boom

"Screech, screech, screech."

The grating sound of a metal file echoed through the basement. Fortunately, although it was noisy, it wasn't loud enough to disturb the people upstairs.

"Creak—"

The basement door opened, and a beam of light shone down the stairs into the darkness.

"Harvey, Harvey, are you down there?"

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

Harvey put the file back on the cluttered workbench. The slightly yellowed ceiling lamp and the workbench lamp illuminated Harvey beside the table, as well as the area atop it, where various metal parts, bullets, gun components, and other items lay scattered haphazardly. He looked up at Glinda coming down the stairs. She seemed somewhat uneasy.

"I—I saw on the news that you burned a lot of money belonging to the Falcone family. I was worried."

"Worried I'd end up like Richard Daniel? There's really no need for that, Glinda."

The two of them exchanged words in the basement. It had practically become part of the couple's daily routine recently.

Glinda grew slightly agitated. As she spoke, she unconsciously buried her head against Harvey's chest, tears glimmering in her eyes. As the wife of Harvey Dent, the fool who stubbornly upheld fairness and justice in Gotham City, merely waiting for him to come home from work each day was agonizing and nerve-racking. In fact, starting the day after Richard's murder, she had already wept to Harvey about it.

Harvey Dent held his wife, narrowing his eyes slightly. His expression was filled with tenderness, along with a cold fury toward everything Falcone had done in Gotham City. The flame of justice in his heart seemed as if it would never go out, burning endlessly.

"Ring, ring—ring, ring—"

"Darling, you go upstairs. I'll answer the phone first."

"Hmm, Harvey?"

"What is it?"

"Remember to come up later. There's a package addressed to you. It seems to have a combination lock, and I can't open it."

"A combination lock? I'll be right there, darling."

After calming his wife, Harvey Dent sent her upstairs and casually answered the phone that had just begun ringing.

"Hello?"

An electronic voice came from the other end of the line, clearly disguised by a voice changer. It was impossible to tell whether the speaker was male or female, young or old.

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

Meanwhile, inside a black car parked outside, five silhouettes silently watched the situation at Harvey's house through the dark one-way reflective film on the windows.

"Hey, did Dent's wife take the bomb inside?"

Boy Donny held the remote control and seemed quite patient. "What's the rush? We'll detonate it after we confirm that Dent has left the basement."

The hypocrite Kevin was somewhat curious. "So, what exactly has Harvey Dent been doing in the basement every day? It's been nearly half a month, hasn't it?"

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

"You mean—"

"He took out an important member of the Falcone family with two shots. If you were him, wouldn't you prepare to pull off another job?" Mink Mickey's voice dripped with sarcasm. "Our justice crusader spent so long getting Johnny Vitti to promise to testify in court, yet after just one night, that guy made up with his uncle Falcone as if nothing had happened."

"The way I see it, no matter what you want to do in Gotham, whether you're a good guy or a criminal, using a gun is much easier than using the law. If he keeps killing like this, the Falcone family will soon be thrown into a panic. Those two shots accomplished more than all the back-and-forth of the past year."

"Hey, Harvey Dent seems to have come out. That's right, he's out." Duet Willy suddenly spoke up in warning.

"Excellent. Brothers, Jimmy, Donny, get ready. Once we finish this job, we'll live like kings!"

"No problem, boss. Just watch."

"Whenever you're ready, Mickey."

Thus, the group watched as Harvey Dent emerged from the basement, then flashed past the living-room window.

"He's out, but his wife seems to be going into the basement. What do we do? Detonate it now, or wait until his wife goes downstairs?"

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

"Got it—"

"Well? Press it already."

"I did press it! Why the hell isn't this button working?"

Under the gazes of his four companions, Donny frantically pressed the remote control in his hand again and again, but nothing happened at Harvey Dent's house. He instinctively turned his gaze toward Mickey.

"Mickey, is there something wrong with the bomb?"

"Impossible. Screw you, I checked it this morning—"

"Boom!"

At that moment, a violent flash of fire and explosion finally shot into the sky, blasting the windows of Harvey Dent's house to pieces. Billowing smoke and flames spread in every direction, and several twisted iron nails packed into the bomb flew out through the windows. Even if Gotham's district attorney hadn't been consumed by the explosion, the dense storm of nails would have turned him into a sieve.

"See that?" Mickey, the first to recover, proudly crowed, "I told you my bomb would at least go off. Drive!"

The unmarked black car roared to life and quickly disappeared around the corner.

"Hey, Mickey, why wasn't the bomb's power anything like what you said? You claimed it could blow Harvey's house into the sky." Kevin had nothing else to do, so he had been watching Harvey Dent's house the whole time. "Don't tell me you really screwed up?"

"You idiots don't know the first thing about demolition, so don't question my bomb-making skills." Mickey cursed. "When you see the news tomorrow, you'll know how impressive I am."

"—"

"Harvey Dent is dead."

"Those nails you bought—I know I'll find you. It's only a matter of time."

Batman's voice emerged from the darkness, cold and low, without the slightest hint of emotion.

But to Mickey, perhaps because the neon signs outside the window were too glaring, or because his hangover had yet to wear off, it felt as though pairs of bat eyes were coldly watching him from the darkness. Their voices seemed deafening. He felt as if, in the next second, those furious monsters would tear him to pieces.

The sudden voice ringing out in the room made his hair stand on end. He nearly dropped the bottle in his hand. He knew exactly whose voice it was, and he knew exactly what would happen to him. He had simply been deliberately avoiding thinking about it.

"Ahhh—"

The screaming man leaped from the window and crashed into the alley below. He raised his head in terror, able to see only a terrifying, enormous black shadow slowly walking toward him from the darkness of the alley.

"Ba—Batman!"