Chapter 176: The Contempt of Little Floyd

When placing the call to the Metropolis hospital, Batman's mood was thoroughly furious.

He had rushed to Metropolis in the Batplane at the first opportunity, then saw with his own eyes that old woman having her artery slit by the Joker and being dumped in an alley; thinking of her life of wandering and hardship, her unyielding resilience, and thinking that someone like her had been persecuted, his fists would clench on their own.

After confirming the old woman was out of danger at the hospital, Batman flew the Batplane back to Gotham at once; by then he was already fully consumed by rage, and had even begun to feel killing intent toward the Joker.

But this was not the first time such an emotion had surfaced, and he had undergone specific training for it, so even now he could still bring his fury under control in a short time and channel it into motivation.

He returned to the Batcave and immediately went looking for information on anyone connected to the Joker, and finally found a man named Charles "Chuck" Brown, who had once built the Joker's parade car together with three other people; afterward, three of those four were killed, and only he survived.

According to his statement, he himself didn't know why either, but he had been forced to build the Joker's parade car — even though the police discovered the Joker had wired a sum of money into his account, he still insisted he had no transactional relationship with the Joker.

So the police treated that money as ill-gotten gains and confiscated it, but did not pursue criminal charges against this aerodynamicist, because in the surveillance footage he was indeed being held at gunpoint with a revolver.

But the Batman of this moment didn't care about any of that; consumed by rage, all he knew was that Chuck Brown might be able to find the Joker.

Upon reaching the bar where Chuck was, Batman discovered another familiar fellow inside as well — that officer, Ma Ma Zhaodi.

Batman had originally intended to drag that fellow straight out of the bar and hang him from the gargoyle statues atop the Gotham Clock Tower to sober him up, but after seeing Ma Ma Zhaodi he cancelled the plan, because the two of them seemed to be chatting quite happily, and Ma Ma Zhaodi might really have saved that old woman's life.

Outside the bar, he recalled a few things Ma Ma Zhaodi had said to him at the botanical garden.

"When a person doesn't want to answer your question, you have no right to force him to answer, because he has no such obligation — he is not a criminal."

"A neutral party will not proactively make enemies of anyone, unless someone actively pushes him to the opposing side — and your attitude is what's pushing people to the opposing side."

"When asking someone for guidance you use the word 'please' — that's a piece of manners even a child knows, unless the adults in his house never taught him."

Recalling those three lines, Batman's fury truly began to be pressed down by reason; after being warned by the police, Chuck Brown had indeed never again been drawn into any criminal activity — in other words, he was an ordinary citizen.

He had no right, in a commanding tone, to make an ordinary citizen help him extract the Joker's whereabouts, because everyone has the instinct to seek advantage and avoid harm, to stay away from madmen, to want to survive — and there is nothing wrong with that.

So he left from outside the bar and went straight to Chuck's home.

In the end, Batman unusually spent some effort with words, no longer using his usual cold, hard commanding manner, and instead persuaded Chuck to voluntarily agree to do this.

Facts proved Chuck Brown really did seem to be an ordinary person under coercion; in response to Batman's request, his added condition was "my son's safety," not "money."

Chuck didn't have the Joker's contact information, but luckily he had the phone number of another person who could reach the Joker.

So he called that number and arranged a meeting time.

"Um, I don't know if you still remember me, Floyd. It's Chuck. Chuck Brown."

Amid the brightly lit skyscrapers, Chuck stood on the rooftop; his expression was a little nervous, his tone cautious, even a little stammering.

He wasn't afraid of the height — he was afraid of the man standing beside him.

Floyd Lawton Jr., codename Deadshot — he possessed no superpowers, yet purely on the basis of skill he could rank among the super-criminals.

There may be names given in error, but never nicknames given in error; Deadshot's strongest suit was precisely his marksmanship.

"The world's deadliest marksman," "the most accurate shooter on Earth," "top-tier mercenary" — these were all his titles. If one were to measure his marksmanship, whether it was the two Jokers Ma Ma Zhaodi had seen, or Clinton, who had spent a full half-year on the "Old Jack" bus, their skill was on an entirely different dimension from this man's.

If one were to use a system-style rating, Deadshot's marksmanship rating would unquestionably be above Master — within a range of two to three thousand meters, he could fire ten rounds from his specially modified sniper rifle and hit ten coins.

Pistols, rifles, sniper rifles, submachine guns — he was proficient in nearly every model and every caliber of firearm; his extraordinary physical ability and close-combat skill left him with almost no weakness; his custom armor could absorb shock and stop bullets, shielding him from hails of fire; the scope on his helmet mask came with radar and thermal sensing built in, greatly enhancing his environmental awareness of sight and hearing; sometimes he didn't even need to aim, and sometimes he could hit a target without looking at all.

Faced with a mercenary whose combat power was maxed out and whose track record was terrifying, of course Chuck would be nervous. He weighed every word, afraid that some sentence might anger the other man.

"If you don't remember Chuck Brown, you might remember that the Joker once had someone build a parade car — I did some... key work on it at the time. I helped design the aerodynamics part."

"I mean, uh, there were four people doing this back then, and he killed the other three, so..."

Deadshot took a drag of his cigarette and didn't answer; it was unclear whether he'd even listened clearly to Chuck's muttering. After a while, he finally handed the nearly finished butt to Chuck and said: "Hold it steady."

So Chuck did as told, and continued: "Uh, I think, maybe it's because he felt that in the future, if he needed it, I could still be of help, so he didn't kill me."

"So now, it seems like he's about to go to war with the Riddler, and I thought maybe I should reach out to him proactively."

"Hold it higher." Deadshot still didn't answer his words, but gestured for him to raise the cigarette butt.

And Chuck obediently raised his right hand, lifting the butt a little higher, like a statue standing dumbly in place.

"I was thinking, since you're on his side, I figured I should come find you — maybe you could put in a word with him or something... I'll do anything, as long as it helps."

"Good."

"Huh?"

Hearing Deadshot's sudden reply, Chuck was overjoyed; he looked up and saw the other man standing several meters away giving him a thumbs-up.

Then he clenched his fist, revealing the dark muzzle of the gun built into his custom bracer.

Bang!

"Ah—!"

(End of chapter)