He opened his eyes to see a perfectly white ceiling.
Jay tilted his head left and right, finding Wilson on the bed to his right, wearing a sling and cast, gritting his teeth and trying to practice deep breathing.
Seeing him turn, Wilson smiled. "They're all gone, and you actually managed to sleep?"
"Why not? At least the immediate trouble is over."
——————————
Clang… Clang… Rattle…
The Chevrolet's door seemed stuck. He had to yank it several times before it opened.
Once open, he found Wilson leaning against the seat, one hand loosely holding his gun, the other hand hanging motionless toward the floor.
"Holy sh*t, did you finally get yourself killed by your own stupidity?"
Jay was startled and quickly reached out to check his partner's breathing. Suddenly, Wilson moved, let out a long breath, and groaned in pain.
"What the hell are you doing," Jay nearly jumped up, thinking it was a zombie. Wilson gasped and grimaced: "I couldn't move hidden here, so I disguised myself as a corpse. Maybe I could get a cheap shot at someone."
"Fine, don't explain, I can't hear you anyway." Jay only saw Wilson's mouth opening and closing. The sound was muffled, sometimes close, sometimes distant, as if trapped in a tin box.
He pointed to his ear. "I used a flashbang, and I have some lingering effects."
"So I can say anything I want to you and you won't hear? Haha… Ugh, ah, ah, ah!"
Wilson burst out laughing, which instantly strained his injuries, causing him to wince and cry out in pain.
"I have tinnitus, not deafness, you moron." Jay looked at him like he was an idiot. "Also, Cobblepot sold us out. He got off the car with the witness halfway through, and we became the bait. Damn it, this isn't over!"
Wilson nodded. "Got it. I'll wait until I recover. By the way, I heard sirens just now. Did backup arrive?"
"What did you say?"
"I said, did backup arri— ugh, lean your head closer," Wilson moaned. "I don't have the strength to shout that loud."
"No, only Gordon came for backup. I don't know if he came intentionally or just happened to pass by, and I don't care." Jay climbed into the van, tossing his rifle aside.
"I left the survivors and the dead bodies to him. What is it?" Jay saw Wilson adopt a listening posture.
Wilson listened carefully and then said: "That's a lot of sirens."
"Well done, being late is a great tradition." Jay laughed aloud.
"Remember, the first thing you do is ask for medical attention, insist you were injured in the collision and couldn't fight, and you know nothing.
I was unconscious due to the flashbang aftereffects, and before I passed out, I kept shouting about killing the enemy…
Forget it, that last bit of strategy is too complex for you."
"You were unconscious? You weren't unconscious?"
As Wilson finished speaking, Jay slid down into the seat, leaning against the window, 'unconscious.'
"They're probably all hounding Gordon with questions now. After all, passing the buck to two severely injured officers wouldn't look good in the press."
Jay tried to push himself up from the bed. He hadn't felt it on the battlefield, but now that the adrenaline had worn off, he felt utterly drained.
He moved slightly and realized there wasn't a spot on his body that didn't ache.
"How bad are your injuries, really?" Jay jumped off the bed and paced around the room. Lying still would only slow his recovery. "Just a broken rib?"
"The hell you mean 'just'! Is that how you greet a patient?" Wilson sighed and motioned with his left arm. "The dislocation in this hand has been fixed, but I have a cracked elbow joint."
"Tsk tsk, I remember the radial head needs careful recovery, or you might have lingering issues. You better not move around." Jay picked up the clock from the bedside table and looked at it. "Why is it seven o'clock and still not dark?"
"You idiot must have slept your wits away. It's seven in the morning. You slept the whole night."
"What? No wonder I feel starving." Jay rubbed his stomach. "I want to eat dumplings."
"Gotham General Hospital doesn't have Chinese food. Lisa and her sister were supposed to bring me some, but the officers outside wouldn't let them in." Wilson shook his head regretfully. "I was hoping to eat that pancake thing you make."
"Shit! My car!" Remembering this, Jay immediately jumped up. "Did you get insurance when you bought the car?"
"Uh, well…"
Seeing Wilson wide-eyed and stammering, Jay's face instantly drained of color.
"Damn it, this is going to cost a fortune!"
Just as he was stamping his feet and pounding his chest, the hospital room door opened, and two men walked in.
The man in front was tall and burly, even a bit taller than Jay.
The middle-aged man was fat and strong, making the person behind him look thin and frail, especially with his noticeable limp, which easily evoked sympathy.
The slender man held a bouquet of flowers and carried a large gift box under his armpit. He wore a timid smile and waved at the two in the room.
"Good morning, I've come on behalf of Mr. Falcone to visit the two brave officers. I brought you a fine bottle of wine. I wish you both a swift recovery."
The atmosphere in the room instantly dropped to freezing point. Wilson looked at the two men, then at Jay, who didn't show any sign of anger.
Confused, he asked his partner: "Hey, brother, shouldn't we say something?"
"Of course not," Jay shook his head at Wilson. "In my homeland, we have a custom: it's extremely unlucky to speak to someone who is about to die, as it will bring misfortune upon yourself."
Wilson exhaled, relieved.
That's more like it.
He only had a rudimentary understanding of Chinese culture, but he knew its methods of cursing were profound, and his job was just to be the support and watch the show.
So, ignoring Cobblepot's awkward expression, he asked in mock surprise: "Are they going to die?"
"What else?" Jay smiled. "You probably don't know that the men abandoned with us as bait in the ambush zone were Victor Zsasz's men."
"Victor Zsasz? Ooh… hiss… Ooh…" Wilson suddenly shivered, jostling his injury, and cried out painfully. "That guy… in a way, he's more terrifying than Deathstroke."
"Huh? How is that possible?" Jay looked skeptical. "Could he really compare to a top mercenary like Deathstroke?"
"Of course not. But if no one pays him, Deathstroke won't bother wasting his time on small fries like us. My life isn't worth his commission even ten times over." Wilson shrugged. "So… Victor Zsasz doesn't know his men were sold out?"
"I guess he already knows, but only a limited amount, probably whatever someone volunteered to admit."
Jay squinted, calculating in his mind. "After all, some people might think that by eliminating Fish Mooney, betraying their teammates to take sole credit in front of Falcone, and incidentally weakening the Roman's other men, they can boost their own importance.
But the Roman is too smart for that kind of three-birds-one-stone plan.
If he were to be held accountable afterward, it would be a dead end.
Better to proactively confess everything to Falcone in a 'I had no choice, the big picture mattered' posture.
This way, he frames the Roman as being obligated to him, the hero."
He continued speaking to himself, completely ignoring Cobblepot's face, which shifted between green and white.
"Victor Zsasz might only hate the feeling of being played, not caring about the casualties of his men.
But his men aren't all dead, and we have one survivor.
Do you think Zsasz will hate someone? If that survivor goes back and exaggerates the story to his superior, how will Mr. Zsasz deal with someone?"
"You know, some guys tried this same tactic when they were under Sal Maroni.
They took out Maroni's trusted associate Frankie.
After they fell out, Maroni made a huge fuss, saying he'd pursue it to the end.
The Roman had to smooth that over." Wilson looked serious. "…Doesn't that mean we need to protect that Zsasz guy's subordinate now?"
"Exactly. Just like guarding against Fish Mooney. Someone went to great lengths to take down Fish Mooney, only to put himself in her position."
"Officer… Mr. Officer, we don't need to make things this difficult, do we? Please listen to me…" Cobblepot chuckled nervously, rubbing his hands, trying to interject.
"And when we get back to the East Precinct, our patrol schedules will probably need to be rearranged."
Jay continued, ignoring Cobblepot's interruption, rubbing his chin.
"We'll need to increase patrols at all of the Roman's casinos, brothels, warehouses, and docks.
If he's unhappy, tell him that due to certain people's betrayal, the East Precinct no longer trusts Falcone, unless… he shows some sincerity."
This statement hit Cobblepot like lightning. He staggered back two steps against the wall, his face whiter than the plaster behind him.
"That's right, Falcone won't appreciate a troublemaker who causes him problems." Wilson was excited now. "Tsk tsk, I wonder if someone will be taken out by the Roman?"
"Of course not. Getting rid of a successful subordinate isn't the Roman's style," Jay shook his head gently. "He will only slowly marginalize someone, stripping away his power and men.
When no one remembers him anymore, stripped of the Roman's protection, others will naturally swarm him."
"Wait, wait, officers, please, we can talk. Really, I can explain, it was all… all unavoidable…"
"Also, brother, you're badly injured, but someone is clearly hoping you'll die." Jay waved his hand near his ear as if shooing a fly. "Someone brings you wine. Alcohol interferes with metabolism, hinders bone healing, and can react with medication, leading to sudden death."
"What?" Wilson was genuinely shocked and instinctively looked at Cobblepot. "FUCK, he's trying to kill me! If I could move, I'd stuff their heads up their ass."
"That's enough, you bastard!"
The middle-aged man next to Cobblepot stepped forward, reaching for Jay's neck. As a bodyguard, he had kept quiet, and this wasn't the time for him to interject.
But if his boss was insulted like this without reaction, he might lose his job outside. He had to make a move.
Jay didn't move from the edge of the bed, only glanced at him.
Just as the large hand reached his chest, Jay's right thumb, index, and middle fingers clamped down on the middle-aged man's index finger like a vice and twisted downward.
"Ah… Ahhhhhh…"
A series of piercing screams erupted. The bodyguard knelt, clutching his arm.
Jay applied just enough force to be right at the point where the finger bone was about to break.
Every time the bodyguard tried to endure the pain and move to attack or escape, Jay applied a little more pressure, which resulted in even more agonizing screams.
"Well, do you want to continue?"
"No, no, sir… Ahhhhh…"
The sweating middle-aged bodyguard shook his head wildly. Taking advantage of Jay slightly releasing his grip, he quickly retreated to the side, cradling his finger.
Jay pressed the call button, and a nurse ran in shortly after.
"Hey, dear, could you ask the irrelevant people to leave? My colleague and I are both injured and face considerable medical and rehabilitation costs. Our car was also wrecked and uninsured, which breaks our hearts. We really aren't up for visitors."
"Huh? We will eventually send your medical bill to the Gotham PD, but…" She looked at Cobblepot and his man, then at Jay. "Gentlemen, this is not a good time for a visit. Perhaps you could come back later?"
The string of nonsense confused the nurse but made Cobblepot's eyes light up. He handed the flowers to the nurse, picked up the gift box, and bowed to Jay and Wilson.
"I sincerely apologize, gentlemen. I will use a suitable gift to satisfy you both. Please, just give me a little time. Trust me, we will become friends."
Jay, acting as if he hadn't heard, simply lay back down on the bed and closed his eyes.
Only after the door clicked shut did Wilson immediately scoot closer to the edge of the bed.
"Ouch… Whew… Whew…" Wilson was gritting his teeth in pain.
"What is it?" Jay opened one eye and looked at him. "You better not move."
"I wanted to ask just now…" Wilson lowered his voice and asked mysteriously, "How did you know the Roman would be unhappy with him?"
"I made it up. He won't dare actually go ask Falcone," Jay smiled lightly. "He'll take it to heart, and his own imagination will take over. Every bit of trouble from now on will amplify his fear and suspicion."
"But…" Wilson hesitated. "What if he doesn't continue to overthink it?"
"We'll try it, won't we? Trying costs nothing."
——————
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