah—my hand! My hand!" 

Batman swooped down from the night sky and stomped directly on the hand the gangster had raised the gun with, breaking it instantly. 

"Don't let there be a second time," he said coldly, his only instruction, before using his grapple gun to fly back up to the building. 

"Wouldn't matter if there was, anyway," Cody added absentmindedly, picking up where Batman left off and continuing to read his newspaper. "There's nothing left to be afraid of. If you want to know why..." 

"Somebody call the fire department! It's catching fire! The building's on fire!" 

"Is anyone there? Is anyone calling?" 

"Already called! Already called! Stop yelling!" Cody replied impatiently, casually turning off his little pumpkin lamp. 

He couldn't read the newspaper anymore, not with all this going on. 

"How long ago did you call the cops?" 

"Fifteen minutes ago. If the fire truck gets here faster, maybe it can still save the electric toilet I just bought yesterday." He answered. "It's fine if they're slow, though, I didn't like that toilet that much anyway. Mostly just bummed about the money..." 

A passerby patted Cody on the shoulder with some sympathy. It was clear that, given how fast the residential building was burning, there likely wouldn't be much left of his home after the fire was over. 

"You don't seem too upset?" 

Hearing the passerby's question, Cody looked at the rising flames illuminating the night sky, and could still hear the sounds of the shootout and gunfight coming from the building. He couldn't help but laugh. 

A laugh born of exasperation. 

"Here's the thing," he said. "Imagine you're just a working guy. Your boss got locked up last month, so you've been busting your butt for a month, getting hit on by old ladies, getting hassled by the cops, getting dragged into random shootouts, then getting chewed out by your supervisor, and at the end of the month, you didn't make a single dime." 

"Luckily, after your boss went to the hospital, he hooked you up with another gig, and tomorrow's your rare day off. You planned to sleep in until noon, but you get woken up from a dead sleep by a bunch of idiot gangsters having a gunfight in your crummy apartment building. A bullet goes through the wall and hits your fridge, another one hits your TV, and another one shoots through your 'wife' that just arrived today. So now the only thing left in your place worth over a grand is an automatic toilet." 

"You're seriously ticked off, and then you find out those morons weren't just shooting, they lit the place on fire too. Your apartment's already burning. At that point, you don't dare stay another second. You grab whatever you can get your hands on and run downstairs through a hail of bullets." 

"Now, there's some superhero in a bodysuit showing up to join the fun, breaking the bad guys' bones one by one and tossing them out of the building. The whole scene is as chaotic as five hundred ducks running loose from a poultry farm. And all you've got on you is a newspaper, a cell phone, and a little pumpkin lamp." 

"Is that why you're only wearing underwear?" 

"Shut up." 

Cody cut him off, calmly wrapping the newspaper around himself as if it were normal. He continued, "Then you called the fire department, even though you know perfectly well fire trucks never show up in the East End until after the shooting's stopped." 

"And wouldn't you know it, you check your phone – and it's exactly twelve o'clock." 

"Dong—dong—dong—" 

Just then, the chimes from the tall clock tower in the distance rang out, as if to confirm Cody's words. 

"Now, look me in the eye, and I'll repeat the question." Cody asked, slowly and expressionlessly, "Are. You. Up. Set?" 

"Uh, sorry..."