Chapter 158: What Gibberish Is He Spouting?

Ma Ma Luoni Barron dragged Ma Ma Zhaodi away from the interrogation room at top speed; both men frantically pulled on bulletproof vests, and Ma Ma Zhaodi asked while dressing, "Why does he have a dagger? Where did that thing come from?"

"How should I know!"

Cursing profusely, Ma Luoni tied a string of keys to his waist: "Damn it, there are clowns bombing theaters outside, and this madman inside is causing trouble again—Quick! Grab your guns and follow me."

Ma Ma Zhaodi glanced at the keys, a thought flashing through his mind, then snatched up his rifle and ran out after Ma Luoni.

"You said he placed bets for you, and you gave him benefits in return—did he ever ask for a dagger, or anything else that could help him escape?"

"Something to help him escape? Kid, you'd better watch your damn mouth!" Ma Luoni kept running, but his voice now carried anger: "He never asked for those things, and I would never give them to him! Only desperate fools like Sanchez or Langford would do something like that!"

"Why don't you keep your distance from him?"

"Kid!"

Ma Luoni, who had been running ahead, stopped abruptly; he grabbed Ma Ma Zhaodi by the bulletproof vest, yanked him close, and said word by word, "If you question me again, you are damn well dead, do you understand?"

"I'm just curious." Ma Ma Zhaodi instead pushed him toward the interrogation room; his strength was astonishing, and Ma Luoni couldn't block him at all: "You don't seem to spend much money; even your cigarettes are cheap, yet you made deals with a madman like the Riddler just for cash?"

There was one more sentence Ma Ma Zhaodi did not speak aloud—Americans have no habit of saving.

Ma Luoni said nothing, his eyes seeming somewhat dim; subconsciously, he glanced at his wrist—there sat a pink children's watch.

His movement was subtle, but Ma Ma Zhaodi had been watching his reactions closely and immediately formed a guess: "You have a daughter to raise? Is the Gotham Police Department's salary not enough?"

Ma Luoni still did not answer, simply continuing to run forward as if he hadn't heard Ma Ma Zhaodi; their speed was fast, and within seconds they reached the door of the interrogation room.

By now, the other guards were also fully armed, equipped with helmets, bulletproof vests, and shotguns; eight men, armed to the teeth, entered directly into the corridor room connecting the interrogation room to the outside, a passage designed to prevent prisoner escapes, for only by opening the iron gate of this corridor could one truly get out.

"Click—"

Ma Luoni slammed the iron gate behind him shut; the lock clicked into place. Unless the Riddler could take down all eight fully armed guards with nothing but a dagger, it was unlikely he could escape from here.

So normally, the situation should be an easy win for the police station, but since the Riddler had chosen to make his move, he had most likely already made preparations and was confident he could escape.

In fact, because most of the police force had been diverted to search for the Joker, this was indeed the Riddler's best opportunity to escape, but now, with all eight men pointing their guns at the doorway, it was clear the Riddler had not completely bought off or controlled these prison guards.

One officer subconsciously looked toward the iron gate behind them; there was no unusual activity in the corridor outside, indicating that no one was coming to break the prison.

Then how was he going to get out?

Just as they were pondering this, the door to the interrogation room suddenly opened.

Nygma, wearing a green bowler hat, walked out; he was still in just a shirt and trousers, and he hadn't even brought the dagger with him.

Facing eight dark gun barrels, he seemed not the least bit nervous; instead, he casually took two steps forward.

"Get down now, Nygma! Hands apart!"

"Surrender within three seconds! Otherwise, we will open fire! Three, two—"

The corner of the Riddler's mouth curled upward; fearless, confident, mocking and sarcastic—in short, it was a sneer at his opponents—and then he gave a soft snort.

"Ahem—Joanna Elizabeth Sanchez." Suddenly, a name slipped from his lips.

"What?"

"Lyla Ann Langford."

As the second name was uttered, terror appeared on another officer's face.

"That's my daughter's name—"

However, the Riddler paid him no heed; his speaking pace grew faster and faster.

"Fatima Habib Lee, Lori Jane Krupchy, Tanya Hope Garpent."

"Oh god, Rory—"

"Shut up! How dare you mention her name!"

"If you dare touch a single finger of hers..."

The Riddler ignored the threats, or pleas, of the armed officers; there were eight officers in total, yet he had spoken more than ten names, clearly indicating that the information he possessed was extremely detailed.

As the Riddler spoke name after name, Ma Ma Zhaodi saw Ma Ma Luoni Barron beside him display an expression of guilt and regret, his face gradually losing all color, until a woman's name appeared on the Riddler's lips, at which point his hand finally trembled and slipped off the trigger.

Clearly, the Riddler's source of information was none other than this big-mouthed Ma Luoni, and the last name he spoke was the name of Ma Luoni's daughter.

Yes, what a harmless thing it had been—just daily small talk in the prison; the Riddler earned money for the officers, and the officers told him little stories, their colleagues' hobbies, their colleagues' family matters and gossip—what could possibly go wrong?

The Riddler had thus deduced their addresses, marital statuses, and the roles of important family members—including their loved ones.

And so, when all the names had been spoken, the trembling officers slowly parted to both sides like the waters of the sea before Moses.

"Don't believe him; he may not have actually kidnapped them."

The Riddler retorted, "Do you want to bet on it? Bet that I can't use the same method I used to buy the dagger to bribe the gangs outside once more?"

Thus, no one dared to speak again.

Watching the scene before him, the Riddler couldn't help but snort softly once more.

"Ahem."

However, once everyone had retreated to the sides, the officer standing in the middle at the very back was revealed.

His helmet was askew, his clothes disheveled, and he hadn't even raised his gun; instead, he was looking down, adjusting his attire, and only after the crowd parted and revealed him did he belatedly raise his weapon.

"What the heck? What's happening? Did negotiations fall apart? Wait, this is my first time wearing this; I'm a bit rusty..."

Looking at this unfamiliar officer, the expression on the Riddler's face shifted from calm, to stiff, to forcibly composed, to gritting his teeth in rage.

It was especially amusing.

"A—rookie?!" he asked word by word: "A newcomer who can't even wear his uniform properly, who can't even hold a gun correctly, a rookie?!!"

"My perfect escape plan, ruined by such an idiot?!"

Ma Ma Zhaodi freed one hand to scratch his head, displaying eyes that were clear and foolish.

"What gibberish is he spouting? I don't understand."

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(End of Chapter)