Chapter 111: Ma Ma Zhaodi Also Did Not Sleep

Gotham City, midnight, inside Ma Ma Zhaodi's small house.

Ma Ma Zhaodi's deep sleep was startled awake by the Bat-guy—this is a built-in effect of the skill: while greatly improving sleep quality, it also maintains alertness.

"Do you believe or not that I'll apply glue to this window tomorrow?"

Batman, who had suddenly appeared inside the house, looked at the red-faced Ma Ma Zhaodi and did not answer his words.

"A super-fast wheelchair once appeared in Gotham City."

"I drove it, so what? Everything that happened recently was done by me."

Batman looked at Ma Ma Zhaodi, who admitted it at light speed and even seemed a bit proud, and slightly stuttered for half a second.

What are you proud of?

"Being a vigilante is very dangerous; you shouldn't—"

"Stop." Ma Ma Zhaodi immediately waved his hand: "Who told you I want to be a vigilante?"

"If I could just stay home and sleep well, who would run out at midnight to hang people for fun—do you think doing that is very happy?"

Batman looked at Ma Ma Zhaodi's serious face, yet one desperately trying to hold back the corners of his mouth in a constipated expression, and remained silently speechless.

Others might not, but Ma Ma Zhaodi might really be very happy.

"The key is that late at night, plants and animals are constantly shouting in my ears: there's a shootout over here, ice is being sold over there, and there's also a robbery somewhere, criminals want to kill people—I actually want to sleep, but who can sleep in such a situation?"

He can talk to animals; a thought stirred in Batman's heart, and he noted this new piece of intelligence in his little notebook, convenient for formulating a counter-plan.

"Although those voices aren't loud, they are still noise, you understand? There's a famous quote that could be selected for the 'Stupidity Bar': it's not that a loud sound is noise, but rather a sound that makes people irritable that is called noise—have you ever heard a roommate get up at midnight to flip through books while sleeping in a dorm? Replace that with keyboard sounds, and I could sleep straight until noon tomorrow."

Batman fell silent again, because when he was in school, he always bought a house next to the school, so he indeed never heard roommates flipping through books.

When the interrogation target talks too much, sometimes it's not very good either.

"In short." Ma Ma Zhaodi concluded: "Since you're back, I don't need to get up at midnight to do things anymore; now I'm going to sleep, and you should go to work—go work!"

The white-chinned Batman, dressed entirely in black, ignored his hell joke; he continued speaking: "There is one more thing."

"What thing?"

"The rapid recovery ability you used when fighting the Joker—I have a plan that needs it."

"Fruit candy, right?" Ma Ma Zhaodi casually took a few out of his pants pocket and threw them over: "Who are you fighting? Making such bad preparations?"

"You also mentioned having a cross—"

"That one is already gone; it was broken when fighting the Joker." Ma Ma Zhaodi answered: "But there's something similar, just the effect isn't that powerful—so what exactly do you want to do?"

"When the plan is about to begin, I will tell you."

As the words fell, Batman had already disappeared into the darkness.

Whether it was an illusion or not, Chief Gordon seemed to feel that the prisoners in Gotham City's prison who recently had their bones broken all possessed a peaceful and joyful tranquility, as if they cherished the time of Batman's return very much.

At the same time, the perverted wheelchair man who had been hanging people all over the city finally vanished, and Gotham City returned to its former calm, which relieved him greatly.

But he wasn't relieved for long, because Batman actively sought him out.

"I have a slight guess about the Holiday Killer—it's already June, Father's Day is approaching, and I have a plan."

Chief Gordon took a deep drag of his cigarette.

"Thank heavens," he said: "This is the least troubling good news I've heard in these days."

—

On Father's Day in Gotham City, it had rained the night before.

Two figures walked through a lush orchard; after being washed by last night's rain, the red and green here appeared even more vivid and fresh.

"Carmine Falcone."

The burly white-haired old man reached out to cut down a bright red, juicy fruit still hanging with transparent raindrops: "I should have cut off the roots and eliminated him many years ago; that fool took five bullets in the chest, yet still survived. If he had died, things should have been different."

Sal Maroni stood aside, respectfully looking at this white-haired old man, because this person was not only his father but also the previous head of the Maroni family; when Sal and Carmine were still young, the two who dominated Gotham City were exactly this Luigi Maroni in front of them, and Carmine Falcone's father—Vincent Falcone.

It was Sal and Carmine who, from their fathers, Luigi and Vincent, took over the authority of the underworld families, growing into today's Maroni and the Roman.

Sal continued his father's words: "Just because of that fool the Holiday Killer, my reliable subordinates have all been killed, Father; how should I handle this mess?"

"You must act like a man."

Luigi's face revealed murderous intent: "The weight of the matter still lies with Falcone; before he finishes you off, you must finish off the Roman first."

Just at this moment, the hyenas in the orchard suddenly raised their heads, sniffing at a bush, as if sensing something.

Bang! Bang! Bang! Bang!

Four gunshots abruptly rang out from between the bushes; Luigi and Sal immediately painfully clutched their chests. The shooter's aim was extremely precise; those four bullets struck the heart positions of the two Maroni heads directly, so fast that they didn't even have time to draw their guns.

The black hounds howled and chased toward the orchard gate, where a figure wearing a trench coat and a hat flashed past.

And behind the bushes, a tie for a father, a. 22 caliber pistol, a baby pacifier, and four metal shell casings lay quietly on the ground.

"Killed them."

The man sprinting out of the Maroni family orchard thought: finally killed them.

Easy, as expected.

Two Maronis, a group of core leaders of the Maroni family, all dead; from today on, the Maroni family will be officially erased from Gotham's history—I have finally ended the family feud spanning several generations for my father; from now on, the Falcone family will unify all the underworlds of Gotham, and the Roman will become the most intimidating name in Gotham City.

At this moment, his heart almost wanted to burst into wild laughter; an ordinary, inconspicuous marginal character stirring up trouble in Gotham City, watched by thousands, and directly destroying an underworld family—this is the life I want.

Huh? Strange, what is that sound?

He turned his head to look; a dazzling seven-colored stream of light with cheers came crashing directly toward him.

Those cheers seemed to carry four parts excitement, three parts happiness, two parts relaxation, and one part nostalgia.

Damn it, what are you nostalgic for?

"That damn thing is a glowing wheelchair?!!"

(End of this chapter)