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*Chapter 36: Time to Make a Name*
🕑 Added 2025-05-16 17:13:14 +0000 UTCThe system had already flagged these things as counterfeit currency, so Cody didn't have any particular qualms about burning them.
However, the fact that someone could produce this amount of counterfeit money in Gotham City and hide it so discreetly could only mean that the people who manufactured it were professionals. This meant that Cody had better not be caught burning this mountain of money, or he would likely face the wrath of those people.
The pursuit of underworld figures was far more dangerous than a brawl on a city bus or a bar fight. Those people would be single-minded in their pursuit of his life and would stop at nothing.
"System, System, can you confirm that no one saw me come in?"
There was no response, so he could only submit the previous route map to the system's inquiry board.
"Infiltration process assessment complete. Rated as covert, undetected."
Those spent asset points were worth it.
"Since that's the case..." Cody looked at the green mountain of banknotes, subconsciously licking his lips.
"Might as well make a killing while I'm here..."
...
"Glug-glug-glug..."
As the gasoline from the oil drum continued to pour over the green banknotes, the pungent smell of gasoline immediately filled the warehouse. Cody couldn't run out of the warehouse again just to find gasoline, and there was no way the warehouse would contain gasoline that could help others burn their own banknotes. So, Cody spent a few asset points to buy some from the system's store.
He finally doused all the banknotes thoroughly. To be honest, thinking about these colorful little darlings being reduced to ashes in the next second, he couldn't help but feel a little heartbroken.
This wasn't a rational judgment, purely an instinctive reaction from a poor, unfortunate wretch who was used to saving every penny and dared not spend, after seeing a huge pile of banknotes.
Having said that, he still had to burn it. After all, counterfeit currency was useless, and the importance of asset points in the system store went without saying. With this in mind, Cody casually struck a long match and placed it on the ground.
This match was also purchased from the store. It had a relatively long burning time, so Cody simply used it as a timing device. When the match burned to the end, it would naturally ignite the gasoline on the ground.
Seeing that everything was done, Cody immediately turned and ran, according to his guess, this amount of gasoline and banknotes was definitely enough to ignite the warehouse. The further he was from the fire, the smaller the chance of him being suspected.
So, he once again followed the escape route provided by the system, using his somewhat clumsy climbing skills to quickly escape the warehouse. Fortunately, this warehouse still had a suitable escape route for him, which saved Cody from having to spend more asset points to upgrade his climbing skills.
The dark, slender ghost figure twisted and turned out of the warehouse. It quickly slipped back onto the street, blending into the crowd, putting on the white ghost face mask, looking like an ordinary Halloween cosplayer, showing no signs of anything special.
A moment after the ghost figure left, a crackling fire suddenly erupted from the warehouse, and thick smoke mixed with the smell of burning gasoline and paper drifted through the streets.
"Quick, quick, call the fire department! There's a fire here!"
"Call the Gotham City Police! Call the Gotham City Police!"
Amidst the towering flames, no one noticed a figure in a black robe disappearing into the crowd of oddly dressed people.
...
"Two bullets to the head, and I'm telling you, someone who sinned a little less wouldn't have encountered something like this."
"District Attorney Dent! I don't want to hear you say such things again – neither publicly nor privately!"
At this moment, a steady, heavy voice interrupted the two men's thoughts. This person seemed to have a leader's charisma. His thinking was always calm, clear, and able to overlook the overall situation and find the key to breaking the situation.
"A .22 caliber Klibor pistol was left at the scene, the handle was wrapped, the serial number was erased, the killer knows how to prevent us from tracing the clues, he is very professional in killing – or he is someone who understands guns and forensics."
The two nodded.
"Baby pacifier as a silencer, cheap, but effective."
Speaking of which, he paused. He didn't mention the third clue at the scene first, not because it was insignificant, but because it was too conspicuous. At the scene of such a murder, it was like a light bulb shining in the dark.
Just then, the three men turned their attention to the last clue.
"I don't want to be misled by this thing, but it..." Gordon hesitated, as if trying to find an adjective for it.
The twisted and painful expression seemed to contain a different kind of artistic flair, a bit of the shadow of Millet's Classicalism, a bit of the impressionistic feeling of Monet, Matisse's Fauvism, Munch's Expressionism, Balla's Futurism, Picasso's Cubism, and Dali's Surrealism seemed to be embodied in this small pumpkin, to put it bluntly –
"It's too ugly." Harvey Dent said bluntly, "I've never seen such an ugly jack-o'-lantern in my life. Carrying this thing around, even on Halloween, would attract the attention of every passerby."
"This is inconsistent with the killer's cautious style." Batman concluded, "I can understand the ritualistic sense of leaving a jack-o'-lantern on Halloween, but I can't understand the contradiction in his logic."
"Maybe he carved the pumpkin himself?" Gordon proposed a possibility, "If you don't buy a jack-o'-lantern from the store, you won't leave traces that can be traced back to you."
"Even if he goes to the store to buy it, we can't be sure who it is – too many people buy jack-o'-lanterns on Halloween." Harvey shook his head, "Who can carve such an ugly pumpkin? Can we find any fingerprints on it?"
"Not likely, the jack-o'-lantern was wrapped in a plastic bag." Gordon also shook his head, "But then again, it wouldn't hurt to look."
"Johnny Viti... who is so bold as to dare to attack him? Maroni?"
"Ring-ring--"
While the three were talking, Gordon's phone suddenly rang.
"Hello?"
"Commissioner Gordon! Something big! A warehouse in the Diamond District is on fire!
