A faint sensation of weightlessness swept through his semicircular canals.
The rainy scent of Hell's Kitchen, tinged with gunpowder and sea brine, vanished from the air. In its place came the sour, rotten smell peculiar to Gotham City's basements, a mixture of industrial exhaust and fermented cheap soap.
Yang Ming stepped out of the hidden doorway.
It was late at night in Gotham as well. Only one extremely low-wattage incandescent bulb was on in the Underground Clinic, casting a dim light.
"Who's there?!"
A faint scrape of metal came from the corner. Selina Kyle darted out of the shadows beside the oxygen concentrator like a startled feral cat.
She held a short tactical dagger in a reverse grip in her right hand. Its blade caught no light in the gloom, and she kept her center of gravity low, ready to burst into a fight to the death at any moment.
Once she saw that it was Yang Ming emerging from the hidden doorway, Selene's tense muscles instantly relaxed. With a flick of her wrist, she deftly slid the dagger into her sleeve.
"You don't make a sound when you walk." Selene leaned back beside the oxygen concentrator and rubbed her aching neck.
Yang Ming did not respond. He walked straight toward the Stark Industries portable Hyperbaric Chamber occupying the center of the clinic.
Inside, Maggie Kyle was in a deep sleep. Several leads were attached to her body, and a green waveform pulsed steadily across the Cardiac Monitor's screen.
Yang Ming picked up the medical chart hanging on the chamber wall. His gaze swept over the data on the holographic display.
Blood oxygen saturation: 99%. Heart rate: 72 beats/min. Respiratory rate: 16 breaths/min.
"Toxin clearance has reached eighty-five percent." Yang Ming took a medical penlight from the pocket of his white coat. He opened the small access port above the chamber door, lifted Maggie's eyelid with his fingers, and quickly swept the beam across her pupil.
Her pupillary light reflex was responsive, with a constriction time of less than 0.2 seconds. The damage to her nervous system was being rapidly repaired by Stark Industries' targeted cellular activator.
Yang Ming switched off the penlight and adjusted the infusion pump, reducing the drip rate from forty drops per minute to thirty.
"When can she come out?" Selene asked, watching the color return to her younger sister's cheeks.
"She still needs two rounds of dialysis. Tomorrow afternoon at the earliest." Yang Ming hung the chart back in place and turned to Selene. "Anything happen outside while I was gone?"
Selene walked over to the triage desk, idly playing with a stolen coin. It rolled nimbly across her knuckles.
"The Rat Gang's people are all dead. The rain washed the blood out of the alley, and the GCPD patrol officers didn't even come near Lake Street. But..." Selene stopped, closing her hand around the coin.
"Someone strange came knocking during the day."
Yang Ming went to the sink to wash his hands.
"Describe them."
"A girl. About eighteen or nineteen." Selene recalled the encounter.
"Blond hair, tied in a neat high ponytail. She was wearing a red-and-black Gotham University uniform jacket and carrying a pink hardcover notebook and a ballpoint pen."
Yang Ming's hand paused slightly as he turned off the faucet.
"She knocked in a very deliberate rhythm. Three short knocks, one long," Selene continued. "I asked what she wanted through the iron door. She asked, 'Is that Asian doctor showing signs of severe sleep deprivation here?'"
"I told her you weren't here. She didn't push it, just smiled really happily, wrote something in her notebook, and ran off." Selene pursed her lips.
"She looked like an overly curious college girl. Maybe you treated someone at some black market and word got around." Yang Ming pulled off a paper towel and dried his hands.
"You have a point. Forget it. We don't need to worry about her."
Selene shrugged, tossed the coin into the air, and caught it neatly.
"Suit yourself. But you'd better worry about something else."
She walked up to Yang Ming, planted both hands on the stainless steel counter, and leaned forward.
"Word that the Rat Gang was wiped out has already spread through the East End. That bald bastard Fiss might have been useless, but he was tied to the Falcone Family's organ-smuggling operation. Every month, he had to deliver two million dollars' worth of 'livestock' to his bosses."
Selene's eyes sharpened. "Now Fiss has disappeared, and the whole pipeline's been cut off. The broker handling the Falcone Family's East End organ black market-Cobblepot, the 'Butcher'-has put out a bounty. A hundred thousand dollars for your hands and feet."
Yang Ming leaned back in his chair, folding his hands over his abdomen.
A hundred thousand dollars. In a place like Gotham, that was enough to get hundreds of desperate criminals to grab their guns and turn Lake Street upside down.
"Where is Cobblepot now?" Yang Ming asked.
"Are you insane?" Selene's eyes widened. "You're not thinking of going after him, are you? He keeps more than thirty fully armed thugs on his payroll, all carrying compact submachine guns. He's not some street punk like Fiss!"
Yang Ming did not answer Selene's challenge. He stood and walked to the open space in the center of the clinic.
He raised his right hand. The dark silver ring at the base of his index finger gave off a faint glow beneath the dim light.
With a thought, he activated it.
CLANG!!!
An incredibly deep crash exploded through the basement. The floor shook violently, and dust rained from the ceiling.
A green military wooden crate, over two meters long and wide and reinforced with high-strength composite armor plating, materialized without warning and slammed onto the concrete floor.
The coin in Selene's hand fell to the floor with a clear clink.
The hairs on her back instantly stood on end, and her right hand instinctively reached for the dagger in her sleeve. But when she saw the enormous object on the floor, she froze.
"What... what the hell is that?" Selene's voice trembled slightly. As a habitual thief, she had an exceptionally keen instinct for the size and weight of objects. This crate weighed at least half a ton.
Yang Ming walked up to the wooden crate and lifted its lid with one hand.
"A calling card to open up a new market." Yang Ming pointed at the equipment inside.
Selene stepped forward. Her gaze swept over the contents of the crate.
An FGM-148 Javelin missile launch tube. Crates of NATO-standard 5.56 mm armor-piercing incendiary rounds.
Although Selene did not recognize the specific models, she could see the industrial sophistication of these weapons, far beyond anything Gotham's gangs currently possessed.
In Gotham, heavy military hardware like this, with infrared guidance and composite armor, was simply in a league of its own. Apart from Wayne Enterprises, Selene could not think of anyone capable of getting their hands on such things.
"Did you rob a military armory?" Selene swallowed.
"You don't need to know where I get my stock." Yang Ming picked up an armor-piercing round, rolling the brass casing between his fingertips.
"If Cobblepot is a broker in the organ black market, he must have a well-established underground medical supply chain. I need large quantities of restricted medical equipment and specialized drugs. He gets the money, I get the goods."
"What if he won't give them to you?" Selene asked.
Yang Ming tossed the armor-piercing round back into the crate.
"Then I'll beat him until he does. I'm a man with a conscience. I generally don't like taking other people's things, unless they've got a death wish."
"Let's hope they don't force me to act."