Chapter 30: Batman’s Fan

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“Hm? You know Batman’s true identity?” Jason realized what he meant. “How did you find out?”

“It’s a little secret between him and me,” Roland said. “But don’t go blabbing about it. If the wrong people find out, it’ll cause trouble.”

“I know. Just the bounty Falcone has placed on Batman would be enough to buy a house in the central district.” Jason nodded. “If people found out I knew, I could get kidnapped any day.”

“Exactly. But if you really are kidnapped, tell them Batman is Hugo Strange,” Roland said, then returned to his newspaper.

“Who’s that? What did he do to offend you?” Jason asked curiously.

“Hugo Strange is a fan of Batman—an obsessive one. He was utterly fascinated by studying Batman, but eventually research alone could no longer satisfy his desire. So he began dressing up as Batman to satisfy himself,” Roland explained. “But if you don’t get kidnapped, don’t go spreading that around.”

“That desire has crossed the line from bizarre into downright perverted.”

“In Gotham, though, that’s practically normal,” Roland said.

As everyone knew, the entire city of Gotham was full of Batman fans. The inmates and criminals locked away in Arkham Asylum and Blackgate Penitentiary were all twisted Batman fanatics as well.

And the Joker was the chairman of the Batman Fan Club.

Thinking of the Joker, Roland fell into thought once more. He wondered how the man was doing. April Fool’s Day was only a little over half a month away—the Joker’s own personal holiday—and surely he would not miss it.

Then there was Harley. Roland had asked Gordon about her condition a couple of days ago, and, unsurprisingly, she had once again become the Joker’s bootlicking… girlfriend.

He wondered whether he could earn more redemption points if he helped Harley turn over a new leaf again.

“Boss, something terrible has happened!”

“What is it this time?” Roland had long grown accustomed to his men making a fuss. He leisurely took a sip of coffee and set the newspaper on the table. “Catch your breath before you speak. I’m worried you’ll pass out from not breathing.”

“It’s at the docks. A ship has capsized.”

“So it sank. What does that have to do with us?”

“The ship was carrying fur. A lot of the crates are still floating in the water. If we fish out even one and sell it, we could make quite a bit of money!”

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“Then what are we waiting for?” Roland rose to his feet. “Let’s go. We’re going to salvage them.”

“Wait. There’s one problem. Quite a few gangs are already there, and they’ve started shooting at one another over the cargo.”

“Then I’ll go take a look first.” Roland thought for a moment. “Jason, find a truck and bring it around to back me up.”

“Got it.” Jason nodded and pulled out the lock picks he carried with him.

Roland mounted a motorcycle. It had been donated to him a few days earlier by a young man who had been tearing up the streets nearby.

At the time, the deafening roar of the engine and the thunderous exhaust had shattered the peace of the night, waking Roland from a sound sleep.

Roland had then chased after the young man at full speed and used his belt to teach him that street racing and revving through the neighborhood not only endangered traffic on public roads, but also caused tremendous inconvenience and posed serious safety risks to the people living nearby.

After receiving his lesson, the rider immediately vowed to mend his ways and gave his motorcycle to Roland.

The Docks

Quite a few of the crates floating around the sunken ship had already been hauled ashore. A gunfight had broken out on the docks, however, as two smuggling gangs had opened fire on the local thugs.

The scene was utter chaos. Several factions were locked in a savage battle, and people nearby were constantly being dragged into the crossfire. Among them were even several officers from the Gotham City Police Department’s SWAT team, crouched behind a truck and exchanging fire with the gunmen.

Roland squeezed the brake and executed a graceful skid, coming to a stop beside the SWAT team.

“Gentlemen, what’s going on here?”

“Who are you?” Two SWAT officers aimed their guns at Roland.

“I’m just a priest passing through. Can’t you tell?” Roland shook the several crosses hanging from his clothing, then pulled a few Bibles from inside his coat and handed them to the officers.

“…He really is a priest.”

Seeing Roland produce several different editions of the Bible, the SWAT officers immediately believed him. After all, no ordinary person would carry that many books around.

“Hello. My name is Boone, and I’m the SWAT team commander.” Boone introduced himself. “Father, this place is dangerous. You should leave immediately.”

“Oh, I’ll take a quick look and be on my way.” As Roland spoke, he twisted the throttle. The motorcycle tore through the storm of bullets and carried him to a high vantage point.

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“These cops… They don’t look like good men.”

Roland sensed that Boone’s presence here was suspicious. Once he reached the high ground, he immediately released a weasel spirit to listen to the sounds around him.

“Captain, I think there’s something strange about that priest. He may have figured something out. Why did you let him go?”

“What could he possibly have figured out?” Boone gave a disdainful snort. “What, do you think he’s received a divine revelation?”

“I felt that the way he was looking at us was strange… Besides, killing him here wouldn’t matter. We could simply say he was hit by a stray bullet. Even if he is a clergyman, no one would investigate too closely under circumstances this chaotic.”

“That isn’t why I let him go. Didn’t you notice? That priest is highly skilled, and his riding is exceptional too.” Boone frowned. “I’m not confident I could take him out immediately.”

“At this distance? That’s impossible. What, can he dodge bullets?” One of the officers shook his head. “How could that be?”

“Perhaps he can…” Boone looked at several of his men. “It’s just a hunch. My instincts have saved my life countless times. You don’t trust them?”

“Well…” Several members of the SWAT team exchanged glances. Boone did indeed possess an uncanny intuition, and it had allowed him to lead his team out of danger time and again.

“So all we need to do now is eliminate the smuggling gang that knows too much. We can leave the priest alone. Let him go. Even if he does know something, can he really interfere with us?”

“Yes.”

The SWAT officers still had their doubts, but for now they followed their commander’s orders.

“Well, look at that. They’re certainly no innocents. They’re actually trying to pull something like this on me.” Roland had heard the SWAT team’s conversation. “Looks like these men have some connection to the smugglers.”

Still, the matter had nothing to do with Roland. He would leave such troubles to Commissioner Gordon.

Then again, Gordon was still only a police captain. The commissioner of the Gotham City Police Department was still Killian B. Rob.

Given Killian B. Rob’s methods, such conduct among his subordinates was hardly unusual. After all, if the SWAT team did not take a cut, how could the captain take one? If the captain did not take one, how could the commissioner take one? If the commissioner did not take one, how could the mayor of Gotham take one? And if none of them took anything, how were they supposed to get ahead?

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