Jay walked up to the third floor of the hospital, carrying a can of bone broth and softly whistling.
From behind the old CRT monitor at the nurses' station, a middle-aged nurse, her face lit by the screen's green glow, peeked out.
"Good morning, Jay. What good food did you make this time? Still fried rice?"
By the second night of his stay, the aftereffects of the flashbang had almost completely disappeared.
Although the Gotham City government was still functioning, and his medical care was covered by the public fund, lying in the hospital bed every day was incredibly boring.
Starting on the fourth day, he always found a chance to slip home and cook something.
The nurses often saw him sneak out, but they usually turned a blind eye to patients who were essentially healthy. Sometimes, she even sampled a bit of the stir-fry he brought back.
"Hi, Eve. This is pork bone soup. Want to try some?"
"Ugh…" The middle-aged nurse showed a look of disgust. "Pork bones… can that possibly taste good?"
"In my hometown, there's a saying: you supplement what you eat. So people with bone fractures often eat this for a quick recovery." Jay raised the can. "I'm going in now."
"Oh, Oriental magic." The nurse nodded, teasingly. "I think a girl came to visit Officer Wilson just now?"
Jay took two steps inside and peered in. The officer on duty at the door was laughing toothily while talking to a Black woman at the end of the hallway.
Who is she visiting, exactly?
He shoved the door open.
The next second, he immediately backed out and slammed the door shut with a loud thud.
Holy shit! Another Black woman with a slender waist, long legs, and a big butt was straddling Wilson…*
What the hell! How did you manage that position without aggravating your injuries?! And why would you think of doing that in a hospital?!
Just as he was overwhelmed by bewildered amusement, an overly enthusiastic voice suddenly came from behind him: "Good morning, Officer."
He spun around quickly and found a skinny figure standing before him, holding a bouquet of flowers in one hand and an umbrella tucked under the other arm. This time, he was alone, not even bringing his bodyguard.
"Uh… good…"
Jay's mind was still reeling from the previous scene. He couldn't instantly switch back to his cold, hostile demeanor toward Cobblepot, so he nodded blankly.
Seeing Cobblepot about to push the door open, he immediately reached out to stop him.
"No, no, no. Don't go in. Uh… damn it, let's go find somewhere outside to sit for a bit."
Cobblepot looked at him strangely, probably wondering why Jay's attitude was so amiable today. But he didn't ask any questions, simply followed him downstairs to a coffee shop next to the hospital.
"What would you like to drink, Officer?"
"Nage (那个, Chinese for 'that,' but often used as a filler word, sounding phonetically like the N-word)…"
He subconsciously used the Chinese word, then instantly realized he had misspoken.
Cobblepot looked around strangely, seemed to grasp something, and smiled at Jay: "Actually, sometimes I don't particularly like the Black race either, but one has to play along."
"Huh?" Jay looked utterly confused.
What nonsense is that? I was just thinking… is it inappropriate to pour soup out of a can and drink it here? Forget it.
He ordered an Americano and started adding sugar from the dispenser on the table.
Cobblepot waited for a while, realizing Jay wasn't going to speak first.
His eyes darted around, and he pulled an envelope from his jacket.
"Officer, I sincerely apologize for what happened last time. But… Heh heh…" He gave a dry laugh. "You know what's done is done. Regret won't help, so I can only do my best to compensate you.
Here is a check for thirty thousand dollars. I hope this can make up for the harm you and your partner suffered."
Plop!
Jay's hand trembled, and the entire sugar dispenser fell into the coffee cup. He quickly fished it out, picked up the cup, and took a sip.
Yikes! Life can sometimes be sickeningly sweet. Though it's hard to say if this much sugar will cause diabetes.
He gritted his teeth and looked up at Cobblepot. The two remained silent for a while. Cobblepot swallowed hard and then pulled out a small box from his pocket, placing it on the table. This instantly startled Jay.
What the hell? Is he trying to threaten me with a marriage proposal?
Fortunately, Cobblepot immediately opened the box. Inside was a brand-new car key, the three-pointed star logo shining brightly.
"Regarding the loss of your… vehicle, I have prepared a car for you. Please rest assured, the vehicle condition is absolutely excellent."
Jay's eyebrow twitched violently, then furrowed. He looked up at the man again, remaining silent.
Cobblepot had navigated countless negotiations to reach his current position.
He believed the market value of what he offered was substantial, but this kind of silent, non-committal response was rare.
They drank coffee and waited for another ten minutes before Cobblepot finally couldn't suppress his internal panic and asked in a low voice: "Officer, are you satisfied? If not, please tell me. I will do my best to meet your demands."
"Mr. Cobblepot, my partner was injured much more severely than I was. Whether I am satisfied or not, I need to consult with him."
Jay took a deep breath and pushed both the envelope and the key back. "Take them back for now. I will discuss it with him and give you an answer tomorrow, how about that?"
"No problem, no problem." Cobblepot smiled obsequiously, pulled a business card from his breast pocket, and placed it on the table.
"Here is my number. You can call me anytime. Also…" He suddenly looked a little reserved. "Mr. Falcone hopes you will visit his estate when convenient."
"Invite me to visit?" Jay sneered. "I doubt those were his exact words."
"Ah… Heh heh. Mr. Falcone's original words were indeed more… formal… and more… severe… Heh heh." Cobblepot spread his hands in a helpless, awkward smile. "I hope you don't mind."
"Understood. I will give you a joint reply tomorrow."
"Very good. Then I won't disturb you. I await your call at any time."
Cobblepot stood up, gave a slight bow, and limped out the door with his umbrella.
Jay also stood up expressionlessly and turned into the restroom.
It wasn't until the stall door clicked shut that he finally let himself punch the air silently, his body shaking all over as if electrocuted, twisting his hips.
Fck! Thirty thousand dollars! Fck! A Mercedes S600!
How much money is that! How much money is that! I've never seen so much money in my life!!!
The East Precinct Police Department was permeated, as always, with a lazy atmosphere. Officers leaned sloppily on their chairs, idly processing or procrastinating on their work.
A heavy, deliberate set of footsteps echoed through the corridor, heading straight for the wooden door at the end.
Desk Sergeant Albert turned his head just in time to see a tall figure push the door open and slam it against the wall.
He turned back, deftly pulled out two small boxes from under his desk, and tapped the surface.
"Bet on whether Bob is going to get punched this time, starting at $10. My usual 10% cut."
The door to the Chief's office was violently shoved open, crashing loudly against the wall. The fat man behind the desk jumped, his hand trembling, scattering the stack of cash he was counting all over the floor.
"Hey, Jay, what are you doing? Aren't you supposed to be hospitalized?"
He laboriously kicked his chair back and squatted down, panting as he picked up the banknotes one by one. When he finally sat back down, his entire face was flushed red.
Jay sat down across the desk, leaning back in the chair, watching Bob coldly without saying a word.
Bob felt completely uneasy under his gaze. He looked left and right, then pulled out a cigarette and put it in his mouth.
"Kid, what… what exactly happened?"
Jay sat up, bracing his elbows on the desktop.
"Boss, you know Wilson and I almost died this time, right?"
"I know, I heard about it." Bob flicked his thumb twice, and the lighter clinked with a blue flame. He took a drag and puffed out a stream of smoke.
"We had an agreement. I was just counting your money." He gestured to the cash on the desk. "Don't worry, the price we agreed on! I'm pushing the other paperwork through too."
"The agreed price? The price can wait. I came from the hospital today to ask one thing." Jay gave a cold smile. "The moment we were attacked, we called for backup. In the end, it was James Gordon from Central Precinct who helped out at the scene."
He stared into Bob's eyes. "Where were your men? Where was your backup?"
"Uh… uh…" Bob rubbed his nose, then kept scratching his forehead and head.
He opened his mouth several times, seemingly wanting to say something, but then shook his head and swallowed it back.
Finally, he sighed as if making a difficult decision.
"Fine, how much more money do you want?"
"Woah!" Jay couldn't help but laugh, suddenly finding it very refreshing to talk to a person like this. "My car is totaled."
"Oh… oh… okay, I'll have the Equipment and Logistics Department fix it for you…"
"Fix my ass! What's there to fix on that wreck?" Jay gently slammed the table. "Add $2,500 more for each of us, and also help me apply for a bulletproof patrol vehicle."
"That's an extra ten thousand…" The look of heartbreaking pain returned to Bob's face. "Fine, but a bulletproof vehicle is impossible.
We tried applying last time. It's too expensive! Modifying something like a V-100 costs at least two or three hundred thousand. That budget won't pass."
"I don't need an armored personnel carrier. Those transit vans modified by Ford or GM, even a new one with a full conversion is only a bit over $100,000, and we'll go through the normal application channel, right? You don't have to pay for it yourself."
"But $100,000 is still expensive." Bob puffed on his cigarette, smiling back at Jay. "Good kid, whenever you talk about not paying for it yourself. I know you have good news for me. Don't hide it. I'm too old for these shocks."
"Heh heh," Jay also laughed. "You know Cobblepot sold us out on this trip?"
"I heard. I was planning to talk to Falcone about it." Bob nodded, looking somewhat serious. "Honestly, this isn't just lip service. Although the Roman is dangerous, we can't let him treat the Police Department as a disposable resource he can use freely."
Jay silently gave him a thumbs-up.
"So? Can't you just say it all at once? Don't keep me in suspense." Bob extinguished the cigarette in the ashtray. "I'm not smoking anymore. I'm listening carefully."
"OK. Simply put, Cobblepot came to see me yesterday and offered to gift me a Mercedes S600 to repair our relationship."
"So that's it." Bob leaned back in his leather executive chair, thought for a moment, and then smiled. "Let me guess.
A nearly-new car worth $100,000 probably only cost Cobblepot ten to twenty percent of that. The car's paperwork must be questionable.
You're afraid of leaving a handle for him to use, so you want to give it to me… No, you want me to get him to donate it to the Police Department."
He paused, lit another cigarette, and took a drag. "Mmm… Of course, to be blunt, donating it to the police department is pretty much the same as giving it to me. You'll use me to clear up all the after-effects and any Internal Affairs investigation, heh heh."
He stared at Jay with a half-smile. "You want me to help you eliminate the future trouble, and you still want me to give you extra money and apply for a new car?"
"Oh, whatever. If it's too much trouble, forget it. It's not like I'm the one driving it anyway. I'll just tell him I don't want it."
Jay jumped to his feet and turned to leave.
"Hey! Hey! Wait a minute, wait a minute!" Bob hastily maneuvered out from behind his desk and grabbed Jay. "Damn you, you little fox! You throw the table over every time! You bastard, you truly are a bastard."
He pressed Jay back into the chair, then sat back down behind his desk himself.
"It's a deal! And there are some things I wanted to talk to you about anyway."
He stubbed out the cigarette he had just taken two puffs from, an action that startled Jay.
"Holy cow, Boss, so formal! You're serious!"
"Don't interrupt, kid. I've received a lot of information over the last few days.
First thing: You should go thank James Gordon properly. After you left Central Precinct, he was the only one who felt something was wrong and drove out here alone.
I gave him your patrol route and final destination, and he drove after you."
He sighed. "I hate that stubborn, abrasive guy who constantly works against everyone, but I also respect him. Not everyone would dare charge into a hail of bullets to save people. I certainly don't have the guts."
"I know, Boss. I will formally express my gratitude. I've been preparing a gift these days."
"Mmm, but be careful. It'll be trouble if you make that guy think you're trying to bribe him." Bob nodded. "The second thing is: Don't try to be like James Gordon."
He pointed a finger at Jay. "I know you won't—you're a clever man—but I still have to warn you.
Gordon causes the Roman a lot of trouble. Do you think it's honesty and courage that keeps him safe?
It's because his father was a famous District Attorney and had a long-standing relationship with Falcone.
In Falcone's eyes, what Gordon does—at least what he's doing now—is like an old friend's kid throwing a tantrum. I heard Falcone wants to see you?"
"Yes."
Jay nodded. "Cobblepot told me yesterday that the Roman plans to invite me as a guest to his estate. But I suspect his original word wasn't 'invite,' but rather… 'summon.'"
"Be careful. Don't push too hard. Protect yourself. My biggest regret is not getting you into the police department sooner. You're clever and capable, completely different from those idiots outside."
Bob reached for his lighter again, stopped halfway, and settled for smelling a cigarette under his nose. "Look at this. Only half a year, one opportunity, and you've already made me at least ten thousand dollars. Kid, I really love you."
"You're not a pretty girl. That sounds gross." Jay grimaced. "By the way, you promised me about setting up a mobile task force. If I find the people myself, can you help me sort out their identities, hiring, records, and all that?"
"Hmm?"
"If they are just regular citizens or gang members, you know that's not a problem for me…" Bob immediately grew alert. "You're not planning on breaking people out of Blackgate Prison, are you?!"
Jay spread his hand: "Besides the car, Cobblepot also compensated us with thirty thousand dollars for medical expenses…"
"It's a deal!"
——————
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