Chapter 324 Bloodbath in New City (36)

"Don't look at me like that; they stuff themselves with rich food until they're bloated, inducing vomiting can be beneficial for health," Shiller said, ignoring Batman's disapproving gaze.

"Is that your excuse for poisoning others?"

"What poisoning! Don't say it like that!" Shiller's voice rose slightly, but as if afraid of attracting attention, he lowered his voice and continued, "It's not necessarily using chemical poison. Isn't it still poisoning if someone gets poisoned by eating toxic mushrooms?"

"But they are all gourmets, how could they not tell the difference between mushroom types?"

"Then apply chemical poison on non-toxic mushrooms. After they discern, they will still end up poisoned."

Batman was at a loss for words, he could only say, "Just tell me what you really want to do."

"I can't tell you now, you'll know very soon."

Shiller's "very soon" is usually sooner than "very soon." Batman realized this as soon as he got home because he received a letter in his mailbox.

The largest casino in Gotham, "Fels East Coast Paradise," had sent an invitation for a betting game to all its members. The bet concerned which convict would next escape from Arkham Asylum.

When Batman saw the letter, his head buzzed; the world had finally gone mad.

The letter even included a list of odds. Currently, Bane had the lowest odds, as everyone believed he would succeed in escaping because he was indeed very strong, almost always taking a leading role in every criminal activity and was bound to escape next time.

The ones with higher odds were those without any special traits, like Riddler. Though solving riddles is interesting, he's physically weak, making his chances of escaping from Arkham very slim.

Some were middle-ground, like Mad Hatter, who despite not being physically superior, has special abilities, and a group of people particularly favored such individuals, bringing their odds down.

Batman couldn't comment on this gambling game.

Indeed, in Gotham's upper class, crime is seen as an investment, but that's only idle talk at some dances, whispered during dances, and nobody would discuss such topics openly on news programs.

Is Fels not hiding it anymore?

But, believe it or not, the human race's pursuit of thrill is ingrained in their bones, especially these wealthy people who have nowhere else to spend their money, loving to play these life-or-death games.

Batman flipped the invitation over, noticing it wasn't the only game being wagered on. But this game was the biggest.

Other bets included the timing of the escape, the location of post-escape crimes, the number of deaths in the crime, the number of police deployed, etc.

The most outrageous bet was related to Batman himself, such as how many minutes after the attack starts Batman would appear, what equipment Batman would use, who Batman would catch first…

As he looked through the list of entries, Batman's fingers tightened on the invitation.

Any conscientious person couldn't help but feel angry seeing people treat human lives so flippantly.

What saddened Batman even more was knowing they would be interested, they would swarm to join in this thrilling game to satisfy their utterly hollow desires.

Batman took several deep breaths, forcing himself to calm down. He began to consider Shiller's role in all this.

Shiller was crossing a luxuriously decorated corridor, entering a splendidly adorned private room. A young man with striking golden hair and green eyes, surrounded by two voluptuous women, was directing a waiter to pour wine into his glass.

When he saw Shiller enter, he warmly stood up, shook hands with him, and then enthusiastically said, "Perfect! Sir! Within an hour after the invitations were sent, more than seventy people called me."

"Are they all regulars here?"

"Yes, very big fish." The young man laughed arrogantly, then said, "My brother can't compare with me now! My father will only kick that useless trash far away!"

"Calm down, Mr. Fels," Shiller said. "This is far from enough. We're not just after regulars, but everyone, I mean everyone from Gotham's upper class."

"Of course!" Mr. Fels raised his voice, "It's only been a short hour. Once the message spreads, I believe they'll all join."

Shiller didn't seem infected by his fervent mood. He simply found a chair and sat down, then said, "The main event coming up is to prevent them from rigging the game. They'll definitely try to do that, won't they?"

"Of course. As far as I know, Tuck that guy has several masters, they'll surely reach out."

"What are you planning to do?"

"Don't underestimate me, Mr. Shiller. If I were as useless as my brother, I wouldn't have taken over this casino from my father."

After saying this, he clapped his hands. A door on the side of the private room opened, and a slightly obese figure was pushed in, the director of Arkham Asylum, Tuck.

This chubby fellow was trembling, and before Mr. Fels even said a word, he began to weep and beg for mercy, saying from now on he would only serve the Fels family. But from the practiced ease of his movements, it was clear he had told many people the same thing.

However, Mr. Fels casually picked up a knife from a nearby apple, first slapped Tuck's cheek with the flat of the blade, then thrust the knife into Tuck's throat.

With a "splat," blood spattered. The director had ended both his career and his life.

Shiller sat in the chair, watching everything unfold without a flicker of emotion. Fels' eyes briefly darted towards him and then turned away, seemingly disappointed by not witnessing the scene he had hoped for.

"Who are you planning to replace?" Shiller asked, "You better be sure that this new director is a hundred percent incorruptible."

"I'll go personally, how about that?"

"If you want your brother to laugh at your funeral, you can proceed with that plan."

"What about you? What if I send you?"

Shiller said with a hint of impatience, "I don't want to beat around the bush here with you, Mr. Fels. Your irrelevant distrust only slows you down and causes you to miss the best opportunities."

"Alright." Fels shrugged, "Using a prison break to set up a betting pool is outrageous, it's like trampling on the face of the Federal Government. To prevent such vile incidents, the Gotham Police Department must do their utmost."

"James Gordon, what do you think?" Fels spread his hands, "I heard his new anti-terror squad is quite capable; moving them there should be enough to handle those people."

"And how do you plan to move them? Do you think our stubborn new mayor will agree?"

"That indeed is a problem," Fels nodded, "But sir, if you want to earn your hefty commission, you'll have to help me figure it out, right?"

"I can only give you a suggestion; you'll have to handle the specifics." Sighing, Shiller said, "Director Gordon and Mayor Neiper have one thing in common—they are both sufficiently kind-hearted."

"You don't need to do anything extra, just let them know about this and dump Tuck's body at the police station's doorstep. Let them know if they don't intervene, many will die. They will naturally do what you wish them to do."

"Good idea." Fels snapped his fingers, "You go take the body over then."

"I hope you won't regret it," Shiller stood up and said.

Half an hour later, Gordon saw the body hanging in the police station's lobby. People are panicking, rushing out of the lobby, and some less experienced young officers had started vomiting.

Gordon's face turned darker than the bottom of a pot. He roared, "What the hell is Fels playing at?! It's been years since anyone dared to provoke me like this!! Nightwing!! Take your team and surround that damned casino!!"

This time, Fels' face turned as dark as the bottom of a pot.

He hurried downstairs, but the guests had already been driven out by the police. Gordon was standing right at the center of the casino lobby.

"Gordon, have you fucking lost your mind?!!"

Suddenly there was a "click", and Gordon directly switched off the safety of his pistol, pointing its dark muzzle straight at Fels' forehead.

Fels froze. Gordon just curled his lips, gritting his teeth, and said to Fels, "If you don't give me an explanation, I'll blow your brains out right here! Not even Jesus can save you!"

Fels was a bit bewildered. Wait, his casino was legal. Gordon had inspected it several times before, finding nothing and leaving dejectedly. Afterwards, he almost never came, and whenever he saw Fels outside, he would walk away without a word.

What was going on? Had he really gone mad?

Fels suddenly realized, could it be the body he had Shiller drop that caused the issue?

"James, calm down. Do you really want to shoot a law-abiding citizen?!"

"Law-abiding?! Hanging the head of Arkham Asylum cut up like a mop in the Gotham Police Department lobby is law-abiding???"

Fels opened his mouth, he really wanted to say that Tuck was intact when he left his place, but then he suddenly thought, if he was intact when leaving his place, who turned him into a mop then?

Thinking this way, Gordon seemed to not be much of a problem anymore.

"Listen, James, there's a misunderstanding here," Fels extended his hand, "I assure you that I have nothing to do with this case."

"Then do you know what this mop was used to clean up?!" Gordon threw two bloody objects at Fels' face with force.

Fels picked them up and saw that they were two blood-soaked chips, the kind used in Fels' casino.

He took a deep breath, about to shout a name, but reason stopped him. If he really said Shiller's name, it would imply his involvement in the case.

"Sorry, James. This might have been an initiative taken by someone under me. I assure you, I will investigate this thoroughly," Fels had to resort to his last move, "I am very sorry for what happened to Mr. Tuck. I can offer some humanitarian aid to his family."

"I am sorry too," Gordon said coldly, "Finding casino chips on a victim, I have to ask you to come back with us for an investigation… Take him!"

Before Fels could even shout for his security guards, Nightwing had already leaped forward and knocked him down. In an instant, seven or eight burly men pounced on him and pinned him to the ground. By the time the casino security hurriedly arrived, the handcuffs were already on.

Fels glared venomously at Gordon, "You're finished, James Gordon. You dare arrest me?! The Fels Family won't let you get away with this!!"

As he was being escorted past the main entrance, he saw Shiller standing by the door. But standing behind Shiller was another familiar figure, his foolish brother.

Fels' face instantly turned deathly pale.