Nobody can stop me from drawing cards in Gotham!

Chapter 21 Deserters

trial.

Jaeger's understanding of these two words came entirely from certain crime or spy films. The former was usually accompanied by an angry police officer slamming his fist on the table in an interrogation room, while the latter was usually accompanied by a dark dungeon and the tiger bench and pepper spray.

But either way, it's clear that it has nothing to do with the Batman-style interrogation that Jaeger is currently witnessing.

"Waaah—waaah—"

The sound of a night freight train whistle echoes across the railway tracks outside the city.

In the distance, two headlights of a train locomotive shone in the pitch-black night. The speeding train, accompanied by the clanging sound of rails, was getting closer and closer to where Jaeger and his group were.

Jaeger stood some distance from the railway tracks, looking up at a building next to them.

The building, like the city's freight railroad tracks, is a product of the last century. Its interior design features the distinctive Gothic style of Gotham's Old Town, and even the drainage stone beasts on the exterior of the building are crouching, menacing gargoyles.

Batman is standing on the dripping stone beast.

The night wind howled, and his fluttering cloak resembled the flapping wings of a bat. His hand gripped a rope tightly, the other end of which extended downwards and downwards... all the way to the railway tracks beside him.

That railroad track is the one used by the approaching freight train.

And the other end of the rope... was tied to Hatcher's foot.

Hatcher, hanging upside down above the rails, was struggling frantically, looking like a medieval captive being held down on the deck by pirates, about to be thrown overboard to be fed to sharks.

Even after being freed from petrification, he was helpless in his current predicament. All he could do was watch the train draw ever closer and scream in terror, "No! No...! What are you doing? Pull me up!"

"Who's behind you?" Batman remained unmoved by Hatcher's fear, his voice devoid of any emotional fluctuation.

"No, you wouldn't do that...you wouldn't kill someone...!" Hatcher cried out in panic. "You've never killed anyone before, you won't let me die here!"

"..." Batman loosened the rope a little more, successfully lowering Hatcher's height further amidst her screams, until her face was almost touching the rails. "So you're planning to gamble... gamble on whether I'll loosen the rope or not, is that it, Hatcher?"

Hatcher choked upon hearing this, letting out a gasp of extreme fear.

But he didn't have much time left; the metallic vibrations in his ears grew stronger and stronger... the train was getting closer and closer!

"I...I understand!" the fake cried out. "Let's make a deal, Bat! Pull me up, and I'll tell you everything!!"

"Who do you think is in control right now?" Batman said coldly. "I only care about one thing right now... who's behind you?"

The rope has come loose again.

The agonizing feeling of falling returned, and Hatcher's brain began to congest with blood and she felt dizzy from being suspended for so long, which also caused her vision to blur.

But within the blurred vision, something was becoming clearer and brighter—

Those are the headlights of the approaching train.

The moment Hatcher realized this, his pupils dilated as he was enveloped in the light of the train's headlights, and for a moment he almost hallucinated himself being smashed into a pulp and shattered to pieces by the unstoppable train.

"Waaah—waaah—"

The siren sounded again, deafeningly loud, like a death knell.

In that dying moment, Hatcher suddenly had the illusion that he was still in the army.

The sounds of gunfire, artillery fire, and explosions terrified him, making him live each day in fear of not knowing if there would be a tomorrow.

He had never truly participated in a battle, yet those voices had already broken him.

...So he left the army; he was a cowardly deserter.

That charlatan was right; he was indeed inferior to the real Batman… He never had the courage to face danger and darkness; he was just a coward who took money to do things, killed people, and then comforted himself with the excuse of justice—pretending to be strong.

That's it.

And now, he's running away again.

"Ice... Iceberg." Hatcher closed her eyes and spoke as if exhausted, "Iceberg Club."

"Someone hired me through the Iceberg Club to kill people according to a list they gave me, and also asked me to impersonate Batman using equipment they provided—but I have no idea who this person is, really!"

He screamed almost in despair, but there was no response from above.

The only sounds were the friction of the rails and the headlights of the train, as it drew ever closer to Hatcher, whose eyes were tightly shut and whose body was trembling...

-

Half an hour later.

The piercing siren broke the night air as a police car bearing the GCPD markings screeched to a halt at the intersection. Stepping out of the lead car was none other than James Gordon, who looked somewhat haggard and had just been discharged from the hospital before rushing to the scene.

He had originally planned to go with the main group of the Major Crimes Unit to Otis Flynnigan's registered address, but after learning of the shooting report in the Old Town, Gordon decisively changed course and went there with the officers who had been separated from him.

Considering that over 90% of Gotham City's criminals remained silent during the counterfeit murder case, the only thing capable of causing such a commotion at this time was most likely the counterfeit itself.

Any progress on the Batman side? Is the fake Batman being pushed to the limit?

Gordon had many speculations upon receiving the news.

But Gordon didn't expect that he would see this scene before he even reached the location described by the complainant.

"...Jesus." The officer standing behind Gordon was clearly less composed than him; she stared ahead in near astonishment. "No, that's... Hatcher?!"

"Hacher..." Gordon narrowed his eyes, immediately understanding, and unconsciously put his hands in his trench coat pockets, sighing with mixed feelings about the scene before him.

—Above the GCPD officers, beneath the gargoyle stone beast on the exterior of the building, stood Hatcher, bound hand and foot and suspended beneath the beast, dressed in a bat costume.

However, unlike the Hatcher the officers remembered, Hatcher now appeared dazed, with unfocused eyes, and his body was trembling from time to time... as if he had just experienced something extremely terrifying.

When the officers lowered Hatcher down from above, they found a piece of paper still hanging from the rope that had bound him.

What was written on the paper was very simple:

【The real culprit】

—The real culprit.

In addition, Gordon noticed a small :) drawn at the end of the line, revealing a kind of eerie humor from the writer.

He almost immediately thought of the young man who came to the hospital with Batman; this thing was probably made by him too…

After all, Batman wouldn't be that bored.

Based on Gordon's understanding of the other party, Batman would at most leave behind a piece of paper with the bat symbol when handing over a criminal.

"Chief, Hatcher, he..."

A voice brought Gordon back to his senses. It was Bennett, a fellow rookie officer, who was watching Hatcher being handcuffed by his former colleague with a heavy gaze.

The young Black man looked unwell, but more than anger, he was bewildered: "Why...why would Hatcher do such a thing?"

"Aren't we police officers? Why would he—"

"Alright, young man," Gordon patted Bennett on the shoulder and said gently, "Don't put too much pressure on yourself. This has nothing to do with you; it's Hatcher's own choice."

"Even though you are police officers, and even though you may have once shared similar beliefs, you ultimately took different paths."

Gordon murmured.

"And these are all choices... In Gotham, the hardest thing is making choices."

"But you always have to make a choice, because this is Gotham."

It wasn't just Hatcher. Even Gordon himself often... had to make choices.

"But in any case, I can only offer one piece of advice." Gordon snapped out of his reverie and sighed, "Don't make choices you'll regret, Bennett."

"...Yes, Chief." Upon hearing this, Bennett couldn't help but turn his gaze back to Hatcher, who was being escorted into the car.

A drop of cold rain fell on Bennett's face at that moment, then a second, a third... and more and more.

Springtime weather in Gotham is always unpredictable, and sudden rain like this is not uncommon. This particular rain quickly intensified, almost engulfing the entire old town.

The rain fell on the police officers, on the police car that was escorting Hatcher away, and on the land where the bodies of those who had been killed by counterfeiters lay.

Raindrops fell incessantly between heaven and earth, relentlessly, as if falling upon the living and the dead, the final resting place of every Gothamite.

……

……

……

"...Why haven't the police arrived yet...Achoo!"

At this very moment, somewhere in the old town, forgotten by everyone.

The rain was icy cold and fell heavily.

Otis Frynigan, who was left behind in the fire escape after Batman's hasty departure, only realized half an hour later that the place Batman left him in was impossible for him to get down on his own, and is now forced to stay on the platform in the rain.

He was soaked to the bone, sneezing miserably as he waited desperately for the police to arrive.

"Achoo!... Damn GCPD... Achoo!... I'm about to turn myself in, why are they so slow to respond... Achoo!"

"Why is this godforsaken place so deserted... Feed? Feed? Is anyone here? I'm stuck on this platform!... Achoo!!"

"I hate you, GCPD."