A little test

Norman waited in his office all night.

His eyebrow had started twitching the moment William left. He tried everything, slapping himself twice and even buying a cup of ice from a convenience store.

By now, after struggling with it all night, he had given up resisting.

But his unease only grew stronger.

"Could something have gone wrong..."

Suddenly, the pager at his waist vibrated.

It was a message from Falcone.

He called back immediately. The moment the call connected, he heard violent coughing on the other end.

"Carmine, are you all right..."

"Your subordinate is very capable! Somehow, he hypnotized my men, broke into my office, then used a roll of fireworks to keep my troops trapped outside the door for a full five minutes!"

Norman understood every word individually, but put together, they made no sense.

Had the old man been taking drugs?

Falcone seemed to realize he had conveyed too much information at once.

"He has the documents now. Check the marks I left. If there's any sign they've been opened..."

He paused, his voice turning low and vicious.

"Either kill her, or stay away from him unless you're absolutely certain." Falcone hung up and turned his gaze toward the threatening letter on his desk, pieced together from newspaper clippings.

[I'll always be watching you. Don't give yourself away!]

A hand-ground Batarang was embedded in the letter.

It was undoubtedly Batwoman's handiwork, but what she didn't know was that Falcone had dealt with Batman long ago.

Falcone interlaced his fingers, his lips curling downward in contempt.

Only those who lacked strength resorted to threatening letters. If there really was solid evidence proving his crimes, he was certain Batman would tie his hands behind his back and leave him dangling from the cables of Kane Bridge.

Right now, he cared about only one thing.

Was this bat copycat connected to that young police officer?

Meanwhile, Norman still had no idea what was going on.

As the busy tone sounded in the receiver, he stared at it blankly and blinked.

But the moment he put it down, another call came through.

This time, it was William. Crouched in the phone booth outside the police station with the package, he proposed making the exchange on the roof.

Why couldn't they do it in the office? Even that workaholic Gordon had gone home by now.

Though doubtful, Norman went upstairs as requested.

The old Gotham Police Department building was a French-style cathedral damaged by fire. The first five floors housed the officers' workspaces, while above them lay the empty remains of the old church.

He pushed open the rust-covered fire door, his flashlight illuminating a spiral staircase littered with rubble. Scattered cigarette butts were still visible on the first few steps, but farther up, there was nothing but thick dust.

Hunched over, Norman climbed toward the roof with his heart in his throat.

When he pushed open the rooftop door, a figure was already waiting at the far end.

It was William, looking far more bedraggled than when he had left.

His cheeks were blackened by fireworks, his suit had several tears, a leaf was caught in his collar, and he had lost his shoes while running.

"Where's the package!"

Norman spoke rapidly and forcefully as he hurried toward William.

Without sparing a thought for the soldier who had risked his life, he snatched the documents and inspected them carefully. He broke the wax seal, checked the marks at the opening, and finally even dismantled the entire paper envelope.

Meanwhile, the documents he had described as so important were held carelessly between his fingers, fluttering and dancing in the night wind.

William frowned.

This was supposed to be the moment Stuart appeared and snatched the documents, but now it seemed unnecessary.

Norman's every move revealed a crucial piece of information.

The documents didn't matter. What mattered was whether the envelope had been opened. Combined with their earlier deductions, the answer was obvious.

This was a test aimed at William.

Hidden behind the water tank, Stuart had also witnessed everything. They were too far apart for him and William to exchange so much as a glance.

But if even William could spot the flaw, how could the clever Batman miss it?

For the first time in a long while, the two men with such different personalities reached an unspoken understanding during the operation.

Norman checked three full times before finally confirming that the envelope had never been opened.

He could now be reasonably certain that William wasn't working for Maroni.

A newcomer like this was rare: quick-witted, capable, and not bought off by any other faction. Such a dependable subordinate was exactly what Norman lacked.

"Guess what these documents are."

Norman draped an arm around William's shoulders, waving the so-called "classified documents" in the night wind.

Without waiting for William to answer, he continued:

"They're all records of my dealings with Falcone. I imagine you've already figured that out, clever young man. But you didn't report me. You even risked your life to complete my assignment..."

"Commissioner Norman Steele, I want to get ahead so badly!"

Since things had come this far, William had to play his part.

In the shadows, Stuart watched this hypocritical performance with interest.

He had once thought William was merely a crooked cop trying to use Batman to achieve his goals. Only now did he realize how deeply calculating the man was.

He moved among every faction, neither keeping his distance nor getting too close. Despite being Maroni's illegitimate son, he had never been honest with his biological father, nor had he rushed to join Falcone's camp.

Stuart recalled asking him why. At the time, William had answered like this.

"I just want to live comfortably and eliminate every faction that might threaten me. As for why I approached Batman, it's because that guy poses absolutely no threat to me."

At the time, Stuart had found that reasoning far too abstract. Looking back now, however, the kid seemed to have made a wish that could never come true.

Even Thomas Wayne could be shot dead in a dark alley. No one in this city was absolutely safe.

To achieve that, he would have to change Gotham completely.

William, you want to change Gotham... Your wish is the same as Batman's. That's why he poses no threat to you...

Stuart rubbed his chin, his eyes reflecting the lights of a distant tower crane in the darkness.

Of course, every choice came with gains and losses.

After William took what he believed was the right step, he had to give Sal Maroni a reasonable explanation.

After work the next day, William returned to his apartment as usual.

When he cautiously pushed open the half-closed door, Maroni was already sitting on the bed frame, a golden gun in his hand. He had been waiting for some time.

"My child has betrayed me."

His voice was so low and hoarse that he sounded like an opera singer delivering a monologue at the end of a tragedy.

"Give me time to explain. It was a sting operation, a test aimed at me."

"Yes, you're so valuable that both Norman and Falcone want to recruit you. Only I treated you as a cheap pawn."

Maroni raised the gun.

William had thought his eloquence would be enough to persuade him.

That notion was undoubtedly naive.

From Maroni's perspective, William had acted on his own and ruined the mission. Even if the documents truly were worthless, that judgment had to be his to make.

Worse still, William couldn't defend himself. To an enraged Maroni, anything he said would sound like an excuse, and the more detailed his explanation, the more foolish it would make Maroni look.

In truth, Maroni was a fool. He used outdated methods to corrupt politicians, jealously guarded against capable subordinates, and had easily fallen for Norman's trick, becoming suspicious of an informant who shared his own blood.

But William could only keep those thoughts to himself.

If he didn't want to take a bullet, he still had to soothe the volatile Maroni.

"We're related by blood. What reason do you have to think I'd betray you? Maybe my judgment was wrong, but it did indirectly earn me Norman's trust..."

William's tone was already sincere and humble enough, but Maroni's anger remained undiminished.

"You're making excuses! For the sake of your worthless, wretched life, you abandoned the family's dignity and sided with the enemy. Your mother would be ashamed of you!"

Maroni rose and slammed the grip of his gun into William's forehead.

The world spun. William struggled to get up, touching the blood on his forehead.

He considered himself restrained and levelheaded enough, but the arrogant, foolish mob boss's relentless aggression still stirred his anger.

Fuck, I've been hurt twice since I got here-a burned palm and a cut on my forehead-and both were this bastard's doing.

And Maroni was even this body's biological father.

Fuck it!

William jerked his head up, his hate-filled gaze fixed on Maroni.

Just then, something strange happened.

The favorability bar, which had fallen to zero, actually began to rise again.