Chapter 28: That's Not a Car
Shortly after the ambush, Jim Gordon arrived, accompanied by detectives and the SWAT officers who hadn't yet left the area.
The street, strewn with rubble and dirt, looked like it had been through a war. The ground was heavily pitted, and the surrounding buildings had significant collapse damage—the scars left by the explosions.
The truck and the Mercedes-Benz cars blocking both ends of the road were reduced to scrap metal, some still burning. As for the still bodies lying on the ground...
After examining the bodies, everyone fell silent for a few seconds before beginning to cordon off the scene, search for the wounded, and confiscate residents' phones and cameras to minimize media impact.
After calling Commissioner Loeb, Jim squatted by the roadside, chain-smoking. The ground was soon littered with cigarette butts.
From the sound of the call, Jim inferred that the Commissioner was in a terrible mood, harboring a subtle fear. Jim knew the reason for that fear. The old Batman, though brutal, never killed. Tonight was different; he killed.
Once you start killing, it's hard to stop the second time. Jim had experienced this profoundly and had taken a long time to break free from the idea of using killing to end crime.
If Batman disregarded the law and began executing criminals with vigilantism, the high and mighty figures in power would naturally become terrified.
There is nothing more frightening than death!
Ramirez and Hank quickly approached.
"Captain, the reporters are clamoring to see you. They're demanding an explanation for this incident."
"Shit!"
Jim suddenly flared up. "I've got nothing to explain! Tell them to go find Loeb! Let that fat bastard explain it to them."
"Captain, keep your voice down."
Jim violently shook his arm, looking extremely agitated. Ramirez and Hank exchanged glances, shaking their heads simultaneously.
The incident was massive. There were dozens of casualties, not to mention the shops destroyed by rockets and the citizens injured by accident—these were just the immediate problems. The greater trouble was yet to come.
The black Lamborghini was personally inspected by a Gotham Police Sergeant, who found no issues and then ordered its release. Yet, this horrific act of violence followed. If an investigation ensued, Jim Gordon would be held responsible.
After chain-smoking three more cigarettes, Jim managed to calm down.
"What are the casualties?"
Hank quickly replied, "Seven citizens were injured, mostly scrapes. They've been treated. As for the armed men..." He paused, looking up at both of them. "Twenty-eight armed men, all dead... including Victor Zsasz."
Victor Zsasz!
Jim's face changed drastically. "Which Victor Zsasz?"
"We've matched him. It's Falcone Family's Victor Zsasz. Here are the photos."
Jim took the photos, examined them closely, and confirmed his identity. His feelings immediately became complicated.
Victor Zsasz was one of Falcone's three major hitmen, cunning and cruel, known for using explosives to kill his targets. He was reportedly caught by Batman some time ago and delivered, along with the evidence, to the East Side Precinct. However, Falcone managed to use various means to bail him out shortly after.
Hank continued, "Preliminary analysis suggests that Victor Zsasz was the ambush planner. He first used the truck and Mercedes-Benz cars to block the north and south ends of the road, then bombarded the black Lamborghini with submachine guns and rocket launchers."
"According to eyewitness testimony, the black Lamborghini has bulletproof armor on its exterior, perfectly defending against submachine gun fire. Even the rocket-propelled grenades didn't affect it."
Ramirez was incredulous.
"Rocket-propelled grenades were useless! How is that possible?"
"Not useless, but ineffective. The black Lamborghini appears to have the ability to intercept rockets, shooting blue beams to blow them up before they hit the car. The thugs fired a total of seven rockets, and six were neutralized this way."
Ramirez: "?"
She felt like she was watching a sci-fi blockbuster. A missile interception system? Is that a feature a car should have?
"The shocking part is still to come," Hank shrugged, lowering his voice. "Multiple witnesses confirmed that the black Lamborghini possesses an extremely powerful electrical weapon that can launch a giant bolt of lightning, striking all targets within dozens of meters. Victor Zsasz, his twenty-seven subordinates, the Mercedes cars, and the truck were all destroyed by two blasts of lightning."
"Two blasts!"
Ramirez's eyes widened. She was completely stunned. "Are you kidding me?"
"I didn't believe it either, but that's the fact. Someone filmed a video. I'll get it to you later."
With that, Hank sighed, looking toward Jim.
"Captain, we all owe you thanks. You saved our lives."
Jim opened his mouth wordlessly, still reeling from the shock. A thought suddenly surged through his confused mind: What if he hadn't allowed them to pass and had followed the Commissioner's orders to attack?
A sudden chill ran down his spine.
If he had done that, it wouldn't be thugs lying on the ground, but police officers and SWAT personnel.
Bulletproof armor, missile interception, super lightning...
That wasn't a car! It was a fully armed monster.
What kind of maniac installs this stuff on a car? Who does he think he is, 007?
"Captain, what do we do next?"
Jim glanced at the bodies covered by white sheets on the roadside and said in a weary voice,
"Just deal with it."
Falcone's Fear
The news of Victor's death quickly reached the largest mansion in the East End.
This was the ancestral home of the Falcone Family, the most powerful place in Gotham City.
Despite being a crime boss, Victor's death did not elicit the expected rage from Falcone. He stood by the window, calmly smoking a cigar. Yet, his butler, who served him daily, smelled something unusual.
A month ago, that cowl-wearing Batman freak had broken into the boss's private bedroom, beaten him senseless, stripped him down to his underwear, and hog-tied him.
Since then, the boss has hated Batman to the bone, mobilizing all his resources to kill him. But Batman was too mysterious, and no one could track his movements.
As the matter dragged on, unpleasant rumors began to circulate privately. Many gang members believed the boss had been scared witless by Batman, becoming an old relic who only knew how to hide at home.
To combat this, the boss personally executed a few disobedient men to re-establish his authority.
The effect was good, but only temporary. The root of the problem was Batman. Until he was dead, Falcone would never be able to hold his head high.
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