The Black Lamborghini!
The White Flash!
The twenty-eight charred bodies!
These three pieces of information connected, forming a terrifying dark cloud in Sidney's mind.
Sidney had only one thought: Run. Run as fast and as far as possible. As one of Falcone's trusted lieutenants, he was one of the few who knew the truth about that night.
The owner of the black Lamborghini was not Batman; it was a stranger he had never met, and this person was ruthless and merciless. The twenty-eight bodies were the best testament to that.
"How did I run into him?"
Sidney gritted his teeth and stomped the gas pedal. The BMW sedan let out a savage roar, speeding through the streets at over 140 miles per hour.
It wasn't quite late night yet, and there were still quite a few cars on the road.
As one headlight after another flashed past, Sidney's heart pounded in his throat. He had never driven this fast before.
Behind him, Luke Shaw frowned. Sidney held the economic lifeline of the Falcone family; he was a rare and valuable big fish. If he died in a car crash, who would Luke complain to?
No! I must capture him alive!
After turning several corners, the Lamborghini disappeared from the rearview mirror.
Sidney breathed a slight sigh of relief, but didn't ease up on the gas, driving at high speed toward the airport. His private jet was waiting there. Once he was on the plane, neither Batman nor the owner of the Lamborghini could touch him.
Soon, he reached the airport.
Sidney scrambled out of the car, dragging his luggage while calling his pilot to prepare for immediate takeoff.
Just then, a sharp, whistling sound reached his ears.
BANG!
The BMW was slammed into and sent flying by a vehicle coming from behind. Sidney couldn't get out of the way in time; his right shoulder scraped the door, and he tumbled across the ground several times until he hit a set of steps.
Excruciating pain erupted from all over his body. His right arm was dislocated, and several ribs were broken. Sidney opened his mouth in a silent scream. He felt like he was going to die.
"Hey! Sir, are you okay? Should I call you an ambulance?"
A familiar yet strange voice reached him. Sidney forced himself to turn around. When he saw that overly young face, his cheeks couldn't stop twitching.
"Lu—Luke Shaw!"
"It's me. Surprised to see me here?"
Luke spoke while quickly frisking him. After making sure Sidney wasn't carrying any weapons, he grabbed the elderly man's pant leg and began dragging him back toward the car.
"My greatest strength is honesty, so I especially dislike people who don't keep their word, Mr. Sidney. You're Jewish. How can a Jewish person not be trustworthy? You promised $300 million but only gave $30 million. That's a difference of $270 million. You can't leave without paying up, now can you?"
"Don't worry, I'm a very kind person. I haven't even killed a chicken since I was little. Just give me the money, and we can discuss anything."
Sidney opened his mouth to beg for mercy, but when he accidentally caught sight of the black Lamborghini parked by the roadside, his vision went gray.
Why?
Why is God doing this to me?
Batman's Dilemma
The clock chimed twelve times in succession.
Midnight had arrived, and the wayward master was still not home.
Alfred sat in the weapon-filled Batcave, his face etched with worry.
For an older gentleman, staying up late was the worst choice, but he had no alternative. He had to stay here tonight until Bruce Wayne returned.
Time slowly ticked away with a tick-tock sound, and the old man's eyes slowly closed.
When Bruce returned, this was the scene he saw: an elderly, gray-haired man sitting in a brightly lit room, holding a porcelain cup without coffee, his eyes closed but occasionally opening to a slit, seemingly battling drowsiness.
A sudden warmth flowed through Bruce's heart, easing even his raging anger. He picked up a thin blanket and gently draped it over the old man. Then, he tiptoed to the desk, took out the folders, and began to review them page by page.
"You're back and didn't even tell me."
"Go rest. I can handle things here."
Alfred shook his head, poured a cup of hot coffee, placed it on the desk, and casually picked up the documents. After reading one, he picked up a few more.
"Drugs, arms, black money!"
"Extortion, blackmail, and murder!"
"Bribery, graft, and unethical business practices!"
Alfred rubbed his temples. "Master Wayne, can you tell me where these files came from?"
"Dominic Sidney's study," Bruce replied, integrating the information from the documents into the computer without turning around.
The old man sighed.
"What a terrifying Falcone family. They are practically dancing with darkness."
"What do you intend to do next?"
Bruce paused, staring straight ahead for a long time before answering.
"I plan to make three copies of these files and send them to the Federal Court, the White House, and the FBI." He then looked up, staring directly at the old man. "What do you think?"
Alfred was silent.
Bruce let out a self-deprecating laugh. "You also think it's wrong, right? These documents involve not only the top brass in Gotham but also high-ranking officials from both political parties and the White House. The FBI is also implicated."
"This is a giant web of power, deeply entangled, ring within ring. No one has the courage to pull it out because it's too big; it's already fused with the water itself."
Alfred shrugged, half-joking. "Perhaps you should place them on the President's bedside table."
Bruce replied mercilessly. "And they'll become toilet paper the next second."
The air immediately became awkward.
Alfred had tried to lighten the mood but failed. Watching document after document being scanned into the computer, he couldn't help but plead.
"Master Wayne, don't let anger cloud your judgment."
"I am not angry. I am completely awake right now. My thinking is sharp, and my mind is clear."
Alfred said quietly, "Gotham City has many criminals, but it has more good citizens. They all have their own lives."
Bruce mocked him. "Yes! Lives of being deceived! Lives of being manipulated! Lives ruled by crime and fear!"
Alfred was speechless. He instinctively felt that doing this was wrong and would cause something terrible. "I think you should lie down and sleep, and then consider what to do."
Bruce turned, revealing his bloodshot eyes.
"Do you think I'm not calm enough right now?"
Alfred: "..."
Fine, you are very calm.
Perhaps sensing the tension, Bruce eased his expression, forcing himself to calm down.
"I might be a bit impulsive, but this is the only way I can think of. Gotham's police, prosecutors, lawyers, and chief justice are all his people. The law is useless now. We can only resolve this through means outside the law."
"But have you considered the serious consequences of releasing this information?"
Bruce forced a smile, one that looked painfully squeezed out by a heavy press.
"I have. And I have prepared for all of them."
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