Gotham City seemed gloomier than usual today.
Rain hammered down from grey skies. Icy mist entered pedestrians' lungs with every breath, making people shiver involuntarily. The cloud cover was thicker than normal, turning an already dim city into something approaching twilight at noon.
Gotham in shadow was uncomfortable.
Even more uncomfortable were the conversations taking place inside GCPD headquarters in downtown Gotham.
"I was responsible for driving the car that day. Took the package to the location. I'll write it all down if you need it."
"I delivered the package to that woman—Harvey Dent's wife, Mrs. Dent, you know her? I'll write it all down, if you want."
"I followed Dent to his house. Yes, I did. Tailed him straight home. Write it all down if you want. I will."
"I pushed the damn detonator. And I'll write it all down if you need me to."
Five testimonies, including Mickey's. Cross-referenced. Consistent. No contradictions.
Whatever Falcone had paid them, he'd spent his money well.
Batman listened from the shadows, silent. Then his low, hoarse voice cut through the interrogation room: "Bring Mickey back."
Meanwhile, in an old building in Gotham's East End:
"BREAKING NEWS! Five Irish gang members who attempted to bomb District Attorney Harvey Dent's residence have pleaded guilty to attempted murder!"
"As of this hour, Mrs. Dent remains hospitalized and has not yet regained consciousness. This newspaper will continue following developments."
Jude stared at the bold black headline. The corners of his mouth curled upward into a satisfied smile.
How had things reached this point?
Maybe it started from the mission he'd received a few days ago.
Flashback: Several Days Earlier
"Thank you, System Daddy! System Daddy is so generous! Love you, muah!"
One of the fundamental essences of humanity: hypocrisy. The "True Fragrance" principle in action.
SYSTEM NOTIFICATION
Mission: Better to Redirect Than to Block
Description: When Falcone sets his sights on someone, that person won't live comfortably in Gotham—unless they're a superhero.
Unfortunately, Harvey Dent is not a superhero. And now Falcone believes Harvey burned twenty million dollars of his money and possibly murdered his nephew.
In this situation, few people can help Harvey. Even fewer are willing.
Note: It's understandable if you don't want to accept a high-risk, low-reward job. You don't have cheat codes for infinite money or invincibility frames.
Status: Incomplete (0/1)
Reward: Advanced Culinary Mastery
Jude had pondered the mission for a long time after reading it. Not because he struggled between conscience and self-interest, but because the content was absolutely insane.
"Help the Irish gang bomb Harvey Dent's house? Me? Do I make the bomb? Don't you think Two-Face's origin story would be less interesting with cannon fodder named Jude Sharp in it?"
He'd scrolled down to the requirements.
Damage to residence must not exceed 20%. Harvey Dent and Mrs. Dent must both survive.
"Do you hear what you're saying?" Jude had stared at the screen. "The description says 'help him,' but the content says 'blow him up.' What exactly do you want me to do? Wait..."
He'd looked at the mission title again. Better to Redirect Than to Block.
Memory surfaced.
Before arriving in Gotham City, Jude had played a game called Dark Souls. There was a very strange item in the game called Dung Pie. The effect of using it was straightforward: it poisoned you.
What the hell kind of item was that? What possible use could it have? He'd wondered about it for weeks.
Until he'd encountered enemies that used toxic arrows. Their poison killed players nearly instantly. Those frustrating encounters had broken him repeatedly one afternoon.
When his sanity finally snapped, he'd started throwing Dung Pies at himself out of spite. And discovered something remarkable: the Dung Pie inflicted a weaker poison status. Which meant the toxic arrows couldn't apply their lethal poison—you couldn't be poisoned twice.
From that point on, every time he faced those enemies, he'd deliberately poison himself first with the weaker effect.
Fight poison with poison. Redirect the problem instead of trying to stop it.
Understanding clicked into place.
Jude had accepted the job immediately.
Yes, dealing with gangs was dangerous. Yes, bombing Harvey Dent's house might make Harvey remember him unfavorably. But he couldn't escape this situation.
He was the one who'd burned the twenty million. Harvey had just arrived at the scene afterward. No matter how Jude looked at it, letting a prosecutor with a sense of justice take the blame for his actions was unethical. If he could help and chose not to, he'd be cursing eighteen generations of his ancestors.
He didn't want his future children born without buttholes. Karma was real.
And if Harvey was destined to become Two-Face anyway, Jude at least hoped he wouldn't be included in that origin story. Even if he couldn't be the good guy, he could avoid being the villain.
So he'd coordinated with the Irish gang. Helped them plant a bomb. Made sure it would cause minimal structural damage. Made sure the Dents would survive.
Gave Falcone his revenge. Redirected his rage away from Harvey toward expendable criminals who'd already confessed.
Better to redirect than to block.
"Jude, what are you staring at?"
Santos slapped his shoulder. "Thinking about where to go tonight?"
"Do you even need to ask?" Jude smiled confidently. "As a restaurant waiter with no money and no prospects, I'll casually learn to cook by following online tutorials every night so I can pretend I have a wife when posting photos."
"...I'm sorry I asked that question."
"No, no, wait," Rick said, suddenly interested. "Paycheck comes through tonight, remember? Spend some money. Go to a bar, find a pretty girl, buy her drinks, spend the night somewhere nice. Better than sitting at home alone, right?"
"Or there's a party at my place," Castro added, forever the social butterfly. "Lots of girls will be there."
"Oh, right. Payday is today." Jude's ears automatically filtered out everything except those three words. "Salary. Payment. Today."
A whole month's worth of asset points would finally be credited to his account after tonight's paycheck. Thousands of dollars in system currency. Jude couldn't help humming as he contemplated the possibilities.