Chapter 34: Hugo

"What the hell is that thing?!"

Covered in dust from the explosion, John Spalletta stared in shock at the hulking black metal figure—Black Gold—charging into the bar like a tank.

"Maybe it's here for the shipment we moved last time."

"But that stuff's not even with us! We were just helping! The real client is someone way bigger!"

John Spalletta growled in frustration.

"Doesn't matter now. First, we see if we can deal with this freak."

Old Spalletta pulled out a compact mirror and used it to observe Black Gold's position by reflection. Then, with his other hand, he yanked a grenade pin out with his teeth. After waiting three to four seconds, he lobbed it.

BOOM!

The grenade exploded mid-air near Black Gold, making the mech stumble slightly.

The next moment, a rotating barrel extended from Black Gold's shoulder and began to spray bullets madly toward the direction the grenade had come from.

"What the hell is this monster?!"

Simmons Spalletta was in shock. He quickly grabbed his son's arm.

"Have our men hold the line. We're getting out through the secret exit—in the restroom!"

Within thirty seconds, Black Gold had decimated their foot soldiers.

The father and son rushed off, but after just a few steps, a shadow dropped from the ceiling.

Qingshui landed smoothly, pouncing on John Spalletta, pinning his arms down with his legs. In one motion, he pulled a pistol with his left hand and pointed it at Simmons Spalletta's forehead.

With a light tug of his right hand, the sound of heavy footsteps echoed. Covered in blood, Black Gold dragged a man in a suit behind it, raised its arm—

Pneumatic Punch activated.

The man was smashed into the wall, and instantly turned to pulp.

"We surrender…" Simmons slowly raised his hands.

"A wise decision."

Qingshui tilted his head slightly. Beside him, Aman and the blonde quickly used their belts to bind Simmons and John.

"Accountant, Aman—you two handle the cleanup. Anthony, Jackson—bring them to the second floor. I'll interrogate them personally."

"Understood, boss. I'll dig up every last dollar they've got," said the accountant with a sly grin, pushing his glasses up.

"Don't worry, boss. If anyone dares act up, I'll send them straight to God!" said Aman, his blood-streaked face grinning as he hefted his rifle.

The Spalletta father and son were dragged to a second-floor private room by the two men.

"Kneel!"

Anthony and Jackson simultaneously kicked their legs out from under them, forcing them to kneel in front of the table.

Qingshui strolled over to the couch, casually picked up a fruit knife from beside a fruit platter, and weighed it in his hand. With deft fingers, he sliced the apple into neat, uniform cubes.

Although the ninja academy only taught the basics of cold weaponry, with chakra-enhanced strength, his actions looked both skilled and intimidating.

"My knife is very sharp. While I may not be some master who can slice bullets in half midair, it's more than enough for carving people. Plus, I know a bit of human anatomy, so I can slice off over a hundred pieces of flesh from someone—causing excruciating pain without them dying or passing out."

"Sir," Simmons said with a sigh, "ask what you want. I've faced more than enough threats in my life. I just ask that you spare John."

"Dad, you…"

"No, no, no…"

Qingshui calmly shoved a napkin into John Spalletta's mouth to gag him.

"You two—take the kid to a room far from here. I'll question them separately. If their answers don't match, that means at least one of them is lying—and I'll see if I really can carve off a hundred pieces of flesh. If their answers match, I might grant your request. Fair?"

He gave a sheepish smile.

Threatening people like this was still new to him.

But no worries—with practice, he'd improve.

John was dragged to a room on the opposite side of the hallway by Anthony and Jackson.

"What do you want to know? Ask already," Simmons said, eyes shut.

"Good. First question: What are the total assets of your organization? Where are they kept?"

"The ledger's in the upstairs office. We've got about $700,000 in cash. Our properties and businesses are all listed in the records. There's $200,000 in the office drawer, $150,000 in Gotham Savings and Loan, $100,000 in Wayne Enterprises Private Bank, and about $300,000 in a safe in the back room of a supermarket on 31st Street, Dock District."

Unlike other gang bosses Qingshui had met, Simmons clearly understood not to put all his eggs in one basket.

"Bank cards and passwords?"

"One on me, one on my son. The password is the founding date of the United States."

That would be 840512.

"Did you participate in the heist of Penguin's shipment a month ago?"

"We did, but the goods aren't with us. The real client was Mr. Hugo."

"Hugo?"

Qingshui's first thought was Victor Hugo, the French writer—but that guy had been dead for over a hundred years.

"Hugo Strange—professor at Gotham State University, chief advisor at Arkham Asylum, and recently elected member of the Gotham City Council."

That name did ring a bell—he had a faint memory from his original body.

During his time locked in Arkham, he had undergone a psychological evaluation by Hugo Strange. Since his threat level was deemed low compared to other notorious villains, he hadn't seen the man again.

"What was the shipment?"

"I don't know. It was in a container, supposedly some kind of high-tech device from Dayton Industries in Metropolis. I don't know the name, purpose, or even what it looked like."

Dayton Industries?

Never heard of it. Worth looking into later.

But so long as it didn't interfere with his plans, Qingshui couldn't care less.

That sort of mess? That's Batman's job.

He summoned Jackson to guard Simmons and went to interrogate John in the opposite room.

Ten minutes later…

"That's it?" Qingshui sighed, reluctantly playing with the fruit knife. He looked disappointed.

These two were way too cooperative.

He might be a villain, but he preferred to keep his word—it made things simpler.

So…

"Anthony, check if the signal jammer outside has been turned off. If it has, contact Penguin. Tell him the Spalletta father and son are his."

He'd only promised not to kill them.

Penguin never made any such promise.

(End of Chapter)