When a group of plainclothes police officers, armed with hand grenades, assault rifles, and rocket launchers, appeared at the largest drug processing plant in the West End, Martin Hope was completely stunned.
He immediately tried to call his boss, Falcone, to complain about the detectives who had taken his money but weren't doing their jobs.
But the call never went through. A bullet hole erupted in his forehead.
On the rooftop four hundred meters away, an armed SWAT officer spoke into his radio:
"Mr. Gordon, suspect Martin Hope has been eliminated."
With their leader dead, the men below fell into a panic. Some tried to flee, some grabbed weapons to fight back, and others tried to destroy evidence. Unfortunately, they had underestimated the police's determination.
The moment Hope was killed, the police outside immediately stormed the factory. There were no negotiations. Anyone holding a weapon was instantly met with a barrage of bullets.
This scene played out in other locations as well. The police had abandoned their old rules and regulations, evolving into cold-blooded soldiers who delivered a fatal blow to anyone who resisted.
When the news spread, some members of the anti-drug squad voluntarily joined the operation. They possessed more comprehensive intelligence. Previously, anti-drug operations were restricted by various limitations. Now, with Gotham descending into anarchy, they had become an unrestrained force.
With the help of the dedicated drug enforcement officers, a massive anti-drug sweep began.
In just one day, they shut down 23 drug dens, killed 34 people, wounded 107, and seized enough drugs to fill a small room.
Gotham City's drug network suffered an unprecedented, devastating blow.
Drugs were the primary financial lifeline of the mob; without money, nothing could get done.
Even after night fell, the purge operation did not stop; instead, it became even more aggressive.
Jim Gordon knew time was precious, and every second counted. He understood that once the people higher up in the government realized what was happening, it would introduce many uncontrollable variables.
The operation had to be expedited.
The Bat's Hesitation
In the underground base of Wayne Manor in Gotham City.
A massive screen displayed the latest video footage sent by a drone, showing a detailed recording of the gun battle between the gang members and the police.
When Bruce Wayne saw several gang members obliterated by a rocket launcher, he immediately unplugged the power, walked to the clothes rack, and began putting on the Batsuit.
"Master Bruce, you should rest tonight. The police don't need the Batman's help; they are doing remarkably well."
Bruce replied softly, "This is all going too smoothly. I feel like something is wrong."
Alfred sighed helplessly. "Master Wayne, I believe you require a date. Perhaps with Miss Quinzell from Arkham Asylum—she has a master's degree in psychology, a beautiful face, and an attractive physique. A candlelight dinner with her would greatly benefit your stressed nerves."
"Alfred, I'm not in the mood for cold jokes."
The old butler sighed. "Gotham has a population of ten million. Bruce Wayne isn't the only one who wants to see it improve. Take Jim Gordon, for example."
Hearing that name, Bruce paused.
"He truly is a good cop."
Alfred was noncommittal. He poured a cup of strong tea and quipped while sipping it, "A good cop who allows his subordinates to bomb mob strongholds with mortars?"
Bruce cracked a smile, put down the Batsuit, and walked over to the computer, logging into his social media account via remote control.
His inbox was flooded with hundreds of messages, mostly about the Gotham riots. Some hoped Batman would step in and find the corrupt officials in hiding. More people wanted Batman to eliminate Falcone.
To be honest, Bruce was tempted by that last suggestion. If Falcone were gone, the Gotham mob would be scattered and unable to pose a threat.
The problem was how to do it.
Shortly after the riots broke out, Falcone vanished. No one knew where he was.
"Alfred, if you were Falcone, where would you hide?"
"Leaving would be the best choice."
Bruce shook his head. "He won't leave. He must be somewhere in Gotham City."
"Gotham's area is nearly 2.5 million acres, with a complex network of underground tunnels. Finding one person in such a huge area won't be easy."
Bruce sighed. "We'll keep looking. As long as he stays, we'll find him eventually."
Bruce Wayne wasn't the only one looking for Falcone; everyone in Gotham was. Especially the furious citizens. They wanted to ask the mastermind why he had ruined their city this way.
Falcone had become a public enemy.
The organizations that once bowed to him—such as Marconi and the Red Hood Gang—were now openly ambitious. Even petty thieves like Catwoman snuck into his villa to loot a box of jewels as spoils of war.
Falcone was like a dying leviathan, with many people waiting to carve a piece from his corpse.
Cleaning the Root
Three days passed quickly.
Gotham City finally saw a change. At nine o'clock in the morning, former Deputy Mayor Sam Vick delivered a speech to reporters and all citizens in front of the damaged City Hall building.
Standing behind him were the "good cops" led by Jim Gordon and the incorruptible judicial figures led by Harvey Dent.
After a somber address, the anger in the citizens' hearts slightly subsided. People finally understood what the sporadic gunfire and explosions over the past two days meant.
It turned out that the police and the FBI had launched a joint operation to destroy Gotham's criminal networks.
When a truckload of seized drugs was pulled up in front of City Hall, everyone was stunned.
The police doused the drugs with gasoline, and the Deputy Mayor himself lit the match.
As the flames soared into the sky, the massive square erupted in cheers.
"Falcone is finished," Luke murmured, his face filled with emotion. A lifetime of effort by a crime lord was ruined in an instant. He had to be suffering right now.
Emily asked beside him, "Do you know where Falcone is?"
"You want to catch him?"
The girl nodded. The past two days of intense action had matured her significantly. The youthful naivete in her eyes was gone, replaced by a sharp decisiveness.
"Except for Edwin Mickey and Johnny Vitti, all his other lieutenants are either dead or captured. The branches have been thoroughly trimmed. It's time to move on the trunk."
"It's still too early."
Emily looked confused. "Too early for what?"
"You've only pruned the branches; you haven't dealt with the roots. Falcone owes his current position not just to Gotham's high-level corrupt officials, but to far more powerful figures."
"I don't understand."
Luke pointed upward with his hand. "The White House, political figures from both parties, and high-ranking FBI officials are the real forces Falcone relies on. Never underestimate decades of management by a crime family. Too many people's secrets are tied up in it."
Emily found it hard to believe. "You're exaggerating too much."
"Not at all."
Luke took a sip of juice and sneered, "If you don't believe me, just think about the President's public statements—then you'll understand."
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