Chapter 32: Unsettled Times

"Age?"
"Twenty-four. I'm a restaurant server."
"Gender?"
"Male."
"Name?"
"Ma Zhaodi."

Staring at the harsh, pale light of the interrogation room, Ma Zhaodi couldn't help but squint.

"Officer, I was just driving by. Is it really necessary to bring me in for questioning?"
"You don't look like a good person."

Facing such a blunt and straightforward response, Ma Zhaodi was speechless for a few seconds.

"Wait a moment, where did my glasses go... Oh, here they are."

He slid his gold-rimmed glasses onto his face, instantly projecting an air of a refined scoundrel.

"How so?"
"You can leave once your statement is recorded. Remember to take your personal belongings."

How thoughtful.

"You're likely a first-timer here, so you're not used to it. But don't worry; in Gotham, I run into people from every gang sooner or later. We'll have plenty of chances to deal with each other."

Oh, that comment had a hint of gunpowder in it.

"But I'm not with any of Gotham's gangs," Ma Zhaodi said, shaking his head. "I just work at the restaurant."

The blonde, veteran detective across from him had deep, penetrating eyes. He scrutinized Ma Zhaodi’s expression, seemingly judging whether he was lying.

"But you know how that restaurant operates, don't you?"
"I do, but only a little." He shrugged. "Regardless, I try not to get involved in their business. I just work there—I’m a law-abiding citizen, Officer."

"Interesting..." The detective examined Ma Zhaodi’s hands, wrists, and neck. There were indeed no calluses from prolonged firearm use, nor were there any Falcone family gang tattoos.

"For the sake of your youth, let me give you a piece of advice: don't stay at that restaurant much longer."
"But they really do pay well..."

Ma Zhaodi answered reflexively. Looking at the man’s blonde hair and mustache, he suddenly felt a sense of familiarity, so he asked instinctively, "Pardon me, may I ask your name?"

"You don't know me?" He smiled. "That's not a bad thing. At least it means you haven't caused any trouble in Gotham."
"I'm Gordon. Jim Gordon."

...

After leaving the Gotham City Police Department, Ma Zhaodi drove home.

Ugh, brilliant. Now I'm on Jim Gordon's radar too.

Including Harvey Dent, whom I’ve run into before, if I get targeted by Batman, I’ll have the Gotham "Iron Triangle" complete. Ma Zhaodi could only hope to remain a model citizen and pray he wouldn't attract the Batman's attention.

However...

"The president of Gotham Bank resigned and was murdered?" he mused. "Is this a precursor to some event? I have absolutely no memory of this."

He unlocked his door and stepped inside. Outside the window, the world was pitch black, and the hour hand of the distant, massive clock tower pointed toward two. At such an hour, he hadn't encountered any robbers or thieves along the way—perhaps because of the notorious reputation of his car.

"Sigh, only a workaholic like Gordon would haul someone into the station for a statement at this hour."

He sighed, opened the Gotham News homepage on his phone, typed "Gotham Bank" into the search bar, and hit search.

News headlines appeared in chronological order. One caught his eye: "Gotham Bank and Falcone Company Nearing Partnership." He tapped on it.

"Since June, the partnership proposal between Falcone Import Company and Gotham Bank has been in intense preparation. After months of negotiations, Bank President Richard Daniel stated that, as president, he was willing to facilitate this cooperation, considering it would provide Gotham Bank with millions in available capital..."

"Damn, who has the guts to sabotage the Falcone business? Wait, that’s not right. He’s the godfather of Gotham’s underworld—why is he starting an import company?"

"Money laundering?"

He thought it over, then clicked on the most recent news item, which had been posted that morning.

"As of today, Gotham Bank President Richard Daniel has officially announced his resignation. He refused to disclose the specific reasons, only stating that he was unable to continue serving as president of Gotham Bank..."

Ma Zhaodi suddenly understood. Daniel must have made a deal with "The Roman." He was supposed to facilitate the partnership between the bank and the Falcone Import Company, but clearly, he had stood the Falcone family up.

He had resigned right before the deal was finalized, leaving the near-successful project without its key operator. The Roman's business deal had fallen through.

He recalled the faint, dying words the man had uttered on the road earlier.

"...leave Gotham... Paris... find a place..."

"No wonder he wanted to leave Gotham for Paris, France. And no wonder he resigned this morning only to be shot tonight. You really can't stand up a Roman... Revenge never waits until the next day. Is that the Falcone style?"

There was a follow-up report linked below the news.

"Following Richard Daniel's resignation, the successor for the next president of Gotham Bank has been announced: the Wayne Group’s own heir, Bruce Wayne. The famous playboy stated personally that he has absolutely no interest in so-called import companies, and suggested that Falcone Import Company should seek partnership with a different bank."

This news made Ma Zhaodi raise an eyebrow.

"This guy is a tough nut to crack. Bribery won't work, and threats aren't appropriate. If Falcone wants to make money or launder it, he probably can't use his usual tactics against Bruce Wayne."

But then again, why would an ordinary bank president dare to stand up the Roman? Was he truly not afraid of death?

And how did Bruce Wayne manage to seamlessly step in as the new bank president? Did he buy Gotham Bank?

He searched for more corporate news regarding Gotham Bank. To his surprise, the bank had always been a subsidiary of Wayne Enterprises.

In other words, Bruce Wayne’s stance was clearly against the partnership, yet the bank had nearly finalized the agreement before Daniel’s resignation interrupted it.

As the heir to the Wayne Group, this playboy Bruce seemed unable to dictate the decisions of his own company.

"Let me guess, the same old movie trope: the board of directors thinks money is money and it’s a sin not to take it, while Bruce thinks dirty mob money shouldn't be touched..."

He closed his phone, tossed it onto the table, and collapsed onto the sofa.

Sigh, judging by the Godfather’s "never give up until the goal is reached" philosophy, Gotham wasn't going to be very peaceful from here on out.

A lot less peaceful than usual, anyway.