Chapter 4938

"What the hell? None of these trucks will start." Harley put her hands on her hips, looking at the trucks parked outside the truckers' union, but she didn't see the familiar one. And the other trucks needed keys, so they couldn't be started at all.

After saying that, she looked at the Arkham Knight: "Are you sure the mission told you there was a truck? How exactly was it described?"

The Arkham Knight frowned slightly and said: "I saw it during an investigation into the final boss. It seemed to say something like 'Noah's Ark in the Rainy Night' or 'Lightning Before Dawn.' I could tell it was a truck because the icon for that clue was a truck."

Harley thought about it. Actually, this description doesn't sound much like the Joker's truck. Uncle Jack's truck really does have some special properties—it can even freely travel through the Dream Realm—but Harley doesn't think Brainiac could simulate the Dream Realm. And besides, terms like "Noah's Ark" are still a bit too far-fetched; if the Joker drove Noah's Ark, that boat wouldn't even be worth boarding.

"You mean we probably came all this way for nothing?" Polaris asked. "But if it's not at the truckers' union, where else could it be?"

"I heard Jason say something once," Harley said, mulling it over. "A long time ago, on a night of heavy rain, Bruce was driving a truck, bringing them to storm the Falcone Manor in the North District."

"Why would he do that?" the Arkham Knight asked.

"At first, he just wanted to save those kids," Harley said, letting out a soft sigh. "Later, he probably just couldn't stand it anymore. The existence of gangster order might have its reasons, but this rule is really too cruel, especially for the kids. It was an era without hope, and Bruce wanted to change it—you can't get around the Godfather, so he went there."

Everyone fell into a kind of silence. The Arkham Knight is also Jason Todd, and he also climbed up from the bottom of Gotham. The lower classes of these big American cities can't avoid the gangs, so even though his universe never formed a so-called gangster order, he can probably imagine what it was like.

"He was very brave," the Arkham Knight said. "What did the Godfather say?"

"The Godfather actually evaluated Bruce the same way," Harley said. "But unfortunately, the person standing in Falcone Manor that night wasn't the enemy Bruce wanted to take down—it was just an old remnant who had once tried to save Gotham and failed."

"It reminds me of Eric," Polaris said. "Many mutants who grew up in human society often see his terrorist label in the news and are biased against him. But when they grow up and stand at the door of the Mutant Brotherhood, they realize Magneto isn't their enemy. Too many people in this world are just trying to survive in this damn world, giving it their all."

Harley quickly shook off that gloomy atmosphere and said: "So, Gotham's famous truck—aside from the Joker's one—is probably just that rain-night war chariot that stormed into the North District."

"But where would this truck be?" the Arkham Knight asked. "In the real world, where did this truck end up later?"

"I don't know," Harley said. "In my view, the truck isn't the point—Bruce probably wouldn't care either. But back then, our universe's Jason was there, along with many members of the Kids' Gang. This truck meant something special to them, so they might know."

"You wanna go offline and ask him?" Polaris said. "You can totally go—I'll guard you here, absolutely no danger."

Harley nodded and then logged off. But she didn't go to find Jason to ask. Jason has been busy grinding his thesis lately, completely swamped—when she called earlier to ask about the outer god situation, she could tell he was typing with one hand and squeezing in replies with the other.

Harley went to find someone else instead: Jason's good buddy, the Slippery One. After growing up, he became a social worker, and when Brainiac showed up, he wasn't reassigned—he still works as a social worker managing the daily goods transfer stations in the East District.

"Ms. Quazel," the Slippery One in work clothes said, standing up and pushing up his glasses.

"Don't be so formal," Harley said. "Even though I never hung out with you guys, I'm actually pretty close with Jason."

"That's true," the Slippery One replied. "He often talks about you to us."

"How does he describe me?" Harley asked, raising an eyebrow.

"He says you've got real business sense," the Slippery One said, seemingly racking his brain. "Very smart—you can always easily see through people..."

Harley rolled her eyes slightly: "He definitely doesn't have anything good to say. Anyway, let's drop that—I've got something I want to ask you..."

Harley briefly explained the situation, then asked: "So where did you guys end up putting that truck?"

The Slippery One blinked slightly, muttering to himself: "He even told you about this? I thought this was our secret."

Harley widened her eyes slightly: "What's there to keep secret about it?"

"It's not really a secret," the Slippery One said, lowering his eyes. "It was a dark time—for all of us. Jason led the Tail Gang to do okay, but only compared to the other kids who starved or froze to death on the streets. In reality, we were all struggling just to get by—it wasn't some happy memory."

"That rainy night was even more terrifying," the Slippery One said, recalling it with a slight tremor in his voice. "The rain kept falling, the water kept rising. I don't remember if there was a storm surge, but I think there was. Or maybe I was just too short back then—I always felt like I'd be submerged any second."

"The kids were all desperately running, cold and hungry—some had fevers, some had infected wounds. Cramped in that closed, dark truck cabin, not knowing where to go, not knowing if there was even a tomorrow. If you'd gone through that, you might also develop claustrophobia. We all just naturally avoid talking about it—it wasn't some glorious era, just a scar."

Harley couldn't help but recall how Jason had told her about this. Back then, he was still working as a librarian at Gotham University, and Harley had gone to borrow books. The storm came on suddenly, Harley got trapped in the library, and they got to talking about Gotham's rainy season.

For Harley, rain isn't anything special. She's a Young Lady from a rich family—though her parents died early, she still used her own precocity to find a way to survive in that wolf-infested environment. When it rains outside, she just sleeps indoors.

The rain that left the deepest impression on her was the day Gordon fished her out. Her impression was only of being freezing cold, soaked through—and beyond that, she doesn't remember anything.

But obviously, in Jason's life, rain played a very important role. Every stormy night of struggling to survive didn't fade with age—it kept brewing, and whenever a storm surge came, that natural gloom of overcast days would surge up with it.

Harley naturally went to ask about the night that left the deepest impression on her. Harley Quinn always has this tendency—she's curious about these things, and no matter who's sitting across from her, she'll unhesitatingly go ask.

Jason's answer was a bit unexpected for Harley. The night he caught the headgear, that truck was stopped at the crossroads of his fate. Turning left led to other universes' Jason Todd; turning right wasn't Batman, nor Bruce. Jason even said he couldn't really say what it was—maybe a seed, maybe a patch of dirt.

Back then, Harley joked: maybe being Robin and wits-dueling with supervillains isn't any worse than now, dealing with these shady clients in the library. Jason just laughed.

Sometimes people are like that—you never know when some topic, blown over like wind in someone's life, left what kind of deep mark. How long did that wind blow? How long did that rain fall, eroding a rock into its current shape? When you came to see him, it was calm and light—silent and steadfast.

Harley withdrew her thoughts and didn't say "just chatting casually" or "he probably doesn't care anymore." She said: "I'm always pretty good at empathizing with madmen, but he lacks judgment about himself. I'm sure his psychological trauma isn't big enough to drive him mad—confiding in me was probably just talking to the wrong person."

The Slippery One shook his head and then said: "We put that truck in the sewers—Jason took it apart and hauled it down there, right below the original Tail Gang base. Want me to take you there?"

Harley nodded. She actually has never been there before—it should be completely different now.

Harley was right. Even without Brainiac, that area's slums didn't last long anyway—they were flattened and rebuilt during the big development boom. Most people only pay attention to what's above ground, but down in the sewers, echoes of that era still linger.

The kids back then were all really good at crawling around in the sewers—because no matter how damp and dark it was down there, it was still safer than the surface, where artillery fire rained constantly. Sometimes when gangs fought, they'd go underground to hide; sometimes they used this route to move stuff. They built many temporary outposts down in the sewers to guard against the darkness lurking even deeper below.

The Tail Gang also had such an outpost, and it's still standing today. Harley and the Slippery One came down together to the sewers, and at a bend in the drain, they saw the erected shelter.

You can still faintly make out traces of life there—like firewood for cooking, a raincoat curled into a ball, empty cans, and a bucket used for roasting by the fire. Follow this spot further in, and you reach a dead end branching off from the main sewer duct—seems like an unfinished spot.

The truck was parked nicely right there. Harley walked around it once—this truck can't compare to Jack's; it's smaller than his heavy-duty truck by more than two sizes, the model is very old, and you can see signs of disassembly and reassembly.

"If, like you said, you want to use this truck in the game for something, the effect probably won't be great," the Slippery One said. "This truck is too old—driving it might cause all kinds of problems."

"You just don't know Brainiac," Harley said, reaching out to touch the truck's rearview mirror. "This guy absolutely has a collector's habit—he seems really interested in Gotham's history, collected a bunch of similar relics, put them in the game, to make us relive old dreams with him."

"Beep beep," Brainiac said. "I don't have old dreams—you're just the ones reminiscing about the past."

"What unrealistic fantasy do you have about Gotham's dark ages?" Harley snorted and asked.

"I admit, I'm very interested in what happened to you guys in the past," Brainiac said without hiding it. "I think it was a story full of miracles, a heart-pounding tale. I'm working hard to dig up clues and reconstruct the truth of that time."

"What truth?" Harley laughed. "Opportunity always goes to the prepared. If you'd shown up when Gotham was still that mess, I guarantee we'd drag you down and then drown together."