Boom

"Screech, screech, screech."

The harsh sound of a metal file echoed in the basement. Fortunately, although noisy, the sound wasn't loud enough to disturb the people upstairs.

"Creak—"

The basement door was pushed open, and a light shone from the stairs into the dark space.

"Harvey, Harvey, are you down there?"

A gentle female voice rang out. It was Harvey's wife, Glinda Dent.

Harvey placed the file back on the messy workbench. The slightly yellowed chandelier and the desk lamp illuminated Harvey by the desk and the area on the table, which was cluttered with various metal parts, bullets, gun components, and so on. He looked up at Glinda, who was walking down the stairs. Her face seemed a little uneasy.

"I… I saw on the news that you burned a lot of money from Falcone's company. I'm worried."

"Worried I'll become like Richard Daniel? There's really no need for that, Glinda."

The two talked back and forth in the basement. This had almost become the couple's recent routine.

Glinda's emotions were a little agitated. As she spoke, she instinctively buried her head in Harvey's chest, tears welling up in her eyes. As the wife of Harvey Dent, that fool who insisted on upholding justice in Gotham, just waiting for him to get off work every day felt agonizing and tense. In fact, the day after Richard was murdered, she had already cried to Harvey like this.

Harvey Dent held his wife, his eyes slightly narrowed, his expression full of doting affection and cold fury at what Falcone had done in Gotham City. The flame of justice in his heart seemed to never extinguish, burning endlessly.

"Ring ring—ring ring—"

"Honey, you go up. I'll take this call first."

"Hmm, Harvey?"

"What is it?"

"Remember to come up later. There's a package for you, it seems to have a combination lock. I couldn't open it."

"Combination lock? I'll be right up, dear."

After comforting his wife and stabilizing her emotions, Harvey Dent sent her upstairs and casually answered the ringing phone.

"Hello?"

A synthesized electronic voice came from the other end of the phone, clearly disguised by a voice changer, making it impossible to tell if it was male or female, old or young.

"Mr. Harvey Dent, the Roman sends his regards."

And in a black car outside the house, through the pitch-black, one-way reflective film on the car windows, five figures were silently observing the situation at Harvey's house.

"I say, did Dent's wife bring the bomb inside yet?"

The boy, Donny, held the remote control and seemed quite patient. "What's the hurry? Let's detonate it after we confirm Dent has come out of the basement."

Hypocrite Kevin was a little curious. "So, what exactly does Harvey Dent do in the basement every day? It's been almost half a month now."

"Who knows?" Slippery Jimmy, with his hand on the steering wheel, chuckled. "Maybe he's preparing for the next one?"

"You mean…"

"Took out an important member of the Falcone family with two shots. If it were you, wouldn't you keep preparing for the next job?" Mink said sarcastically. "Our justice envoy spent so long to get Johnny Vitti's promise to testify in court, but in just one night, that guy made up with his uncle Falcone."

"In my opinion, no matter what you want to do in Gotham, whether you're a good guy or a bad guy, using a gun is much easier than using the law. If you let him keep killing like this, the Falcone family will soon be in a panic. These two shots are worth more than a year of bickering."

"I say, Harvey Dent seems to have appeared. That's right, he's appeared," Duet Willy suddenly interjected.

"Excellent, brothers. Jimmy, Donny, get ready. After this job, we'll be living the good life!"

"No problem, boss. Just you watch."

"Ready anytime, Mink."

So, the men watched as Harvey Dent's figure walked out of the basement and then flashed past the living room window.

"He's out, but his wife seems to be going into the basement. What do you say, should we detonate it now, or wait until his wife goes down?"

"With the power of my bomb, as long as he's on the first floor, the bomb can blow him to smithereens. As for his wife… I can't be bothered to wait. Detonate now."

"Alright—"

"Why aren't you pressing it?"

"I am pressing it! Why isn't this damn button working?"

Under the gaze of his four teammates, Donny frantically pressed the remote control in his hand repeatedly, but there was still no movement in Harvey Dent's house. At this moment, he subconsciously looked at Mink.

"Mink, is there a problem with the bomb?"

"Impossible, damn it, I checked it this morning—"

"Boom!"

At this moment, a violent burst of fire and explosion finally erupted into the sky, shattering the windowpanes of Harvey Dent's house. Thick smoke and flames spread everywhere, and even several twisted iron nails, stuffed into the bomb, flew out the window. Even if the Gotham District Attorney wasn't consumed by the explosion, he would have been riddled with nails.

"See?" Mink, the quickest to react, snapped back to his senses and boasted proudly. "I told you, my bomb could at least make a bang! Drive!"

The black, unlicensed car started its engine and quickly disappeared around the street corner.

"I say, Mink, why isn't the bomb's power like you said, able to blow Harvey's house to the sky?" Kevin, with nothing else to do, had been watching Harvey Dent's place. "Did you really mess up?"

"You bunch of idiots who don't understand explosives, don't question my bomb-making skills so casually," Mink cursed. "Wait until you see the news tomorrow, and you'll know how amazing I am."

"Harvey Dent is dead."

"The nails you bought—you knew I'd find you, it was only a matter of time."

The voice of Batman in the darkness was cold and low, devoid of any discernible emotion.

But to Mickey's ears, whether it was the blinding neon signs outside the window or his lingering hangover, he felt as if pairs of bat eyes were staring coldly at him from the darkness. He felt as if their voices were deafening, as if he would be torn to shreds by these angry monsters in the next second.

The sudden sound from the room made his hair stand on end, and he almost dropped the bottle in his hand. He knew very well whose voice it was and what his fate would be; he had simply chosen not to think about it.

"Ahhh—"

The screaming man leaped from the window and fell into the alley. He looked up in terror, only to see a huge, terrifying shadow approaching him step by step from the alley's darkness.

"B-Batman!"