The sun rose in the east.
It was hard to say whether Gotham's gangsters had yet to clock out or had just clocked in. After all, once you ended up working as a gang enforcer, you didn't deserve an eight-hour workday. Working twenty-four hours a day, seven days a week was the norm, and weekends off were out of the question.
If you asked why, would the rival gang stop trying to steal your territory just because it was Saturday or Sunday?
People who had helped move barricades yesterday were now hiding behind them, guns in hand, swearing at the other side.
As already noted, putting certain F- and B-words together in Gotham was basically synonymous with "good morning."
A delivery truck sat across the intersection. Its driver huddled beneath his seat, listening to bullets clang against the door, not daring to lift his head.
He suddenly remembered that today seemed to be the Sabbath.
He might as well make the sign of the cross over his chest.
On the other side of the barricade, a man was shooting at the truck's cab when a black spider landed on its roof.
Before the shooter could react, his gun was yanked from his hands. A moment later, Chen Mo dragged him over the hood and pinned him facedown on the ground.
"Face down, ass up. Stay there. Don't move. You've probably heard I haven't been in the best mood these past few days. Behave, okay?"
The man's other hand reached behind his waist.
"Tsk. Naughty boy."
Chen Mo stepped on his arm.
Crack.
That finally made him behave.
One warning had failed. Time for force.
By the time the police car arrived, Chen Mo had strung the whole group up by the wall. The driver had finished crossing himself and praying