Batman, I Have an Early Shift!

Ma Zhaodi had naturally seen the factory go up in flames. He had been the one to set it on fire in the first place.

In reality, this had always been a multiple-choice question. Every question Batman had asked before this one had been multiple-choice.

He knew that Ma Zhaodi had carved a pumpkin in the shop, so for the first question, he naturally could not answer no.

He had a way to find out what he had told his coworkers. He had mentioned in the shop that he would go out to sell pumpkins on Halloween, so for the second question, Ma Zhaodi could only answer that he had gone out into the streets.

Likewise, it would have been easy for Batman to determine that there was a Pumpkin Head in his home. He might even have taken pictures of it, then carefully checked the surveillance cameras at key intersections, or directly questioned the residents and passersby near the area where Johnny Vitti had been killed. In that case, if anyone—even an old grandmother with a poor memory—had ever seen his distinctive pumpkin mask, they would have recognized it immediately, because it was far too distinctive.

So for the third question, Ma Zhaodi had answered that he had gone to the Diamond District wearing the mask.

Those three questions had used known information to determine whether he would lie. But the question about the factory fire sounded different, because after putting away the Pumpkin Head, he had completed his concealment and changed his clothes with the system's help. Batman had probably been unable to continue investigating along the Pumpkin Head's trail.

But it only sounded different.

The factory fire had been far too massive. That night, everyone in the Diamond District could see the billowing black smoke and soaring flames from halfway across the district. For a wealthy area like the Diamond District, such an event was exceedingly rare and impossible not to notice. So it would not be an exaggeration to say that the entire Diamond District had noticed the fire that had sent Falcone into a furious rage.

"I saw the flames from far away, and I heard the crowd panicking. I was afraid something else might happen, so I left immediately."

"But you weren't still wearing the mask?"

"I took it off." Ma Zhaodi gave an awkward laugh. "It was too ugly. It was embarrassing. And everyone had gone to watch the fire, so I was afraid people would notice my mask."

That was the truth. After quickly getting away from the factory area, he had deliberately taken off his mask. Once the fire had started, it had become his alibi.

So he knew that his pumpkin carving was ugly after all.

That thought suddenly popped into everyone's head—even Batman's.

At that moment, Batman continued staring at Ma Zhaodi. His physical reactions, contracting pupils, heartbeat, perspiration, and other signs all indicated that he was telling the truth, yet Batman instinctively felt that something was wrong with him.

He was far too nervous, yet far too relaxed.

Everyone became nervous when facing Batman, but criminals were usually terrified of him and hated him intensely. Even ordinary people were generally wary of him, distrustful, and a little hostile—and that was perfectly normal. Who would trust a bat freak who hid in the darkness every day, beat people until their bones broke, and hung them from towers?

He was Gotham City's nightmare—not just the criminals' nightmare, but everyone's. Few people had ever been willing to trust him.

Yet the person before him seemed certain that Batman would not hurt him. Either he was not very bright, or he understood Batman better than ordinary people did. He understood—or thought he understood—Batman's abilities and principles, so he feared him more than ordinary people did, while also trusting him more than ordinary people did.

When I get back, I'll investigate the identity of this outsider who just arrived in Gotham thoroughly, he thought silently, then turned his gaze toward the supervisor.

"Where is Donald?"

The supervisor's expression suddenly changed. He and Donald had recently done quite a bit of work for the Falcone family at night, and killed quite a few people as well. Batman clearly wasn't looking for Donald to reminisce.

"Don't even think you're getting anything out of me!"

In an instant, he swiftly threw a fierce hook with his other hand. From that punch alone, it was obvious that he was an excellent boxer. If it had hit Ma Zhaodi in the face, it would have been enough to knock him unconscious.

But the punch was aimed at Batman.

"Crack."

The sound of a dislocation rang out. Batman easily reached out with his other hand, seized the supervisor's wrist, and dislocated his joint.

"Where is Donald?"

"Fuck you! Go to hell!"

That clearly wasn't an acceptable answer.

So Batman grabbed the supervisor with one hand, walked to the broken window, pulled out his grappling gun, and leaped down with him.

"AAAAAAAH—"

Ma Zhaodi watched the bat's shadow disappear into Gotham City's night sky with the supervisor. Tears silently streamed down his face as he roared soundlessly in his heart.

"Batman! I have an early shift! I haven't even gotten my wages yet!"

At that moment, the police sirens downstairs drowned out the sound of the pouring rain. Commissioner Gordon led his men inside and looked at the injured people strewn across the floor, as well as Ma Zhaodi standing there in silent sorrow. He was utterly baffled.

How come there's still one who can stand this time? Has Batman started believing in Buddha?

"Age?"

"Twenty-four. I'm a restaurant server."

"Sex?"

"Male."

"Name?"

"Ma Zhaodi."

Staring at the still-blindingly pale lights, Ma Zhaodi, who never smoked, suddenly felt the urge to light one.

"I only work there, sir. Why was I brought back to the Gotham Police Department for questioning again?"

"Who told you to show up in the wrong place at the wrong time?" Gordon shook his head and pulled out a cigarette. "I've never seen anyone as unlucky as you. Mind if I smoke?"

"Go ahead, go ahead." With a look of utter despair, Ma Zhaodi pulled a Pocky stick from his pocket and stuck it in his mouth. "You can laugh too. I'm already like this anyway."

Gordon hadn't really wanted to laugh, but seeing Ma Zhaodi in his current state was genuinely hard to resist. This was the first time he had ever seen an innocent civilian brought to the Gotham Police Department twice in such a short span of time.

"This isn't a normal situation either. You were present when Richard Daniel was shot. You were also present when Johnny Vitti was assassinated and when the factory's counterfeit money was burned in a fire. You even worked at that restaurant."

He turned his head and exhaled a puff of smoke. "You just arrived in Gotham City, and you're not a gang member, so your level of suspicion should be lower. But your luck is just too good."

Ma Zhaodi sighed and finished eating the Pocky. "Whatever, whatever. Let's finish taking my statement quickly."

I have to work tomorrow, he thought. Hopefully someone will compensate me for my wages.

The next day, Ma Zhaodi stood outside the restaurant, staring blankly at the locked doors, a bewildered look on his face.

"Wait, where did my workplace go?"