The Port Black Market

The place Qin Wei had mentioned was Miller Bay, a C-shaped inlet south of Bob Kane Port, inside the Apollo Cross-Sea Bridge.

It housed Gotham's largest smuggling port, controlled by Falcone.

The port's shipping routes reached across the entire East Coast of the United States. In theory, you could buy anything there, from stolen antiques to decommissioned Soviet tanks, even rocket wreckage.

Victor, the port's actual manager, was a scrupulous and highly reputable businessman. As long as the price pleased him, he would find a way to poach even the Decepticons or the Infinity Gauntlet from the production next door.

The two drove through the commercial area, hitting thirty-six red lights in the Diamond District's congested evening rush.

By the time they neared the port, Qin Wei's expression was darker than the sky outside the window.

He silently resolved to complain to Gotham's road administration about the excessive number of red lights once this was over. If his complaint went nowhere, he would blow up a few with a rocket launcher. No way was he going to keep indulging those useless freeloaders!

The phone in his pocket vibrated. He pulled it out and saw that Oswald was calling.

"You're awake?"

"Yeah! The investigating officer just left. He told me I got incredibly lucky last night. Rats had hollowed out the plaster behind my head. Otherwise, that freak's kick would have snapped my neck." Wearing a neck brace, Oswald spoke slowly in a low voice, like Marlon Brando talking with two wads of cotton stuffed into his cheeks.

The subject made Qin Wei's temper flare. He had wanted to vent about nearly getting killed fighting the fake bat, but this was hardly the time for a chat. Better to wait until he got back, crack open a couple of beers, and talk over drinks.

"Who's driving?" The sports car's roar reminded Oswald of Qin Wei's terrible driving, prompting him to ask another worried question.

"Uncle Ben."

The answer came as quite a surprise.

"Him? What superpower did you use to get him to help?"

"I'm rich!"

"Wow! Okay! Then you really struck gold. You probably don't know this, but he used to..."

They murmured back and forth for a little longer before Qin Wei hung up.

They were stopped before they even entered the port.

Gangsters carrying Thompson Submachine Guns directed them to the roadside, searched the sports car inside and out, then swept it with a metal detector. Once they confirmed there was no threat, they waved them through.

The port was unusually lively at night. Forklifts rumbled back and forth, and all kinds of vehicles sat beneath stacks of cargo containers. A casual glance revealed buyers heatedly arguing over price differences. Most had come prepared, driving pickups or cargo vans. Someone arriving in a flashy sports car like Qin Wei was a rare sight indeed.

No wonder Falcone had willingly handed businesses like casinos and drugs over to Maroni for free. This port's black market had always supplied the bulk of his income.

A thin man holding down his fedora ran toward the headlights with a comical, splay-footed gait.

"I'm Victor, the manager of this port. What can I help you... hmm?"

Victor had spotted the eye-catching sports car from the control station. Knowing its value, he understood that its owner was a big shot he could not afford to offend. Worried that his men might neglect such an important guest, he had hurried down to greet him personally.

At the window, he bent down and rubbed his hands together, hesitating for a long time before finally settling his gaze on Qin Wei.

True, judging by clothes alone, Qin Wei, in a battered suit with his arm in a sling, looked more like hired muscle. But what boss drove while his lackey lounged sideways in the seat, lazily propping his cheek on one hand? That air alone was enough to eclipse Royce, who sat bolt upright with both hands gripping the wheel.

"I don't know much about weapons. If I wanted to rob a bank, what would you recommend?"

Qin Wei made no attempt to hide his purpose. He had asked Falcone a few days earlier and confirmed that Victor was a trustworthy businessman.

Royce, however, was clearly not mentally prepared for this. He gripped the steering wheel so tightly that his eyes nearly popped out of their sockets.

Oh my God! Didn't he hire me to drive? How did this turn into a bank robbery? He can't mean the bank we just withdrew money from, can he? That belongs to the boss!

Victor also noticed Royce's strange expression and gave Qin Wei a questioning look-This guy you brought doesn't seem very reliable!

"Go ahead and speak freely. There are no outsiders here."

Come on, man... why do you trust me so much? Am I really that trustworthy? I don't want to hear this! Royce felt like crying but had no tears. In despair, he raised his hands to cover his ears.

Unfortunately, Qin Wei had no intention of letting this cowardly ostrich bury his head.

A hard, cylindrical object pressed against Royce's waist.

"Put your hands down and listen carefully."

Yes, after selling off the estate, Qin Wei had the funds to carry out Plan A.

The Node Event was approaching. Rather than let the plot lead him around by the nose, he would take the initiative and strike before that gang of "Red Hoods" robbed the bank.

Step one was to acquire a batch of powerful weapons. Step two was to recruit capable subordinates under Oswald's name. Gotham was overflowing with talent. He refused to believe that throwing this much money around would fail to make even a splash.

But plans never kept pace with change. After hearing what he wanted, Victor shook his head.

"As you probably know, Gotham has been very stable under Mr. Falcone's rule these past few years. No one dares to target major financial institutions. Demand for things like rocket launchers, TNT explosives, grenades, and liquid bombs has long since fallen off.

"Of course, if you'd come a day earlier, we would still have had just enough stock in the warehouse. But someone reserved it all last night.

"Here, look. The people collecting it are right behind you!"

Looking in the direction Victor pointed, they saw a group loading crates into a cargo van. Judging by how carefully they handled them, whatever was inside those crates must have had a very explosive "temper."

At those words, a weight lifted from Royce's heart. His spine went limp, and he sagged against the seat like a deflated ball. I knew I shouldn't have let money blind me. Thank goodness they're sold out. Otherwise, I'd have...

But before he could enjoy his relief for long, Qin Wei dialed Falcone's number right in front of him.

"Mr. Carmine? Yes, it's me. I'm at your dock. I want a batch of weapons that's already been reserved..."

Given the choice, Royce would have jumped out of the car on the spot.

He knew that once he finished listening to this call, the broad road to coasting through life would vanish. Only two narrow, thorn-choked paths would remain: report Qin Wei to the boss, or climb aboard Qin Wei's pirate ship.

The thought left him even more baffled by what went on inside Qin Wei's head. What normal person would reveal a top-secret plan so confidently to someone he's only met a few times? Where did he get the nerve to assume I wouldn't dare report him?

Hah. He really is a good judge of character!

Royce felt that Qin Wei had him completely under his thumb.

It was a thoroughly unpleasant experience.

Meanwhile, Qin Wei had finished explaining, and Falcone expressed his helplessness.

He was a mob boss, but above all, he was a businessman. Having built his fortune on trust and connections, he could not betray a business partner.

"I'm sorry. The Roman Empire's reputation matters more than our friendship..."

Falcone paused briefly, then steered the conversation in another direction.

"But we only protect our partners within our territory. Once they leave the docks, whatever happens to them is none of our concern."