Chapter 31: I Thought It Was a Speed Bump

Roland stood on the high ground, observing the surrounding situation, when he suddenly noticed footsteps approaching him.

Two minutes later, a middle-aged man walked out, dressed in a sharp suit, white shirt, white gloves, and a bowtie. He carried a cello case on his back, appearing much like a musician.

The man froze upon seeing Roland, then immediately drew a handgun from his waistband, intending to execute a swift, American-style draw.

Before he could pull the trigger, however, Roland’s fist had already buried itself into his stomach. The immense force instantly drained the man of his strength, sending him into a violent, gut-wrenching fit of retching.

"Not bad physical conditioning; that didn't even knock you out," Roland remarked with a hint of surprise. He struck the man’s neck with a precise blow, rendering him unconscious.

Opening the cello case, he found exactly what he expected: a strangely designed sniper rifle.

"That is so Gotham," Roland muttered. In Gotham, one must be wary of anyone carrying an opaque container, as experience has proven time and again that they are often filled with all manner of weaponry.

Still, it was rare to see someone carry a case with such an air of natural elegance. Roland glanced at the sniper again; the man’s attire looked every bit that of a gentleman.

With that thought, Roland stripped the man of his suit, intending to take it with him later.

"Why is it that every time I see you, you’re doing something I can’t quite comprehend?" a familiar voice echoed beside him.

"Why is it that every time you appear, you have to be so eerie? You nearly scared me," Roland said, setting the suit aside and turning to Batman. "Since when do you handle gang shootouts?"

"The chaos is spreading and has already affected many innocent civilians," Batman replied. "I have to contain them."

"Go ahead, then. I’ll keep watch from here," Roland waved Batman off and returned his attention to the cargo.

Batman, long past the point of wanting to argue with Roland, dove into the crowd, disarming gang members one by one. The situation below descended into further disarray, allowing the SWAT team to slip away toward a specific location.

"Damn it, that freak in the bat-suit... I thought he only came out at night? Why is he out in broad daylight?" a leather-clad gangster cursed.

"I don't know, boss, but he's still a distance away. Should we make a run for it?"

"Run? That freak is only scary at night. Is he bulletproof or something? Let's use this chance to rush the cargo!" No sooner had he finished speaking than a gunshot rang out. Blood splattered, and the underling collapsed.

"What? Damn it, that’s a Glock 19. Did the police arrive?"

"Boss, there are several police officers heading our way! Their firepower is too heavy; the boys can't hold them off!"

"Damn it, it’s Boone! They’re here to silence us..." The gang leader watched as the familiar face approached, swallowing hard. "Captain Boone, I’ve even bought you dinner before..."

Before he could finish, Boone drew his sidearm and pointed it directly at him.

A dull thud of a gunshot echoed. A hole appeared in the leader's head, spraying red and white fluid, and his body slumped to the ground.

"Too much talk," Boone muttered, uninterested in further conversation. He holstered his weapon. "Now we don't have to worry about the truth coming out. Let's go. Circle around Batman; we’re leaving."

"Yes, sir."

But what Boone didn't know was that this scene had been witnessed by two people: an unscrupulous priest on the high ground and an elderly, one-armed policeman in a nearby alley.

"Good grief, that was a decisive way to silence witnesses, and he took out his own men in the process. Ruthless," Roland couldn't help but click his tongue.

Just then, Boone stopped in his tracks, as if he had heard him.

*Huh? He heard me from that far away? That's not right,* Roland frowned, sensing something amiss.

"Captain, what happened?"

"I felt like someone was watching us." Boone looked toward the high ground and aimed his weapon. "Come out."

"Put the gun down, Boone. Don't keep making the wrong choices." A middle-aged, one-armed policeman stepped out of the alley, looking at the squad members with a sense of helplessness. "Boone, White, Ruhl... you were all my colleagues. We fought side-by-side. Why..."

"Hollihan, you shouldn't be here." Boone’s face turned pale; he hesitated for a moment. "If you can, I hope you’ll keep this a secret for me."

"Boone, you know that's impossible." Hollihan frowned deeply, his expression filled with regret. "You know what kind of man I am. Turn yourself in."

"That’s even more impossible." Boone stared at him coldly and raised his weapon. "Goodbye, Hollihan."

The next moment, a Batarang struck his pistol, knocking it to the ground. Simultaneously, two other officers were struck down by a shadowy cape.

"Batman!" Boone roared, attempting to attack, but the cold sting of a blade against his throat warned him that a single step closer would cost him his life.

"Drop your weapon. Surrender," Batman said coldly.

"You..." Boone tried to struggle, but the edge of the Batarang pressed firmly against his Adam's apple.

"Drop your weapon. Surrender," Batman repeated.

Boone closed his eyes. He knew there was no possibility of escape.

The Gotham City Police arrived shortly after to take the SWAT team into custody. Under Commissioner Gordon’s interrogation, Boone quickly confessed to acting as a protector for the smuggling ring and the subsequent murders.

"Sigh, I used to think Boone was quite capable. I never expected..." Gordon smoked in a secluded corner.

"People are complex," Batman said. "He may have been a good cop once, but that doesn't change the choices he made later."

"I still don't feel right about it," Gordon sighed. "By the way, the situation is under control, but where did that salvaged shipment of furs go?"

"Likely taken by someone who knew what they were doing," Batman replied.

At the docks, Roland floored the accelerator of the cargo truck, speeding away into the distance.

"Damn it, those gang members are still trying to block us!" Jason yelled from the passenger seat, his expression grim.

"Ignore them. Trying to stop me with these little cars? A joke!" Roland pressed harder on the gas. "I thought they were just speed bumps!"