The van roared out of the East Precinct parking lot, spewing black smoke, with three Crown Vics trailing behind, heading for the Appaloosa Highway.
Wilson gripped the steering wheel distractedly. He glanced at his partner, hesitated, and finally couldn't help but ask, "Did that penguin-walking guy make some unreasonable demand? You seem preoccupied."
"He demanded we drive in front, following a route he designated, and he'll direct us via the radio."
"Hmph, cannon fodder scouting the way. But didn't we agree on the price?" Wilson made a face. "Besides, we have the Roman's motorcade following us. Most likely, nothing will happen, just like the last leg, and we'll get a pile of benefits for nothing."
"Yeah, that's what he said, too. Under Mr. Falcone's mighty name, everything is fine. But we still need to be wary of Fish Mooney doing something desperate." Jay slowly tapped the barrel of his AR-15, his brow furrowed. "Something's not right. Very wrong."
"What's wrong with it? Isn't Fish Mooney crazy enough?" Wilson honked twice, forcing a Toyota trying to change lanes to back off. "We just need to keep our eyes open. Don't be too nervous."
"But he emphasized several times that Fish Mooney is sinister, crazy, and vengeful. He even brought up that he used to be her umbrella boy to prove his intimate knowledge of her and warn us not to let our guard down."
"…Crackle… Crrrr… Officers, please turn right at the next intersection, and proceed west along the Finger River."
Cobblepot's enthusiastic yet slightly shaky voice suddenly came over the radio.
In the moment Jay was stunned, the intersection was right upon them. Wilson quickly yanked the steering wheel to the right.
The van's body sharply tilted, and both men yelled in surprise, desperately leaning their upper bodies to the right.
Fortunately, after a few seconds, the wheels slammed back down, and the vehicle wobbled back into balance. The two men were tossed around like beans in a frying pan, bouncing up and down, feeling like their internal organs had shifted.
"Damn it, is the suspension on this junk broken??"
"What do you mean, it's never been good." Jay rubbed his forehead, the violent shaking making him a little dizzy. "Where was I?"
"You said Cobblepot was Fish Mooney's umbrella boy. That's not news; many people in the criminal underworld know that. I heard Cobblepot betrayed Fish and was hunted down by her."
Wilson straightened the car. "Later, he pledged his loyalty to the Roman, and Falcone intervened, which is how the matter was settled."
"But if you were me, would you tell a stranger about being scolded by the Chief for dereliction of duty, just to prove you know Bob is a small-minded idiot?"
Jay tapped his knee with his fingertip. "Unless the matter is especially important. Yet, when I asked him what exactly was wrong, he said nothing was wrong and that everything was under Mr. Falcone's control."
"Now that you mention it, that does sound a little off. Are you suggesting he's hiding something? Is the Roman getting old? Failing? God, I bet at his age he's probably already 'failing.'"
Wilson gave a slightly lewd smile. "I think you're just worrying too much. Forget about one Fish. Even Sal Maroni wouldn't truly dare challenge Falcone. If that happened, Gotham would have already plunged into a war."
"What did you say!"
Jay's shout startled Wilson, who swerved the steering wheel, nearly sending the car onto the sidewalk.
He frantically corrected the direction, only to find Jay staring straight at him, his face ashen.
"Hey, brother, don't scare me. What did I say? I said if they really dared to challenge Falcone, Gotham would have already plunged into a war. We wouldn't be safe now."
"Exactly," Jay nodded blankly. "The last thing Cobblepot said to me was that if we messed up, the war in Gotham would likely begin."
"Huh?" Wilson was terrified, his palms instantly soaked with cold sweat gripping the steering wheel.
"They really dare to go head-to-head with the Roman? Then… shit!" He cursed loudly. "We're in big trouble this trip. Why didn't that penguin kid say so earlier!"
"Maybe he was afraid that if he did, Bob would stay out of it?" Jay grabbed the shotgun and began loudly chambering rounds.
"If we keep going this way, the quickest route across the river is the Robinson Bridge by Robinson Park. But that's a busy main road with heavy foot traffic. Fish Mooney wouldn't be that crazy, would she?"
"That wouldn't just be a mob war; the whole city of cops and criminals would go berserk." Wilson instinctively hit the brakes.
The towering glass curtain walls and dense billboards in the distance indicated the commercial district was approaching.
Traffic visibly became congested, and the van had to slow down.
In normal patrol, Wilson would have already rolled down his window and started yelling, but now he was quiet as a mouse, hunched down and focusing on driving.
The roads in the commercial district were inherently congested, and after avoiding a few of the busiest thoroughfares, they found themselves in a back alley of a commercial street.
A delivery truck was parked on the side of the road, unloading goods, blocking the already narrow alley until only a single, tight lane remained.
"Damn it, is this guy a hitman in disguise? That's how it happens in movies, I think." Fine beads of sweat streamed down Wilson's forehead. "When we try to squeeze past, poof!"
Jay checked the rear-view mirror. The three Crown Vics were following in single file. The last one was a little far back, so they wouldn't be completely trapped in the alley, but turning around would be extremely difficult.
"Tell the cars behind us to be alert. I'm going to check. Chamber a round."
He pulled out his handgun and jumped out of the van, pushing the safety off with his thumb.
He pressed his body against the cold van side, crouched low, and moved lightly, inching toward the blocking delivery truck like a stalking cat.
Wasn't I creeping up like this when the prison break happened? And I took one down? My luck should be good this time too, right?
The truck engine was still running, and the body vibrated slightly with the revs.
He held his breath, then suddenly lunged, aiming his gun at the cab.
Through the side window, he saw only a back clad in overalls, whistling as he pushed a cart of marinated chicken and lettuce slowly into the nearby restaurant's back kitchen.
"Clear." He gave Wilson a thumbs-up, then got back into the van. "Squeeze through. You should really stop watching so many 007 movies. You see a secret agent everywhere."
"Got it! Guess I shouldn't have watched Enemy of the State either."
Wilson steadied the steering wheel, and the van slowly edged past the delivery truck.
His driving skills were indeed good; they passed with mere millimeters to spare without scraping.
But the alley was incredibly narrow. After the truck, there was a tight right-angle turn ahead.
The van's nose awkwardly rounded the corner, exiting the narrow back alley and finally reaching a slightly wider street.
"Damn it, what kind of ridiculous route did this penguin kid plan?" Jay was getting annoyed. Narrow roads like this were too perfect for ambushes.
He opened the radio to call Cobblepot: "Are you confident about this route? There are too many ambush points."
"…Crackle… No problem. After leaving the commercial… Crrr… area, head north through the Coventry District, then west. Take… Crrr… University, then turn south. Cross the river from there, and you're not far from Mr. Falcone's manor."
"Fine, stay alert."
For some reason, Cobblepot's voice sounded muffled, as if the signal was poor. Jay put down the radio. Wilson glanced at him, looking strange.
"Going through the Coventry District and turning at Gotham University? That's quite the detour. What the hell is he playing at?"
"I don't know." Jay shook his head. "Either he's trying to draw out Fish's forces, but the longer the route, the more time they have to prepare. Or…"
He touched his chin, uncertain. "Is he trying to avoid something?"
The motorcade drove northwest into the Coventry District, with the Sprang River a few blocks to the right.
The roads here were much wider than the commercial district, and the convoy slowly picked up speed.
"We've covered two-thirds of the route. Let's hope nothing hap—"
Wilson was cut off as a roar came from the distance.
A deep, violent engine sound, like rolling thunder, approached rapidly from behind, quickly becoming deafening!
Jay snapped his head to the rear-view mirror. Several aggressively styled heavy motorcycles were weaving frantically through traffic, popping wheelies in a near-suicidal fashion.
"You, talk less from now on!! Be careful. I don't know if they're coming for us or if they're just street racers."
He had Wilson edge the van towards the left lane, leaving only a very narrow gap between them and the center divider, ensuring that if a motorcycle tried to flank the driver from the left, it would be quickly crushed under the wheels.
He rolled down his window and braced his gun on the sill, facing the howling cold wind.
But his caution seemed excessive.
As Gotham PD officers, they couldn't just start shooting on the street without provocation.
However, the cars behind them didn't care. Flashes of fire instantly spat out from the lowered windows!
The rider on the lead motorcycle flinched violently, as if struck by an invisible sledgehammer.
The bike instantly lost control, flipping and slamming into the road in a screech of metal on asphalt and screaming tires.
It was swept into the startled traffic behind it in a shower of sparks.
"Whoa," Wilson saw the scene in the rear-view mirror. "Shouldn't they be performing some bullet-dodging stunt or something? Is that all?"
"No time for commentary. MP5s. Falcone is rich as hell!" Jay watched the remaining motorcycles slow down but still trail far behind.
"I doubt they're just ordinary street racers; they would have run by now. But… ptui." He spat. "This is Gotham. Anything can happen."
The van drove past Gotham University and turned onto Misfield Avenue. The scenery ahead gradually became desolate and ruined.
This was a slum slated for demolition but stalled due to political wrangling, its residents long gone.
Construction should have started at the beginning of the year, but investors proposed a new redevelopment plan, and after endless disputes, the project was shelved, leaving only crumbling ruins silently testifying to decay.
"What was this huge area supposed to be built into again?"
The abandoned buildings lining the road stood like hollowed-out skeletons. Doors and windows had been scavenged, leaving black holes like empty eyes. Their gaze made Wilson involuntarily slow down.
"Low-income housing, but the Wayne Group planned to reduce the housing area by two-thirds and convert the rest to educational and commercial real estate."
Jay looked at the layers of graffiti covering the peeling, mottled walls. Some of the twisted faces and bizarre symbols looked especially sinister in the fading sunset.
"We risked our lives for a few thousand bucks from Bob, and the Wayne Group reportedly has at least $12 billion in liquid assets."
"That's a depressing thought. Our monthly extra income isn't even a hundred and twenty bucks." Wilson wrinkled his nose in disgust at the trash and sewage piled by the roadside. "But it's still better than the guys living here."
"Something's wrong. There's household trash, but where are the people? Where are the homeless?" Jay looked around. It was too quiet; there wasn't even a stray dog wandering around. "Be careful! How much further do we have?"
"About three or four more blocks to the bridgehead."
The outline of the Andoal Highway Bridge was visible on the horizon.
Just as the Chevrolet was about to exit the slum area at the final two intersections, a cloud of dust suddenly erupted from a side road piled with construction debris on the east side.
"Oh, what the heck!"
Wilson's hands moved faster than his mouth.
Before his shout could fully escape, he had stomped the accelerator to the floor.
The van shot forward, but it still couldn't avoid a Suburban that aggressively slammed into the G20's right rear wheel from the side.
With a loud crash, the armored steel plate crumpled inward like a tin can hit by a hammer.
The G20 spun like a violently thrown top, its front facing east and its back facing west, but inertia kept it surging forward diagonally.
It finally crashed into the concrete base of an abandoned telephone booth by the roadside.
Both vehicles were badly damaged. Luckily, Jay had tensed all his muscles and strongly gripped the handle above the window, avoiding any major injury, though the seatbelt bit painfully into his chest.
"Damn it, what the hell was that!" Jay was shaken but quickly looked out the window. The opposing Suburban was stalled, smoking slightly.
Its side window glass was spiderwebbed with cracks, but he could vaguely see the driver, pinned back by the airbag, struggling to grab a long gun.
"Shit!"
Jay's scalp prickled. He kicked the door open, pulled out his pistol, and fired three shots straight at the Suburban's driver's seat.
The side window glass fell away like a waterfall.
The first shot pierced the airbag and hit the chest.
The second shot tore a large hole in the driver's face. Blood and brains splattered on the seatback and driver's side window.
The shotgun the driver was reaching for clattered to the floor.
Jay didn't even spare a glance at the deadly close-quarters weapon. He quickly ducked his head, slammed the door shut, and shouted:
"Call for backup!"
——————
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