Chapter 177: Damn It, How the Hell Did You Get Into My House?!

On the rooftop, Deadshot and Chuck Brown stood facing each other when Deadshot suddenly aimed the wrist-mounted device in his hand at Chuck, who was holding a cigarette butt, and fired a bullet.

The scorching metal bullet, trailing a rush of air, grazed past Chuck's ear; the pain and terror made him unable to help but scream out in agony, clutching his ear as the cigarette butt fell from his hand to the ground, instantly extinguishing.

"Ugh, ugh, ugh, it hurts so much..."

Chuck clutched his ear and screamed in pain, but at this moment his heart was filled only with sheer terror, with little room for anger—or rather, he dared not feel anger, nor did he dare to show it.

Meanwhile, Deadshot busied himself adjusting the wrist device, not even glancing at him.

"Hmm, just as I thought, the calibration was off; the trajectory drifted to the right."

Only after finishing did he lift his head to look at Chuck Brown opposite him.

"Do you mind staying a bit longer? I recall I still have a pencil; you can hold it for me."

Clutching his ear, Chuck took the pencil from his hand.

"No, Chuck, this won't do!"

Wearing a blue suit, Chuck raised a wine bottle and, mimicking Batman's voice for Ma Ma Zhaodi—though doing a poor job of it, his alcohol-slurred voice rising and falling unpredictably, making him seem rather comical—said, "The number you got from Lawton points to a non-existent network carrier; it's untraceable and completely useless—God, that guy has no idea what I went through up on that rooftop!"

Ma Ma Zhaodi patted his shoulder and refilled his glass with more wine: "And then? Did he hit you? Or grab you by the collar and threaten you?"

"Not exactly..." Chuck mumbled a couple of times: "He said he'd give me a hundred thousand US dollars; that guy's actually quite rich."

Hearing this price, Ma Ma Zhaodi immediately picked up a bottle and gulped down several mouthfuls of the sweet soda.

Bitter wine enters the throat, and the heart aches; why wasn't that money for me to earn? I only need asset points; the cash could go to Chuck.

"I could negotiate too; I could go deal with Deadshot myself; I'm so jealous..."

Chuck, his eyes blurry with drunkenness, paid no attention to Ma Ma Zhaodi's muttering to himself and continued speaking: "Anyway, I agreed to use this phone to arrange a meeting with the Joker; I'll be there, the Joker will be there, and Batman will be there too—God, I can't even imagine what kind of scene that will turn into."

I can imagine it just fine, Ma Ma Zhaodi thought to himself; if Batman really shows up, the Joker will probably get beaten quite badly.

"Forget it, let's not talk about this anymore; I need to call the Joker—wait, wait..."

Squinting, Chuck looked at the sofa he was sitting on, then at the familiar walls and furniture around him, and at the wine bottle in his hand, before finally shifting his gaze to Ma Ma Zhaodi beside him: "Something's not right; I remember I was drinking in a bar earlier, so how did I suddenly end up at home? Damn it, how the hell did you get in here?!"

"Sigh." Ma Ma Zhaodi let out a sigh: "When people drink too much, they want someone to chat with. So when I'm drinking and chatting with you, you should remember to say 'Thank you, Ma Ma Zhaodi,' instead of saying ungrateful things like 'Damn it, how the hell did you get in here?!'; don't ask me why I'm in your house—because you had already passed out drunk at the bar counter, and without me, you would have had to sleep there all night!"

With Ma Ma Zhaodi's explanation, Chuck gradually recalled his utterly drunken experience at the bar earlier that day.

That's right; because he had to call the Joker to arrange the meeting, his mood was even worse than before, so he had drunk a bit more at the bar—anyway, he was a regular customer, and the owner, Riles, wouldn't just throw him out onto the street.

In that half-drunk, half-awake state, someone had indeed asked him where his home was, and he had indeed answered.

Then, by the time he regained consciousness, he was already at home, drinking wine.

"Old Ma, thank you..."

Chuck shook his head vigorously; he was still feeling dizzy and confused, otherwise he wouldn't have revealed everything about Batman and the Joker.

Wait, wait... what exactly did I say to Ma Ma Zhaodi?

When he finally realized that, due to his drunkenness, he had leaked Batman's plans, his face instantly turned deathly pale.

"No—"

"Chuck, what are you muttering about?" Ma Ma Zhaodi asked with some concern: "Are you sober now? You kept talking nonsense about the Joker and Batman earlier, and I even had to play along and say a few words—God, have you been reading too many little Gotham stories? How could those lunatics possibly have any connection with ordinary people like us? And that hundred thousand US dollars... are you so desperate for money that you've gone mad?"

Hearing his words, Chuck froze for a few seconds, his despair quickly turning into a glimmer of hopeful relief, and he immediately spoke up to agree with Ma Ma Zhaodi.

"Ha, haha, well, you know, Old Ma, I'm just like that—lately I've been too poor, with no job in sight, so after drinking too much I start spouting nonsense, fantasizing about helping superheroes fight criminals, or imagining suddenly coming into a windfall... Sigh, please don't tell anyone about this; it's too embarrassing."

"Alright, alright." Ma Ma Zhaodi replied casually: "You really should cut down on the drinking, Chuck."

Having said that, he glanced up at the clock in the living room, then set down the empty bottle, stood up, and patted Chuck on the shoulder.

"It's about time; I should be leaving now. Chuck, don't worry too much; remember to drink some hot water—you'll be fine."

With a click, the front door closed; Ma Ma Zhaodi had indeed left directly.

Chuck stared blankly at the doorway for several minutes, then took another heavy swig of wine, relaxed his entire body, and collapsed onto the sofa.

He was very relieved that Ma Ma Zhaodi hadn't believed his drunken ramblings; the matter had not been exposed.

"Eh, what's this...?"

Lowering his head, he suddenly saw two candies left on the table: one milk candy and one strawberry candy.

"Did Old Ma leave these behind?"

After a moment's thought, he casually tossed the candies into his pocket; these things weren't worth much, and Old Ma probably wouldn't mind him taking them home to his son.

Moreover, Batman had given him a reward of a hundred thousand US dollars, which meant he could take his son out for a big meal; of course, what he loved most was flying kites with his son.

Thinking of this, he picked up the phone and dialed that number.

Ring-ring—

After a brief period of ringing, the call was answered.

Chuck took a deep breath to steady his nerves; facing such a capricious madman, he was actually extremely tense right now.

"Hello, Mr. Joker. If you remember me, I once designed the Joker Mobile for you."

On the other end of the line, a voice that made one's skin crawl rang out.

"Hmm? The Joker Mobile—I don't have much impression of that; what do you want to say?"

"Uh, I thought you kept me around because I was still useful."

"Kept you around? What's your name?"

"Brown, Charles Brown; you can just call me Chuck."

At this moment, the Joker's response exceeded Chuck's expectations.

"Oh, Chuck Brown."

"I remember you; I remember your name."

(End of Chapter)