A bright flash erupted from the muzzle, the bullet whistling as it grazed Batman's armor, even sending sparks flying.
"Who gave you permission to fire! You bastard!"
Gordon grabbed the barrel of the SWAT officer's gun next to him, veins bulging on his neck, and roared, echoing down the corridor.
From the moment he stepped into the interrogation room, the old director sensed something was wrong.
He's been working with Batman for a while now. Although the guy is ruthless, he never crosses the line, meaning he doesn't inflict fatal damage or permanent mutilation on criminals.
Something about today's incident seems off.
But his men pulled the trigger on Batman without warning, without the slightest hesitation.
Bang!
Before Gordon could even grab the rifle, Batman threw out two aluminum canisters.
Thick tear gas billowed out, and a white blast of air completely filled the narrow space in half a second.
"Cough cough cough! I can't see!"
"Damn it! Fire! Fire now!"
"You idiot! Don't fucking fire! The chief's still up ahead!"
The pungent chemicals mixed with acrid smoke quickly filled the interrogation room, throwing the SWAT team into chaos.
In the thick fog, a blurry, tall, dark figure swept past like a ghost.
With a dull thud, the two officers felt a numbness in the back of their necks, their bodies went limp, and they collapsed to the ground.
Bruce's move was swift and clean; his combat boots moved almost silently, gliding along the shadows of the corner of the wall.
At the entrance to the corridor, a SWAT officer with a shield, wearing a gas mask, was retreating towards the safety passage at the back of the row.
Bruce descended silently from above, his slender fingertips precisely locking onto the opponent's chin and a major acupoint at the back of his neck.
Before the SWAT officer could even utter a sound, his limp body was dragged into the ventilation duct.
Take off your clothes, button up your riot vest, and straighten your collar.
Bruce's fingers moved incredibly fast; in just three seconds, the heavy riot helmet that covered most of his face was on his head.
As for the conspicuous bat armor and black cape, they were folded into a flat backpack by a miniaturized folding mechanism and tightly attached to the inside of the riot vest.
"Everyone back off! Regroup at the fire escape stairwell!"
Someone was shouting frantically in the corridor.
Bruce pulled his hat down low, carrying a riot shield in one hand and a standard police baton in the other, and naturally slipped into the back of the retreating crowd.
The powerful exhaust fan at the top of the corridor emitted a muffled hum, and it took a full half minute to barely remove most of the thick smoke.
Under the stark white light, Batman had vanished without a trace.
Eight or nine riot police officers lay sprawled on the ground, each clutching their stomachs or joints and groaning. They had no fatal wounds, but were all incapacitated.
Gordon coughed violently, his gaze turning coldly to the face of the officer who had pulled the trigger first.
The SWAT officer's forehead was covered in cold sweat, his eyes darted around, and his hands were fidgeting with the edge of his holster.
"Chief... I really didn't mean to. I thought he was going to throw a bomb, and my finger slipped..."
"Finger slipped?"
Gordon stepped forward, grabbed the man's badge, and his face darkened. "You've been with the Gotham SWAT for three years! Three years with the Gotham SWAT! And now you're telling me your fingers can slip off?"
The officer closed his eyes, lowered his head, and couldn't answer a single question.
Gordon shoved him away and took a deep breath.
That bastard is definitely suspicious, but he couldn't say for sure how many other people in this police station building had been bribed.
Batman has definitely fallen into a carefully laid trap, leaving him no room for explanation.
"Seal off all entrances and exits here!"
Gordon grabbed the walkie-talkie, his voice heavy, "Call for backup from Team Two and Team Three! Activate real-time infrared thermal imaging on all channels!"
Wayne Manor, the drawing room.
The light screen in mid-air rippled slightly, displaying the chaotic scene inside the police station.
Chen Mo leaned back in the leather sofa, holding a teacup that was now just at the bottom, and slowly swirled it around.
"Tsk, he's pretty good at using that 'golden cicada shedding its shell' trick."
Chen Mo casually placed the empty teacup on the mahogany coffee table, a smirk playing on his lips.
"If it were someone else, being cornered in a dead end with dozens of guns, it would take several episodes to escape, or it would be the very end of the series. But he just walked out like that."
Alfred, standing to the side, frowned slightly, his usual relaxed and humorless face gone.
The old butler held the silver tray to his chest and sighed.
"The master's insistence on not killing can sometimes push the situation into a more troublesome state."
" Alfred, this isn't just a simple problem for him."
Chen Mo stretched and yawned. "Look at that officer who fired the shot. It's obvious someone bribed him with money or some other leverage."
"One minute someone has smashed the brains of several people, the next minute someone is arranged to accidentally shoot them, forcing them to fight back."
"This combination of attacks and counterattacks was so effective, it practically screamed 'framed' on Bruce's forehead."
A hint of heaviness flashed in Alfred's eyes.
"Yes, the mastermind's tactics are clearly designed to force Batman to fight alone, to ensure that Batman receives no further assistance in Gotham."
Great minds think alike.
Chen Mo pointed to the riot squad on the screen, who were retreating towards the back door of the police station with the flow of people. "Besides, he probably hasn't revealed his real trump card yet."
In the alley behind the Gotham Police Department, rainwater cascaded down the eaves and onto the road.
Bruce mingled among a group of dejected team members, steadily stepping across the puddles, and left the police station.
The officers around him were all cursing and complaining about their bad luck that night, and no one paid any attention to whether Bruce at the end of the line was one of their own.
Bruce raised his left hand, preparing to cut off the back door surveillance at the drain around the corner and change out of the cumbersome riot uniform.
However, just as his foot stepped out of the back door...
A new set of orders suddenly popped up on the walkie-talkies hanging around the chests of all the officers.
Sizzle--
A familiar, serious male voice rang out clearly in the night through the mayor's office's dedicated frequency.
"Attention all officers in the city, this is the Secret Service Liaison Office of the Mayor of Gotham City."
"The modern-day Gotham City authorities have officially issued a red notice for the suspect, Batman."
"The suspect is accused of premeditated murder of a political figure, vandalism of public property, and severe mutilation of detainees on trial; he poses an extremely high danger."
"The mayor has issued a special order: effective immediately, all patrol officers and riot police in the city will conduct a citywide manhunt for Batman."
"If the suspect resists, shoot him on the spot without asking for permission!"