Chapter 76: Which Comes First, Tomorrow or an Accident?

While the two were conversing, Ma Ma Zhaodi, holding a tray in the cabin, sweated like rain.

"The Romans are going to move against Maroni? The Holiday Killer triggers a massive gang war? Can something this big really be decided so quickly?"

"I'm still working in Gotham next year! Will I even be able to find a normal job other than being a thug next year? If I keep being a waiter, am I going to be carrying trays by day and getting shot by night?"

The two gang bosses probably never imagined that an enhanced-senses waiter could actually hear their conversation with his ears.

However, at the very beginning, due to the simultaneous enhancement of the five senses, a flood of complex information would rush into his brain at once; overly complex scenes would occasionally cause him to crash—this problem troubled Ma Ma Zhaodi for quite some time, similar to a Kryptonian who had just arrived on Earth.

Fortunately, he had plenty of time, and the degree of enhancement wasn't as insane as Superman's, so after roughly ten-plus days, he was basically able to adapt to his current physical condition.

"Just like Dad, you keep your friends close, but you keep your enemies closer, right, Carmine?"

As soon as he stepped away from Maroni's side, a woman's voice reached the Godfather's ear.

"The same words can describe the relationship between you and me, Carla." Falcone and the heavily made-up, gold-and-silver-clad, blonde, fat woman embraced each other: "Even if you are my only sister."

Seeing his sister frown, Falcone didn't want to continue upsetting the family, so he changed the subject: "Have you seen Alberto? It's already very late."

"I saw him on the deck earlier." Carla casually pulled out a cigarette and a lighter to soothe her irritability; since losing her child, her temper had never been good—perhaps only after taking equivalent revenge on the Holiday Killer could the rage of a mother like her be appeased.

The Godfather raised an eyebrow, just seeing a waiter he found agreeable pass by, so he waved at him: "Child, come here."

Ma Ma Zhaodi froze all over; he had originally just wanted to listen to the gossip and trivialities of Gotham's number one gang from the sidelines, but he never expected to be singled out by the Roman, which made him exclaim "Holy shit" in his heart.

Is he that sharp? Damn it, next time I'll never walk in front to listen to the Roman's gossip again.

"Child, I remember you; Alberto praised you, saying your skills are good, so you go; go to the cabin and call him over, call him to my side."

Ma Ma Zhaodi secretly breathed a sigh of relief; at least he hadn't been marked in the Roman's little notebook—although he had already left a mark on this man in his heart, at least it was positive.

"No need."

Just then, Carla Vitti on the side suddenly spoke up.

"Anyway, I just need some fresh air too, so I'll go tell your son that his father is looking for him."

Watching Carla Vitti turn and leave, and Maroni in the crowd with his cast, Falcone took out a bill, told Ma Ma Zhaodi to go back to work, and after walking away, he could still hear this Gotham underworld boss leaning against the counter and sighing softly.

"I am surrounded by such lovely vipers; if not for Alberto, I would have no one left to trust."

By the ship's railing, Alberto stood silently, gazing blankly at the sea in the night and the distant Gotham Harbor, not knowing what he was thinking.

The cabin door suddenly opened; Carla Vitti walked out with a lit cigarette; the drifting smoke and the tiny flame glowed for a moment, then extinguished again.

A gloved hand gently twisted an old-fashioned vintage light bulb; in an instant, the light in this corner vanished immediately.

A handgun bullet shattered an infant's pacifier, breaking the silence of the night sky.

Alberto clutched his wound, his body sliding from the ship's railing into the sea.

"Someone! Come quickly and save Alberto!"

Carla Vitti's cries echoed on the cruise ship; at her feet lay a. 22 caliber pistol, a broken infant pacifier, two bullet casings, a spilled model of champagne, and looking down from below the ship's railing, one could only see bright red blood floating in the cold seawater.

—

"Sorry."

Harvey, wrapped up tightly, opened the door amidst wind and snow; the cold air, broken snowflakes, and Harvey's apology rushed into the room together, and Greida immediately came running out from inside the house.

"I'm back late," he said, taking off his blue trench coat and round hat while hanging them on the coat rack nearby, expressing his apology to Greida: "There were some things to do at the office today, so time was delayed."

"It's fine." Greida warmly warmed Harvey's frozen, red cheeks with both hands: "You're back just in time—eh, Harvey, why is your hair all wet?"

"It's snowing today."

Greida nodded, then impatiently dragged Harvey into the house: "Oh, okay—come quickly, I have a little..."

"Surprise."

As soon as the words fell, the two had walked into the room, arriving by the fireplace; the fire burned brightly, and the red flames were reflecting on the two of them; they wore festive pointed hats and raised the wine glasses in their hands toward Harvey.

"The Gordon family...?"

Harvey did not step forward to greet them at this moment; instead, he turned and left this place, walking toward the kitchen. Greida was somewhat at a loss due to his reaction; she gently called out behind him: "Little Ha?"

"I will—uh—I'll go see if he needs any help in the kitchen."

Chief Gordon saw something; he explained a sentence, then put down the wine glass in his hand and walked toward the kitchen.

And the two housewives stayed in the living room, chatting about their usual lives, chatting about New Year's visions, chatting about their feelings for their husbands—ever since Harvey came home early and also planned to have a child with her, Greida's face had gained quite a few smiles.

"Jim's niece, little Barbara, is on holiday and is living with us two—she's old enough to take care of a child, so the two of us can finally sneak out for one night."

"I think Harvey might also want a little annoying troublemaker." Greida's face showed a shy smile.

"Ah, you two are planning to have a child... truly congratulations."

"Have you ever stood in front of an open refrigerator, big brother Jim—?" In the kitchen, Harvey stood in front of the wide-open refrigerator door, asking a question: "Looking for things that were always right in front of your eyes?"

Jim Gordon took off his hat; he was familiar with Harvey's expression; whenever this expression appeared, it meant something important had happened.

"What happened, Harvey?"

"We need to talk, Jim." Harvey turned his head; his expression was serious; half his face was illuminated snow-white by the refrigerator light, while the other half sank into the dark shadows.

"We need to talk about Bruce Wayne."

PS: No spoilers, okay! This is very important for Detective Comics, okay!

These two chapters are mainly plot-advancement chapters; they are important plot points in the comics, not easy to change, so they might seem a bit watered down, sorry. Then, to show my apology, I rushed out this chapter for tomorrow morning and posted it.

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(End of this chapter)