Gotham Has More Good People

At the shop entrance Downton had his eye on, the young saleswoman was equally startled by Downton's sudden appearance.

Just moments ago, she had seen off a generous customer.

As she stood by the entrance, reluctantly watching the customer get into their car, the shirtless Downton suddenly popped out from behind it.

"Am I seeing things?!"

The saleswoman instinctively covered her mouth, staring at Downton in disbelief.

When she saw Downton sneering back at her, her heart gave a heavy thump. She hurried back into the store and slammed the door shut.

At the same time, Downton stepped over the car idling in front of him and made his way to the door the saleswoman was desperately guarding.

He raised a hand and patted the glass door, smiling.

"Come out and serve your customer!"

"No!... Waaaah!"

The saleswoman burst into tears. Serving a customer was impossible—he, he, he... he wasn't human!

Who just appeared out of thin air?

He was a demon, a devil, or perhaps...

Suddenly, the saleswoman's already wide eyes grew even wider.

She remembered a nursery rhyme her mother had told her when she was little.

Beware the Court of Owls, always watching you.

They watch Gotham from the shadows, hidden among low walls and attic rooms.

They dwell within your home, and sit beside your bed.

Never speak their name aloud, or Talon will come for your head.

Though the thought had lasted only a moment, it still made the saleswoman's legs go even weaker.

How many children in Gotham didn't know that rhyme?

Even Bruce Wayne had been frightened by it as a child. Owls had also been one of the animals young Bruce feared most, aside from bats.

Downton naturally had no idea what the saleswoman was thinking. He merely knocked on the door while looking through the glass at her legs in black stockings.

Don't get the wrong idea. He wasn't that desperate. Even if he wanted to do something, he wasn't perverted enough to do it with a woman reeking of urine.

That was right. Even though the saleswoman had squeezed her legs together, she had still wet herself.

The body's instincts were not something ordinary people could easily control.

At the sight, Downton rolled his eyes, then pulled the pistol from his waist and tapped the glass door with its muzzle.

"Let's try another way.

This is a robbery. Open the door right now, or I'll shoot!"

"I-I-I...?"

For some reason, although Downton had drawn a gun, the saleswoman felt much less afraid.

Looking at the gun barrel pointed at her through the glass, she even felt a sense of relief.

So you weren't a demon, a devil, or one of the Court of Owls' Talons from that nursery rhyme.

You should have said you were a robber sooner! If you had, I wouldn't have been scared. I'm used to this!

"Don't shoot! This door is expensive!"

Once she was sure Downton was only there to rob the place, the saleswoman obediently pushed the door open.

As she let Downton inside, she spoke.

"The boss isn't here, and my coworker went shopping with her new boyfriend. I'm the only one in the store.

Y-you... the cash register is at the counter. Just help yourself... Don't hurt me, please. Waaaah!"

As she spoke, the saleswoman cried even harder. The dampness against her legs made her feel increasingly ashamed. With humiliation and fear mixed together, how could she stop her tears?

Seeing the woman cry like that, Downton pointed his gun toward the counter.

"Go change your clothes. You stink. Hurry up!"

"I..."

"What do you mean, 'I'? Go!"

When the saleswoman still hesitated, Downton knocked her on the head with the butt of his gun. The saleswoman, about five foot seven, looked like a chick in front of the six-foot-one Downton.

Frightened by Downton, the saleswoman hurried toward the counter, intending to clean herself up in the staff break room behind it.

As she passed the counter, she could not help pausing to open the cash register first.

Clang~

The cash register sprang open with a crisp, pleasant sound. Besides several stacks of bills in different denominations, a few coins clinked together.

But Downton did not touch the money. Clothes were far more urgently needed than cash. While the saleswoman changed, he picked out a black suit and changed into it in the fitting room.

When Downton emerged from the fitting room, the saleswoman was mopping by the entrance. Hearing him, she froze for a moment, then immediately sped up.

As she hurriedly cleaned, the saleswoman found time to say something to Downton.

"You'd better grab the money and leave quickly. Someone outside has already called the police. I... I didn't press the alarm, but someone saw you threatening me with a gun."

"Ha, thanks. Shame about the circumstances, or I'd definitely buy you a drink for being so cooperative."

Hearing her words, Downton looked up at the store's surveillance cameras.

Then he walked over, drew his gun, and shot all three cameras.

The gunshots made the saleswoman clamp her legs tightly together. She almost wet herself again.

Fortunately, Downton's next question distracted her from her fear.

"Hey, are those the only three cameras in the store?"

"Uh... there's another one in the staff break room. I-is something wrong?"

"Nothing."

After getting his answer, Downton walked to the cash register at the counter.

This clothing store was considered mid-range luxury. Most customers paid by card, so the register held no large bills, only small notes kept for making change.

Downton casually grabbed a handful of bills, then returned to the saleswoman and stuffed them into her cleavage.

The saleswoman was fairly well-endowed, and her chest could hold the bills. At least it did not waste Downton's good intentions.

"Since the store's been robbed anyway, who cares whose hands the money is in? If anyone asks, just blame me."

After leaving those words behind, Downton raised his gun again and fired wildly around the store.

Once he had emptied the magazine, he reloaded while pushing open the door beneath the saleswoman's complicated gaze.

When Downton stepped onto the street, the people nearby who had been watching after hearing the gunshots scattered like birds and beasts.

Only two burly middle-aged men each drew a pistol, intending to confront Downton.

Seeing them looking as if they faced a deadly enemy, tense enough to empty their magazines at any moment, Downton smiled with interest.

"Guys, there's no need for this. I didn't even hurt anyone.

I only borrowed less than a thousand dollars, and borrowed a suit while I was at it."

In front of the two men, Downton raised his gun toward the sky in a gesture of goodwill.

At the same time, the two men confronting him each looked into the clothing store to check.

Although the saleswoman now stood there in a daze, she was clearly unharmed, and her clothes were perfectly neat.

So they exchanged a glance and put their guns away.

After holstering his weapon, the slightly balding middle-aged man hurried into the store to ask after the saleswoman.

Unlike the middle-aged man, the younger man said something to Downton instead.

"The cops around here are usually 'patrolling' at the bar two streets south. You'd better head north.

If you steal another car, they might not make it in time to stop you.

Everyone has a particularly awful day once in a while. Good luck, buddy."

"Ha, interesting. Then thanks a lot!"

Listening to the young man's blessing, Downton smiled. Gotham really did have more good people.

Those who listened to advice got fed. After looking in the direction the young man had pointed out, he walked over to a car parked by the roadside and prepared to smash its window with the butt of his gun.

Not far away, the young man who had just advised Downton froze for a moment, then hurriedly charged at him.

"Don't you fucking move! That's my car!!!"

"Fuck, why didn't you say so sooner!"

Downton sheepishly withdrew his hand, which had nearly swung down.

"Almost hurt an ally!"