Behind the thick glass of the intensive care unit, Nathaniel Barnes lay quietly in his hospital bed, his body covered in life-support tubes. His chest rose and fell to the monotonous rhythm of the ventilator, and his perpetually tense face held nothing but an empty calm.
He was no longer a threat, an opponent, or a symbol of idealism, merely a life trapped inside a body, slowly withering away.
Li Jie and Bob stood side by side outside the observation window, watching in silence for several minutes.
"Life's fragile, isn't it?" Bob broke the silence first. "Still have to go through the motions."
They turned and headed into the family lounge next door. Barnes's wife, a haggard middle-aged woman with sunken eyes, sat there numbly. When she saw two men in police uniforms enter, a flicker of habitual wariness crossed her eyes.
Bob stepped forward, arranging his face into that solemn expression of official sympathy. He took out an envelope containing condolence money and donation paperwork, then spoke in a deliberately softened voice:
"Ma'am, please accept our condolences... uh, please take care of yourself. This is a small gesture from all your husband's colleagues at the Gotham Police Department and the Eastern District Precinct. Chief Barnes is a... fighter worthy of respect."
The woman did not look at the amount inside the envelope. She merely took it mechanically and murmured her thanks. Her gaze drifted past them, seemingly returning to that room filled with the hum of machinery.
Standing just behind Bob, Li Jie watched the woman and her face, drained of every last trace of hope. His lips moved, but in the end, he said nothing.
The whole process took less than three minutes. They said their goodbyes and left. They crossed the hospital's busy lobby and pushed through