Gotham City seemed gloomier than usual today.
Rain poured from the sky in a rapid patter. The icy mist entered pedestrians' lungs with every breath, making them shiver involuntarily. The dark clouds overhead were much thicker than before, making the already dim daylight seem even gloomier. The entire city seemed shrouded in sinister darkness.
Gotham in the shadows made people deeply uncomfortable.
The conversation taking place at the GCPD (Gotham Police Department) headquarters in central Gotham City was even more uncomfortable.
"I was responsible for driving people away from the scene that day. I'll write everything down, if you need me to."
"I delivered the package to that woman, Harvey Dent's wife, Mrs. Dent, you know. I'll write everything down, if you need me to."
"I followed Dent to his home. That's right, I did it—I followed him until he got home. If you need it all written down, I will."
"I was the one who pressed that damn remote-control button. And I'll write everything down, if you need me to."
The five testimonies, including Mickey's, matched up perfectly without a single loophole. No matter how much Roman had paid them, he had gotten his money's worth.
Batman thought this silently.
A police officer waiting nearby heard a deep, hoarse voice emerge from the darkness: "Bring Mickey back."
Meanwhile, in another old building in Gotham's East End—
"Breaking news! Five members of the Irish Mob who nearly bombed Gotham City District Attorney Harvey Dent's home have confessed to attempted murder!"
"As of now, Mrs. Dent remains hospitalized and has yet to regain consciousness. We will continue to bring you further updates."
Ma Zhaodi stared at the bold, enlarged black headline in the newspaper. The corners of his mouth split into a satisfied smile.
How had things come to this?
Perhaps it had all begun with the mission he received a few days ago?
--
"Thank you, System Daddy! System Daddy is the best. Come here and give me a kiss—mua!"
One of humanity's essential traits was loving something once it had become reality.
Better to divert than to dam. Mission Description: When Falcone sets his sights on someone, that person is guaranteed to have a miserable time in Gotham—unless they're a superhero. Unfortunately, Harvey Dent wasn't a superhero, and Falcone now believed that he had burned his two million dollars in dirty money and perhaps even killed his nephew. Under these circumstances, very few people could help him, and even fewer were willing to. Note: It's understandable not to want to take a high-risk, low-reward job—even if you don't want to fight. You don't have infinite money or a cheat code that gives you invincible health. Status: Incomplete (0/1) Reward: Advanced Culinary Mastery
Ma Zhaodi stared at the mission description and contents, lost in thought for a long while—not because he was struggling between his conscience and the pros and cons, but because the mission was utterly fucking absurd.
"Help the Irish Mob bomb Harvey Dent's house? Me? I'm supposed to make the bomb? Do you think Two-Face's origin story would be a lot less fun without a cannon fodder character named Ma Zhaodi?"
"The damage to the house must not exceed twenty percent, and Harvey Dent and Mrs. Dent must survive. Do you want to take a look at what you're saying? The mission description says to help him, while the mission objective says to bomb him. What exactly do you want me to do? Wait."
Ma Zhaodi looked at the mission title and suddenly began to understand.
Before coming to Gotham City, Ma Zhaodi had played a game called Soul 5. It contained a bizarre item called a Poisonous Dung Pie. Throwing it made the user become poisoned.
What the hell kind of item was that? What was the point of it?
Then he encountered some monsters that used deadly poison arrows. Their poison was strong enough to kill players instantly, and those annoying things had stalled him for an entire afternoon.
During one particularly rage-filled breakdown, he began fighting back with dung pies. To his surprise, he discovered that the dung pies inflicted the Poisoned status on him, causing the poison arrows' deadly venom to lose their effect.
From then on, every time he defeated an opponent, he threw two pieces of dung at them to replenish his own poisoned status.
"I'm a damn genius!"
Having figured it out, Ma Zhaodi immediately accepted the job. Dealing with the mob was dangerous, and bombing Harvey Dent's house might get him remembered by Harvey, but he couldn't escape this matter.
He was the one who had burned the two million dollars. Harvey had merely happened to arrive at the scene. No matter how you looked at it, making a justice-minded district attorney take the blame for him was already utterly shameless. If he could help and still stood by doing nothing, he would be lacking the virtue of his ancestors for eighteen generations.
He didn't want to have a son who would be born without a penis. If Harvey was destined to become Two-Face, he also hoped that his origin story wouldn't include him—even if he couldn't be a good person, he could at least avoid being a bad one.
"Ma Zhaodi, what are you spacing out for?"
Santos casually patted him on the shoulder. "Are you thinking about where to go have fun tonight?"
"Do you even need to ask?" Ma Zhaodi smiled confidently. "As a penniless restaurant waiter, I spend every evening happily learning to cook from livestreams. That way, I can pretend I have a wife when I take pictures."
"...Sorry. I shouldn't have asked."
"No, no, no." Rick suddenly joined in. "It's payday tonight. You forgot? Spend some money and go straight to a bar. Find a pretty girl, buy her a few drinks, and find somewhere nice to spend the night. Isn't that better than staying home?"
"Or I've got a party at my place." The party-addicted Castro chimed in. "There'll be lots of girls coming."
"Oh, right, today is payday." Ma Zhaodi's ears automatically filtered out the unnecessary noise. His head was filled with only those three words: payday.
His salary for the entire month—Asset Points—would only be credited after payday today. At the thought of receiving several thousand dollars' worth of Asset Points, Ma Zhaodi couldn't help humming softly.
See? He only knew how to ghost his audience, not quit.
Before you continue