I'm Not Done With You

"I know I shouldn't be impatient, but time waits for no one, Alfred.

I must act as soon as possible if I am to have any chance of rooting out this major problem, Downton, from Gotham."

Bruce replied, then picked up his knife and fork to eat his breakfast quickly.

As he ate, he seized the moment to continue.

"Although Downton's ability to cheat death has been confirmed, his own strength is still very raw for the time being—though, of course, only for the time being.

With his lifestyle of chasing death, I fear it won't be long before he evolves into one of the most dangerous men in the world through the hail of bullets and repeated deaths.

Only now, while he lacks experience, can I search for his weaknesses as much as possible and drive him out of Gotham!

If I miss this chance while he is still like this, I have a premonition that he will become a massive problem that haunts me for the rest of my life!"

As his voice fell, Bruce expressionlessly speared a piece of fried egg.

Noticing that Bruce's grip on the fork had tightened slightly, Alfred shook his head and urged him.

"We are not the only ones who want to deal with him, Bruce. Perhaps we could let others try first.

Just like yesterday, the conflict between Downton and the Falcone family resulted in Falcone losing his old friend of many years, Sabatino. Downton's actions are destined to be at odds with the existing gangs in Gotham.

In my view, letting their feud ferment for a while longer might be a more suitable idea than rushing into an attack."

"Even if fools happen to find Downton's weakness, they may not be able to exploit it well. A clumsy attempt that alerts him might even make Downton aware of his own potential vulnerabilities and allow him to take targeted measures to compensate for them.

I do not trust any gang in Gotham, and I trust the useless City Hall and the Gotham Police Department—who are in bed with Falcone—even less.

Whether it is Downton, or Falcone and his cronies, they all deserve to go to hell, but the level of trouble Downton poses makes him the priority.

I will eventually bring retribution to each and every one of them in the name of Gotham's dark night; they must live every remaining day of their lives in endless pain and fear.

This is my revenge against them, and it must be done by my own hand. I cannot wait even a single moment longer, Alfred!"

Faced with Alfred's persuasion, Bruce turned his head, reflecting his cold, indifferent pupils in Alfred's eyes.

Looking into Bruce's icy gaze, Alfred felt his very breath hitch for a moment.

Yes, he should have known; even after fifteen years, Bruce was still standing in that Crime Alley. He had never truly escaped.

As for the Bruce before him, the man walking the earth today was nothing more than the embodiment of vengeance.

He hadn't even had the chance to fall in love with this city before he began to loathe every inch of its land and every person within it.

It was just that his hatred for the criminals in this city was even deeper!

Taking a deep breath, Alfred nodded gently.

"I understand, Bruce. But even so, you still need better armor and equipment.

I will expedite the custom order for the mask you requested. As for the rest, I think you should go to the R&D department at Wayne Enterprises.

Lucius hasn't had an easy time in the years you've been away, but his mind hasn't gone to waste.

Perhaps you will find something there that satisfies you."

"I will go later."

Faced with the butler's kindness, Bruce replied, feeling a slight pang in his heart.

As sharp as he was, how could he fail to see the worry, guilt, pain, and disappointment hidden in the butler's heart?

A pie chart was far from enough to describe a person's state of mind, and the complexity of human beings was far beyond what modern mathematics could parse.

Struggling to stop himself from looking into Alfred's eyes, Bruce continued.

"While I am at the company, I need you to continue monitoring news about Downton for me.

If possible, crack and tap the phone Downton left for the reporter, Lois.

Beyond that, I need more intelligence on this city. When there is no news on Downton, I hope you can help me collect and organize some."

"Of course, Bruce. I am always on your side."

Alfred nodded, then smiled at Bruce, just as he had ten or twenty years ago.

That smile stung Bruce's eyes, so he set down his cutlery, dressed, and headed straight for Wayne Enterprises.

Meanwhile, not far from the entrance of the Gunfire Feast in Little Italy.

Two early-rising streetwalkers' eyes lit up.

"Is that him?"

"That's him, I've seen him with my own eyes. Quick, call the boss!"

The "him" mentioned by the streetwalkers did not notice the women's whispering. Standing in front of the bald owner's shop, Downton shrugged helplessly.

"No way, surely someone didn't get scared off to the countryside by Falcone from that far away, right?"

As he spoke, Downton tapped on the locked shop door, but even after tapping for over ten seconds, there was no response from within.

Consequently, Downton drew his gun with a smirk.

"Old man, I've come to restock. Since you aren't here, I'll just borrow them myself. I'll pay you back when I have the money!

Falcone hasn't even investigated you yet, and you've already hidden away in the countryside? Does that cowardice of yours even live up to the heavy hardware you keep in your shop!"

As his voice fell, Downton fired several shots into the lock cylinder of the rolling shutter, shattering it instantly.

Accompanied by the blaring of the alarm, he yanked the shutter open and charged into the bald owner's shop with a boisterous laugh.

He first grabbed the tactical backpack closest to the door, then began stocking it with supplies.

Downton didn't even touch the flashy tactical rifles; instead, he stuffed two short shotguns into the bag, followed by a submachine gun, and finally added a Desert Eagle to become a dual-wielder.

He crammed the remaining space in the backpack with grenades and ammunition, choosing only fragmentation grenades—he wanted raw, overwhelming power.

On top of that, he found a tactical knife and strapped it to his waist.

Before the police could arrive, he was already sprinting toward the Iceberg Lounge with a bag full of gear on his back.

Downton never put off revenge until the next day; if he did, it was only because it was time to clock out.

After resting for a night to recharge his energy, he naturally had to continue his vendetta against the Dimitrov Family.

Sabatino had been dead for so long, yet the boss of the Dimitrov Family was still alive—just thinking about it made Downton feel like he had been far too lazy.

Perhaps he should extend his overtime hours until nine o'clock; the way he had gone for a massage at seven last night... it was such a waste of time.

After all, a massage after nine made for a much better night's sleep!

However, even though he intended to finish the job with the Dimitrov Family, he lacked any intelligence on them.

So, he had no choice but to head to the Iceberg Lounge to sit down and touch base with his designated black-stockinged middleman.

Upon learning of Downton's arrival, Liv, who had just received word from her subordinates, hurried out to greet him.

Meanwhile, in Little Italy, the bald owner stopped his car, his face a mask of bewilderment as he stared blankly at his tattered shop door... and his looted weapon store!

Even though he had rushed over from home the moment he received the alarm, by the time Downton left, his shop—now lacking the protection of its main door—had been picked clean by countless vultures, much like a drunken girl left vulnerable in the street.

Looking at his nearly empty shop, the bald owner swallowed hard, then raised his wrist to check his watch.

"It's only eight-forty in the damn morning! What kind of gun shop opens this early?! Downton, you goddamn son of a bitch, I'm going to fuck your whole family! You've gone insane, absolutely insane! Don't you ever think about getting gear from me again! I'm not finished with you, Downton!!!"