Qin Wei was a little disappointed when he entered the garage.
Perhaps because this timeline was still in the late twentieth century, all dozen or so cars in the garage were old models. The first-generation 1987 Lamborghini was boxy, like a Transformer that had stepped out of an American cartoon from the same era.
The 1980 Rolls-Royce was pretty good, with a broad, long body and sharply defined edges that best suited a mob boss. Unfortunately, Gotham had no shortage of rich people, and this was the luxury car he saw most often on the roads.
The 1993 Porsche might have been the best-looking car here, but to Qin Wei, it wasn't even as good as Oswald's dark green Ford GT.
Little Penguin was still clicking his tongue in admiration, but Qin Wei had already lost interest.
Then he spotted another machine hidden beneath a car cover in the corner.
He pulled off the cover, and a blood-red 1963 Ferrari GT bared its fangs like a ravenous shark.
Its streamlined body had the sleek finish unique to sports cars, while its wire-spoke wheels added a touch of vintage beauty. More importantly, it was expensive! If Qin Wei remembered correctly, the price of this car had been driven to astronomical heights in his own timeline.
Qin Wei had made his choice...
Vroom!
With a roar of its engine, the Ferrari shot out of the underground garage. The two men rolled down the windows and laughed with abandon.
This car had been Dodge's most treasured possession. After a few top-speed runs on a racetrack, its tires had never touched the ground again. Its engine had been run in with the car raised off the floor, its pristine paintwork was waxed every week, and not a single pebble was lodged in its tires.
But as the saying went, what you cradled like a treasure, someone else stomped on. Oswald showed the accelerator no mercy, blasting the exhaust along country lanes and throwing in the occasional drift. Before they had gone more than a few miles, the car was splattered with mud.
Had Dodge still been alive, Oswald, that bastard with no appreciation for beauty, would surely have enraged him to death.
Starting in the northern outskirts, the two took a long, high-speed loop around the city through the countryside on the west bank of the Gotham River, then returned to the Lower District via Brown Bridge.
The trouble began at seven that evening. At first, not a single civilian could be seen on the streets. Instead, black-clad Roman Thugs and large numbers of local hoodlums were searching for people door to door.
These men were violent and reckless. They burst into homes and ransacked them, smashed windows and kicked doors off their hinges, then helped themselves to valuables before leaving. They were practically no different from players taking on the role of heroes out to slay the demon king in an RPG.
Except NPCs in games didn't fight back, while the residents of the Lower District did. Besides, the Mafia wasn't the only power in the Lower District. There was also the unpredictable Red Hood Gang.
By nine that evening, civilians, mobsters, and Red Hoods were locked in a raging battle.
Trash cans were kicked over, scattering empty liquor bottles and old newspapers across the streets. Some people hefted iron buckets and smashed them into enemies who might not even have been enemies. Others comically held up bucket lids and huddled behind them, shielding themselves from shots that might come from dark corners.
Streetlights were smashed out and utility poles toppled. Exposed wires soaked in standing water, spreading joy through the gaps between steps and streets.
And so everyone on the street caught the feeling, their bodies going rigid and trembling with delight. When they got tired, they simply lay down. Friend or foe, everyone did the same!
Anyone looking down over the Lower District from a church spire would surely have been so astonished by the magnificent chaos that they burst into applause.
The district was burning, gunfire erupting everywhere. The thick smoke and dust it stirred up merged with the entire district, filling every street and alley. Only when flames flared could the smoke be distinguished from the buildings.
The situation had spiraled completely out of control. Qin Wei hadn't expected Maroni to cause such an uproar, and Maroni hadn't expected the Red Hoods to retaliate so fiercely.
It was like a runaway mine cart hurtling along aging tracks, only to fly off a bend and plunge into a bottomless abyss.
The suspension bridge leading into the Lower District had been sealed off. The two could only park at the far end and cross on foot.
What greeted them was a Lower District bathed in firelight and thick smoke.
Things had gone far beyond Qin Wei's expectations, and there was no easy way to bring them to an end.
He realized that everything seemed to have stemmed from what he had told Dick a dozen or so hours earlier.
That had completely changed Dick's storyline.
With courage, strategy, and foreknowledge of the comics, Qin Wei might have been able to outmaneuver every character who appeared, even running circles around a mob boss like Maroni.
But the moment he tried to disrupt the original storyline, this world would strike back with overwhelming force.
This time, it hadn't been too bad. Dick wasn't a central character, and changing his storyline hadn't threatened Qin Wei's personal safety. But what about next time? Especially if he tried to stop Harvey Dent from becoming Two-Face-what horrors would happen then?
A long line of police cars roared past them, followed by fire engines and ambulances.
"What do we do now?" Oswald asked his usual question, but this time Qin Wei didn't know how to answer.
He stood at the end of the bridge, feeling truly lost for the first time.
After a long while, he shook his head.
"I have to go home and check! I promised my dead brothers that one day, the Senate would become the Roman Empire's true Senate. I can't let it be destroyed in this riot!"
"You're crazy!" Qin Wei grabbed Oswald's arm, but Oswald pulled free.
"I know it's dangerous, but I have to go. Just wait here for me."
Oswald took off his suit jacket, loosened his tie, and charged into the chaotic Lower District without looking back.
Qin Wei clicked his tongue. He knew Oswald was loyal, but this impulsive recklessness was worlds apart from the vicious, cunning Penguin in the animated series.
With that hotheaded attitude, he didn't look like someone who could ever become a gang boss.
Still, Qin Wei couldn't leave him to fend for himself. After a moment's hesitation, he followed.
The two darted through streets and alleys, one behind the other.
Oswald slipped on his brass knuckles, casually dealt with a few Red Hoods foolish enough to get in his way, and pulled Qin Wei into an alley beside the road. With the streets in chaos, taking shortcuts through the alleys was their smartest option.
Relying on their familiarity with the East End, the two crouched low as they threaded through the maze of alleys.
They only needed to leave the alley and cross one more intersection to reach the Senate, but a large group of Red Hoods blocked their way at the alley's mouth.
The Red Hoods looked as though they had been fighting for a long time. Not a scrap of their clothing was intact. They leaned against the walls, panting, with several Roman corpses sprawled at their feet.
Fortunately, the enemy was out in the open while Qin Wei and Oswald were hidden. There was still time to avoid a fight.
Oswald slowly backed away, but Qin Wei suddenly grabbed him.
"Careful..."
Qin Wei lowered his voice and pointed at Oswald's feet.
Oswald looked down and saw an empty bottle. Without the warning, he would have stepped on it.
Tch! I knew this tired cliché was coming. Every time the protagonist tries to sneak away, he has to step on something and make a noise, then a big fight becomes inevitable. Can't they stop using this worn-out crap?
Qin Wei snorted, twisting his lips into the signature crooked grin of the wrestler D'Angelo, "The Pope." He was rather pleased with himself for predicting how the plot would unfold.
But the plot soon slapped its mocker hard across the face in a different way. Footsteps sounded from the other end of the alley, and another squad of Red Hoods poked their heads around the corner.
They were trapped between two groups.
This time, there was nowhere for either of them to hide. The Red Hoods looked up and immediately spotted their prey.
Oswald drew his pistol.
"Stay back!"
In response, the other men all drew their guns at once.
"OK! OK! I admit I was a little loud just now. My fault." Oswald awkwardly rubbed his nose.
He lowered his gun and watched the Red Hoods close in from both sides, cracking their knuckles.
"Wow! If it isn't Mr. Oswald from the East End! What's wrong? I heard all your boys died. You're a boss with nobody left to boss around now?" The lead Red Hood recognized Little Penguin. He also lived in the East End and had taken a savage beating from Oswald just half a month earlier. Naturally, seeing his enemy again filled him with fury.
Qin Wei quietly clenched his fists.
The Red Hoods and the Romans of the Lower District had been enemies for years. With the Lower District in turmoil, these thugs would never let two isolated mortal enemies go. If they surrendered, all that awaited them was a brutal death by torture.
They had to find a way to turn the tables and kill their attackers, but they stood at the junction of two alleys, with dark gun barrels aimed at them from both directions. No matter how he looked at it, they were doomed.
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