Idle

In the blink of an eye, three days had passed.

Miao Mu lay on the bed in nothing but boxer shorts. Sunlight filtered through the curtains and fell on his raised, gently swaying feet, while he held a Metropolis newspaper in his hands.

After that robbery, their precinct chief Myers's face had gone darker than the bottom of a pot, and he had nearly pulled his gun and shot the two of them.

After making a scene at the police station...

The two of them had been suspended pending reflection.

That robbery had also caused a massive public outcry in Gotham. After all, the people living there were all elites, yet they had been robbed clean and fitted with timed bombs, their lives hanging by a thread.

The current mayor had been berated by the media so badly that he called in sick, while the Gotham Police Department had been cursed as useless trash—though they had always been useless trash.

The only captured Red Hood No. 1, the several robbers who had been shot dead, and the intercepted bus had become medals of honor for the Gotham Police Department.

Flass, captain of the Special Action Team, had even given interviews to reporters. On television, the retired special forces soldier spoke with great confidence, which left Miao Mu and the others thoroughly annoyed, though there was nothing they could do.

The credit was bound to be divided up. They were merely ordinary first-class officers from the Arkham Precinct, but they had not expected to receive absolutely none of it.

Miao Mu had originally figured that, no matter how corrupt they were, they would at least promote them. Precinct chief was too much to hope for, but second-class officer or third-class detective should not have been a problem.

Instead, they got nothing at all, and the debt for the wrecked police car had been pinned on them as well. He had overestimated those bastards' character.

At least Miao Mu had stuffed his pants full of things before leaving. Otherwise, they would have suffered a fucking catastrophic loss.

The door was pushed open, and Jerry walked in from outside, bare-chested and drying his hair with a towel. Standing before the mirror on the wall, he hummed a tune while shaving his face.

The place they lived in had none of those high-end luxuries like a bathroom or kitchen. There was only one bedroom and nothing else.

Once you entered, there was a window straight ahead. Beneath it stood a table, with a single bed on either side. Two police uniforms and some wrinkled suits hung on the wall.

Miao Mu put down the newspaper on the bed and glanced back. "Is there any water left in the bathroom? Hot water!"

"Nope. I took a cold shower. It was freezing!"

Jerry spoke while shaving. Their apartment building was a tenement built by an Italian. There was only one bathroom on each floor, no toilets and no kitchens, and they had to fight over hot water for showers.

That old Italian man often came around to inspect the place. Use even a little too much hot water, and he would curse them out. If his rent had not been cheap and deferrable, someone would have beaten him to death long ago.

"Boring..."

Miao Mu flopped back onto his pillow and looked through the Metropolis newspaper. Yes, Metropolis—the city protected by Superman.

The Daily Planet was where Superman, Clark, worked. Miao Mu even saw a small column written by Superman, an article about environmental protection and peace.

It was tucked away at the end of page five. If it had not been signed, nobody would have recognized it. The headline was that Bald Lex had been beaten by Superman again.

More accurately, he had been beaten again, again, and again. But Miao Mu saw a tiny opportunity there—an opportunity to make money.

An opportunity for police officers to legally trade stocks.

Lex Luthor, the shiny bald man said to possess ninth-level intelligence, Superman's archenemy, and the obscenely wealthy chairman of LexCorp.

In certain super-tech fields, LexCorp was even far more formidable than Wayne Enterprises. Unfortunately, he had chosen to stubbornly go after Superman.

Lying on his pillow, Miao Mu reached for the revolver beside him and checked the cylinder. Six rounds, fully loaded.

That Glock pistol had sunk into the river along with the police car.

Miao Mu aimed the revolver at the tattered curtain hanging over the window. Stock trading came with risks.

But as the saying went, the bigger the waves, the more expensive the fish.

Whether it was the current Wayne Enterprises or the future Wayne Enterprises that would expand into environmental protection and public welfare, both were money-printing treasures. That was why trading those stocks held no future.

But Lex Luthor was different. Whenever Superman defeated him and threw him into prison, LexCorp's stock would fall. Once he got out and came up with a new invention, it would soar.

And after that surge came another PK between him and Superman...

Being a shareholder was not easy. They paid him money just to watch Superman tear apart mechs and dismantle Gundams, with a big fireworks show on the side.

"Mumu, I'm going downstairs to eat. You coming?"

After shaving, Jerry combed his hair. A gold chain as thick as a finger hung around his neck, and he was dressed as though he were going on a date.

"Food? Bring me back a burrito, beef. And two fried chicken legs, two rice balls, and a bottle of beer."

Miao Mu lay on the bed as he spoke. There was a Mexican restaurant downstairs. It was called Mexican Restaurant, but because of the local clientele, it served every kind of food like a fast-food joint.

"Okay, okay."

Jerry smiled at the mirror, put on his shirt and jacket, slipped into his shoes, and happily ran out.

He did not even close the door. Miao Mu smiled helplessly.

Over the past few days of rest, Jerry had gotten quite close with the owner of that Mexican restaurant's twin daughters downstairs.

Before, he had neither money nor time, and he had been doing an internship job with no guarantee of tomorrow.

Now things were different. He had a steady job and some cash, so picking up girls had become much easier.

Miao Mu yawned, raised his arm, and rolled up his sleeve. The Shark-Tooth Armguard on his right arm had also been cleaned.

It clung tightly to his arm like a rubber sleeve, covered in fine silvery-white triangular patterns, with a raised seam running along one side.

Miao Mu swung his arm in a strike, and three curved blades instantly sprang from the armguard. If that blow landed solidly and then slashed open, half a life would be gone.

Squeak, squeak!

A sound came from the doorway. Miao Mu gripped his gun and turned to look. A light brown rat stood at the door, its nose lifted as it sniffed the scent in the air.

"This is... Bastian?"

Miao Mu called out in surprise. This was the rat that had been with Otis, named Bastian. It was also Otis's companion through ten years in Blackgate Prison.

Hearing Miao Mu's voice, Bastian revealed a smile and hurried inside. Several worn-out shoes, newspapers, beer bottles, and other clutter had been thrown all over the floor.

For two bachelors' bedroom, being livable was already good enough.

"Squeak... squeak."

Bastian pulled a paper roll from its tail.

"Did Otis send you?"

Miao Mu took the paper roll and opened it. There was only one short sentence written on it: "Found a body. Meet at the sewage plant."

"A body?"

Miao Mu looked at the note, then at Bastian. He quickly grabbed a pair of pants and put them on, then hung the revolver and handcuffs from his belt in one go.

During their suspension, their badges had been confiscated at the police station.

He grabbed his police uniform jacket and put it on, then held out his hand to Bastian. "Tsk, tsk, come here. We're going to find Otis!"

Bastian grabbed Miao Mu's arm and skillfully jumped into his jacket pocket. Its hefty weight even pulled the jacket crooked.

"I need to get Otis to put you on a diet."

Miao Mu put on his sunglasses, stepped into his leather shoes, and headed outside, casually shutting the door behind him.

They lived on the sixth floor. There was no elevator, so they had to walk down the stairs. That was why Miao Mu could not be bothered to go downstairs.

By the time he had gone down to eat and climbed back up, he would have practically digested it all.

At the Mexican restaurant downstairs.

Miao Mu had originally wanted to bring Jerry along, but he saw him sitting at a small round table in the restaurant with a cup of coffee.

He was laughing loudly with the two Mexican girls, who looked almost identical with their fluffy curls but wore aprons of different colors, telling little jokes to amuse them.

Why had Miao Mu never noticed that he was so good at talking before?

Miao Mu shook his head and did not disturb Jerry's little date. With Bastian tucked in his pocket, he headed toward the sewage treatment plant.