Chapter 165

Soon, the temporary Avengers alliance composed of Yin Wensi, Cobblepot, and Batman began their investigation to infiltrate every corner of Gotham.

Batman's reasoning was correct: when investigating such matters, breadth matters more than precision.

Especially when dealing with the mysterious Owl Court, top-down investigations yielded little, but bottom-up inquiries could uncover extra information—the earliest breakthrough came from Cobblepot, specifically from the team he organized at his vocational school in Hell's Kitchen.

The students' backgrounds need no further elaboration; unquestionably, most of them were born in slums, raised in slums, and would spend their entire lives there.

They knew every detail of Gotham's street life intimately, which was why they followed Cobblepot's orders—everything happening here directly affected them.

In the vocational school classroom, Fatty Tire crossed his arms and said: "... ou think we want to live like we used to? The whole hallway stank like a garbage dump—I nearly lost my sense of smell, you know? In my bathroom, I couldn't even turn around!"

"Isn't that because you're too fat?" said Rocket Shell, the girl with the tattooed arms, rolling her eyes. "But seriously, it used to be too dangerous for kids like us. When I was eight, a bullet hit my right arm and left a nasty scar—I had to cover it with a tattoo…"

Red Truck lit a cigarette and smoked as he spoke: "Things have gotten better lately. I've been working with that Doyle guy hauling cars—I've made good money. My dad even thought I'd finally wised up and learned how to rob people."

The group burst into laughter.

Rocket Shell turned back to Cobblepot. "Is this really true? Our chaotic life before was because the rain was poisoned? That sounds insane."

"It is a little strange," said Fatty Tire, frowning. "You all know my grandfather was the oldest man in Hell's Kitchen—he only died the year before last."

156n.

"He told me once that Gotham underwent a major renovation—other streets in the East District got tap water, and though problems kept popping up, nowhere had water wells used for over a hundred years like Hell's Kitchen."

"Come on, what century are we in? Still hauling water in buckets? Doesn't that seem odd to you?" Fatty Tire spread his hands.

Red Truck added: "The weirdest part is the location of those wells. My dad's leg is bad—I've been fetching water since I was a kid."

"I noticed there are five wells in the North District but only one in the South. Yet more people live in the South—they all have to trek north just to get water. Didn't anyone think about this when they built it?"

Perhaps because they were young, these students had stronger adaptability and comprehension. When Cobblepot suggested Gotham's rain might be toxic, they didn't dismiss it as nonsense like adults did—they instead recalled odd details from memory.

Rocket Shell propped one leg on a chair and complained: "Anyway, now we have tap water—we don't need to drink from the wells anymore."

"But don't forget," Cobblepot said grimly, "tap water didn't appear out of nowhere. If this rain keeps falling, Gotham's groundwater will be contaminated too—and then no one will escape."

"So what do we do? I don't want to go back to how things were."

Red Truck and Rocket Shell exchanged glances. Red Truck tugged at his hair. "Alright, we're all bad kids—born criminals, like they say. But we all admit things are better now. If only this could last forever."

"We can't just sit here," Cobblepot said, looking at them. "That's not the Gotham way. We must act. First step: investigate."

All looked at him. Fatty Tire said: "All the teachers always said you were the best student here—the smartest. What should we do?"

Cobblepot pulled out a plan. The others' eyes fixed on the table.

It proved true: when personal survival is at stake, everyone's initiative surges.

The people of Hell's Kitchen were the first to receive the reforms and the first to feel their benefits.

If they'd remained in that chaos, they'd never have wanted change—but now they'd tasted the sweetness of reform, they wouldn't tolerate returning to that dangerous, chaotic life.

Don't underestimate these three kids—Red Truck, Fatty Tire, and Rocket Shell. Their parents held vital jobs in Hell's Kitchen.

Most obvious was Red Truck: at his age, he could drive, ride motorcycles, and knew every delivery route—because his family did exactly that.

His father and two uncles used to run garbage trucks; his mother was a street sweeper on the next block—she knew every alley and corner.

Rocket Shell's name gave it away—her father was an arms dealer. They didn't live in Hell's Kitchen because they were poor—they lived there because it was convenient for business.

Fatty Tire's family ran a small, unremarkable business—but it was crucial. His mother operated a tiny gas station, the fastest hub for information exchange. Most drivers passing through chatted and bragged while refueling.

When these three returned home, their limited education made their explanations unclear. Their parents, equally limited in understanding, twisted the story beyond recognition.

Soon, a rumor spread through Hell's Kitchen: someone was poisoning Gotham's water supply with a toxin that drove people mad—and if Hell's Kitchen didn't want to return to its old state, they must find the poisoner.

This ignited fierce enthusiasm among Gotham's citizens.

Everyone knew Gothamites had short tempers: if you shot them once, they'd return two bullets. Learning they'd once been poisoned, they flew into a rage.

The story grew wilder, faster, broader—and many believed it.

When your life is at stake, you pay attention. So any rumor, however faint, was passed along, Cengcengchuanxun, until it reached Cobblepot's ears.

Thus, Cobblepot's intelligence sources expanded dramatically. Amid Zhenjiahunza reports, he swiftly filtered out useful information.

First: when the Hell's Kitchen wells were built, there had been disputes. The South District had only one well, but its residents wouldn't let their interests be ignored—they resisted.

Yet the matter was dropped. From gathered intelligence, Cobblepot learned that a brief epidemic had once swept through Hell's Kitchen, killing many. Cross-referencing lists of deceased elders and relatives provided by residents, he found most victims were from the South District—and most were among the fiercest resisters.

This confirmed someone was controlling Hell's Kitchen's water supply.

Next, Cobblepot obtained an old map of Hell's Kitchen—stolen from an aging drug dealer who, in his youth, had traversed the entire district smuggling contraband and drawn the map himself.

From this map, it became clear why the North District had so many wells.

The North District's buildings were sparser, with more open spaces; the South District, densely packed with people, had almost no open areas.

This further supported their theory: the Owl Court likely used this method to contaminate Hell's Kitchen's drinking water through rain—combined with polluted water, this turned the district into Gotham's most insane and chaotic zone.

With sufficient evidence gathered, Cobblepot turned to another question: Why was Hell's Kitchen so important to the Owl Court? Why invest so much effort here?

Cobblepot couldn't guess this—but now the trio's alliance proved valuable: Batman's approach was more scientific.

During a small meeting, Batman speculated: "First, Hell's Kitchen has no strategic value. Though it's the East District's most densely populated area, it's not a transportation hub—it's remote, far less critical than Elizabeth Street."

"Second, it's a slum within a slum. If every resident vanished, Gotham's economy wouldn't notice. Economically, targeting Green Street would make more sense."

"If I must name one trait of Hell's Kitchen," Batman concluded, "it's population density. No other place in Gotham has this many people packed together."

"It's likely their testing ground," Cobblepot said, staring at the map. "So many people, most trapped here even under terrible conditions. Poor sanitation means outbreaks go unnoticed."

"More importantly, its ecosystem is closed," Yin Wensi said, drawing a circle around Hell's Kitchen with his finger. "It has a functioning commercial system—food, clothing, shelter, transport—all available locally. Population mobility is minimal."

"The Owl Court has definitely set up something here. That's certain."

Then Batman said: "The only question is—if they've set something up, they must be monitoring it. How are they watching Hell's Kitchen?"

All three paused. Then they looked at each other—and said in unison: "The wells!"

"Everyone needs water. Everyone draws water. Even those too weak to go out—family members fetch it for them. When you lower the bucket, you look down into the well…"

Batman's low voice sent chills down the others' spines: "And at the bottom of the well, someone is looking up at you…"

——————Extra Notes——————

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