Gotham, 10:20 AM.
Several tiny black silhouettes flew steadily toward the city skyline. When the lead armed helicopter reached Gotham's airspace, the pilot couldn't help swearing.
"This is fucking worse than Iraq!" A Black agent turned to look out the window. After sucking in a sharp breath, he asked in disbelief, "Who the hell attacked this place?"
"The craziness of those lunatics attacked their brains." An older female agent said. She squeezed the soda can in her hand, waved to the others, and said, "Get ready, we're going down!"
Of course, Amanda wasn't stupid enough to send these agents in by parachute. That would have been a guaranteed death sentence. The elite agents in the first aircraft were mainly there to ensure that the people in the following helicopters arrived safely: a group of criminals Amanda controlled with bomb collars and implanted microbombs in their brains.
They were also considered super-criminals, but most were serial killers and terrorists unlucky enough to have exposed themselves.
This was Amanda's brilliant idea: toss in some cannon fodder first to test the waters. Since Gotham's lunatics had demanded that she send people, there was no better way to kill two birds with one stone. She could eliminate these troublemakers, who would certainly cause havoc even if thrown into a maximum-security prison, while also cleverly fulfilling her agreement with the lunatics.
Amanda watched the cannon fodder parachuting down one after another on the surveillance feed, a smug smile curling her lips. Sometimes, negotiations weren't won through toughness alone. There were clever shortcuts too. Those lunatics with brains full of chaos would never understand that.
But soon, her smile froze on her face.
There were no lunatics, no negotiating partners, not even the slightest disturbance caused by super-criminals. There was only an endless barrage of stray