Chapter 11: Batman’s Night Raid on the Romans

Night fell.

The windows of Falcone’s private bedroom shattered instantly. A dark silhouette burst in and hauled Falcone from his bed.

"You... it’s you!" Falcone opened his eyes, and upon seeing Batman before him, his expression shifted into one of sheer terror.

Batman said nothing. Deciding to let his actions speak for his intentions, he grabbed Falcone by the throat and dragged him off the bed.

As Falcone cursed, he reached for a pistol hidden nearby, but in the next moment, his wrist was snapped out of its socket.

As a crime lord, Falcone was no weakling, but compared to Batman, he was like an Akita provoking a Tibetan Mastiff. In an instant, he was airborne.

"You..." Batman delivered a punch to Falcone’s face, stifling his words, and then shoved his body into a small window nearby.

The frame was narrow. With his upper body jammed inside, Falcone was rendered immobile—much like a woman stuck in a washing machine—left completely at the mercy of his assailant.

Batman did not hold back, delivering a series of heavy blows that left Falcone writhing in agony.

"I trust you don't want me to pay another visit tomorrow," Batman said, his voice deep and gravelly. "Then keep your subordinates in check."

Having said his piece, and apparently feeling the intimidation factor was still insufficient, Batman stripped Falcone of all his clothes and hung him, bound and trussed, from the window frame.

It wasn't until the next morning that Falcone was discovered by his family, by which time he was shivering like a frostbitten quail.

"This is an absolute disgrace!" Falcone roared within the family estate. "That damned bat-freak! How dare he!"

"Godfather, what should we do now?"

"Put the word out! I want a bounty on that bat-freak's head!" Falcone smashed his fist onto the table, shattering a glass ashtray. "Whoever brings that bat-freak’s head to the Falcone family gets ten million dollars!"

"Carmine Falcone places a ten-million-dollar bounty on Batman, dead or alive..." Roland looked at the capitalized English words in the newspaper, stunned. It was his first time seeing such a thing outside of *One Piece*.

"You were right, Batman actually went after the Falcone family," Jason remarked. "Ten million dollars—Falcone really is throwing his weight around."

Roland scoffed. Offering a bounty that wouldn't even cover Batman’s pocket change was hilarious.

"But is this allowed in the papers?" Roland felt something was off. "A mob bounty out in the open?"

"Maybe the newspaper is backed by the Falcone family," Jason replied, unbothered. "It’s normal enough. Which industry in Gotham City doesn't have ties to the mob?"

"So, did I misjudge that potato seller?" Roland muttered, recalling the generous gifts he’d received from two enthusiastic citizens yesterday.

"What are you talking about?"

"Nothing. Go on."

"Look at this," Jason pointed to the other side of the paper. "Gotham Police Commissioner Gillian B. Loeb claims that Batman is threatening the order and safety of the city, and is calling for the public to provide leads... It seems Batman is being hunted by both the underworld and the authorities now."

"That’s nothing; eventually, people from both the living and the dead worlds will want to take him down," Roland said. "But that has nothing to do with us. Let’s focus on how to make money... More money means we can help more people, right?"

"There aren't any holidays coming up; where are we going to find opportunities for side work?"

"Who says? Isn't there a holiday on March 1st?"

"What holiday is that?"

"International Seal Day. Haven't you heard of it?"

"Who actually hears of that? Forget about anyone celebrating it—I doubt even the Holiday Killer would choose that day to commit a murder," Jason couldn't help but retort. "And whose money are we supposed to make? Stealing a seal from the zoo for a performance?"

"Forget it. Let’s consider other options," Roland sighed.

Just then, the church door was shoved open. A child ran in, his face covered in blood. "Boss, something big happened!"

"Manuel! What’s going on?" Roland asked, alarmed. "How are you hurt?"

"Oh, I'm not hurt."

"Then what about the blood on your head?"

"Some guy jumped off a building, hit a street lamp, and vomited blood all over me."

The room fell silent as they processed his description.

"So, what is the big deal?"

"This fell off the guy who jumped. I picked it up," Manuel said, pulling a notebook from his shirt. "I took a look, and I think this is pretty important."

Roland took it and stared, dumbfounded. "Damn! Isn't this the Falcone family ledger?"

Deep in the Gotham City sewers, a child handed an identical notebook to Killer Croc. "My liege, I heard two men arguing by a pipe. Then, one pulled a gun and killed the other. This book fell off the dead man, so I brought it to you."

Killer Croc opened the book and scanned it. "The Falcone family? Forget it. Don't get involved with them. Burn this thing; don't let anyone know it exists."

"Understood. By the way, My Liege, I heard in the harbor sewers that smugglers are colluding with Gotham police to bring a shipment of contraband ashore."

"Hmph... cats and mice in the same nest..." Killer Croc showed no interest. "Ignore them. What we need to do is take in more people who can no longer survive in the world above."

"As you command, My Liege." The child gave a comical salute and turned to leave.

At the Falcone Estate, the Riddler placed four cups in front of the Mad Hatter and recited in a voice like a long poem: "Alice, the March Hare, Mr. Mad Hatter, and the Dormouse were having a mad tea party. The Hatter told her that because he had been punished, time was frozen at six o'clock—tea time—so they were forced to have tea all day."

"'I want a clean cup,' the Hatter interrupted. 'Let’s all move one seat over.'"

"'You’ve already had too much tea,' Alice commented."

"The Hatter replied: 'I haven't. The March Hare has had more than me.'"

"The March Hare said to the Hatter: 'Alice and I haven't had as much tea combined as you and the Dormouse.'"

"By this time, the Dormouse had closed his eyes, drifting off to sleep."

"But hearing his name, the Dormouse woke up and announced: 'Alice and I only drank as much as the March Hare and the Hatter.'"

"Mr. Mad Hatter, may I ask which cup was yours?" The Riddler smiled, looking at the Hatter, who lay in a hospital bed.

The Mad Hatter shot him a murderous look. Had his hands not been broken by Batman, he would have loved to splash all four cups of tea in the Riddler’s face.

"Why are you always picking on the Mad Hatter?" Poison Ivy walked through the door, greeted them, and handed a notebook to Falcone. "One of my little darlings found this. Is this the ledger?"

"That’s it." Falcone flipped through two pages and slammed it to the floor in a rage.

"If it’s real, why the face?" Poison Ivy asked, bewildered.

"This is the seventh one I’ve received today."