Chapter 3329 Bloodshed in New City (Fifty-Two)

Chapter 3303 Bloodshed in New City (Fifty-two)

Batman had never seen Gordon so embarrassed.

While he was standing in Gordon's office waiting for him, he saw James Gordon, who was soaking wet, walk in from the door. Because the heating in the police station was insufficient, he shivered a little.

Batman watched him walk in silently, followed him with his eyes and asked, "What did you do?"

"Nothing." Gordon took a deep breath and said, "I just accidentally fell into the Gotham River and saved someone by the way."

"Who?"

"Landon Havitzer, who was just released on bail."

"Why was he in the Gotham River?"

Gordon glanced at Batman, and Batman had never seen such a look. This made Batman's heart jump, because he always felt that his old friend was beginning to become strange.

"Will he appear in court?" Batman asked.

"I don't know." Gordon went to the lounge to change clothes. He came out in a dry uniform, and his hair was still wet. But he didn't wipe it, but just collapsed on the chair.

Batman saw that his face was extremely pale, not just because of fatigue. There was something inexplicable that was devouring him from the inside.

Gordon closed his eyes, and scattered images began to flash through his mind.

No one knew that James Gordon, who graduated from the police academy, was the student with the highest success rate in ground pursuit among the graduates of the Chicago Police Academy. His driving skills were very good.

After becoming the police chief, he rarely used this technology. And just yesterday, he forced Havitzer's car into the river.

Then he stood on the bridge and saw Schiller's figure.

Schiller saw him. Gordon was very sure of this, and he might even be chasing him. He planned all this. Once he took action, there would be no turning back.

A second before the car was about to be completely submerged, Gordon jumped off the bridge. He fished out Havitzer and his lawyer who were half drowned.

He thought Schiller would try to stop it, but he just stood quietly on the river bank, watching Gordon use all his strength to rescue the two people, then called an ambulance and sent them to the hospital.

The police car Gordon drove over was scrapped. Just as he was soaking wet and stumbling towards the nearest road, another car stopped in front of him.

The window was lowered, revealing Schiller's face. Gordon said nothing and sat silently in the passenger seat.

"Which do you think will arrive first, the thank-you letter or the handcuffs?" Schiller asked.

Gordon rarely asked Schiller if he minded him smoking, but took out a cigarette with trembling fingers and held it in his mouth. The weak flame of the lighter swayed at the end of the cigarette several times before it was successfully lit.

Gordon took a deep breath and leaned back, just like an addict addicted to pleasure.

"What are you thinking about?" Schiller asked again.

"I'm thinking about which prison is more suitable for me."

"Did they see it was you?" Schiller turned his head and asked him while turning the steering wheel, as if complaining, "You are too careless to drive a police car."

"Isn't this what you want?" Gordon said, looking out the window with a cigarette in his hand, "The reporters should have rushed to the hospital?"

"I'm afraid so." Schiller nodded and said, "Soon you will see the scene of Hawizer accusing the police of killing people on TV. I won't ask you what you plan to do. I just want to ask, what were you thinking at the moment you jumped off the bridge?"

Gordon's eyes were a little empty, as if he had emptied all his thoughts and was not thinking about anything. But when he heard Schiller's question, he came back to his senses and touched the police badge on his chest with his hand.

"I'm not saving him, I'm saving myself."

Schiller paused on the steering wheel, and his tone finally fluctuated. He said, "Am I the first person who wants to emphasize your stupidity to you so much?"

"Of course not." Gordon actually laughed. He said, "You came too late. Not only are you not the first, you are not even in the top 100."

"Who is the first one?"

"The instructor at the Chicago Police Academy, my teacher. He said that if I choose to throw myself into a pile of dog shit, I must be prepared to become a maggot one day."

Gordon lit another cigarette, gritted his teeth and frowned, and his voice revealed a fierce temperament that he had never shown to anyone, like a wolf that had been hungry for a few days and suddenly smelled blood.

"It seems that you don't understand one thing. I uphold the rules not because I admire these things that have never been able to protect ordinary people well. I do this to maintain my status."

"If the law only protects the interests of the upper class, then I who uphold the law are just a lackey in another sense. I am not unaware of this, but I need this position more than anyone else."

Gordon raised his head again, his eyes blurred in the smoke. He held a cigarette in his hand and said, "The kindness of the weak is a burden and is useless. Only with a gun in hand can you save people. And in order for them to hand the gun to me with confidence, I must be a rule defender and let them think I am an obedient dog."

"But now you are not." Schiller said, "You opened your mouth, but you didn't bite people to death. They will soon realize that you are not safe."

"They never really thought I was safe, they just couldn't do anything to me. Just like you."

Schiller turned his head to look at him and slammed on the brakes. Gordon's forehead hit the car window on one side. The sign of the Gotham Police Department glowed in the morning mist.

"You're here." Schiller said.

Gordon took the last puff of his cigarette, turned to Schiller and said, "I know you're not really helpless, but no matter what your purpose is for not doing that, I have to thank you."

He got up and walked out of the car, but still opened the door, leaned over, looked at Schiller sitting in the driver's seat and said, "But I also want to warn you, it's best not to fall into my hands."

With a bang, the car door was closed. Schiller watched Gordon walk into the police station, and he also reached out for a cigarette, but after lighting it, he didn't smoke it, but quietly watched the smoke drift in the car.

He had to admit that when he saw Gordon jumping off the Gotham Bridge, his brain stopped working for a moment, and he briefly forgot the countless strategies that surrounded his mind.

The Gotham Bridge is 187 meters high. If a human jumps from this height and touches the water, there is absolutely no chance of survival.

Gordon is not crazy, he is not committing suicide. He is betting that Schiller will save him.

Schiller used gray fog to destroy the tension of the water surface, allowing Gordon to enter the water safely and rescue two people.

Schiller didn't know how to evaluate James Gordon.

He rarely met such a complicated person in Marvel, who had both the characteristics of a hero and a madman, but they were perfectly integrated.

Schiller showed up just to put pressure on Gordon.

If he was not discovered, he could treat it as if it had never happened. But once there were bystanders, Schiller's existence would constantly remind him that he had broken his principles and no longer had the legitimacy and purity of the past.

When there is a stain on a pure white dress, there will be countless more. Because when people find that the first stain cannot be removed, they will assume that it doesn't matter how dirty the dress is. The same is true for police uniforms.

But Gordon found the only way out of this dead end - he chose to jump off the bridge and threw the question of "saving or not saving" back to Schiller.

And Schiller had no choice.

At this moment, Gordon was a madman. But most of the time, he was a hero.

And Schiller could never watch a hero die.

Schiller saved Gordon, but also left an eternal mystery. That is, if he didn't show up, would Gordon choose to save those two people?

Gordon will never answer this question, or perhaps this is also an answer.

He became the superfluous factor in his own plan, which did not make Schiller feel frustrated. He just had some feelings.

In such a city, it may be right for arrogance to choose to live his own life. No one here needs to be saved.

After finishing a cigarette, Schiller opened the car window and restarted the car. He arrived at the door of a bar, parked the car on the side of the bar, and walked in through the side door.

This is the downtown area. A person dressed like this walking into a cheap bar here will always attract attention. But the atmosphere in the bar was at its peak, and no one cared about Schiller sitting in the corner.

He ordered a glass of wine casually, sat down against the wall, and listened to the movement in the bar. The loudest sound was not the deafening passionate music, but the roar of a person.

"Boll is dead! This son of a bitch is finally dead! I don't care who that Hick is, he is the most fucking powerful boxer in this city! I will buy all his tickets next time he fights!"

Cheers immediately rang out in the bar. But soon, someone else said with a frown: "But there was another explosion on Lark Street, killing more than a dozen people. Do you think those criminals will come to our side?"

"Have you heard? Willy's daughter was assassinated." Someone suddenly said, "It seems that someone broke into her house and almost beat her to death. Fortunately, she ran fast."

"Willie? Is that the Gladiator Willy?" Someone immediately followed up, "It was him who took people to the gate of Boll's factory to get back the salary. Is it him?"

"That's him. That guy is a tough guy. I heard that he didn't run away after being hit by two batons, but the police were afraid of him. His daughter doesn't seem to be in high school yet?"

"It seems so. I met that girl once. Is she red-haired and has some freckles on her face?"

Someone suddenly stood up in the crowd. He was a fat man who looked more than 200 pounds and wore a baseball cap. He said, "I have to go to Willy's house to check. I can't let the little girl fall into the hands of those bastards."

"Are you crazy? The killers may not have left yet!"

"I'm not going to fight them, I'm just going to check. If I can find her, I'll ask my aunt to secretly send her to Blüdhaven. At least she won't lose her life this way."

"I'll go with you. We'll just hang around her house. She shouldn't run too far."

"Then I'll go too. I'll keep watch for you."

The noise in the bar soon ended, and Schiller finished a glass of wine. Fiona was smarter than he thought. She learned quickly, or maybe the Pale Knight taught her something. It would be good for her to announce the news of the assassination.

Schiller drove to Willy's house. He arrived quickly, and the group hadn't arrived yet. He saw that the door was opened, glass fragments were all over the floor, and there was blood in the middle of the living room.

Schiller put on his shoe covers, walked around the living room twice, tutted his lips, and said, "You are still too naive."

After that, he returned to the car, took out a bottle of windshield washer fluid from the trunk, and returned to the house. After unscrewing the bottle cap, the liquid in the bottle was dark red.

After handling everything, Schiller sat in the car and watched through the car window as a group of people sneaked to Willy's door.

The man who stretched his head to look into the window screamed immediately.

"Blood! There is blood!!!"