belamy20
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🕑 Added 2025-05-21 17:20:28 +0000 UTCChapter 48 Boom
"Screech, screech, screech......"
The grating sound of a metal file echoed in the basement. Luckily, despite the noise, it wasn't too loud and wouldn't bother anyone upstairs.
"Creak—"
The basement door opened, and a light from the stairs shone into the dark space.
"Harvey, Harvey, are you down there?"
A soft female voice called out. It was Harvey's wife, Gilda Dent.
Harvey put the file back on the cluttered workbench. The slightly yellowed overhead light and the desk lamp illuminated Harvey by the table and the area on the table itself, where all sorts of metal parts, bullets, gun components, and so on were scattered haphazardly. He looked up at Gilda walking down the stairs; her face seemed a little anxious.
"I, I saw on the news that you burned a lot of Falcone's money, I'm worried..."
"Worried I'll end up like Richard Daniel? There's really no need for that, Gilda."
The two talked back and forth in the basement; this had almost become their daily routine lately.
Gilda was a little emotional. As she spoke, she instinctively buried her head in Harvey's chest, a flicker of tears in her eyes. As the wife of Harvey Dent, that fool in Gotham who insisted on upholding fairness and justice, just waiting for him to get off work every day felt so agonizing and tense. In fact, she had already tearfully confided in Harvey like this since the day after Richard was killed.
Harvey Dent held his wife, his eyes slightly narrowed, his expression full of tenderness and a cold fury towards Falcone's actions in Gotham City. The flame of justice in his heart seemed like it would never go out, always burning brightly.
"Ring-ring—Ring-ring—"
"Honey, why don't you go on up? I'll grab this call first."
"Okay... Harvey?"
"What is it?"
"Remember to come up soon. There's a package for you, looks like it has a combination lock, and I can't open it."
"Combination lock? I'll be right up, honey."
After comforting and settling his wife, Harvey Dent sent her upstairs and answered the ringing phone.
"Hello?"
An electronic voice, clearly disguised by a voice changer, came from the other end of the line, making it impossible to tell if it was male or female, old or young.
"Mr. Harvey Dent, the Roman says hello..."
......
Meanwhile, in a black car parked outside, five figures silently watched Harvey's house through the dark, one-way tinted windows.
"Hey, did Dent's wife take the bomb inside?"
Donnie, the kid, held the remote, looking pretty patient. "What's the rush? We detonate it after we're sure Dent's out of the basement."
Kevin, the Two-Face wannabe, was a bit curious. "So, what the heck is Harvey Dent doing in that basement every day? It's been almost half a month now, right?"
"Who knows?" Jimmy, the smooth operator with his hand on the steering wheel, chuckled. "Maybe he's getting ready for his next gig?"
"You mean..."
"Knocked off a key member of the Falcone family with just two shots. If that were you, wouldn't you be prepping for the next score?" Mickey Mouse said mockingly. "Our 'man of justice' spent ages trying to get Johnny Viti to agree to testify, but in just one night, that guy's buddy-buddy with his uncle Falcone again."
"Look, seems to me, no matter what you wanna do in Gotham, whether you're a good guy or a bad guy, using a gun is way easier than using the law. If he keeps killing like this, the Falcone family's gonna be shaking in their boots real soon. Those two shots achieved more than a year of legal wrangling."
"Hey, I think Harvey Dent showed up. Yeah, he's showing up now," Willie the Duet suddenly alerted them.
"Alright, fellas. Jimmy, Donnie, get ready. After this job, we'll be living the high life!"
"No problem, Boss. You got it."
"Ready whenever you are, Mickey."
So the group watched as Harvey Dent's figure emerged from the basement and then flashed past a living room window.
"He's out, but his wife looks like she's going into the basement. What's the call? Blow it now? Or wait 'til his wife's gone down?"
"With the power of my bomb, as long as he's on the first floor, that thing'll blow him to smithereens. As for his wife... I ain't waiting. Detonate it now."
"Alrighty then—"
"Well, hit the button!"
"I am hitting it! Why the heck isn't this button working?!"
Under the gaze of his four teammates, Donnie frantically pressed the remote repeatedly, but there was still no movement from Harvey Dent's house. At this point, he instinctively looked at Mickey.
"Mickey, is something wrong with the bomb?"
"No way, get outta here! I checked it this morning—"
"Boom!"
At that moment, a fierce flash and explosion finally erupted, shattering the windows of Harvey Dent's house. Rolling smoke and flames spread everywhere, and even a few twisted metal nails that had been packed into the bomb flew out the window. Even if Gotham's District Attorney wasn't consumed by the blast, he'd be riddled like a sieve by the dense shrapnel.
"See that?" Mickey, the quickest to react, snapped back to reality and boasted triumphantly. "I told you, my bomb will at least go off! Drive! Now!"
The black car with no plates started its engine and quickly disappeared around the corner.
"Hey Mickey, why didn't that bomb pack the punch you said it would? It didn't exactly blow Harvey's house to kingdom come," Kevin had nothing else to do, so he'd been watching Harvey Dent's place. "You didn't actually mess up, did you?"
"You idiots who don't know squat about demolition, don't you dare question my bomb-making skills!" Mickey cursed. "You'll see how good I am when you read the news tomorrow."
"Harvey Dent is dead."
"Those nails you bought... you know I'll find you. It's just a matter of time."
Batman voice in the darkness was cold and low, devoid of any noticeable emotion.
But in Mickey's ears, whether it was because the neon signs outside the window were too bright or because his hangover hadn't cleared up, he felt like there were pairs of Bat-eyes coldly staring at him from the darkness. He felt like their voices were practically deafening, like he was about to be torn to shreds by these angry monsters any second.
The sudden voice in the room scared the hair on his arms straight; he could barely hold onto the wine bottle in his hand. He knew exactly whose voice that was, and he knew exactly what his fate would be; he just hadn't let himself think about it.
"Ahhh—"
The screaming man leaped from the window and fell into the alley below. Terrified, he looked up and could only see a terrifyingly huge dark figure stepping towards him from the shadows of the alley.
"Ba... Batman!"
Chapter 49: Interrogation
By the time Batman chased him deep into the alley, Mickey was gone.
Gotham, this godforsaken place, often had nowhere to run skyward, but sometimes offered a way down into the earth. Batman looked at the manhole cover, half-lifted and reeking of decay, leading straight into Gotham City's sewers.
Ignoring the overpowering stench, he quickly pulled the cover fully open, then dropped down into the darkness below.
"Solomon Grundy, born on a Monday!"
"Solomon Grundy, born on a Monday!"
In the vast, dark sewer, a monster's voice echoed.
The black bat landed softly and immediately saw the giant in the sewer. He glanced over at Mickey, who was sprawled on the ground, knocked out cold and maybe worse, and felt a pang of worry that this three-meter-tall behemoth might have just punched the guy to death.
"Easy there, Grundy. I didn't mean to bother you. Just here for the guy who bothered you."
"Solomon Grundy, born on a Monday."
"Friend said, black, pointy ears, stay away, don't mess with him..."
Strangely, after seeing Batman, Grundy just muttered and turned, lumbering deeper into the sewer, ignoring both him and Mickey.
That's weird... Batman watched Grundy leave directly, pulling back his hand that had instinctively reached for his utility belt. This poor, ragged giant seemed to have suddenly become much calmer. Usually, almost every time he'd run into him, it ended in a fight, which was why he'd come prepared with specialized gear for him – but it wasn't needed this time.
Who was that 'friend' he mentioned? Who could be friends with Solomon Grundy?
He pondered the question silently. After confirming that Mickey was just knocked out, he took him straight back to the police station.
And now, here they were.
"We know it was you, Mickey, but we also know you're just a small fish. And the only use for a small fish – is to catch a big one."
"Fish?"
Captain Gordon, wearing a white shirt, stood by the table, looking serious, with the unmistakable gravitas of a seasoned cop in his demeanor. "We want to know who hired you for this job, Mickey. If you help us, maybe we can help you."
Seeing Mickey's innocent expression, Gordon's brow furrowed, his face hardening with stern frustration. "I don't want to be here. My wife made turkey and all sorts of good stuff at home – that's where an honest, decent man belongs today."
"But justice doesn't take holidays, Mickey. If you don't tell us who paid you and your crew to try and kill the Gotham City District Attorney, I'm gonna miss Thanksgiving dinner."
To this kind of mild threat, Mickey, a career criminal, just smirked. Now that he was safely inside the police station, he no longer felt like a rat in a gutter, filled with unease and fear. He knew this place operated within the rules, and within those rules, his life wasn't in danger – he even fantasized about getting off scot-free just by denying everything.
With a thick, broken English accent that sounded like Irish, he mocked, "Well, then I guess you might just miss your Thanksgiving, pal, 'cause I don't know Carmine Falcone. Never even heard of him – what did you call him? 'The Roman'?"
Clearly, he hadn't experienced Batman methods before today.
At that moment, Batman's voice spoke again. This time, he stepped out of the shadows, holding a small evidence bag containing a slightly twisted, charred nail.
"The bomb you made blew up Dent's place. This nail was part of that bomb. Every nail has a serial number. We traced it back to the manufacturer, then to a hardware store just two blocks from your apartment. We got the receipt."
Batman lowered his head, his cold gaze fixed directly on Mickey, whose forehead was starting to sweat. With the final conclusion, he shattered the guy's mental defenses.
"You bought these nails."
The air hung heavy for a few seconds. With concrete evidence laid out, Mickey finally sighed, completely giving up on trying to talk his way out of this.
"Harvey Dent... he really brought this on himself. Even if it wasn't me, there are plenty of other guys in this town who'd be happy to do the job."
"You got me, alright. I made the bomb, yeah. That's what you want me to say, right? Alright, pal, I'll write it all down for you."
"But there's one thing you shouldn't get wrong."
At this point, Mickey's expression suddenly turned strange, a half-smile playing on his lips, his face partially obscured by the shadow in the interrogation room. "We all know where Mr. Dent's been and what he's been doing."
"What do you mean?" Hearing this, anger clearly flashed across Gordon's face. "What are you trying to say?"
"That question... you gotta ask yourself – Who killed Johnny Vitti?"
This time, the tension in the air was even thicker, more suffocating than before.
"You're done here. Get out, Mickey."
...
In the prison, the Irish gang was finally reunited.
"Alright guys, you all know what to say, right?" Mickey, who had just been brought in, stood with his back to the light. The others couldn't quite make out his face or expression, but from his strained, distorted voice, it was clear he'd been put through the wringer during the interrogation.
"Mickey, we went over the story. I don't wanna do it again," Donny shook his head.
"We haven't been in this deep before."
"Then we do it like we always do – stick to the story and screw 'em over!"
At this, everyone exchanged knowing, wicked grins. This was something they were old pros at.
...
"I was the getaway driver that day. I can write it all down for you, if you need."
"I delivered the package to that woman, Harvey Dent's wife, Mrs. Dent, you know the one. I can write it all down for you, if you need."
"I followed Dent to his place, yeah, that was me, tracked him all the way home. If you need it, write it all down, I will."
"I pressed the damn remote button. And I'll write it all down, if you need me to."
Five statements, including Mickey's. They'd practiced the story, no holes. Whatever The Roman paid them, it was money well spent.
Batman thought this silently.
A waiting officer heard a low, hoarse voice from the darkness. "Bring Mickey back in."
So, Mickey, one of the five, was brought back again.
"Get anything?"
"Nothing. Not one of them mentioned Falcone's name."
Mickey sighed and reached up, peeling off the disgusting face mask to reveal Harvey Dent's sharp, defined features. "My Irish accent was terrible, absolutely awful. Good thing those idiots couldn't tell – looks like I don't need to be 'dead' anymore."
...
Rewind to just before the explosion. In the basement, Harvey received a phone call.
"Mr. Harvey Dent, The Roman sends his regards..."
"For the next three minutes, our call shouldn't be tapped – unless someone already bugged your place, but from what I know, you're not that careless, and he wouldn't allow you to be monitored."
"So, I'll cut right to the chase – the package upstairs has a bomb in it, but I swapped it for a small-yield one. It'll make a big show, but the damage won't be lethal."
Listening to the voice on the phone, Harvey's face gradually darkened with anger.
"Don't speak, just keep listening. The code for the package is 1942. Besides the bomb, there's a cross necklace inside. Give it to your wife, or wear it yourself. Believe it or not, that necklace can keep a person safe."
"The bomb will be activated when you go upstairs. I rigged it with a delay, so you've got an extra ten seconds. Don't go upstairs until you've figured out how to use those ten seconds to escape."
"Finally – don't just get rid of the bomb. Someone's gotta collect Falcone's bounty. If you 'die' once, The Roman won't come after you a second time."
"Good luck, Prosecutor Dent."
Chapter 50 Talk about being Awesome
Harvey Dent didn't die. In fact, even Gilda was fine.
Cody watched the news report, smiling happily. He was almost completely certain of his judgment, because the system's prompts wouldn't be wrong.
He casually filled a cornucopia with grapes, corn, baby pumpkins, and cherry tomatoes. Today was Thanksgiving, another holiday meaning another gig, and the Horn of Plenty he was working on was the item required for this odd job.
"Even the Amulet Necklace's uses displayed in the system panel didn't decrease. Harvey Dent is seriously something... Ten seconds must have been plenty of time for him."
Thinking of this, his smile faded a bit, because the latter half of the news seemed strange.
Why was Harvey's wife in the hospital? He just couldn't figure it out. If being admitted the day of the explosion was for checks, why on earth would she still be in the hospital today?
Could something have happened that he didn't know about?
He carefully racked his brain for memories related to Harvey's wife, but honestly, all he could recall was Harvey Dent's girlfriend who got kidnapped by the Joker in The Dark Knight trilogy. Obviously, those two were completely unrelated.
"Guess I'd better swing by the hospital and take back that cross necklace while I'm at it."
"You think there's any chance of his story being true? This isn't the first time I've heard it—"
"Harvey Dent shot Falcone's nephew twice in the head? I don't buy it. I won't buy it, and neither should you."
......
Harvey, who had just gotten inside, didn't know about the conversation that had happened between Gordon and Batman. He just felt a little lost as he tore off the mask.
Being two people at once... it felt truly bizarre, but he seemed surprisingly good at it, even feeling a little reluctant to let go, as if he was born to be two people.
"So, we don't charge the Irish gang with murder—I plan to just let them walk. We'll leak some rumors on the street, say we cut a deal with them, and then see how the Roman reacts."
"We can still nail them. They admitted intent to murder, they blew up your house, and they put Gilda in the hospital."
Hearing Gordon mention Gilda, Harvey's mood turned somber.
He had tricked Gilda into wearing the cross necklace from the package back then and had shielded her from the main blast radius, but even though the doctors hadn't found any external injuries, she was still unconscious and hadn't woken up yet.
Gordon's words definitely struck a chord, especially since Gilda's condition was still unclear. But if he handled this case that way, they wouldn't gain anything...
"They'll post bail in an hour, bribe the judge, and we'll still end up with nothing."
Batman watched the two arguing, silent. In this situation, he didn't want to make the decision for them.
"Charge them, Harvey, for God's sake! Or I'll go find someone at the District Attorney's office who will prosecute them!" Gordon's voice was laced with anger. Harvey's wife was in the hospital, and yet now they were talking about letting those punks walk free just to solve the case? It infuriated him. He couldn't stand seeing these brazen criminals challenging justice and getting away with it.
If Gordon didn't have that integrity, the Gotham PD might still be just another one of the mob's shields today.
......
Harvey guessed wrong. The Irish gang members were bailed out of jail in even less than an hour.
Gordon really did miss dinner. Harvey went to the hospital to stay with Gilda through the night. Batman, meanwhile, took a Thanksgiving meal into the sewers—and found Solomon Grundy eating another meal there, which reminded him of the friend Grundy had mentioned.
"Grundy? Who brought you the food?"
However, the big guy didn't answer him, just kept eating his meal.
Batman scanned the surroundings. Besides the sewage on the ground, it seemed everything else had been eaten by Grundy. Solomon's friend hadn't left any leads to investigate—instinctively wanting to investigate when something happened was Batman's default reaction.
Meanwhile, Harvey also returned to the hospital.
Gilda was still lying in the hospital bed, showing no sign of waking up. So he took her hand, warming her cool palm with his body heat, and sat by the bed praying silently to God, hoping his wife would wake up soon.
At this moment, Harvey seemed to have reverted to being a husband, a role that even felt a little foreign to him. For a long time now, he had always had to choose between Gotham and his family, and he always chose Gotham. Longer and longer hours, more and more crime, more and more danger kept coming, but he handled it all.
But he also came home later and later, the cases he dealt with got bigger and bigger, and Gilda's stress also grew. She had stayed in this city with Harvey wholeheartedly, supporting every decision he made, but her husband spent less and less time with her.
This city took her husband from her, she often thought.
Harvey thought about something they had talked about a long time ago, wanting a child, adding a little life to their home. But even today, that idea remained just an idea. In fact, only today did he remember that he also had the role of a husband.
I've failed my wife, he thought, his heart heavy with guilt. He held her hand like that, rested his head on her bedside, and fell into a deep sleep.
A moment later, a masked nurse pushed the door open and came in. After a brief look at the patient in the room, the nurse walked directly to Gilda's bed.
The nurse's footsteps were light, not waking Harvey. Reaching out, the nurse gently touched the cross necklace around Gilda's neck, and it vanished.
The nurse then turned and looked around the room, confirming that no one had noticed before quickly leaving the room.
......
"Hey, hey, John, check out this monitor, why'd it suddenly go out?"
In the security room, the guard eating a burger turned his head and saw that the screen his colleague was pointing at was indeed showing static-like white dots. He scratched his head.
"Huh, you're right. Geez, I'll go check it out—wait, the picture's back to normal?"
The two looked at each other, completely baffled, and finally gave up thinking about it.
"Whatever, it's working fine now."
......
"Let's see... Computer setup cost four grand, paired it with a phone for five hundred, nurse uniform was twenty, Intermediate Stealth proficiency was four grand, custom bomb was five hundred..."
Cody mumbled about the Asset Points spent over the past few days, sighing.
Deducting over nine thousand points, plus all the worrying... trying to be a good guy is really a pain in the neck.
He had no idea how Harvey Dent kept it up.
