The night is like thick black ink, splashed on Gotham Pier 7.
The rain fell in patter, like the tears left by a woman in mourning for her only son who died on the street, full of cold bitterness.
The air is like a sponge soaked in water. If you pinch it gently, you can squeeze out the water.
The street lamp casts a dull yellow light, like a dead cat staring at the lone traveler under the lamp with its eyes that have lost its luster.
"Pap tap tap tap"
Walking on the quiet street, Gordon clearly heard the sound of his leather shoes treading on the ground and the puddle of water on the ground, as well as the whispers that seemed to be hidden in the dark alleys nearby.
He was wearing a dark waterproof windbreaker with a hood, his left hand was in his pocket, and he held a cigarette that flickered like a firefly in his left hand.
Squinting and holding the cigarette to his lips, Gordon fell into deep thought: The Red Belt Gang at Pier 7 was swept away, and the body of the gang leader "Iron Fist" Malone was separated. It was too tragic to watch.
Existing evidence shows that the murderer is a gunman from Mexico.
But he is the detective of hell and can teach the dead to speak.
Since five years ago, the sequelae of black magic have become more and more serious. When he gets up at night, he even sees the shadows of dead people in the mirror above the faucet.
For example, his father.
Sometimes in a daze, he could hear his late father talking to him.
Xiao Lai is a doctor. After discovering his condition, he immediately took away the devil's horn and threw it into the liquefied gas stove.
He found that Harry was right. After seeing the magic of magic, it would be difficult to leave it again.
He stopped Xiao Lai and vowed to use black magic as little as possible to solve crimes in the future.
But today he used devil horns again. Because more than 20 members of the Red Belt Gang were killed, which was a big deal.
What's more serious is Iron Fist Malone's identity.
Nine years ago, he served as Harley's 'guard', a gunman who only obeyed her orders.
Only the king has guards.
Harley Quinn is the Emperor of Gotham.
Even if she came ashore completely clean, her 'guard' was not revoked.
They are no longer gunmen, but bodyguards holding legal documents.
The scale and strength are even larger and stronger.
Iron Fist Malone "retired" five years ago, when he was thirty-five years old and past his prime.
Harley gave him the lucrative Pier 7 for his retirement.
The two seem to have never met again.
But Gordon knew that the black and white forces in Gotham also knew that Malone was hers and should not be easily provoked.
Now someone not only provoked him, but also chopped off his head.
"Who are the Avengers? Is the Avengers' target Harley?"
Gordon frowned deeply.
Malone told him personally: It was the Avengers who killed me. He was a 1.2-meter-tall dwarf who called himself 'Avenger'. The Avengers asked me to be loyal to him and use Pier 7 to smuggle Du Ping and the stowaways. I asked Quinn
The boss swore never to do these two businesses. He killed me. It was the Avengers who killed me.
"Hey, this is not the place you should come."
While he was thinking about it, Gordon was unexpectedly pushed from behind.
When he regained his footing, four gangsters with studded leather jackets and colorful hair, holding pistols, surrounded him.
"I'm looking for Hawke," Gordon said calmly.
"Who are you? If you open your mouth, you're looking for our boss."
"Jim Gordon."
Gordon sighed to himself, Gotham's security seemed to be getting worse and worse.
A year ago, he could walk directly to the gate of Hawke's warehouse, and even if he was stopped, he would not be pointed at a gun.
"Ah, you are Inspector Gordon, known as 'Hell Detective' in the old city of Gotham?" the gunman exclaimed.
"That's me." Gordon likes the name "Hell Detective", he is very good at bluffing people.
After a while, he came to a large underground warehouse where more than 20 men and women, young and old, were busy loading various Paradise Mountain mobile phones, tablets, and computers into large warehouses with labels labeled 'New Jersey Fresh Oranges'.
In a paper box.
"Superintendent Gordon, for a big shot like you, you must not be here to catch smugglers, right?"
A bald man two meters tall pointed at Gordon and walked over with a smile.
"Tekken Malone is dead, and it is said that it was the Mexicans who did it.
I know you have said harsh words and you will kill him sooner or later." Gordon said calmly.
The smile on Hawke's face faded and he frowned: "I'm Mexican, and many of my younger brothers are from Mexico. That's right.
I have always relied on Pier 7 for shipments, and it’s true that I hate that Malone’s commission is too high.
But my brain is still there. If I kill Malone today, I will have to sink into the Hudson River the next day."
"I believe you, but you have to make those who want to kill you believe it too.
As you know, Malone has a violent personality and doesn't have many brothers or friends, but he comes from a 'guard' background, and there are at least eighty of his former 'coats' in Gotham.
All of them are big guys on the road, and Ma Long is considered a bad guy." Gordon said.
"I know they have always disliked me." Hawke looked ugly, pointing to the Chinese banner hanging behind the door that read "Defeat No. 1" and cursed: "But I also came from the No. 1 martial arts dojo, and I also got Quinn.
Why do you always treat me like a third-class citizen when the boss gives me personal guidance?"
Gordon said disapprovingly: "Who is living in Gotham today who hasn't practiced at the No. 1 Martial Arts Center?
Her true cronies all came to shore with their names clean and became celebrities in the political and business circles.
Then there are the ineffective 'guards', who are considered first-class citizens on the road.
Anyone who hangs out with her or even calls her "Boss" is a second-class citizen.
There are countless people like you in Gotham, but they are really only third-class citizens."
"I'm different. I participated in the King of Fighters competition, only lost to Boss Quinn, and got the title of 'Flying Eagle'." Flying Eagle Hawk exclaimed excitedly.
"The King of Fighters Tournament is held every week, and every week there is a 'first loser'. It's really not worth it." Gordon said.
Hawke glared and said: "I received personal guidance from SS Bo, and she also taught me a set of 'Kui-style Muay Thai'.
According to the tradition in Hong Kong martial arts films, I should call her ‘Mastehifu’, and we are closer to her than those gunmen.”
Gordon asked curiously: "How did she give you advice?"
Hawke's eyes were blurred as he recalled: "At that time, there were thirty of us standing in five rows. She could see what was special about me at a glance. She yelled at me and taught me several times. She couldn't even do basic elbow strikes. It was really...
stupid."
Gordon's mouth twitched, "I'm not looking for you today just for a heart-to-heart talk.
The sooner Mark's case is resolved, it will be in the best interest of both you and me."
"Mexicans and Mexicans are also different. I came to Gotham more than ten years ago and have status and status.
In the past six months, many foreign forces have entered Gotham, including the Mexican Gang, the Celestial People, and the Neon People.
Unlike us, they are pure outsiders and have no affiliation with any forces in Gotham.
They are a group of desperadoes who try to change their destiny with their own bloody courage.
Those Mexicans and I are not the same people at all," Hawke sighed.
"But you must know where they are, right?" Gordon stared at him and asked.
Hawke said firmly: "I know, but my base is Mexican. If I betray them today, what will my little brother think?"
"We have been chatting for so long and you just gave me this answer?" Gordon frowned.
"Gordon, you shouldn't have come to see me."
Hawke took a few steps back, and the Mexican boys around him took a few steps closer and gathered around him.
Gordon sighed, "OK, I'll leave now."
Hawke watched him leave with a gloomy expression.
"Click" An hour later, the electric switch suddenly tripped, and the underground warehouse became dark.
"Whoosh" came the sound of wings flapping the air in the darkness, faint but thick, like a flying dragon carefully hunting for prey.
"Who is it?" Hawke shouted sharply.
"Boss, he looks a bit like the legendary Bateman!" the younger brother said in a trembling voice.
"Oh my God, Bateman came to see me?"
Hawke's cry was strange, not only filled with surprise and fear, but also with indescribable joy.
In the past, those who were targeted by Bateman were all big guys. Now that he is being raided by Bateman, does this mean that
An iron-like hand reached out from the darkness and pinched the neck of Hawke, who was thinking wildly.
His consciousness became blurred and he knew nothing.
The warehouse was so quiet that I could hear my own breathing.
"Boss, Boss Hawk?" After a long time, the younger brother's uncertain call came from the darkness.
In an alley two streets away, Gordon stood against the wall, his cigarette butt flickering in and out with his breath.
"Go back, leave this matter to me." A low and hoarse voice suddenly appeared above his head.
"Did Hawke say that?" Gordon asked nonsense, then immediately asked: "Where are the Mexicans who massacred the Red Band Gang?"
"The west sewer of the city." The shadow in the darkness said.
Gordon threw away the cigarette butts, straightened his windbreaker, and said: "The sewer environment is complicated. If you need help, I will go with you."
"I've Got Helpers" glowed with a faint blue light in the darkness, which was Batman's Bat Watch.
"Call Flying Robin Cat, Bateman needs help." A low and hoarse voice said.
"Wait a moment, Robin Cat is doing her hair. What kind of task is tonight?" a soft female voice said lazily.
"Looking for someone in the sewers." Bateman said.
"Oh, my hair will turn gray if I have to go to the smelly sewers?" Robin cat cried.
"Walking around in the sewers in the middle of the night is such a waste of time."
Gordon listened carefully, and this sentence seemed to be Harley's voice.
Bateman glanced at Gordon who was quietly eavesdropping, and in a tone similar to that of a husband calling his wife to buy cigarettes in front of his poker buddies, he shouted sharply: "Robin Cat, the mission comes first, come quickly!"
After hanging up the phone, he said as if talking to himself: "This Robin is not reliable. I should look for a new Robin."
"No, just Flying Batcat!" Gordon said quickly.
"Why?" Bateman asked confused.
Although he was hiding in the dark and couldn't see clearly, Gordon still looked him up and down and sighed: "Bruce Wayne adopted a child the day before yesterday. I was shocked that you are not young anymore. You have already arrived to start a family."
when.
If you abandon the Flying Batcat, the relationship between you two will already be very bumpy, so don't add artificial obstacles."
"Well, I think since you like children, you can try to have one yourself.
Believe me, after becoming a father, you will find that you have suddenly matured a lot." Gordon said with great feeling.
Bateman was silent for a moment and said in a hoarse voice: "Bruce adopted Dick Grayson not because he longed for a child, but because he saw his own shadow in that child."
"Do you plan to train him to be Robin? He is too young, less than ten years old." Gordon frowned.
Bateman shook his head repeatedly, "Of course not. He should have a more complete life than Bruce. He should go to middle school, make friends, attend parties, go to college, get married and have children. Bruce is crazy to let Dick be my Robin."