Chapter 291: Two Failed Men

Ma Ma Zhaodi was a person with relatively strong stress resistance.

Of course, if one said he was born a legendary king of stress resistance, that would certainly be unrealistic; but if one said that after undergoing high-intensity training across two Gotham Cities and one New York City, he still hadn't grown accustomed to minor accidents, that would certainly be unrealistic as well.

But isn't this Central City? Ma Ma Zhaodi silently shed tears in his heart. When I was in Gotham, I resisted stress; after coming to Central City, I still resist stress. Didn't I come here for nothing?

Although the movements of his hands were not slow at all, they formed a stark contrast with the expression on his face; the scene was so absurd that the robber nearby couldn't help but speak up.

"Why the long face? Did your wife die?"

"I don't have a wife."

"Your girlfriend—"

"No girlfriend."

"Your family—"

"No family."

"Then what the hell do you have?"

Ma Ma Zhaodi looked at the bag full of money in the robber's hand.

"I have money just deposited."

The robber responsible for packing the money immediately fell silent.

He stared blankly for a long moment, unable to say another word, and finally took out a stack of bills and secretly stuffed it into Ma Ma Zhaodi's arms.

"Sorry, buddy," he said quietly, "I admit I spoke a bit too loudly just now."

Ma Ma Zhaodi looked down, feeling warmth in his heart—that stack alone had cut his losses by at least twenty percent.

"Can I have a few more stacks?" he asked quietly, "Even one stack is fine; I'm not picky."

The robber's expression changed; he directly took back the stack of money from Ma Ma Zhaodi's arms and also answered quietly, "Get lost."

"Got it."

When the two robbers, carrying the money, tried to retreat, the sound of sirens suddenly rang out from the roadside outside the door.

"Clyde! Stop pretending!"

Hearing the sirens, the robber controlling the hostage's voice instantly became panicked: "Damn it, the cops are arriving earlier than expected; we need to grab the money and get out fast!"

The robber packing the money heard the sirens on the street as well, but looking at the money not yet packed, he felt extremely unwilling: "Damn it, Mark, we still have so much money left to pack! At least a hundred thousand!"

"I said, don't, damn it, pack any more!"

Mark ground his teeth at Clyde: "If we keep packing, we won't even be able to keep the money in the bags!"

"But... damn it!"

Clyde zipped up the backpack, slung it over his shoulder, and still pointed his gun at Ma Ma Zhaodi and the staff, backing toward Mark: "Let's go, let's go!"

Ma Ma Zhaodi silently sighed at the two figures' backs. Truly Central City; even criminals know to fear the police. Before Gordon and Bruce reformed them, Gotham's police had almost no authority. Let alone bank-robbing master thieves, even slightly skilled thieves weren't afraid of the police station; entering the station was like going home, and escaping prison was like taking a stroll outside.

But then again, Gotham City's bank robbers were indeed far more professional than these two. After all, gang money is hard to steal, yet gang money is everywhere in the city; this naturally eliminated amateur robbers through natural selection.

People like Clyde and Mark, holding only pistols with no heavy firepower, not even knowing the exact time the police would arrive at the scene, hesitating and dawdling during their retreat, not even finding an extra person to keep watch at the door, and having no one responsible for guarding against customers or staff inside the bank who might pull out micro-submachine guns and fire wildly—they two would have been the batch destined for elimination in Gotham.

"Life in Central City is still too comfortable," Ma Ma Zhaodi sharply commented, "Gotham City never raises idle people."

"This way! This way!"

Clyde and Mark carried two large bags into the car; Mark was responsible for driving, while Clyde quickly piled the packages to one side and reached for a gun at his waist.

"Hey, Mark," he suddenly thought of something and asked the driving Mark, "Did you disable the surveillance? I think I forgot to disable it back then."

"I shot them out with two bullets when I entered," Mark rolled his eyes, "If it weren't for me taking care of you, what would you do?"

Hearing this, Clyde instantly breathed a sigh of relief and replied with a grin, "You're my brother; if you don't take care of me, who else can take care of me?"

Mark was speechless and could only sigh, turning the key to start the car—however, when his eyes glanced at the rearview mirror, his nerves instantly tensed up.

"Damn it, the security guards are chasing out! Those bastards in the bank untied them!"

Clyde also looked at the car's rear window with a ferocious expression: "Damn it, they still dare to chase!"

"Bastards, drop your guns! Raise your hands and surrender!"

Several security guards, holding guns, chased out and pulled the triggers aimed at the car. With several gunshots, the car's rear window suddenly shattered, several bullet holes immediately appeared on the car body, and worst of all, the tires were punctured.

Screech—

Clyde and Mark instinctively dropped low at the same time, avoiding the bullets. Although they were on the verge of escaping the scene, Clyde couldn't swallow this insult.

"Bastards, you dare to come looking for death..."

He immediately raised his gun barrel, aimed at the few security guards still within his field of vision, and pulled the trigger.

Click—

No gunshot rang out; the pistol emitted the crisp sound of an empty chamber as the hammer struck the firing pin.

"WTF?! Of all times..."

Clyde ejected the magazine; he thought the pistol had jammed, but when he saw the magazine, he realized he was wrong.

"Mark! Why is there no bullet in my magazine!"

"How can there be none? Didn't I just check it with you yesterday?!"

While the two were talking, the car's driving trajectory suddenly began to distort, and its speed was dragged down.

"Damn it!" Mark instantly realized, "The tire blew out!"

Bang! Bang!

A group of security guards pulled the triggers again, adding several more bullet marks to the car body.

"Go fast!"

"Damn it, the tire blew out!" Mark looked despairingly as the lights of a police car appeared in the rearview mirror, indicating the police were about to catch up. He gritted his teeth in hatred and shouted fiercely, "Clyde, throw the money away!"

"What?! Are you crazy?!"

"Hurry! The cops' car is about to catch up!"

"Damn!"

Clyde, heartbroken, threw a large bag out; the police cars were indeed pulled back a bit, but at that moment, more police cars merged into the traffic flow.

"Throw them all!"

With no other choice, resentful Clyde had to throw the other bag out of the car too.

At this point, the vehicle's speed finally picked up; Mark, relying on his driving skills, wove flexibly through the streets and alleys. About half an hour later, the sirens and lights behind the two men finally slowly disappeared.

However, both of their moods were very terrible.

"Damn! Damn! Damn!"

Clyde slammed his pistol into the car, uttering resentful curses.

"All for nothing! Damn it!"

Mark also sighed: "How could there be no bullets in your gun?"

"How the hell would I know!"

On the other side, Ma Ma Zhaodi secretly stuffed a handful of bullets from his hand into his backpack and left the bank humming a little tune.

"Riding my beloved little motorbike~"

(End of this chapter)