Chapter 54: Is It Too Late to Send Him Back to the Fire Now?

Although it sounds rather tragic, Ma Ma Zhaodi's actual situation is actually quite okay; his important items are all stored in the system.

Not only the small pumpkin lantern and cornucopia-type props, but also items like notebooks and mobile phones are like this; anyway, these things were all bought in the System Shangcheng, so they can all be stored inside.

His losses are mainly concentrated in the mental aspect. First, the good sleep originally scheduled to wake up naturally is gone; second, even in Gotham, there is usually not much opportunity to see a naked man running around the street with a newspaper covering his crotch.

"F*ck, I can't take it anymore."

More and more residents running out of the building surrounded him. Ma Ma Zhaodi, wrapped in a newspaper, stepped forward and stripped the jacket off the gangster who had just attacked him: "You still have clothes underneath; lend me your jacket for now."

"Go to your—mmph, mm—"

"This isn't called gagging; this is called helping you accumulate good karma. You'll know my goodness once you see Satan."

Saying this, Ma Ma Zhaodi quickly put on the other man's jacket and jeans, while the gangster struggled desperately, looking very unhappy with his actions.

This was understandable; after all, his pink fuzzy trousers and Q-version Superman-pattern thermal shirt were fully exposed. It was hard to imagine what expression his accomplices would have when facing him tomorrow.

Just then, Batman flew out of the building, holding the last person in one hand.

"The clothes in your house—give his clothes back to him."

Ma Ma Zhaodi twitched at the corners of his mouth as he took the clothes and pants from Batman's hands: "Thanks a lot."

Just then, a voice rang out in the crowd: "Hey, Bat-freak, did you see my bank card in the room?"

"Yeah, and my driver's license too; that's pretty important."

"Right, you had time to get this guy his clothes and pants, so you didn't have time to look for my phone?"

"My cash is still at home. Please, Batman, help me."

Ma Ma Zhaodi looked up at the residential building almost completely engulfed in flames, listening to the roar of voices around him, and suddenly felt a sense of bizarre surrealism, a feeling he hadn't had since arriving in Gotham for a long time.

He hadn't felt it when Drake robbed him, nor when he got on Old Jack's bus, nor even when he met Clinton, started working at the Red Dragon Restaurant, faced the perverted killer and Harvey Dent, these super-villain reserves, or faced Batman, this super-pervert.

Back then, he still felt he could understand Drake a little, understand Old Jack a little, Clinton, Harvey, Batman; except for that perverted killer whom he couldn't understand, he understood the rest more or less, and even most of the crazy citizens in Gotham City had their own logic; they were not born criminals.

Only tonight, after hearing the roar of the crowd, did Ma Ma Zhaodi feel a sense of drifting.

He couldn't distinguish whether the chaotic gazes cast by the crowd were threats, greed, or pleas; perhaps all three, or perhaps none of the three.

Maybe it was just pure malice, malice directed at the unknown.

In this moment, he felt out of place with this world. For the first time in his life, he experienced what was called stupid malice.

When people deny a thing, they always unconsciously affirm its opposite. For Ma Ma Zhaodi at this moment, Batman suddenly became the side worth supporting—at least at this moment, he completely could not understand the crowd's stupidity and malice.

"That's enough." He heard a voice say: "Those barking dogs all rely on Batman to be your nanny. If it were me, I would just remember your names and faces, and next time I'd let you burn to death in the fire."

He saw the shocked gazes of the crowd, saw his formerly familiar neighbors glaring at him with anger, and saw several gangsters approaching while cursing.

Oh, so that sentence was something I said.

Then it's fine.

Only now did he feel his soul drift back into his body, as if he had become himself again.

Sweeping away rudeness, becoming himself again.

"What are you looking at?" he asked: "I called the ambulance with my own f*cking phone; are you going to pay for me? And I'm not living here anymore anyway; if you have the guts, come find me!"

"The gangsters started the fire with their gunfight; the Gotham City Fire Department dragged their feet before arriving; only Batman saved people, and you just want him to rush into the fire for you—why not drive the gangsters into the fire? Are you afraid? Is it because you know the gangsters will really kill?"

He regretted it; he should have taken more of the bounty offered by the Romans back then, shouldn't have acted like that cold f*cker, leaving most of it to Harvey Dent. Now it would be a bit difficult to move to Burnley District or Fort Audis to hide from enemies.

He didn't know if it was too late to go back and dig it up now.

"I don't have time to take care of both your property and your lives." Batman interrupted Ma Ma Zhaodi's cursing and answered the others' questions with a blank expression, his voice still low and cold, showing no trace of fluctuation: "Driver's licenses and bank cards, passbooks can be reissued and reported lost; as for cash—I am powerless."

"I know the Wayne Foundation compensates for property damage, so I suggest you figure out where to stay tomorrow. Relying on me is meaningless; under this fire intensity, not many things can survive."

The sound of fire trucks came from the street; they finally arrived at the scene. Although there was nothing left for them to rescue in the fire now, they could at least prevent the fire from spreading a little.

They couldn't just do nothing, could they? At least they were paid—Wayne's money.

Basically, no one in the East District had the ability to pay for fire insurance. A significant portion of Gotham's civilian insurance was established by the well-known Wayne family heir, Gotham playboy Bruce Wayne. People weren't quite sure if this was Wayne Group's image management or the kind-hearted generosity of a landlord's foolish son, but he indeed became one of the important funders of Gotham's public safety.

The fire truck stopped below the residential building. Batman ignored the noisy, angry crowd, grabbed Ma Ma Zhaodi directly, and disappeared into the night illuminated by the flames.

"There is cash in your room, about thirty-five thousand US dollars."

Batman stopped Ma Ma Zhaodi on the roof of a building. His voice still had no inflection, but Ma Ma Zhaodi immediately became alert.

This atmosphere is wrong; this bird-man is going to interrogate me again!

"Your friend left Gotham, taking some with him. Three thousand US dollars was deposited into his account. Your wages and tips bought furniture, daily necessities, and a car, so you should only have about twenty-five thousand US dollars left now."

"Wait, you f*cking checked Drake's account too?"

"I monitored Harvey. His phone calls were always normal, but there were two instances of no signal, each lasting three minutes."

"???"

"You are different. The bug and tracker on your body have been in a no-signal state for a long time."

"You f*cking sick!"

(End of Chapter)