Interrogation

For one fleeting second, Ma Zhaodi's voice reminded the supervisor of Gollum from The Lord of the Rings—a hunched, rat-faced monster ranting in a dark corner over the mind-bending One Ring.

"Precious! My precious!" (My pay! My pay!)

"My pay! My pay!"

It was exactly the same.

"You already got your One Ring!" The supervisor was already close to a mental breakdown from the damned chandelier and Batman. Now he completely lost control and cursed incoherently, "You got it at the beginning of the month! Damn it, it's your damn pay, not the One Ring—I'm a damn idiot too!"

Ma Zhaodi was certain that if there had been any light source in the room, the supervisor's face would have been red.

Still, the lack of light wasn't necessarily a bad thing. The supervisor sounded as if he really wanted to shoot him, and might even want to shoot himself.

Batman had no idea what these two were babbling about. He simply calmly knocked down the restaurant employees one by one as they drew their guns. Finally, two minutes later, every armed employee in the restaurant had fallen. Only the supervisor had escaped disaster for the moment, because Ma Zhaodi's interference had prevented him from drawing his gun and firing.

"Say it! Say it!" Ma Zhaodi watched helplessly as Batman vanished into the darkness, alarm bells ringing in his mind. He frantically shook the supervisor. "Say it! Say that line!"

"Stop getting in the way of my shooting! You—"

The supervisor's words cut off abruptly. A tall, cold, black figure silently appeared beside them and reached out to seize the gun in the supervisor's hand, slamming him to the floor.

"No—"

A desperate cry rang out in Ma Zhaodi's heart. At that moment, he finally understood how the supervisor felt: it was like watching a fortune slip away through his fingers.

Of course, he was also concerned for the supervisor's safety. But Batman didn't kill people, so the supervisor definitely wouldn't die. At worst, he would suffer a little.

Ma Zhaodi, however, was in far worse shape. Setting aside whether Batman might break his bones, he had worked himself to the bone for an entire month and had finally put in enough hours to get paid. Now that it was time to collect his money, his company was about to go up in smoke.

For Ma Zhaodi, this was easily the most despairing thing he had encountered today.

"On the night before Halloween, someone carved an ugly pumpkin in the restaurant. Where is he?"

He took that back. The previous matter was the second most despairing thing Ma Zhaodi had encountered today.

A cold, deep voice rang out. Batman completely ignored Ma Zhaodi, who was already lying beside him. The man hadn't drawn a gun at all; the instant the supervisor was subdued, he had put his hands over his head and dropped to the floor. There wasn't the slightest hint of resistance in him, only an overwhelming desire to survive.

But the instant he heard Batman's words, Ma Zhaodi's vision went black. He began searching through the store for Rapid Life Recovery.

"Damn it, I knew Batman was the biggest lunatic in Gotham City. He can even track down something like this—I only carved it in the shop for half an hour!"

Hearing Batman's question, the supervisor, who was being pinned down, froze for a moment. Then he sprawled on the floor and burst into loud laughter, laughing so hard he rocked back and forth.

"Hahahaha—this?" he mocked between laughs. "Ha, so this is the nightmare of Gotham City at midnight? Hahaha—cough, cough—investigating a murder and ending up with some idiot who carved an ugly pumpkin?"

"So what if I can't carve pumpkins? Did making it a little ugly hurt your family's rice supply?"

Unable to hold back, Ma Zhaodi raised his head and protested, "My pumpkin clearly has a strong artistic quality. You're the one with no artistic sense!"

At that moment, both the supervisor and Batman looked over. The supervisor's eyes held the expression one reserved for an idiot, while Batman casually set Ma Zhaodi back down on the floor.

"So you carved that pumpkin?"

It was an obvious question. Would Batman have acted without first confirming the identities of everyone in the restaurant? He simply hadn't had time to determine whether Ma Zhaodi really was an innocent passerby who had just arrived in Gotham.

Ma Zhaodi's heart pounded. Only when he truly faced that enormous black bat could he understand how terrifying Batman's pressure was. In just two minutes, he had beaten more than a dozen Falcone gangsters carrying guns to their knees, leaving them unable to move. Even though he had used the cover of tonight's thunderstorm, it was still enough to show how powerful he was.

Muay Thai, boxing, taekwondo, judo, ninjutsu, Brazilian jiu-jitsu. He had mastered all 127 fighting styles in the world. Degrees in criminology, law, biology, physics, advanced chemistry, medicine, and other fields represented only the tip of the iceberg of his knowledge. Brutal physical training begun at the age of eleven, a specialized diet, and biofeedback training had brought his body to the absolute pinnacle of normal human physical ability. Master of tactics, master of interrogation, embodiment of fear—these were all his titles.

Batman could almost be called a perfect human in a certain sense. Only someone like him could use flesh and blood to beat Gotham City's gangsters, assassins, criminals, and supervillains who wielded ice, wielded fire, relied on schemes, played with human nature, used magic, depended on mutation, were undead, were not alive, and so on into submission, then haul them back to prison or Arkham Asylum.

And now, a man like that was standing right in front of him. Although Batman had not yet grown into the keen, terrifying figure he would become later, prying a few secrets out of Ma Zhaodi's mouth would still be effortless.

"Boom!"

Another peal of thunder exploded outside the window. Lightning tore across the night sky and illuminated the room, casting the cold, solemn shadow of the bat over Ma Zhaodi and completely submerging him in darkness.

"I—I carved it. Carving a pumpkin for Halloween isn't illegal—"

"But murder is illegal, and the pumpkin left at the murder scene was just as ugly."

"What do you mean, 'just as ugly'? The people of Gotham City really have no manners."

As he spoke, Ma Zhaodi took a tiny pumpkin lantern from his pocket. The eyebrows and eyes carved into it were almost as ugly as the pumpkin found at the scene of Johnny Vitti's death, though in different ways.

But if Batman were asked to judge, the one in front of him did indeed seem even uglier.

"Where did you go after leaving home on Halloween night?"

"Out on the street, playing along with the costumed crowds celebrating Halloween."

Batman's eyes narrowed slightly, revealing his displeasure.

Seeing that things were going badly, Ma Zhaodi immediately begged for mercy. "Don't hit me, don't hit me! I went to the Diamond District, wearing the Pumpkin Head costume I carved myself."

"Where is your costume now?"

"I left it at home. I haven't had a chance to eat it yet."

"Did you see the fire at the factory?"

At that question, Ma Zhaodi's heart tightened.