William dragged the unconscious Baron into a corner, settled him there, and took his service pistol.
The lobby was a wreck. Potted plants had toppled, soil and A4 papers littered the floor, blast-resistant wire mesh sealed the doors and windows, and every desk had been moved to the entrance to block the passage.
Two officers on duty held the lobby alongside several cleaners and forensic pathologists. When they saw William emerge, they raised their weapons with trembling hands.
"What are you doing out here? Get back inside!"
"If I meant you any harm, you'd already be corpses."
William raised both hands, his gaze shifting to the elderly cleaner beside them, who was holding a mop aloft.
Dirty water dripped from the blackened mop head onto an officer's cap brim.
Seriously, couldn't these people read the room?
Just then, the building shook again. Amid a violent explosion, the Gotham Police Department's sign fell from the third floor.
Through the blast-resistant wire mesh, William saw rioters across the street cheering excitedly with rocket launchers in their hands.
The rioters did not linger outside the Police Station for long, but no one knew when the next wave would arrive, or whether they would tear through the flimsy defenses at the entrance and seize the Police Station.
The officers guarding it remained optimistic, believing this was merely a large protest march.
William, however, felt that all of Gotham had descended into anarchy. Sooner or later, someone would think of taking over the Police Station and opening its armory.
If that was the case, he might as well arm himself first.
William turned and headed to the armory. His access privileges and identification credentials had not yet been revoked, and his rank as Investigative Sergeant allowed him to open it.
Only a third of the