“Snap”

This crisp sound came from outside the door.

“It seems like an accidental trip of the circuit breaker,” Deathstroke thought, “The room has lost power.”

Should he go out and check the situation? The timing of the power outage seemed too coincidental.

He looked at the door, where a laser was still emanating from its center. The living room floor concealed semi-invisible transparent tripwires, and mines were buried in the walls, triggered by the handles in the kitchen.

Opening the kitchen would blow up the living room walls, a strange hobby of the homeowner who seemingly enjoyed killing guests from the kitchen. The collapsed walls would activate the tripwires, causing the entire ceiling to fall, which, in turn, would trigger the door to shoot lasers erratically. It appeared the only safe place was the bedroom, but the room seemed void of clues, and Deathstroke contemplated leaving through the bedroom window.

“If only there weren’t long, firework-like spikes by the bedroom window.”

“It looks like the person living here is constantly thinking about how to turn themselves into fireworks,” Deathstroke, usually a man of few words, couldn’t help but make a remark at this moment. “Maybe this place isn’t meant for living at all?”

Who would sleep in such a bed? For self-torture?

Now, he had two choices: leave or stay.

Clearly a trap, staying seemed unlikely to yield any clues, and for safety, he should leave. A conclusion any mercenary would draw.

But Deathstroke’s attention was drawn to the marks on the floor — the tracks of the freezer wheels.

“I must admit…” He hung on the kitchen door with one hand, stepping on the edge of the sink, “Curiosity is a human trait.”

Inside the freezer, he might find more dangerous weapons, clues, or the secrets of Bella Bettywen.

But it is human nature to be curious.

However, before that, Deathstroke habitually analyzed everything he saw and quickly came to effective conclusions, the basis for his long-term victories.

“No garbage in the trash can, no creases on the bed, no stains in the sink, and the room shows signs of a hastily covered-up battle…” He wiped the edge of the sink, his glove picking up some inconspicuous dust. “Obviously, the target person doesn’t live here, unless she doesn’t eat, drink, or sleep. This place is a trap filled with dangerous items…”

If the entire house was filled with dangerous weapons and ambushes, then what was stored in the freezer he was standing on shouldn’t be cold storage food like frozen meat.

Even Bella Bettywen’s home didn’t have a single bowl.

It was time to pull the ribbon off the Christmas gift box. He forcefully opened the freezer’s glass—

Two bodies lay closely together inside the freezer.

A girl, dead from a broken neck, her neck clearly twisted.

A man in strange armor, with no apparent cause of death.

But—

“Not bodies,” Deathstroke thought. “There’s no smell of corpses.”

He had killed too many people. He knew what a dead person would be like. They looked like corpses at a glance, but there was no smell of decay or blood.

Deathstroke first grabbed the girl by the shoulders and pulled her out. She was thin, wearing only a white robe, looking no more than eighteen. Her head tilted gently to one side, her eyes half-open, revealing lifeless, pale green eyes.

She was dead.

Then, he plunged his katana into a gap in the armor on the man’s shoulder. The katana slid in easily, and blood slowly seeped out.

“Alive?” If he had been frozen for a long time, the blood wouldn’t flow so easily. Since he was alive… Deathstroke frowned, immediately wanting to kill him.

But at that moment, he heard the sound of flying insects flapping their wings. A thumb-sized mechanical insect hit the kitchen cabinet and exploded into pieces.

Deathstroke: “!”

The next second, the walls collapsed, and a massive chain explosion completely engulfed him.

Bella Bettywen’s rented apartment was on the top floor, with only two units, and no one opposite.

Almost everyone in the old city district saw this scene. The fire appeared under the dark clouds. After seeing the light, a huge explosion was heard. Under the orange-red light, the entire floor was blown up, ash rose, tiles scattered, and screams filled the surroundings.

Neighbors hid in their homes, closed their doors, or fled, while flames burned on the ruins, lasting for ten minutes before Deathstroke barely opened his eyes.

He found himself lying on the rooftop of the adjacent building from the explosion. He had escaped with all his strength when the explosion happened but was still affected by the blast wave. A steel bar penetrated his right calf muscle.

The girl’s body was thrown into a corner by the explosion, while the man’s body, impaled with his katana, hung on the wall of Bettywen’s building, shaking. Squinting, Deathstroke stared at his weapon—

Suddenly, the man’s eyes opened!

“Damn it,” Deathstroke pulled the steel bar out of his leg. In those few seconds, the man had already pulled the knife from his neck and was no longer just a corpse. Supporting himself with one hand on the wall, countless snow-white knives, like butterfly wings, stabbed at him. Deathstroke parried all the blades, and they fought fiercely on the rooftop.

“Who are you—?” Deathstroke asked while fighting fiercely.

The man opened his mouth as if to say something but suddenly reached for his face.

His hood had been removed when he was killed, and now he wasn’t wearing the Owl Court’s hood.

A black giant bird flew in the gloomy sky, oppressively approaching the two.

The fighters tacitly separated and each chose a direction to flee.

Because they recognized that it wasn’t a bird—

“Batman…” Deathstroke thought to himself, “Next time I’ll play with you, but today is not the day.”

He had sneaked into the assassination target’s house to unravel the mysteries surrounding them, but instead, more mysteries emerged.

Upon leaving, he glanced at a corner of the rooftop and noticed that the girl’s body was gone. Could it have been taken by the mysterious man who revived?

Ironically, Talon, who had left earlier to avoid Batman, thought the same. He quickly entered the underground escape route, conscious of his conspicuous attire, and touched his face.

“Should… go back…” But to where?

Was there something missing from his face?

Confused, Talon removed his armor, realizing that doing so would aid his escape, though it made his heart flutter as if making a horrifying decision. Then he fled in a random direction.

After the two had fled, Batman, who arrived late, finally landed. He had to change from Bruce to Batman, which often took longer than finding excuses.

“It’s Slade, and a stranger. His equipment matches the assassin taken by the city hall last time, Penny One. They must be from the same organization.”

“Looks like Batman can’t just retire,” Alfred’s voice came through the communicator, “Also, check the explosion site. The house belongs to the city hall, rented to…”

“Oh, Miss Bella Bettywen, now the prison warden.”

Batman was silent for a moment: “After the explosion, Slade and the assassin fought, and he was injured,” he used his grappling hook, landing on the ruins, “The device shows the place was rigged with explosives, perhaps an ambush for Bettywen.”

Alfred: “…So the assassin was confident in his regenerative abilities?”

“No,” Batman dismissed his conclusion, “In my fight with that organization’s assassin, they relied more on their combat skills and undying nature… Assassins are assassins, not bomb maniacs.”

The room’s furniture was destroyed, leaving only remnants of the explosion, making it hard to find clues. His device scanned the room, detecting blood but was unable to pinpoint it due to the ongoing fire.

“Looks like there was a fight here,” he said, “Perhaps a third party also wanted to kill Bettywen, pre-planting the bombs.”

“And Slade and the assassin triggered the bombs during their fight,” Alfred suggested.

“The question is, why do so many people want to kill Miss Bettywen?” Batman pondered, returning to the rooftop, never ignoring any clues. “Slade is employed by Black Mask, likely provoked by Bettywen’s online recording. It’s a challenge. The assassin first appeared in the Eastern District, intending to kill Mr. C’s men. Maybe the real target is the mayor, with both C and Bella being his collaborators.”

The most puzzling part now was the third party.

Who moved so many explosives, and who initially targeted Bettywen, inadvertently ambushing Mourning Bell and the assassin?

Their simultaneous intrusion was too coincidental, making Batman suspect there was more to uncover.

He paused on a spot on the rooftop.

“Penny One,” he said, “besides Slade and the assassin, there was a third party.”

There were impressions of a human form in the dust and drag marks, carefully erased by the dragger using the body to wipe away their own footprints.

Batman followed the trail to the rooftop edge, only to find an open sewer entrance and maintenance signs, with workers gone.

—Such construction sites were common in the city, like patches.

“According to the marks, the person…” Batman looked at the explosion site, “left from Bella’s room, then passed out. During his unconsciousness, someone appeared, likely having seen the explosion… and took the unconscious third person during Mourning Bell and the assassin’s fight.”

“The case is getting more complicated,” Alfred noted, “Did the fourth person escape through the sewer?”

“Yes,” Batman confirmed, “I now think the mayor’s plan is good. The sewers do need a thorough cleanup, even though it’s a big project.”

Gotham’s sewers needed fixing, with cameras and regular maintenance, to prevent criminals from escaping through them. Homeless should be taken to shelters, making the sewers no longer an escape route.

The fourth person was careful, and Batman, though doubting he’d find more clues, still descended into the sewer.

---

“Sorry, I can’t come back tonight,” Millie said on the phone, “It’s rare for you to have a day off.”

“Scott will be with me, you be careful,” Rat Catcher Sheila said calmly, while a mouse on her shoulder also squeaked.

Millie couldn’t tell that the sound wasn’t really from “Scott.” The real Scott was currently in the sewers, commanding other rats to destroy evidence.

Millie chuckled, “Okay, I’ve been really busy lately… I heard there was an explosion nearby, you weren’t involved, were you?”

Sheila paused, “No.”

After hanging up, Sheila pulled back the bathroom curtain, staring at the person lying in the bathtub.

Or rather… a corpse?

It was just collecting a body for the lady mayor, a calm Sheila thought as she closed the curtain.

This holiday was still quite ordinary.