Chapter 2320: Gotham Music Festival (22)_1

Not far from the Wayne Hotel, outside the guestroom door of the Stanis Hotel, a black big guy stared at the invitation letter in his hand with astonishment. He sized up the waiter who had delivered the letter and said in a very obvious West Coast accent, "You sure this is for me? You really didn't get it wrong?"

"Your name is on the invitation, sir," the waiter said with a very nice attitude, smiling and gesturing with his hand.

The black big guy flipped the invitation over, but the first thing that caught his eye wasn't the complicated cursive English, but a pattern combining a wave and a ship that shone in bright gold against the black background of the invitation. He rubbed it with his hand and found that it was indeed real gold foil.

Then he found his name underneath, The Notorious B.I.G. (Mr. Infamous), and below his nickname was his equally lengthy real name, Christopher Wallace.

Biggie had been estranged from this name for a long time, no one called him Christopher anymore, except his mother. Since his last album made a big splash, the whole world had forgotten the black boy who had been in and out of jail several times, and instead, they revered the true tough guy of the East Coast rap scene.

Turning the invitation over, Christopher found, written in small letters in the lower-left corner of the back, "Dakotazo welcomes your esteemed presence."

It wasn't until then that Christopher snorted coldly; he knew that those high-society rednecks would never invite a black rap artist to perform. It turned out to be a gambling ship.

This ship was quite famous along the East Coast for one reason: it was the only ship that had evaded the inspection of all the Coast Guard and National Guard, earning its reputation as a sanctum for East Coast gamblers.

Of course, there were plenty of similar gambling ships around the world, some even more luxurious, and to suck every penny from the gamblers, they would sail as far away as possible, providing all the essentials for life on board, and the trips could last for several months.

The so-called international waters gambling depicted in movies actually refers to these gambling ships, with participants usually rich or noble, each game lavish in spending, a scene the ordinary gamblers could hardly glimpse.

So if it were just a gambling ship for the entertainment of the upper class, Dakotazo wouldn't be so famous. What really made this ship notorious was the Aladdin's Magic Lamp gambling game they released on their official website every six months.

The Aladdin's Magic Lamp game claimed to be open to everyone. If you were in trouble and managed to obtain a ticket to board, just win the gamble, and the Lamp would solve all your problems, just like in the legend of Aladdin's magic lamp.

Such a storyline is common in movies, thus not so attractive. Everyone knows there's no such thing as a free lunch. With such enticing terms, the difficulty of winning must be high. But what price must one pay after losing?

Sane, sober people think this game is just another name for human trafficking. Those who board because of big trouble are certainly already abandoned by everyone, and the police wouldn't bother with them either. If they disappeared, it would be better for everyone, a perfect trafficking target.

However, there are those who question this view. On one hand, ordinary gamblers have exhausted glamorous words to describe the luxury of Dakotazo, saying it's like a different country, with immense wealth from the sea buried beneath its cabins.

They're all so wealthy, able to create a ship that dodges all Coast Guard searches undetected, would they care about the profits from human trafficking? And if they wanted to traffic people, why not operate monthly? There's no shortage of troubled people in the world. As long as the frequency is high enough, they won't lack for willing participants.

The legends surrounding Dakotazo persist without consensus, but that doesn't stop the wealthy from the East Coast and the truly desperate losers from boarding the ship.

What really drove the ship's fame to its peak was another rule of the Lamp game—those on board could challenge a random person to a gamble. The challengee didn't have to be on the ship, could be anywhere, didn't even need to be someone the challenger knew personally. Just having their name and identity information was enough.

After issuing the challenge, Dakotazo would send an invitation to the challenged party. They could choose to accept or decline, and if accepted, they could board the ship on a chosen date. If they won, all the prizes that originally belonged to the gambler would be theirs.

Of course, if the challenger won, then the challenged party who boarded would also have to bear the consequences of losing.

It sounded somewhat unfair, as the challenged parties weren't in trouble and the rewards they could win might not be what they wanted. But the interesting part was that the identity of the challenger would be written on the invitation sent to the challenged.

The challenged could of course refuse, toss the invitation aside, and not board. No one could force them. But humans are such creatures that always consider revenge a part of their vested interests, even above any other benefit, even if it's just to gamble their lives against the other party, they feel it's worth it.

Christopher had no intention of boarding the ship. His album creation was in a dry spell of inspiration, and he intended to find some during the music festival. He wasn't one of those idle teenagers, he had his own career to attend to and no time for this nonsense.

But suddenly, Christopher thought of the rule about challengers and challenged parties. Could it be that this ship wasn't inviting him to perform but that someone had challenged him?

Christopher felt a shock in his heart and, as if with a premonition, he opened the invitation. Indeed, another paragraph of text appeared in the letter, and what it said didn't matter. What mattered was the signature at the end—"Tupac Amaru Shakur," also his old friend and rival 2pac, with whom he'd had intense conflicts recently.

Christopher stood in silence, unable to comprehend why Tupac would use such a method. Why was he being so aggressive?

This was a question many people wanted to ask Tupac. Why were your lyrics and viewpoints so aggressive? Why was your attitude toward life so combative? Why was your rap style so violent?

Christopher, holding the invitation, his dark face growing even more somber, finally handed the invitation back to the waiter and said, "See you at the docks tonight."

The hand clutching the invitation gradually became slender and elongated. Shiller withdrew his gaze from the black invitation letter, and Hal looked at him and said, "Who did you offend? Or rather, who managed to offend you and is still alive to tell the tale?"

Hal anticipated Shiller's answer would be something filled with philosophical innuendos and contradictions, perhaps about some old friend he hadn't met before.

Instead, he heard Shiller say, "Who cares who it is, I'm not going; I'm busy."

It was then that Hal realized this Shiller wasn't the Professor, and compared to the Professor, he finally seemed a bit like a modern American, focusing on benefits and efficiency instead of dwelling on the past every day.

Hal leaned in and noticed that Shiller was holding a hefty book filled with messy annotations that clearly weren't written by Shiller. After looking at it for a while, Hal said, "Constantine? Is this his book?"

"Correct, I just borrowed it from him. There's an important issue I need to research."

Hal sized up Shiller as if he were a stranger and said, "Then why didn't you directly ask Constantine? He should have no reason not to tell you."

"He doesn't know either, and he's a complete waste of time. It's faster to search for the answer myself," Shiller said, rapidly flipping through the book, scanning each entry, and quickly searching for the information he needed.

Hal shivered, this Shiller was too strange, overexcited, manic, full of drive, looking like a machine that couldn't stop. Hadn't those visitors from Different Worlds thought about fixing him?

"Alright, keep looking, I'm planning to go have another drink at Lucifer's…"

"Hold on, tell me about the Green Lantern Corps first. Is the plan still going smoothly?"

"It's not bad, but…"

Just as Hal began to speak, he noticed his cellphone ringing, so he answered the call and said to the person on the other end, "Hello? Oliver? Yeah, what's up? Didn't you say you weren't coming? Okay, Shiller and I will come to pick you up."

"Oliver's coming." Hal said, visibly pleased: "I thought he was too busy to make it. Now that he's coming, we're all together again. We'll also call Clark and Diana and have a good drink at the bar."

"You go… Wait, where was Oliver before this?"

"Of course, in Mexico, he's always been in Mexico. What about it?"

Shiller frowned slightly and said, "Nothing, you're right, we should go pick him up and then give him a proper welcome. Let's go."

Hal was confused, finding this Shiller too hard to understand, his thoughts scattered, talking all over the place, often contradicting himself, lacking the Professor's logical nature.

Having dealt with the Professor so much, Hal didn't mind his slow speech or incomplete statements, because as long as he spoke, it was usually highly logical and to the point.

But this Shiller's speech was muddled, somewhat unclear, and a bit like playing dumb. When it came to comprehension, it made people feel as though this interpretation could work, or that one could as well, highlighting a sense of ambiguity that always left one uncertain and wanting another look.

Hal shook his head, still, the joy of Oliver's return outweighed his confusion, and he immediately grabbed his car keys to drive down, but Shiller said on the way, "Oliver should have already arrived, he's probably waiting at the dock by now. If we drive there, he'd have to wait at least half an hour."

"I heard Clark and Diana were at the docks playing earlier in the day. It might be better to have them pick up Oliver first, and we'll meet at the bar."

Hal thought it made sense and figured it was indeed inappropriate to have Oliver wait so long at the dock after such a long trip. Better to let Clark take him to the dock to sit and relax first.

Hal meant to call Clark, but Shiller stopped him and said, "Call Diana; Clark will get as excited as you did when he learns Oliver is back, and a person weary from traveling may not have the energy to handle that kind of excitement. Also, it wouldn't be nice if Clark felt left out."

"Goodness, Doctor," Hal said, looking at Shiller in amazement: "To think you can be so thoughtful. Keep this up, and you might just shake the foundation of my friendship with the Professor."

"I think he would be very pleased."

Again with the ambiguous phrases, but Hal had no time to ponder them as he took out his phone to call Diana. In his haste, he didn't see Shiller also pick up his own phone dialing Clark's number.