I'm Just the Bouncer

Barely ten seconds later, Liv spread her legs wide like a compass.

You ask why she stopped crossing them?

What was the point? The man was already dead!

She watched the scene where over thirty gunmen swarmed forward, braving the explosions to riddle Downton with bullets until he looked like a sieve.

Liv rolled her eyes, the corners of her mouth twitching upward toward the heavens.

What the hell was I expecting?

She snorted in annoyance, too lazy to even look at Downton's corpse.

Even if he had the same look in his eyes as Falcone, once dead, he was no longer a rare commodity—he was worthless.

She only felt a tinge of regret, a regret that such an unusual gaze had belonged to a lunatic.

With a scoff and a shake of her head, Liv clapped her hands to quiet the dancers.

Just as Liv was irritably soothing the dancers, a series of screams suddenly erupted from outside.

"Holy shit, he vanished!"

"Did anyone see where he went?"

"He's on fire!"

"He had white phosphorus on him, he's self-combusting!"

The shouts were clear enough, but Liv didn't pay them any mind; she still had to deal with the inevitable interrogation to come.

This attack had started in her backstage area, and whether it was Oswald or Boss Falcone, they would both be questioning her. She had too much to handle.

Not long after, Oswald arrived at the scene of the attack, having hurriedly donned his bulletproof vest and carrying his umbrella.

He used the umbrella to poke at the onlookers, forcing them to clear a path before he appeared at the spot where Downton's body had vanished.

The tip of his umbrella jabbed hard at the scorch marks left by the self-combustion as Oswald asked in a low, gravelly voice.

"So, from the very beginning, there was only one person?

He broke into my club alone, snuck into my backstage alone, took out a dozen of my men alone, and then vanished into thin air all by himself!!!"

At this, Oswald was so angry he nearly choked.

He would have preferred the enemy to be dozens or hundreds of professional gunmen, because that scale of threat wouldn't make him look incompetent!

As it stood, Oswald could only grit his teeth and point his umbrella at the terrified underlings surrounding him.

"How did he do it? I want to know everything!"

Less than a minute later, Bartel and his three companions, pinned to the ground by the others, told Oswald everything.

Why four people?

Because the gatekeeper who had taken the bribe separately had been dragged over as well.

As for the cash they had accepted, it was currently piled up right in front of Oswald's shoes.

Oswald jabbed the tip of his umbrella into the pile of bills, looking around like a hawk as he spoke, word by word.

"How much is this? A measly sixteen thousand!

A mere sixteen thousand was enough to pry open my doors and bring danger to the Iceberg Lounge, which hasn't been attacked in two full years!

This is the answer you give me after I've spent two years cultivating you idiots!"

With that, Oswald struggled to contain his rage before pulling out his phone to call Falcone.

Facing Falcone's reprimand, Oswald nodded slightly and replied.

"It's my fault, Boss. I let a big-spending lunatic slip in.

But that lunatic was only one man; he hardly qualifies as a problem."

As he finished speaking, Oswald waited respectfully for the call to end.

Once the dial tone sounded, Oswald turned his gaze back to the four men being held firmly on the ground.

"A measly sixteen thousand, heh. So, the jobs I provide you are all worth less than sixteen thousand, is that it?"

"Perhaps it was more than sixteen thousand, Mr. Oswald. I have more here!"

Liv, having just finished collecting the cash from the panicked dancers, walked toward Oswald from a distance.

Arriving beside the sofa where Oswald sat, Liv tossed the additional bills in front of him.

"This guy handed out quite a bit to the girls at my place. I did a quick check; it's at least forty thousand."

"That makes fifty-six thousand, heh..."

Liv's addition brought Oswald a sliver of comfort; after all, fifty-six thousand was certainly better than sixteen.

At the very least, it would cover the repairs for the blown-up floor and walls.

But that wasn't how things worked. Oswald couldn't just pocket all the money, especially not the portion Liv had brought over.

Although Liv's partnership with the Falcone family went back a long way, she was also the manager for all the showgirls in every bar across Gotham.

She also operated as a broker, navigating her way through all of Gotham's crime families.

In short, Liv was not a subordinate of the Falcone family; they were merely collaborators.

Oswald used his umbrella to sweep the pile of banknotes aside and continued speaking to Liv.

"It's all yours, Liv. Take it and distribute it among the frightened women."

"But before that, you are responsible for restoring the club to its original state."

"Thank you for your generosity, Mr. Oswald."

Liv nodded, and immediately, some girls crouched down to gather the cash.

Just as all the gunmen were staring at the large, crisp bills on the floor, a flippant voice suddenly rang out from outside the crowd.

"Such a lively scene—you wouldn't happen to be waiting for me, would you?"

While calling out, Downton used his pistol to shove aside the gunmen blocking his path, walking toward the center of the crowd.

Due to the violent incident that had just occurred, the club was brightly lit, and people recognized Downton's face at a glance.

The thugs in the back who hadn't seen Downton before were one thing, but as for everyone else who had truly seen him, every single one of them gasped, contributing their own small part to global warming.

Click!

Countless pistols were aimed at Downton.

Downton, however, ignored the muzzles pointed at him and waved at Liv in the center of the crowd.

Seeing Downton alive and well, Liv covered her mouth in astonishment.

Beside her, Oswald stared fixedly at Downton, though he asked the stunned Liv, "Liv, you were once closest to him. Are you certain it's really him?"

"I am absolutely certain!"

Liv nodded heavily.

"A person's body and face might be disguised, but their eyes cannot. I will never forget that look!"

"Very well!"

Oswald took a deep breath and then rose from the sofa.

Facing the approaching Downton, he held his umbrella and said, "It seems Gotham has gained one more impossibility."

"That's not even the half of it. The future impossibilities of Gotham will be too numerous to count—it's just a pity you won't live to see that time, Sabatino."

Facing the calm and composed Oswald, Downton grinned, for he was within range!

Once he found his target, Downton couldn't be bothered with small talk, so he swiftly raised his pistol.

The moment he was targeted by the muzzle, Oswald finally lost his previous composure, and he immediately tried to roll to the side.

Unfortunately, he had been posturing too much earlier; before he could even push off, Downton's bullets had already struck him!

Bang! Bang! Bang!

Only one of the three shots hit Oswald in the chest, but the powerful kinetic force of the Desert Eagle still sent Oswald flying!

"The boss is dead!"

"Let the feast begin!"

"He took out the boss!"

"Damn it, kill him, kill—"

"Wait, so many grenades!"

Before the surrounding gunmen could even fire, Downton pulled out a string of nine grenades.

His finger was hooked through the pin of one of the grenades, which could explode at any moment.

The appearance of this item sent the gunmen into a panic, and they scrambled to scatter into the distance.

Meanwhile, hearing the shouts of his men, Oswald, lying on the ground, gasped for air with great difficulty.

"Save... save me, I'm not dead yet, I'm wearing a bulletproof vest..."

"My bones are broken... wait, don't come over here!!!"

Before Oswald could finish his sentence, Downton had already pounced on him.

The moment the thick muzzle of the Desert Eagle pressed against Oswald's forehead, Oswald's adrenaline hit peak performance mode!

"Wait, no, you've got the wrong person!"

Faced with a life-or-death crisis, Oswald, who had been weak and powerless just a moment ago, not only became extremely rational but also let out a high note that could rival Pavarotti.

"I'm not this Sabatino you're talking about! Do I look like that kind of big shot? I'm just a floor manager!"

"I'm Oswald! To hell with Sabatino—that guy really deserves to die!!!"