belamy20
patreon
*Chapter 40: Morbid Relief (or "Finally Kicked the Bucket")*
🕑 Added 2025-05-18 22:14:40 +0000 UTC"Cody, where's that pumpkin you carved yesterday? Did you leave it at home?"
"I remember that pumpkin was pretty unique. You didn't bring it today?"
Facing Santos and Castro's seemingly curious questions, Cody managed an awkward but polite smile.
He shouldn't have carved that pumpkin in the restaurant yesterday. Now his colleagues were grilling him. Could he really admit that the pumpkin from the scene was his? He couldn't even admit it to Gordon, let alone to these guys from the Falcone family. The victim was Falcone's nephew, for Pete's sake. They said just a few months ago, Falcone himself threw a lavish banquet to celebrate his nephew's wedding.
Given the style of Gotham City's top boss, the Falcone mob might reason with him, but it was highly unlikely they would.
Sweating bullets, he immediately created a save point right then and there, then chuckled awkwardly as he pulled out his magic little pumpkin lantern. "Nah, nah, when I was setting up my stall yesterday, I realized nobody really wanted to buy such an ugly pumpkin. See? I still have it right here."
"Oh?"
The others looked closely. The pumpkin in Cody's hand was indeed different from the one on TV, but it did have a certain resemblance to the one he carved yesterday – yeah, they were both equally ugly.
"But I can't shake the feeling that both of these pumpkins look kinda like your work..." Rick rubbed his chin. "Their style is too similar, they both have this... abstract ugliness about them."
"Come on, you guys can't discriminate against me! There are so many people in the world, there are bound to be a few who are as bad at carving pumpkins as I am," Cody saw they were wavering and suddenly felt more confident. He blurted out, "You're making it sound like I'm the only bad guy in the world, but actually, I'm a law-abiding citizen..."
"According to information provided by the Gotham City Police Department, approximately twenty million US dollars stored in a large factory yesterday spontaneously combusted and burned to ashes on Halloween night. According to tests on several samples recovered from the warehouse, all the US dollars in the warehouse were legitimate currency, not counterfeit. However, the sum is particularly large, and its origin remains a mystery. According to police speculation, this money may be illegal gains from certain criminal groups, using the warehouse as a cover."
"This also indicates that the criminal group will be unable to complete their money laundering process for a considerable period, demonstrating the efficiency and reliability of the Gotham City Police Department and its deterrent capability against illegal forces. Police Chief Gordon stated..."
Listening to the news report on TV, Cody's voice, which had been blustering moments before, suddenly trailed off until it completely disappeared.
Real... real money? Twenty million?
"Fxxk!"
Just as he was trying hard to figure out the meaning of the news, Santos next to him slammed his fist on the table.
"Those sons of guns are going too far! If it wasn't for that bank manager, the family business would have already..."
"Santos."
A voice stopped Santos's hysterics. The manager walked slowly into the dining room and turned off the TV.
"Don't be so undignified. We have guests to attend to today. Don't let something like this affect your work."
Santos gritted his teeth and nodded sharply.
"What's the rush? Everyone knows that nobody messes with the Godfather's money. Whoever dares to challenge Falcone's authority will pay the price sooner or later."
"Mr. Cody, what happened today was just casual chatter. I trust you're not someone who likes to gossip, right?"
"Ahahaha, of course, haha, of course."
Cody stiffly dealt with the manager, his smile uglier than a cry. Everyone thought he was nervous because he had heard some family secrets.
But in reality, nobody could understand his real nervousness.
"Twenty million? Real money? Falcone's?"
These three words each carried more weight than the last, and combined, they brought Cody infinite "surprise."
If his nervousness before was like facing a backpack full of blank homework on the last day of summer vacation, his nervousness now was like the teacher suddenly announcing school would start a day early.
"System! You set me up!"
"Cody, are you okay?"
The manager suddenly patted his shoulder. "Are you sick? Do you need to take the day off?"
"Oh, no, no."
Cody forced a smile and sent the manager away, then carefully flipped through the newspaper again, hoping the Gotham News reporter had misspoken, or that he had misheard the news because he was hard of hearing.
Finally, after repeated confirmations, he finally let out a relieved smile and casually put down the newspaper in his hand.
The heart that was hanging by a thread finally kicked the bucket.
Peaceful.jpg
Damn it, based on the timeline, Falcone's company and the bank's cooperation had been delayed for over half a year. During this time, the Falcone family's money laundering plan was stuck at this final step. In other words, this twenty million dollars was all the Falcone family's current dirty money, and through Falcone's company, this money was about to be laundered.
Not only that, the Falcone family was likely cooperating with mobs from other regions. Based on Falcone's company's business scope, it could be families from places like New York, Metropolis, and Chicago.
At this critical juncture, Cody burning this money wasn't just fighting crime; it was slapping Falcone in the face.
Okay, okay, alright. When the day comes that Falcone finds out a little punk named Cody left a mark at the death scene of his nephew, and then discovers this guy burned twenty million of the family's money, the residents of Gotham City can watch the fireworks show in the East End – the kind where the person and the house get blown sky-high together.
Dammit, he couldn't expose himself even if it killed him, because if he exposed himself, then he'd really be dead.
-----------------
"I want that little punk dead! I want that cowardly rat, that pretentious killer! And that lawless arsonist dead! I'll cut off their heads and hang them on top of Gotham Tower, throw their bodies in the street, and show everyone in Gotham City what happens when you mess with the Falcone family!"
In a penthouse apartment in Gotham City, the mob boss Falcone, his face marked by three scars, was absolutely furious. Undoubtedly, this was far from his usual demeanor as the mob godfather. In fact, as a boss with excellent self-control and dignified manners, he rarely got this angry anymore. Most people weren't even worth getting him this worked up.
It wasn't until today, when his informants spread throughout the city meticulously collected all the clues about the warehouse that night and ultimately found nothing, that he unleashed this thunderous rage. Because it meant he had no target for revenge.
Experiencing something like this with nowhere to vent his anger was a feeling he hadn't tasted in a long time. He only felt this frustrated when facing masked vigilantes like Batman in the past.
Because he could neither find the person nor their family.
