You'll regret this!

"Batman... they've all been captured... Gotham Police Department..." Batman listened intently to what Falcone, he could still barely make out some key words.

The detective's mind raced, and Bruce quickly came up with many possibilities, most of which pointed to one guy.

Roland.

"Honestly, you're keeping us up so late." Roland yawned. "I'm not going back. I'm sleeping here tonight."

"Okay, you can sleep in my room." Gordon nodded and led Roland to his room.

This is a study, with bookshelves densely filled with various files. Against the wall stands a folding bed, and on the headboard is a Mossberg M590 shotgun that has already been loaded with bullets.

"Precautionary enough," Roland said, examining the shotgun.

"Do you know how to use a gun?" Gordon sensed something odd about Roland's grip on the gun. "Don't let it go off accidentally."

"Oh." Roland put the gun back, straightened his pillow, and went to sleep.

The next day, when Roland woke up, Gordon was already at the Police Station.

Roland rummaged through Gordon's refrigerator and found two pickled cucumbers, six eggs, and a can of beef balls. He made do with that for breakfast and then rode his bike to the Construction Site.

"The boss is back. There must have been a fierce battle last night, right?"

"No, we just dealt with some small fry," Roland said. "How's the Church construction going?"

"The basement is finished; they're currently building the pillars with stone."

"Oh... so fast? I was only gone for one night, wasn't I?" Roland, somewhat surprised.

"This is the suburbs, and there aren't many people living around, so they simply started construction at night."

"... How much did Bruce actually give them?" Roland muttered to himself.

Gotham Bank.

The bank's major shareholders gathered to discuss cooperation with the Falcone.

"I cannot agree to this proposal! Everyone in this room knows where the Falcone family's money comes from!" Bruce Wayne slammed his fist on the table. "Gambling, extortion, drug trafficking! Do you want to be in cahoots with him?"

"Bruce, your accusations against Carmine Falcone are a bit far-fetched. All I know is that he's in the import/export business of Italy shoes, and I'm wearing a pair right now—they're incredibly comfortable," said Richard Daniel, president of Gotham City Bank, with a smile.

"I agree with Richard. Business is business. This bank can utilize the cash injected by the Falcone..."

"We're business people; we just need to do business according to the rules. What Falcone does is none of our business."

"Yes, if you were given two stacks of US dollars, which one is noble and which one is filthy?"

The shareholders unanimously agreed with Richard's words.

"Dirty money, he's trying to launder money here. I won't... and I can't allow that to happen!" Bruce said coldly.

"Bruce, you should really think this over. We're both businessmen," Richard Daniel advised.

You'll regret this!

"I am the bank manager!"

"Bang!" Bruce slammed the door and left, leaving the shareholders looking at each other in bewilderment.

Bruce returned to the Wayne Manor, Alfred checked the time. "Young Master, you should be in a meeting at Gotham Bank at this hour."

"There's nothing to talk about with those guys," Bruce said, sounding somewhat annoyed.

"... What happened?"

"It's nothing, Alfred. Make me a cup of Coffee, I'm going to check on Mark," Bruce said to Alfred, then put on his Batman the Suit and went into the Batcave.

Inside a glass cage shaped like a large fish tank, a muddy, mushy object was churning wildly, trying to break free but unable to budge the cage.

"Mark, let me help you!"

"Mark is dead! I am Clayface!" Clayface conjured a Drill and tried to break free of the cage, but the water mist inside the cage turned the Drill into a puddle of mud as soon as it took shape.

"I'll find a way to restore you to your original state."

"Unnecessary!"

After a friendly exchange with Clayface for a while, Bruce reluctantly walked out, picked up the Coffee Alfred had made, and started looking at news on his computer.

"Alfred, should I give you the day off today?"

"Young Master Bruce, is today a special day?" Alfred stopped what he was doing and asked with some curiosity.

"Today is the last Wednesday of April, International Executive Commissioners' Day," Bruce explained. "On this day, secretaries in many countries have a holiday and receive flowers and greeting cards from their superiors... Hmm, I think I should prepare something to express my gratitude for your hard work."

"I'm not a secretary," Alfred chuckled. "Besides, is this some kind of legal holiday?"

"I don't think so..." Bruce suddenly realized something, "Wait, the Holiday Killer wouldn't choose to strike today, would he?"

Gotham City Police Department.

Legendary Dispatcher Francesca Hamilton received a call, "There's been a murder at Monica's Cafe! Someone's been shot!"

"What did you say? I didn't hear you clearly."

"Hey, can you hear me?"

"First, I didn't say 'hello'; second, I can't hear you at all."

"You!"

Francesca negotiated with the caller for a while, then hung up the phone.

The person on the other end of the phone wasted a lot of breath and didn't even know if their call had been successful. They drove straight to the Gotham City Police Department and stormed into the Police Department's Office.

"What's going on?" Commissioner Rob was taken aback when he saw the person who barged in and quickly switched to the computer screen.

"Commissioner Rob, I have a question. Why is that idiot Francesca still working as Dispatcher? Do you even know what's going on?"

"I have absolutely no idea what you're talking about." Commissioner Rob frowned, somewhat impatiently. "If you want to report Officer Francesca, you can go to the Gotham City Police Department's Internal Affairs Division, not barge into my Office..."

"Let me tell you, Fiona, the secretary to Gotham City Mayor Hamilton Hill, was shot dead! And when I called the police, your damn Dispatcher Francesca hung up on me! So I had to come here myself to tell you what happened, you idiot!"

"Who did you say was killed?" Commissioner Rob was shocked. The mayor's secretary? That's no small fry.

"Idiot!" The person who called the police slammed the door and left, drawing sidelong glances from the Police.