The banquet.
Hearing Kino's question, even Bruce Wayne, known for his composure, showed a hint of surprise on his handsome face.
He hadn't expected the other person to ask such a question upon their first meeting.
How should he answer?
From an economic perspective? Or perhaps the humanities? Bruce gazed at the blue eyes across from him, sensing that Kino's meaning wasn't so simple.
"Mr. Wayne?" Kino's voice pulled Bruce back to reality.
Bruce truly was Bruce; he reacted swiftly, devising a plan in mere seconds.
He decided to give an answer that fit his persona.
Bruce smiled, spread his arms, and embraced the two women beside him. He then raised an eyebrow at Kino, flirtingly saying, "For me, Gotham is paradise."
Although he was smiling, sadness filled Bruce's heart.
For the real Bruce, Gotham was a place of sorrow.
His parents were buried here, and his lifelong wish was to save this irredeemable city.
[Negative emotions from Bruce Wayne +50, +50…]
Having harvested a wave of negative points from Bruce, Kino didn't intend to push him further. The young man smiled and raised his champagne glass, saying, "To Gotham."
Bruce also raised his glass, "To Gotham."
Amidst the clinking of glasses, a beautiful young redhead stepped onto the stage not far away.
She took the microphone and began, "Ladies and gentlemen, welcome to the charity gala organized by Mr. Maroni."
"Tonight, we will be holding an auction, and all proceeds will go to support the Gotham Orphanage."
At this moment, Thomas, who was next to Kino, leaned in and spoke in a low voice, "Seated at the front table is Mayor Carlos, and next to her is her lover."
"Next to him sits Maroni, one of the heads of Gotham's major gangs."
As Thomas introduced them, Kino remembered more and more names.
These people were all rich and influential.
Kino knew that these smiling faces would wear a different, dirty mask in the darkness.
His gaze swept across the hall.
The opulent hall was filled with people.
They were all in suits, and they were all dazzling.
Everyone wore expensive watches and jewelry.
These people were the leeches clinging to Gotham, the gangs colluding with officials, bribing judges and lawyers, all greedily sucking away the city's wealth.
To put it bluntly, if someone threw a few grenades into this hall, the result would be devastating, perhaps even plunging Gotham into anarchy.
"I'll be in the restroom."
Kino stood up and nodded slightly to the crowd.
Kino's spot was empty.
Bruce glanced at Thomas, feigning nonchalance. "Your nephew is quite outstanding. Where is he studying this year?"
If you want to understand a person, the best way is to start with the people they know. Bruce thought to himself.
"Yes, but his father is a tyrannical psychopath." Thomas had no affection for Lionel, and said with a sneer, "Kino should have stayed in Metropolis, receiving the best education, but his father took him to a godforsaken town."
Thomas rubbed his chin, about to say something more.
But.
BOOM!
It seemed like a circuit overload or a voltage surge.
As the lights flickered, the brightly lit hall plunged into darkness.
"What's going on?"
"Why did the power go out?"
The crowd below erupted in a chorus of questions.
The organizers quickly stepped forward, shouting for everyone to remain calm.
Amidst the surrounding clamor, Bruce swallowed the last piece of steak on his fork. In the darkness, his blue eyes held a look of intense thought.
Thud!
The sound of a heavy object hitting the floor echoed through the hall.
People pulled out their phones to dispel the darkness.
Their gazes were drawn towards the center of the banquet.
The screens emitted light, illuminating the center of the banquet.
In the mottled darkness, a man in a suit with his neck twisted 180 degrees lay on the cold marble floor, his expression contorted and blood staining his mouth and nose.
People looked up at the dome above; the glass had shattered, suggesting the body had been dropped from a great height after being killed.
The obese man's large eyes were fixed forward, his expression a mixture of confusion and disbelief, as if he hadn't anticipated his death.
"Oh my God."
Looking at the corpse, a soft-hearted lady covered her mouth with her hand.
Others gasped, recognizing the dead man, and stammered through gritted teeth, "It's Maroni!"
The words sent the crowd into an uproar.
The esteemed families of Gotham couldn't help but be shocked. The man who controlled half of Gotham's underworld had died tonight, in the banquet hall, under mysterious circumstances.
This deadly dinner had taken his life in the darkness.
But, what intrigued everyone even more was who killed Maroni.
Whispers and discussions about the case spread through the crowd.
Until, a heavy breathing sound slowly echoed in everyone's ears.
"Hoo... Hoo..."
The sound was heavy and rhythmic.
Someone quickly turned their phone screen to illuminate the corner.
"What is that thing!"
In the dim corner, a tall, dark figure stood.
Clad in black plate armor, the figure wore a gold-plated hood. However, what truly caught the eye were the orange goggles covering the eye sockets, drawing attention in the dimly lit banquet hall.
Upon seeing the figure's attire, many men and women in the banquet visibly paled.
The tall, dark figure swept their gaze across the crowd, seemingly etching their faces into memory.
"Hey! What are you?!"
The banquet hall had security, and they charged towards the uninvited guest.
But, the thugs Maroni brought were clearly faster than the security.
Two angry thugs pulled pistols from their pockets and pulled the triggers at the shadow.
Bang bang bang!
As the bullets rang out, the figure likewise rolled to dodge.
That agile form leaped over tables and walls, until the two assassins had emptied their pistols.
Swish!
The masked man flicked his right hand, and in the next instant, several cold, glistening throwing knives pierced the necks of the two.
Extreme speed brought with it powerful momentum, and the sharp blades pierced throats and severed blood vessels.
"Pfft!"
Blood splattered, staining the marble floor with crimson dots.
"Ugh…ugh!" Two burly men clutched their necks, hands slick with blood, and collapsed in defeat.
The blood flowing from their necks added a touch of brutal, bloody color to tonight's banquet.
After doing all this, the mysterious person's voice was raspy.
"Beware the Court of Owls…
That watches all the time.
Ruling Gotham from a shadowed perch,
Behind granite and lime.
They watch you in your wicked home,
They watch you in your bed.
Speak not a word of the Court of Owls,
Or you'll be dead."
The assassin softly recited the familiar nursery rhyme of old Gotham.
After finishing everything,
he pulled out two small packets and tossed them onto the ground.
"Boom!"
The billowing smoke obscured vision, and the acrid, stinging smell caused many to cover their noses and hold their breath.
Bruce stared intently at the smoke. When a light breeze dispersed the fog, the spot where the assassin had stood was empty.
The man frowned, his gaze sweeping across the surroundings as he considered how the other party could have escaped.
------------------------
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