After searching the woods outside for over half an hour, nearly to the point of setting the mountain on fire, Miao Mu finally found the police car beneath a tangle of vines.
The wildly growing weeds had covered it explosively; roots had even crept into the police car's exhaust pipe.
The only good thing was that the car could still start, though it sounded wrong, sputtering and rumbling.
Still, compared to Deathstroke, who had to find a car in an abandoned junkyard,
Miao Mu was quite pleased with himself. At least Alfred had not cleared away his car, though the road was hard to travel.
Bumping and swaying down the hillside, the police car rolled forward on wheels that were half-flat and half-round. Things would be better once he reached the city.
Miao Mu comforted himself that way, because there would not be a single repair shop within miles of this suburban estate.
Otherwise, he could only call for a tow truck.
After enduring a full hour,
Miao Mu drove the car back into the city. He immediately kicked open the door, switched to a taxi by the roadside, and grabbed a newspaper to read as soon as he got in.
"Driver, Arkham Police Department, South Forty-First Street."
Miao Mu looked at the newspaper. Time had passed so quickly—it was already time for the mayoral election. Yet among the candidates,
there was no sign of Little Don Mitchell. It seemed Chief Loeb's openly returned money had still been useful.
"Arkham District? Sure. Are you looking for work there?"
The driver was a talkative middle-aged man, slightly balding.
He was also somewhat fat, with a large belly, sunglasses on his face, and a full beard—the typical United States redneck look.
"Looking for work? Is it easy to find work there?"
Miao