The path was still the same gravel trail, but the wind in the western outskirts was no longer as cold as last time. When he stepped into the Tuscany-style building again, Falcone was reclining on the sofa in the middle of the reception room, resting with his eyes closed.
They had only been apart for two months, yet the wrinkles on his face seemed much deeper, and his hair was a little disheveled. Hearing Li Jie enter, he opened his eyes and straightened up. His gaze was still deep and piercing. In an instant, he was once again the crime lord who looked down on the world.
"It's good to see you again, son. You're completely different now."
"Got promoted, didn't I?"
Li Jie shrugged. Unlike last time, there was a pool of blood on the floor that had yet to dry, staining the expensive handmade carpet. He skirted the stain and sat down opposite The Roman. Falcone gave him a faint smile.
"A small, important sheriff." He nodded slowly. "Well done, Jay. Well done. Chief McGinnis told me he would send his most capable man. I guessed it would be you."
He picked up his coarse earthenware cup and took a delicate sip. "I hope he wasn't exaggerating, Jay. In my book, 'incompetence' has always come at a steep price."
"Chief Bob has always stuck to the facts, Mr. Falcone," Li Jie replied, neither servile nor overbearing. "Especially when it comes to stability in the East End."
"Stability?" Falcone chuckled softly. "My vault was looted. My men were slaughtered like dogs. And now someone tells me Gotham no longer needs me, tells me to 'get out of my city.'" His voice remained level, but those last few words were as cold as if squeezed through a crack in the ice. "You call that 'stability'?"
"It's an attack on stability, sir," Li Jie corrected him. "That's why I'm here. Whoever disrupts that stability is a common enemy of the GCPD and... you."
"Pretty words, Sheriff. Then tell me, how do the police intend to deal with this 'common enemy' of ours? The same way you deal with street muggers-issue a few wanted notices, then wait a decade or two?"
He watched Li Jie, the amusement gradually vanishing from his eyes until only cold indifference and menace remained.
"You can't do it. This is my wealth, my dignity, my city. I'll take it back myself."
He took a videotape from Zsasz and tossed it into Li Jie's lap. "This is my notice to the police. If you find any clues in the footage, tell me."
"I understand your urgency, sir," Li Jie said. "But your methods will only make things more chaotic and leave the real killers laughing in the shadows. They'd love nothing more than for you to go to war with the entire Gotham Police Department."
"Then what do you suggest?" Falcone stared at him.
"Give me some time. Have your men rein it in a little. At least let the outside world think 'order' still exists."
Li Jie met the mafia godfather's eyes. "But you've already turned Gotham into a battlefield. Now anyone wearing a hood on the street gets their legs broken and is interrogated. You didn't rule this city through random street shootings. You ruled it through order. Someone has broken that order, so let's restore it together."
Silence fell over the room again. Zsasz's fingers twitched faster, and his eyes brimmed with irrepressible excitement as he watched Li Jie.
After a long while, Falcone slowly leaned back, his gaze deep and unreadable.
"You have a way with words, Sheriff. And you're brave." He paused. "But I need more than words. I need results."
"I'll give you results."
"Good." Falcone waved a hand as if dismissing a servant and turned his gaze toward the fireplace. "You may go. Remember, time is a luxury, and neither of us has much left in stock."
"You're being a little too hasty. I'll watch the tape when I get back, but I still have a few questions."
He fiddled with the videotape in his hands and looked at Falcone. "Sir, what denominations was the stolen money in? The money at the scene... was all of it taken?"
"What does that have to do with... finding those people?"
"Everything," Li Jie replied calmly. "I need to learn as much as possible about what happened. You are the victim, aren't you?"
Falcone watched him for a moment. "Most of it was old twenties and tens, with nonconsecutive serial numbers. A small portion was in fifties and hundreds. They cleaned the place out. They didn't leave me a single bill."
"Not a single bill?"
"Not according to him."
"Clean and efficient. These people were strictly disciplined. None of that nouveau riche nonsense of grabbing cash and throwing it into the air." Nygma sat at his desk, deep in thought. "Old bills... that would weigh over three hundred kilograms... They'd have needed a vehicle to haul the money away."
"I watched the footage. They all wore matching masks. They looked... I can't quite describe them. Like skulls, maybe?" Li Jie gently blew on the tea in his Thermos. "Does that mean anything? The Grim Reaper... Never mind. Think, Ed. This is what smart people like you are good at."
"You could at least... Oh, forget it." Nygma sighed. "On the surface, it suggests death or revenge. But I'd need more evidence to know whether it means anything else. Several of the guards died horribly. Apart from the five shot dead in the firefight, the remaining three were captured and then died from severe blunt-force trauma to the brain and internal organs. What does that tell us...?"
He reached out and traced shapes in the air without realizing it.
"Their leader is brutal by nature. People like that often had unhappy childhoods, and may even have suffered prolonged domestic abuse. Now he's cruel and bloodthirsty, controlling his men through terror and efficiency... That's all I can come up with for now."
"Holy shit..." Li Jie gave him a thumbs-up, marveling. "That's fucking brilliant! If Central Headquarters had started relying on you sooner, the GCPD would be one of the top departments in the country by now. So tell me, where do I go to catch these guys?"
"Jay, I'm not a wishing machine." Nygma smiled at him. "But what will he do with the money? Eat, drink, and party? I don't think so. People like him tend to be fixated on a goal. I think he'll keep recruiting and arming more men, so..."
"We'll have to rely on Falcone's own men to dig into that."
Fine, then... Li Jie scratched his head. Luckily, he hadn't agreed on a specific deadline with Falcone. He stretched, stood up, and left the office to call Wilson.
"Hey, Sheriff! You're not checking attendance, are you?"
"No. You know about Falcone getting robbed, right?"
"Of course. Everyone's talking about it." It sounded chaotic on the other end of the line. Wilson paused for a moment, apparently moving somewhere quieter. "Want me to ask around for you?"
"No. Remember, stay out of this. If anyone tries to recruit you or anything, don't go with them. Got it?"
"You sound so serious... What happened?"
"The people who hit Falcone are extremely dangerous. Until you can pick up a gun, don't go anywhere near this. Better yet, go home and stay there."
"Uh... Don't worry. You know I don't go looking for trouble. But I'll pass on staying home. I think I'm doing just fine where I am."
"Then watch yourself!"
After hanging up, he suddenly sensed a system notification for the first time in ages. He quickly tore off a couple of sheets of toilet paper and ducked into the restroom to read it carefully.
[You have changed Otis Flanagan's fate to a · extent. Gained 2 skill points.]
Had Otis managed to get his case overturned? Together with the two points he had saved from the Fish Mooney and Victor Fries incidents, he now had four skill points. He felt ready to take on the world again.
He stared at the four skills for ages. There were no hints whatsoever; it was basically opening a mystery box. In the end, he played it safe and put one point into the Revolver card. The card flipped over, and a speck of starlight in the hazy cluster on its back rapidly brightened and expanded, transforming into several lines of text.
[Lightning Fast: You draw faster than everyone present. Even The Flash would have to concede defeat.] [*Your base accuracy decreases by ·40· percent.] [*Upgrade tasks: Gun draws: 0/1000. Shots fired: 0/1000.] [*Complete all tasks to increase the skill level.] [*Forget whether you hit anything. Just tell me that wasn't fast!]
Wait... Leaving aside whether trading accuracy for speed is worth it, I only needed a few more shots to upgrade American Iai. Why did another shooting task pop up?
If you'd shown up sooner, I could've saved... Oh, I picked it myself. Never mind, then.
This isn't going to keep happening, is it...?
Sitting on the toilet, Li Jie tried putting another point into the Revolver card. But this time, the skill it produced... was only half there!
[Skill level: 2] [Required points: 1/2] [**********]
He couldn't even see what came next!
Motherfucker. It really is a trial-version system. What a fucking rip-off.
He swore furiously in the restroom, only hurriedly shutting his mouth when he heard a coworker come in.
"Hey, Sheriff, are you constipated?"
"Uh... No, I'm fine. Maybe the toilet paper's just too rough."
"I keep saying the department shouldn't use Scott toilet paper. One poke and it tears. They should at least buy Kleenex or Angel Soft. I bet Logistics is skimming even the toilet paper budget. You got us a free drinks machine, too. If you ask me, you should be in charge of the toilet paper..."
"If you ask me, could you finish pissing and get out?"
As the footsteps faded, Li Jie let out a breath. Reluctantly, he put in another skill point.
[Skill level: 2] [Required points: 2/2] [Unerring Aim: Your base accuracy increases by ·30· percent, with an additional ·10· percent within seven paces.] [Upgrade task: Shots on target: 0/1000.] [*Complete all tasks to increase the skill level.] [*Beyond seven paces, a gun is fast. Within seven paces, it's both accurate and fast!]
Dragging his numb legs, Li Jie staggered out of the stall. At least this shooting task would save him quite a bit of time and money, so it wasn't a total loss. He would leave the remaining point alone for now. He never felt secure without something held in reserve.
[Chinese-Style Iai] had also finished its cooldown.
He crumpled the paper in his hand and tossed it into the wastebasket. If it came to a fight, then he'd fight. Who gave a fuck who the target was?
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