Chapter 257: You've Failed This City
It was midnight at Memorial General Hospital. Dr. James, the hospital's primary physician and owner, hadn't left yet.
Instead, he sat at his desk, sorting through files. Anyone who saw him would have sincerely praised him, "What a dedicated doctor!"
But only he knew that his purpose in reviewing patient records wasn't to better treat them, but to sift through the patient pool to identify his next victim!
Yes, he was the true killer of the recent New York serial murders!
A year ago, his wife's death had made him realize the fragility and insignificance of life. He had saved countless lives with his medical skills, and according to his Catholic upbringing, he could have earned countless blessings. Yet, he couldn't save his beloved wife's life, and even he himself was diagnosed with cancer.
In a comic book world, he would have transformed into the Green Goblin or Doctor Octopus, using his knowledge to wield a weapon for evil.
Even in classical mythology, he would have become a vampire like Dracula, turning against God and drinking forbidden blood.
But alas, this was reality, and he could only become a madman pinning all his hopes for a cure on the most mysterious practices in ancient European alchemy.
Yes, that's right, he was already a madman.
A highly educated person who believed that extracting the internal organs of a person born under specific astrological conditions, at the corresponding planetary alignments, and then refining and ingesting an elixir could cure an incurable disease—what else could he be but a madman?
A smile soon crossed Dr. James's lips, for he had found another suitable target in his database, and this one was even easier to deal with than the previous wealthy trust fund kid.
This target was simply a homeless veteran who had wandered the city for years.
Dr. James secretly memorized the homeless man's face; this kind of person usually chose to spend the night in Central Park.
He could easily hire someone to chat with him and buy him a meal, and he would easily reveal his recent whereabouts. He only needed to strike at the right time of night.
But then, something unexpected happened!
A sharp arrow whizzed through the glass window, lodging itself in his desk. Before he could react, the office window shattered with a crash, and a figure rushed in.
At that moment, Dr. James finally reacted, pulling out a scalpel he had hidden under his desk and confronting the uninvited intruder. "Who are you?"
Ron punched the scalpel away from the doctor's hand. Dr. James might possess impressive fighting prowess among ordinary civilians, but compared to Ron, who had just returned from federal operations, he was no match for him.
Dr. James missed, and immediately swung another fist at Ron's face. Ron didn't even bother to look at the fist.
The hand that had knocked the scalpel away transformed into a palm, grasping James's wrist and swinging it to the side, causing the doctor's weight to shift. His fist grazed Ron's face, hitting nothing but air, and the momentum of the fist continued to push him forward.
Seeing James about to fall into Ron's arms, Ron dodged to the side, making room for him, then lightly hooked his foot.
"Thud!"
Dr. James fell to the ground in an undignified sprawl, his face flushing red. He barely had time to support himself with his hands on the ground, ready to stand up and fight again, when Ron stomped mercilessly on his back.
James, who had just managed to catch his breath, had all his strength crushed by the kick.
"I'm Oliver Queen, the protector of this city. You've failed this city!"
Ron spoke in a deep, dramatic voice through a voice modulator, secretly delighted. Sure enough, lines like this, with their extreme theatricality, sounded even more impressive!
Compared to this line, phrases like "I'm the captain of the IRS Special Operations Team" pale in comparison!
Dr. James didn't usually read comics, but that didn't stop him from occasionally catching a superhero TV series on cable.
Is this another copycat with a serious hero complex? Dr. James thought. He didn't think the police would come to his office dressed like this. Besides, he had complete confidence in his own criminal methods (and the incompetence of the New York police), and he was confident they wouldn't suspect him for a while.
By the time those idiots did find him, he'd already achieved his alchemical goals and transcended mortality.
Dr. James simply gave up struggling: "Friend, please let me go, no matter what you want, I can satisfy you. I am a doctor and I have a lot of money. Please don't hurt me."
"Really?" Ron's face hidden under the hood was unclear, and James couldn't see his expression at all, so he could only continue: "Yes, yes, you can get as much money as you want, and I can give it all in cash!"
"What if I want the elixir you are creating?" Ron asked in a playful tone. As soon as he finished speaking, the body under his feet suddenly struggled violently.
Ron released his foot from his back, and just as the doctor was halfway to his feet, he delivered another powerful kick to the stomach. "Stay down! You disgusting murderer!"
But the doctor, sent flying by Ron's kick, didn't calm down like street thugs. Instead, he clutched his stomach and glared at Ron. "Who are you? How did you know I was making an elixir? This is a secret technique from ancient European texts! Impossible, you couldn't possibly know that!"
"Excuse me, I just wandered around your laboratory and came up here," Ron said, picking his nose idly, looking at Dr. James like he was garbage. "With that amateur setup, you still dare to call yourself an alchemist? Have you seen the 1986 movie 'The Name of the Rose'? You even arranged the distillation equipment wrong; they're all lined up incorrectly."
"The Name of the Rose? I only know it's a medieval mystery..." James quieted down at the mention of his obsession, but the fanatical look in his eyes didn't diminish at all. Instead, it burned even more fiercely.
"It was based on historical alchemical practices, and they hired an actual medievalist as a consultant. He definitely knows more than your random guessing," Ron curled his lips. "But I'm not here to talk to you about that today. I don't have time for that. I'm asking you, do you want to achieve immortality?"
James nodded blankly.
"That's right! I'm here to negotiate a deal with you," Ron said in a devilish tone. "Once you achieve immortality, these mortal possessions will be useless to you, right? So, are you willing to trade your wealth with me?"
"What deal?"
"I'll keep your murderer secret, and in exchange, when you transcend mortality—that is, when you become immortal—all your wealth will belong to me. How's that?"
(End of chapter)
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