Scritch!
The flint scattered tiny orange-red sparks. An orange flame sprang up, and the edge of the cigarette paper curled slightly as it touched the fire, releasing a faint scorched fragrance.
"So..."
Bob sank into the sofa and took a deep drag. The tip of his cigarette brightened suddenly, flickered a few times, then dimmed again.
"Congressman Cobblepot..."
He blew smoke toward the ceiling, and the gray haze gradually filled the room.
"The fire's already burning. Are you ready?"
"The fire won't reach us."
Candlelight flickered in the underground chamber, but today's atmosphere was unlike any previous gathering. There was no composure, no elegance, only unprecedented agitation and fear.
Some people were absent. Two chairs stood empty, black cloaks draped over their backs, as though two people stood there-or had already left.
"Gotham's about to burn. So what?"
A woman shrieked, "Let them burn. Sterling is only our agent. His manor, his foundation, his experiments-those are his own businesses. They have nothing to do with us."
"Yes, someone is already handling public opinion," a middle-aged man said. "Experts will soon come forward to declare those videos fabricated. Plenty of media outlets and writers will speak for us, and countless individuals and organizations will issue statements distancing themselves from Sterling. Nobody will know what's true and what's false. Besides, so far..."
He paused. "Batman hasn't given our information to that cop. That means... the two sides are still at odds."
"Enough of that!" another person said irritably. "What's our next move?"
"Chief, I've prepared a complete report."
Cobblepot sat opposite Bob and placed a stack of printed pages on the table with both hands. Extreme excitement and delight surged through his spine like an electric current. He could even hear his heart beating steadily and powerfully, like a marching