The road was still that same pebble-strewn path, but the wind in the West Suburbs wasn't as cold as last time. When he stepped into the Tuscan-style building again, Falcone was leaning back on the living room sofa, eyes closed in rest.
After merely two months, the wrinkles on his face seemed to have deepened significantly, and his hair was slightly disheveled.
Hearing Jay enter, he opened his eyes and straightened up. His gaze was still deep and sharp, instantly transforming back into the commanding figure of a crime lord.
"It's good to see you again, kid. You're completely different from before."
"Got a promotion, you know."
Jay shrugged. Unlike last time, there was a patch of wet blood on the expensive handmade rug. He skirted the stain and sat down opposite the Roman. Falcone offered a faint smile.
"A small, important Captain," he nodded slowly. "Well done, Jay, well done. Chief McGinnis told me he would send his most capable man. I guessed it would be you."
He picked up the coarse pottery cup and took a small sip. "I hope he didn't exaggerate, Jay. Because in my dictionary, the cost of 'incompetence' has always been high."
"Chief Bob is always pragmatic, Mr. Falcone," Jay replied, neither humble nor arrogant. "Especially when it concerns the stability of the East Precinct."
"Stability?" Falcone chuckled softly. "My vault was looted, and my men were slaughtered like dogs. And now, someone tells me Gotham no longer needs me and to 'get out of my city'."
His voice remained steady, but the last few words were as cold as if squeezed from an ice crack. "You call this 'stability'?"
"This is a disruption of stability, sir," Jay corrected. "That's why I'm here. Those who disrupt stability are the common enemy of the GCPD and… yours."
"Nicely put, Captain. So, tell me, how does your police force plan to deal with our 'common enemy'? By treating them like common street robbers, issuing a few wanted posters, and waiting a decade or two?"
He looked at Jay, the amusement in his eyes gradually fading, leaving only coldness and severity.
"You can't do it. This is my fortune, my dignity, my city. I will take it back myself."
He took a videotape from Victor Zsasz and tossed it into Jay's lap. "This is my notice to the police. If you find any leads from the footage, let me know."
"I understand your urgency, sir," Jay said. "But your method will only make the situation more chaotic and let the true culprits laugh in the dark. They are just waiting for you to wage war against the entire Gotham Police Department."
"What is your suggestion, then?" Falcone stared at him.
"Give me some time. Get your men to pull back slightly, so that at least outwardly, 'order' still appears to exist."
Jay held the gaze of the crime boss. "But you have already turned Gotham into a battlefield. Now every person on the street wearing a hood will be questioned with broken legs.
You rule this city not through random street shootings, but through order. Someone has broken it, and we will find it together."
Silence fell upon the room again. Zsasz's fingers twitched faster, and his eyes, fixed on Jay, were filled with suppressed excitement.
After a long pause, Falcone slowly leaned back, his eyes deep and unfathomable.
"You speak well, Captain. And you are very brave." He paused. "But I need more than just words. I need results."
"I will give you results."
"Very good." Falcone waved his hand, as if dismissing a servant, and turned his gaze to the fireplace. "You may leave. Remember, time is a luxury, and neither you nor I have much left in stock."
"You are being a bit too impatient. I'll watch the video when I get back, but I have a few questions now."
He toyed with the videotape in his hand and asked Falcone: "Sir, what denominations was the money you lost? Was all the money at the location… lost?"
"What does that have to do with… finding those people?"
"It has everything to do with it," Jay answered calmly. "I need to understand the situation as comprehensively as possible. Aren't you the victim?"
Falcone watched him for a while. "Most of it was old, non-sequential twenty and ten-dollar bills. A small portion consisted of fifties and one hundreds. The site was completely emptied. They didn't leave a single bill for me."
…
"Not a single one?"
"According to him, not a single one."
"Clean and efficient. These people have strict discipline; they didn't commit the nouveau riche act of grabbing cash and tossing it everywhere."
Nygma sat at the desk, lost in thought. "Old bills… nearly 300 kilograms… they must have had a vehicle to haul the cash away."
"I watched the footage. The group wore uniform masks. They looked… I can't describe it, maybe like skulls?" Jay gently blew on the tea in his thermos. "Does that signify anything? Death… never mind. Think, Ed, this is your strength as a smart person."
"You could at least… Sigh," Nygma sighed. "Superficially, it suggests death or revenge, but I need more evidence to determine if there are other meanings.
Several guards died terribly. Aside from the five killed by bullets during the firefight, the remaining three were captured and died from severe blunt-force trauma to the head and internal organs. What does that imply…"
He made unconscious gestures in the air.
"Their leader is tyrannical. Such people often have unhappy childhoods or even suffered long-term domestic abuse. Now they are cruel and bloodthirsty, managing their subordinates through terror and efficiency… That's all I can deduce for now."
"Holy cow…" Jay gave him a thumbs up in admiration. "That's incredibly sharp! If Central Precinct had relied on you sooner, the GCPD would be top-ranked in the country. Now, tell me, where should I go to catch these guys?"
"Jay, I'm not a wish machine," Nygma smiled at him. "But what would he do with the money? Eat, drink, and be merry? I don't think so. This kind of person usually has an obsessive goal. I think he'll continue to recruit and arm himself, so…"
"So that's where Falcone's own henchmen need to do the groundwork."
Alright… Jay scratched his head. Fortunately, he hadn't set a specific time frame with Falcone.
He stretched, got up, walked out of the office, and called Wilson.
"Hi! Captain! You're not going to check attendance, are you?"
"No, you know about Falcone getting robbed, right?"
"Of course, everyone's talking about it." The background noise on the line sounded chaotic. Wilson's voice paused for a moment; he seemed to have moved to a quieter place. "Do you want me to sniff out any information for you?"
"No. Remember, don't touch this case. If anyone tries to recruit you or anything, absolutely stay away. Understood?"
"You sound serious… what's going on?"
"The people who hit Falcone are very dangerous. Until you can actually hold a gun, don't even go near this. You'd better go home and stay put."
"Uh… don't worry, you know I won't look for trouble. But staying home? Forget it. I feel pretty good right now."
"Then you be careful!"
Hanging up the phone, he suddenly noticed a long-unseen system notification. He quickly tore off two sheets of paper, hid in the restroom, and examined it carefully.
[You have significantly altered the fate of Otis Flannigan, gaining 2 Skill Points]
Looks like Otis's case was overturned?
Adding the two points saved from the Fish Mooney and Victor Fries incidents, he now had four skill points, and he felt energized again.
He stared at the four skill cards for a long time. There were no hints; it was a total blind box.
Finally, he dutifully clicked one point onto the Revolver card. The card flipped over, and a point of starlight in the ethereal nebula on the back rapidly brightened and expanded, transforming into several lines of text.
[Lightning Quick: Your draw speed surpasses everyone present. Even the Flash would have to concede.]
[*Side effect: Your base accuracy is reduced by 40%.]
[*Upgrade Tasks: Draw Count: 0/1000. Firearm Shots: 0/1000]
[*Complete all tasks to raise Skill Level]
Hiss… Wait, regardless of whether trading accuracy for speed is worth it, I was only a few points away from leveling up the previous shooting task. Why did a new shooting task pop up?
You could have shown this earlier and saved me… Oh, wait, I chose it myself. Never mind.
Will it be like this later too…
Jay sat on the toilet, complaining under his breath, until he heard a colleague walk in outside and quickly shut up.
"Hey, Captain, are you constipated?"
"Uh… No, I'm fine. Maybe the toilet paper is just too rough."
"I told them the precinct shouldn't use Shidao toilet paper. It tears too easily. They should at least buy Kleenex or Angel.
I bet the logistics department is even stealing money from the toilet paper budget. You even applied for a free soda machine for us. I say you should be in charge of the toilet paper…"
"I say can you please finish peeing and get out!"
Hearing the footsteps retreat, Jay sighed in relief, reluctantly investing another skill point.
[Skill Level: 2]
[Points Required: 2/2]
[Bullseye: Your base accuracy is increased by 30%. Within seven steps, it is increased by an additional 10%.]
[*Upgrade Task: Firearm Shot Hits: 0/1000]
[*Complete all tasks to raise Skill Level]
Jay shuffled out of the stall, his legs asleep from sitting. This time, the accuracy task would save him a lot of time and money, so it wasn't a loss.
He'd save the last point; he always felt uneasy without something in reserve.
The cooldown for [Justice from Above] was also up.
He crumpled the paper ball in his hand and tossed it into the wastebasket. If a fight is coming, then let it come, no matter who the target is.
——————
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