The warehouse cubicle next to the underground parking lot had no heating installed. A biting chill seemed to seep out from every crack in the concrete floor, wrapping itself around one's bones.
Otis could only rely on an old electric heater for warmth. Its orange coils emitted a faint glow in the darkness.
Even wrapped in a thick down jacket, he often felt the cold creeping from the soles of his feet throughout his body.
But compared to the perpetual damp, moldy smell of Blackgate Prison and the endless screaming and threats from behind the iron bars, this was practically paradise.
At least he had silence and four walls of his own.
He poured some hot water into a bowl and took out a box of cake, intending to dip it and eat.
But on second thought, he broke off a piece and placed it on the table first.
Immediately, a large rat with sleek gray fur poked its head deftly out of his jacket pocket. Its whiskers twitched lightly, and its beady black eyes scanned alertly left and right.
Then it hopped onto the table, holding the piece of cake with its two front paws, nibbling away with a rustling sound.
Otis looked at it with eyes full of tenderness. This was one of the few friends he had made during his time in prison. Smart, almost human-like.
Sometimes he even felt it understood every word he said.
Other rats only feared him and obeyed him completely, like a silent gray ghost army. Only a few could understand the sorrow in his heart.
"Bastian…"
He reached out a finger and gently stroked the large rat's head. Bastian, clutching half a piece of cake, whooshed off the table and burrowed into the pile of old clothes on the sofa.
Otis froze for a moment as a knock-knock sounded at the door.
Jay, wearing a black windbreaker, ducked his head and entered, bringing a gust of bitter cold air with him.
"Hi, Officer."
Jay rubbed his hands together, pulled up a chair, and sat down.
"Hi, Otis. How are the preparations going?"
Otis didn't speak. He walked silently to a drawer, took out a thick stack of documents, and handed them over.
"You asked me to watch the key officials at Child Protective Services. These are their movements for the past week."
"Great, thanks!"
Jay took the files and flipped through them quickly, a look of disbelief soon appearing on his face.
Every single one of the dozen or so people on the list Nygma had given him had a record!
"Wow, Otis, did you do all this by yourself?"
"Yes," Otis nodded with a hint of pride. "Along with over three hundred rats."
"Oh, oh… amazing… three… over three hundred?" Jay's eyes widened. "You can command over three hundred rats?"
"Actually, even more. Five hundred… a thousand… two thousand… or even… more…" Otis's voice was calm. "If the conditions are right."
Good lord, if you decided to spread a malignant infectious disease, Batman and the Joker might have to team up to stop you…
He secretly imagined thousands of rats surging like a tide, and a chill instantly ran down his spine.
Otis seemed to sense his physiological discomfort and instinctively curled up a bit more.
He took a cassette tape out of his pocket and asked cautiously in a low voice, "…Officer, I… regarding my case… this is a transcribed recording of part of Judge Joshua's conversations."
"Don't call me Officer, just call me Jay." Jay took the tape, looked at it, and gestured to indicate size. "You used that?"
"Yes, the ultra-small recording device. I had a rat take it in every day, stop in a hidden corner for half an hour, and then come out."
Otis's tone was apprehensive. "But I can't guarantee what it recorded."
"Mmm, I'll take it back and listen. If it's useful, we'll go…"
…
"Steal?"
Otis looked at Jay, who was putting on a ski mask, then at the pitch-black sky outside the car window, his face full of conflict.
"Off… Jay, you know I was wrongly imprisoned in Blackgate, right?" He muttered softly. "I never did anything illegal. Why… why do I have to go… steal things with you?"
"Stop complaining, you don't have to go in. You're just the lookout." Jay finally adjusted the ill-fitting mask, checked the rearview mirror to confirm he was completely covered up.
"Those CPS guys have all been dealing with this company. Especially the accountant, who has been frequenting this remote financial consulting firm lately. More than once. I suspect their black ledgers and secret transaction records are hidden in this place."
He opened the car door to get out, then turned back and patted Otis on the shoulder. "We are doing this for justice. Think about that Bat-monster fighting the mob! Now, you're just like him! Don't you feel much better?"
"That Bat-monster who breaks people's limbs… just like him…"
Otis watched Jay's back disappear into the night, sucking in a cold breath through his teeth, murmuring, "Now I feel even worse."
He turned off the headlights, cast his gaze into the shadows beneath the building, and waved his hand gently.
"Go, watch out for anyone approaching."
Countless rats crawled out of the shadows, squeaking as they surged like a tide toward the remote office building.
They squeezed through doorways, sewers, ventilation ducts, broken basement grilles, and every available crack.
"May God protect me, may God protect you."
Otis crossed himself and sat silently in the seat, like a frozen statue.
About an hour later, he saw Jay's figure run breathlessly out of the shadows at the side of the office building toward the car.
In the darkness, the man was carrying a large, heavy-looking hard-shell case on his shoulder.
Bastian jumped down from his shoulder and familiarly scurried into Otis's jacket pocket.
Panting heavily, Jay shoved the case into the back seat and squeezed into the car himself. He pulled off the mask, his face a mix of exhaustion and excitement.
"Listen, Otis, there's good news and bad news. Which one do you want to hear first?"
"Please, don't play this game, okay?" Otis covered his forehead. "I don't want to steal again. Give me the bad news first, let me give up hope."
"The bad news is, there's a huge pile of financial documents inside, but I can't understand a word of it."
"Uh… and the good news?"
Jay patted the case behind him. "I brought them all out. We can find an accountant who knows what they're doing to take a look."
"But…" Otis scratched his messy hair. "What if they find out the office was burgled tomorrow? They'll definitely call the police."
"Oh, what a coincidence. Guess who's answering the phone?"
"…" Otis was speechless. "Then… what if you guessed wrong and this place has nothing to do with CPS?"
"Then it's just an ordinary burglary—Gotham PD gets hundreds of reports like this every day. Who cares?" Jay snapped his fingers, and the car drove into the night. "Relax, everything went smoothly. Let's bounce."
…
"I… honestly… I don't know everything either…"
When Edward Nygma said this through gritted teeth, his face was full of shame, and he didn't even dare look Jay in the eye.
"Come on, Ed, I know you're the smartest person in Gotham. Are you telling me you can't understand a few financial transaction ledgers?"
"I'm sorry…"
Nygma's face turned even redder, like a debuting starlet who had let down her fans, his head bowing so low it was almost buried in the ground. "But… but… I can help you find someone who can."
He adjusted his glasses, sat up straight, and opened the internal police database. "First, I have to state, I don't know her.
But judging from some non-public files in the GCPD Economic Crimes Unit, this person is relatively… upright, or perhaps stubborn—she's not very willing to collude with the upper-middle management of the tax bureau."
He clicked the mouse a few times, pulled out a piece of paper, scribbled a few lines, and handed it to Jay.
Erica Hale, Level 6 Auditor, Gotham City Department of Taxation. Marginalized for repeatedly rejecting tax exemption applications from 'friendly enterprises.'
"She's the one."
Jay folded the note into a square and stuffed it into his pocket, patting Nygma on the shoulder happily. "I knew you were the smartest, Ed. Come to the East Precinct; there will be plenty of opportunities later."
He looked up at the evidence room door, then leaned down and whispered, "Stop thinking about Miss Kringle. A man only has a backbone when he has money and power!
Imagine, if one day you become the Captain of Forensics and Technology at the East Precinct, how will she look at you then?"
"Sigh…" Nygma lowered his head and sighed. "The East Precinct Forensics Department you mentioned wouldn't be like this place, with just me alone, right?"
"Ah? Ha! Hahahaha!" Jay suddenly let out a series of awkward and meaningless laughs, yawning as he wobbled toward the door.
"I'm too busy, too busy! Think about it carefully!"
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