My Cabinet Moved! I Quit!

"Don't listen to his nonsense. The old man's making things up." A middle-aged man wearing glasses sat up on his stretcher. "I happened to be visiting my girlfriend when a truck came from over there, going pretty fast."

"Just then, some kid ran into the middle of the road. The truck driver saw him and slammed on the brakes. The truck suddenly went out of control, tipped over sideways, and landed beside one of the chemical plant's walls."

"After the truck overturned, a bunch of barrels rolled out of the back and piled up against the plant's wall."

"Someone happened to be smoking on the roof of the chemical plant. He tossed his cigarette butt straight down, and it landed on those barrels. Then the whole thing blew up."

"What the hell am I hearing...?" Roland was dumbfounded. Was this some kind of storytelling contest? Why did each account sound more ridiculous than the last?

"Bullshit!"

"You're the one talking bullshit!"

"What kind of story are you making up? If you've got such a great imagination, go write a book!"

"Like hell! I think you've gone senile and can't even remember what you saw."

Their argument grew more heated until medical staff hurried over and pulled them apart.

"Hello, Father Roland." A fat, slovenly police officer ambled over and held out his hand.

"Uh, you are...?" Roland shifted the girl's hand into his left and shook the officer's hand with his right.

"I'm Harvey Bullock, Gordon's teammate."

"Oh, so you're Bullock." Roland looked him over. He had heard of the man—a good, upright cop beneath his careless exterior, with an impressive knack for solving cases.

"I'm here to investigate this arson case," Harvey Bullock said. "Could we talk somewhere private?"

"Sure." Roland stood, and the two stepped into a nearby alley to talk.

"How do you know it was arson?" Roland asked curiously. "I just heard two versions of how the fire started, but neither had anything to do with arson."

"Both accounts you heard were true." Harvey Bullock offered Roland a cigarette, then took one for himself and lit it. "I checked the scene. It pretty much matches what they said, and other eyewitnesses have given the same accounts."

"But those two stories are completely different, aren't they?"

"Yeah. As far as we can tell, both things happened at the same time." Harvey Bullock took a deep drag. "It sounds ridiculous, but that seems to be the truth."

"That's one hell of a coincidence..."

"It wasn't a coincidence. Someone arranged it." Harvey Bullock shook his head. "The reason I'm calling it arson is that someone reported the fire to the Gotham City Fire Department ten minutes before it happened. The caller gave his name as Joe Krikor."

"Huh?" Roland thought for a moment. "Joker? Him again?"

"Exactly, but we haven't found any evidence that he set all this up." Harvey Bullock lit another cigarette, looking miserable.

"I don't think you need to worry about evidence. What difference would it make if you found any? Could you get Joker sentenced to death? You'd just end up sending him to Arkham Asylum anyway," Roland pointed out. "Just go arrest him. With all the crap he's done, he belongs in Arkham Asylum even without this."

"...You've got a point." Harvey Bullock nodded, then brightened. "Great! Other people are handling the hunt for Joker, so it doesn't matter if I turn up nothing here. I can take a break... Oh, want to see my special trick?"

He sat down in front of Roland, pressed his tongue against the cigarette's filter, and used his lower lip as a fulcrum. Pushing down on the filter, he levered the cigarette upward and flipped the whole lit cigarette into his mouth.

"Smoking backward? Impressive." Roland's eyes lit up. "But not impressive enough. Watch this."

Roland lit five cigarettes, tucked all five into his mouth, then drank an entire bottle of juice without putting them out.

"...How did you do that?" Harvey Bullock's eyes widened. It was practically magic.

"Bleeding gums." Roland shrugged. He had been a little inflamed over the past two days, and his gums had been bleeding.

Nathaniel Hawthorne's superpower, Red Letters, could turn his own blood into sacred text and manipulate it. Roland had used the Red Letters in his mouth to control the burning cigarette tips.

"You have to teach me that!" Harvey Bullock pleaded. Just then, his phone rang.

"Gordon? What's up?"

"Someone reported that you're slacking off on the investigation again."

"Who's been ratting me out? I swear on Harvey's name, I'm not slacking off."

"Which Harvey are you talking about?"

"Ahem..."

"All right, enough nonsense. Get back to the investigation."

"It's not that I don't want to investigate. Joker just didn't leave any loose ends. Besides, even if I found proof he did it, it wouldn't do any good..." Harvey Bullock trotted out Roland's argument to fob Gordon off. "And if it's ruled an accident, the insurance payout will be higher."

"...Use your judgment." Gordon sighed.

"Leave it to me." Harvey Bullock hung up. "That wraps up the case, then. Wayne Enterprises' insurance division will just have to bleed a little."

"That hadn't even occurred to me," Roland said in admiration.

"You gave me the idea. I wouldn't have thought of it otherwise."

Just then, a faint gunshot rang out. Both men tensed. Harvey Bullock drew his service pistol, while Roland activated Domain Expansion, his golden eyes lighting up.

"Gunmen, on the chemical plant's second floor. They're already exchanging fire with your people," Roland said with his eyes closed.

"Thanks." Harvey Bullock sprinted toward the chemical plant. Roland was faster still, climbing a tree and bursting through a third-floor window.

Inside the plant, more than a dozen gunmen were in a fierce firefight with the police. The roar of gunfire drowned out the sound of Roland breaking the glass.

Roland crept over and hid behind several cabinets. Then he removed the bottom of an iron cabinet taller than a man, quietly lifted it, and began inching forward beneath it.

"Deputy, why do I get the feeling that cabinet behind them is moving on its own?" One officer noticed something amiss, but the gunmen's suppressing fire kept him from getting a good look.

"Have you lost your mind? How could a cabinet move?"

Roland had reached the backs of two gunmen, controlling his movements so carefully that he made no sound at all.

But the cabinet's shadow still shifted. One gunman turned around. "Hey, was there a cabinet here before?"

"I don't think so... Am I remembering wrong?"

Before either man could react, Roland flung the cabinet doors open and dragged them inside.