In the past few days, the murder of the Wayne Couple had swept through Gotham City like a storm, causing a huge uproar.
In every corner of Gotham City, people's conversations revolved around this tragic case.
Just as the people of Gotham were discussing how even the city's top billionaires could encounter such an accident, the Gotham Police Department, with astonishing speed, solved the case, grabbing headlines.
The front pages of major media outlets were instantly changed; the reports on the Wayne Couple's murder, which had dominated, were replaced by news of "Gotham Police Department Solves Case Swiftly, Wayne Couple's Injustice Redressed."
On TV news, the anchor excitedly announced: "After days of tireless effort by the police, the Wayne Couple murder case has been successfully solved, and the culprit has been apprehended."
Chiefs Harvey Bullock and James Gordon became instant celebrities.
The day after the news appeared in newspapers and on television, Gordon and Bullock, who came to work as usual, were ambushed at the police station entrance.
At the entrance of the police station, it was crowded with reporters who had come to interview; camera lenses were uniformly pointed at them, and flashlights flickered incessantly.
The reporters, one after another, fired questions like a barrage at the two Chiefs, microphones almost poking their faces.
"Chief Brock, how did you identify the killer so quickly?"
"Chief Gordon, can you share the most crucial clue in the investigation process?"
"We heard that Mr. Falcone, the philanthropist, helped you a lot with this case. Is that true?"
Facing the surging tide of reporters and questions, the two exchanged glances, then without hesitation, spun around and bolted in the direction they had come from.
Seeing their interview subjects trying to escape, the reporters instantly erupted.
These reporters, who had originally been holding microphones, now disregarded their image, casually tucked their microphones into their waistbands, and took off in pursuit.
The reporters carrying cameras were not to be outdone; even with the heavy equipment swaying on their shoulders, hindering their steps, they chased hard.
Gordon looked back and was startled by the speed of this group of people.
Was I a special forces soldier before, or were these reporters special forces soldiers?!
"Chief Gordon! Wait! Just answer one question!"
"Chief Brock! Reveal some details about the case! The price is negotiable!"
A group of people ran past loudly from the roadside, and a young man who was robbing with a knife on the street was stunned when he saw this scene.
Goodness, is the Gotham Police Department finally getting serious?
On the roadside, a passing little girl, watching the reporters running behind, her eyes shining, her small face flushed with excitement.
She tugged at her mother's sleeve, her voice clear and a little urgent: "Mommy, Mommy, look at those reporters! They're amazing! I want to be a reporter too when I grow up!"
As the little girl spoke, her golden curly hair swayed slightly with her excited movements.
Her mother looked down at her daughter, her eyes full of doting affection, gently ruffled the girl's hair, and said with a smile:
"Alright, even if little Vicky wants to rob a bank, it's fine."
...Dark clouds, like a heavy curtain, hung low over Gotham City, as if the entire city was mourning Thomas Wayne and Martha Wayne.
The Wayne Family cemetery was surrounded by ancient and tall trees, their branches rustling in the wind, as if whispering endless sorrow.
At the funeral, the crowd stood solemnly.
Gwen wore her usual small suit, but now it was a deep black, the crisp fabric clinging to her slightly slender figure, making the girl appear somewhat desolate.
Her sister, Brucey, also in a black small suit, her once lively eyes now filled with gloom, dull and lifeless.
Alfred stood behind them, his eyes a mix of headache and heartache.
Since this tragedy, Brucey seemed to have been tightly enveloped by a layer of gloom.
She, who had happily worn a beautiful dress that day, now avoided dresses as if they were the source of all misfortune.
Alfred knew in his heart that Brucey had fallen into an abyss of endless self-reproach due to her parents' passing.
She blamed herself for her parents' death.
If she hadn't gone to see that movie, would this have not happened?
If she hadn't worn a fancy little dress, would this have not happened?
If she hadn't left early, would these things have not happened?
If... she had never existed, would these things have not happened?
Alfred sighed slightly, he wished Brucey could feel a little better.
When he saw the child on Park Row that day, Alfred only felt that her eyes were very familiar.
He had seen some veterans with PTSD, and he thought Brucey's eyes at that time were very similar to theirs: hollow, lost, entangled by painful memories, as if trapped in a Dark Dimension of her own, unable to find an exit.
Although at that time, after Brucey saw him, her eyes would briefly regain their sparkle, and she would hug him tightly.
However, the situation had not actually improved.
As long as Alfred wasn't around, leaving Brucey alone, she would quickly revert to that soulless state.
She would sit quietly in a corner, staring blankly ahead, her hands unconsciously tugging at her clothes, her body trembling slightly.
The room was dimly lit, the curtains half-drawn, weak light filtering through the gaps onto Brucey, but unable to dispel the gloom around her.
It was as if the scene of her parents being shot was replaying before her eyes.
At this moment, two black hearses slowly drove into the cemetery, their wheels rolling on the gravel path, making a dull sound. After the hearses stopped, several staff members in dark uniforms solemnly opened the doors and carefully carried out the coffins covered with black satin.
The coffins of Thomas Wayne and Martha Wayne were slowly carried to the already dug graves.
The priest, dressed in a White robe, holding a Bible, began to read the eulogy with a solemn expression.
His voice was low and melodious, echoing over the cemetery: "In this moment of sorrow, we gather here to bid farewell to Mr. Thomas Wayne and Mrs. Martha Wayne. They were prominent figures in Gotham City, illuminating many corners of this city with their kindness and generosity..."
Gwen listened quietly, took a deep breath, slowly closed her eyes, bowed her head slightly, her body trembling slightly.
Alfred gently reached out and held her shoulder, offering her silent comfort.
But she really wanted to say... it was so hard to hold back her laughter!
In this solemn atmosphere, no one knew that these two coffins were actually empty.
Thomas Wayne and Martha Wayne had already been sent by Gwen to a Kansas farm she had rented out, adopting the aliases Jor-El and Laura El, and began a wealthy and leisurely retirement.
Don't mind the names, a child doesn't understand and just picked them randomly.
So if one day a grave robber were to come and try to steal the Wayne Couple's bodies to mess with Batman's mind, they would probably be dumbfounded by the empty coffins, unable to explain whether they had stolen anything or not.