Gordon edged cautiously along the corner of the venue, but his old partner, Harvey Bullock, stepped straight into a pool of thick blood and lit a cigar in the middle of the casino.
"Watch it. Don't destroy the clues the culprit left behind."
"Oh, come on, Gordon! There are clues everywhere. This guy wasn't even trying to hide who he was." Bullock took a deep drag without a care and grinned, revealing a mouthful of tobacco-stained teeth.
He picked up a playing card from the floor.
The card seemed to have fallen into a bucket of glue. It took some effort to peel it up, dark red, sticky blood stretching from its surface before snapping back to the floor with a wet plop.
"Lucky you. An ace. I'd have raised the bet too."
He whistled and glanced at the poor corpse at his feet, torn wide open from shoulder to crotch, with a pile of chips scattered beside it.
A lucky gambler, but an unlucky man.
Turning his attention back to the card, he carefully plucked a hair off it.
The hair was as thick and stiff as a pig's bristle.
After handing the evidence to a forensic technician, Bullock exhaled a cloud of smoke, took off his filthy felt fedora, and called to Gordon.
"Buddy, find anything over there?"
"Yeah. Something big!"
Gordon was examining the claw marks on the wall.
The marks were roughly ten centimeters apart, thin and shallow at the bottom, short and thick at the top-typical primate scratch marks. Gordon held up his hand to compare and estimated that, if the culprit was human, his palm had to be at least as big as a car tire.
The killer possessed enough brute strength to tear a living person apart, along with a pair of huge, hairy hands.
Was it Bigfoot?
Gordon's heart skipped a beat.
Harvey started talking beside him.
"You know, they're transferring a new guy from New York to replace the chief prosecutor the mob assassinated last week. His name's Dent or something... oh, right! Same first name as me. Harvey Dent!"
"I hear the kid's only been out of school a couple of years, but he's stubborn as hell. He's put plenty of rich businessmen and politicians in New York behind bars."
"Why are you telling me this?"
Gordon frowned and shook his head slightly. Even though he was considered one of the few honest cops in Gotham, decades on the job had taught him when to let things go and when to turn a blind eye.
To protect his daughter Barbara, he had been forced to become the very sort of person he despised.
If Harvey Dent really was as upright as the rumors claimed, he wouldn't last long in Gotham.
Bullock kept rambling:
"Commissioner Rob just called me. Said we have to solve this case before he gets here. Can't let that New York kid look down on us."
"Look down on us? The Gotham Police Department is already the laughingstock of New Jersey!" Gordon snorted, his mustache bristling.
He knew Rob was only making excuses. In truth, he didn't want Harvey Dent getting involved in any cases connected to Maroni.
If Harvey Dent joined in their corruption, he would take a share of Rob's money. If he stayed honest, he would get in the way of Rob making money. Neither outcome was good for Rob.
"Hey! Come over here and see what I found!"
A young officer poked his head around the corner and beckoned to the two old-timers.
They followed him over. The restroom looked as though a giant groundhog had dug through it, leaving clods of dirt and debris all over the floor.
The officer pointed to the large hole in the middle.
"I think those things crawled out of Gotham's sewers. Should we send someone down to search? There might be more clues."
Gordon and Bullock exchanged a smile.
"Want to take a look down there?"
"Sure, but let me make one thing clear: if we run into a monster, I'm running ahead of you."
Oswald regained consciousness, shakily climbed to his feet, and leaned against the wall as he vomited a puddle of clear fluid.
"Will, where are we... where's that damned woman?"
"She got away. You didn't expect me to catch her alone, did you?"
Qin Wei rubbed his nose and averted his eyes.
Until a minute earlier, Catwoman had still been pestering Qin Wei. Judging by her refusal to let it go, he probably would have spent the whole night tossing and turning if he hadn't given her an explanation.
Only when she saw that Oswald was about to wake did she reluctantly leave.
"Wasn't I in the casino? How did I end up outside?" As his memories returned, Oswald finally realized something was wrong.
"Ah... yeah... how did you... right! Don't you remember? You chased her out with me. I thought your expression looked strange then. So you'd already lost consciousness?"
Oswald blinked, his handsome face full of suspicion.
Qin Wei's lie was clumsy beyond belief, but Oswald could never have guessed that he had conspired with Catwoman to get him out.
After exchanging a few more words, Qin Wei reckoned the slaughter should be over and suggested returning to the casino.
Before they could leave the alley, several towering figures blocked their way.
Backlit as they were, Oswald couldn't make out their faces, but the murderous aura rolling off them didn't lie.
"Go on ahead!"
He pushed Qin Wei behind him and drew the dagger tucked behind his belt.
"You're in deep trouble. You dared to attack the Roman. Are you ready to have the whole city hunting you down?"
But their reply caught Oswald off guard.
"What the hell are you talking about? The boss sent us."
Oswald put away his dagger. In Gotham, "the boss" generally meant Mr. Maroni. But Mr. Maroni had sent people to find them after so little time. Had something serious happened?
He moved closer for a better look. They were actually Mr. Maroni's personal bodyguards.
All of them were products of Blackgate Penitentiary. No wonder they radiated such murderous intent.
Yet they normally stayed at Maroni's side without leaving him for a moment. Today, they had broken that routine.
Something really had happened, then. Something big.
"You guys talk. I won't get in your way. I'll just be going!"
Seeing that things had taken a bad turn, Qin Wei tried to slip away, but men had blocked the other end of the alley too. With the dark muzzle of a rifle pressed between his eyebrows, he could only obediently raise his hands.
A black hood was pulled over Qin Wei's head, and his arms were twisted behind his back as he was shoved into the car.
Unable to see, he was overwhelmed by panic.
In both the movies and the comics, Maroni was little more than a plot device among Gotham's many villains. Aside from serving as cannon fodder for a third faction, his only achievement was throwing sulfuric acid in Harvey Dent's face, creating the unforgettable character Two-Face.
But that was all from the perspective of the seemingly omnipotent Batman.
To an ordinary person like Qin Wei, the title of second-in-command of the Roman Empire, whose power dominated Gotham, was enough to make his teeth chatter. That was before even considering the cold-blooded cruelty etched into the man's very bones.
He was a tyrant who treated human lives as worthless.
Whenever his subordinates made a mistake, the punishment awaiting them was the brutal loss of a hand or a foot.
And what had he and Oswald done? They claimed to have been chasing a thief, but they hadn't caught anyone. Maroni would surely think they had neglected their duties and fled in the face of danger.
Having committed that sort of offense, Qin Wei didn't dare imagine what would happen to him.
The car stopped, and the two hooded men were led along a winding route. Qin Wei had no idea how much time passed before he heard a door open and his hood was yanked off.
A dim, empty study.
A tall built-in bookcase on the left held an extensive assortment of books, while on the right stood only a bare wooden desk, with a half-smoked cigar resting on its ashtray.
"Will, I think we're in serious trouble." Oswald licked his cracked lips, his voice trembling and hoarse, as though a large hand had closed around his throat.
He recognized this place. It was in this very study that he had first met Mr. Maroni three years ago.
Back then, Maroni had held an ashtray and smashed some unlucky bastard's skull to pieces, blow after blow.
Qin Wei said nothing. The next pages of the comic had appeared the moment he escaped the casino. Now he stood under the light, frantically flipping through it in search of a clue that might keep him alive.
Before you continue