American comics: Play as Kizaru and get off work in three seconds

These clues point to a shocking fact - the murderer may not be who we thought. "

The words were like a sharp blade, cutting through the oppressive silence in the study. Every word was like a cold raindrop, mercilessly hitting Bruce's heart.

When Bruce heard this, the file in his hand trembled slightly, and the papers of the file made a slight rustling sound, as if they were also trembling for the history that was about to be overturned.

He tried to stay calm, his lips tightly pursed together, biting them until they turned slightly white.

His Adam's apple rolled up and down, as if he was struggling to swallow the complex emotions that suddenly surged up.

Bruce said with a trembling voice: "You mean, my parents... their deaths may have other hidden stories?" The voice seemed to come from a faraway place, with an unbelievable sense of emptiness.

Gordon nodded, his head moving up and down slowly and heavily, as if he was carrying a huge amount of pressure.

His eyes were full of sympathy and determination. The sympathy was like a warm spring, trying to ease Bruce's inner pain, while the determination was like an unshakable lighthouse, pointing the way for this truth that was about to fall into chaos.

Gordon said firmly, “Yes, Bruce.

We have reason to believe that the real murderer may still be at large, and the person who was convicted may have been wrongly accused."

His words were firm and decisive, and every word was like a nail, driving deeply into the wound in Bruce's heart that he thought had healed.

Bruce closed his eyes, his eyelashes trembling slightly, like two trapped butterflies.

He took a deep breath, and the sound of air entering his lungs was like pulling a bellows, heavy and oppressive.

He tried to digest this sudden information. It was as if a storm was raging in his mind. Memories of the past and the shock of the present were intertwined, leaving his heart in chaos.

After a moment, he opened his eyes again, with complex emotions flashing in his eyes, including anger, confusion, sadness, and a strong desire for the truth.

Bruce said in a complicated tone: "Officer Gordon, this... this is too sudden for me.

I always thought that I had accepted the death of my parents and the existence of the murderer.

But now, you tell me that all this may be wrong..." The voice was filled with helpless confusion, like a child who suddenly lost his way in the dark.

Gordon took a step forward, his steps steady and firm, each step seemed to be stepping on Bruce's confused heartstrings.

He patted Bruce's shoulder gently. His hand was thick and warm. The warmth of his palm was transmitted to Bruce's shoulder through his clothes, like a silent comfort.

Gordon consoled him, “Bruce, I understand how you feel.

But the truth is often more complicated and cruel than we imagine.

My job as a police officer is to seek the truth, no matter how unpalatable it may be.”

The voice was gentle yet firm, like a spring breeze, trying to blow away the haze in Bruce's heart.

Bruce was silent for a moment, his eyes became somewhat empty, as if he was lost in deep thought.

He seemed to be recalling every detail of the past, and also seemed to be thinking about the countless possibilities that this sudden truth would bring.

His body swayed slightly, like a small boat trying to keep its balance in the surging waves of truth.

Bruce said slowly: "Officer Gordon, why did you come to me? What do you want me to do?" His voice became calm and rational, as if he was struggling out of chaotic emotions and trying to grasp something practical.

Gordon looked directly into Bruce's eyes, his gaze firm and fiery, like a burning flame.

There was no hesitation or retreat in his eyes, only the persistent pursuit of justice.

The eyebrows are slightly raised, showing seriousness and solemnity.

Gordon said sincerely: "Bruce, I came to you because I believe you have the ability and willingness to uncover the truth.

You are not only the heir of the Wayne family, but also a person with a sense of justice and wisdom.

I hope you will work with me to investigate this case and bring justice to those innocent people.”

The words were full of trust and expectation, like a key, trying to open the door of courage and determination hidden in Bruce's heart.

Bruce felt a strong urge in his heart when he heard this.

The impulse was like a raging magma, churning in my heart.

He stood up, and the chair slid back a short distance the moment he stood up, making a slight friction sound.

He walked to the window, his steps hurried, each step filled with excitement.

He looked at the night sky outside. The night sky was like a huge piece of black satin, dotted with countless twinkling stars. Those stars were like distant hopes, looming in the darkness.

Bruce whispered to himself, "Mom and Dad, if this is true... I will definitely find the real murderer for you and let the truth come to light."

There was a firm determination in his eyes, and that determination was like a star that never went out, shining brightly in the depths of his eyes.

Turning around, Bruce looked at Gordon. There seemed to be two small flames jumping in his deep eyes, which were the flickering light of determination.

His eyes shot straight at Gordon like a sharp arrow, and the determination contained in them seemed to be able to penetrate the darkness.

His eyebrows were slightly raised, like two firm peaks, standing above his bright eyes.

His lips were tightly pursed, and the lines at the corners of his mouth looked particularly hard, as if silently telling of his unshakable inner belief.

Bruce said firmly: "Officer Gordon, I am willing to cooperate with you.

But how do I do it? Where do I start? " The voice was deep and powerful, and every word was like a hammer hitting from deep in the chest, echoing in the silent room with unquestionable determination.

Gordon smiled slightly, and that smile was like the first ray of sunshine breaking through the clouds at dawn, bringing a glimmer of hope to the slightly depressing atmosphere.

He slowly put his hand into his pocket, his movements steady and slow, as if he was performing a solemn ceremony.

His fingers groped in his pocket, and the fabric of his pocket made a slight friction sound, which was particularly clear in the quiet environment.

Finally, he took out a document. The paper of the document was slightly wrinkled, which was the mark left by being repeatedly flipped through and carried.

The edges of the document were a little worn, showing that it had seen a lot of movement.

Gordon handed over the documents and said, “Here are some new clues and evidence we have.

We can start from these clues and uncover the truth step by step.

Of course, this may be a dangerous and difficult road, but I believe that as long as we work together, nothing is impossible.”

As he spoke, his eyes were fixed on Bruce, full of trust and encouragement.

His hands held the documents steadily, his arms stretched straight, as if he was conveying a sacred mission.

Bruce took the document, and the moment his fingers lightly touched the document, it was like an electric shock, and a sense of mission arose spontaneously.

He pinched a corner of the document tightly with his fingers, and then took the document carefully, as if it was an invaluable treasure.

He began to read through the pages carefully, gently turning each page in his hands, making a slight rustling sound. The sound was like a mysterious whisper, telling the secrets hidden within.

His eyes were fixed on the words and pictures on the document, his eyes full of concentration and seriousness.

He read every line very carefully, as if he wanted to engrave every word into his mind.

Sometimes his brows were slightly furrowed, as if he was thinking about some complicated clue in the document; sometimes they relaxed, as if he suddenly understood some key information in it.

With each turn of the page, his eyes became more determined, and that determination seemed like a strength that was constantly accumulating, gradually spreading from his eyes to his entire body.

Bruce said seriously: "Officer Gordon, thank you for giving me this opportunity.

I will do my best, not only for my parents, but also for those innocent victims.”

The voice was full of gratitude and solemnity, like a devout believer making a solemn vow to God.

There was a determined light shining in his eyes, which was like the brightest star in the night sky, brilliant and dazzling.

Gordon nodded, moving his head up and down slowly and steadily, as if to express the most solemn approval of Bruce's words.

There was a gleam of approval in his eyes, and that light was like the ripples in a trickle of water, warm and soft.

Gordon said approvingly, “Bruce, I believe in you.

Together we will see justice done.”

The voice was firm and powerful, and every word was like beating a war drum for justice, full of strength and inspiring power.

-

The night in Gotham City was as dark as a huge black curtain, hanging heavily over the city.

The entire city seemed to be swallowed up by darkness. Only the lights of the police station seemed particularly dazzling in the darkness. The lights were like an isolated island in the darkness, emitting a lonely and stubborn light.

The police station building looked somewhat eerie in the darkness, its grey walls looking even more stern under the light. There were traces of time on the walls, which were the scars left by countless crimes and struggles in Gotham City.

The lights in Officer Gordon's office were dim and dark, like a tired old man struggling to survive.

The dim light flickered in the room, as if it would go out at any time.

There was a depressing and dull atmosphere in the office. On the walls hung some maps of Gotham City and police rules and regulations. The papers had turned yellow and the corners were slightly curled, as if telling of the long years they had gone through.

Gordon sat at his desk, looking somewhat lonely under the dim light.

His brows were furrowed, and his eyebrows were like two earthworms entangled with each other, tightly tangled together.

His eyes were focused on the pile of documents and photos about the Penguin Man’s disappearance case placed in front of him. There was a hint of fatigue in his eyes, but he was still determined.

There are faint dark circles around the eyes, which are evidence of staying up late for a long time and great pressure.

His hair was a little messy, with a few strands standing up unruly, as if protesting against his overwork.

At this moment, the door was pushed open, and the hinges of the door made a harsh creaking sound, like a painful groan.

In walked in came the head of the Major Crimes Unit, Agent Harvey Bullock.

A figure appeared at the door, like a ghost suddenly breaking in from the darkness.

He is tall and burly, with shoulders as broad as a wall, giving people a strong sense of oppression.

He was wearing a slightly worn suit, the color of which had faded a little, which was the mark of his countless times running around investigating cases.

The tie was tied a little loosely and the collar was slightly open, revealing a small piece of his strong chest.

Harvey said directly and seriously: "Gordon, we need to talk about the disappearance of the Penguin."

The sound resounded in the office like thunder, breaking the original silence.

His eyes were as sharp as a hawk's, staring straight at Gordon, with scrutiny and suspicion in them.

Gordon raised his head, his movements a little slowly, like a man numbed by a heavy burden.

There was a hint of fatigue in his eyes, but he was still determined. The fatigue was like a layer of mist, lightly covering his determined eyes.

There are bloodshot eyes, which are the result of long-term thinking and stress.

Gordon said calmly: “Harvey, I know you are concerned about this case.

But believe me, I had nothing to do with Penguin's disappearance."

Although the voice was steady, it carried a kind of helpless fatigue, like a person who was always misunderstood and was making feeble excuses.

Harvey walked over and sat down opposite Gordon, his steps heavy and powerful, each step like striking a heavy note on the floor.

The dull thump of his shoes on the floor was like an echo of his inner doubts.

He crossed his hands on the table. His hands were strong and sturdy, with some tiny scars on his fingers, which were marks left when he was on a mission.

His eyes were as sharp as a sword, piercing straight through Gordon's disguise (although Gordon was not disguised), trying to find a flaw in Gordon's eyes.

Harvey questioned, "No connection? Then why do all the clues point to you? You've been in frequent contact with him recently, and you had an argument the night before he disappeared."

The voice was full of doubt and questioning, and every word was like cold raindrops, mercilessly hitting Gordon's heart.

Gordon sighed, a sigh that sounded like exhaustion coming from the depths of his soul.

His shoulders sank slightly, as if being pushed lower by an invisible pressure.

He began to explain, his voice a little low, as if he was telling a helpless story.

Gordon explained: “Harvey, I admit we had arguments but they were purely about work-related disagreements.

The Penguin has been engaging in illegal activities and as a police officer, it is my duty to stop him.

But my actions have always been within the legal framework and I have never done anything illegal.”

His eyes were sincere and firm, looking straight at Harvey, as if showing him his inner openness.

Harvey nodded, but his doubts were clearly not completely resolved.

The head movement was somewhat mechanical, as if he was making a routine response, but there was still a hint of doubt in his eyes.

Harvey calmly analyzed and said, “I understand your position, Gordon.

But you also know that in this city, the truth is often hidden in the shadows.

The Penguin is so powerful that the entire city is in turmoil after his disappearance.

We need a clear answer to calm this storm.”

The voice was calm and rational, as if it was weighing the pros and cons, but it was also mixed with a hint of desire for the truth.

Gordon stood up, and the chair slid back a short distance the moment he stood up, making a slight friction sound.

He walked to the window, his steps heavy, as if he was full of worries.

He looked at the darkness outside. The darkness was like an endless abyss, swallowing up all light and hope.

Gordon said thoughtfully, “I understand your pressure, Harvey.

But I also can't sit back and allow innocent people to be framed.

I will continue to investigate this matter and find out who is really behind this.”

The voice was low and firm, like an oath taken alone in the darkness, and the voice was full of indomitable spirit and persistent pursuit of justice.

Harvey stood up, his tall body slowly rising from the chair, the chair tilted back slightly due to the force of his standing up, making a slight creaking sound. His movements were steady and powerful, and every move seemed to be carefully considered, just like his style when handling cases.

He walked towards Gordon with firm steps, and each step made a slight sound on the floor. The sound was particularly clear in the silent room, as if it was an external manifestation of the rhythm of his inner thoughts.

Harvey said seriously: "Gordon, I believe in your ability and your innocence.

But you have to be careful, the Penguin's power is far more complicated than you think.

If you need any help, let me know.”

The voice was low and sincere, carrying a deep sense of friendship.

His eyes were full of sincerity, a kind of trust that only comes after going through countless storms and fighting side by side.

His eyes were fixed on Gordon, without a trace of hesitation, as determined as when he was carrying out the most dangerous missions.

His eyebrows raised slightly, showing the seriousness and earnestness in his words.

Gordon turned his head, his movements a little slowly, as if he was weighed down by tremendous pressure and fatigue.

His eyes slowly moved towards Harvey, and when his eyes met Harvey's, a hint of gratitude flashed in his eyes.

The gratitude was like a glimmer of light in the darkness, instantly lighting up his slightly tired eyes.

There seemed to be a clear spring flowing in my eyes, which was the feeling of being trusted and supported by friends.

Gordon said gratefully, “Thank you, Harvey.

I am lucky to have a friend like you."

His voice was a little hoarse, which was the result of long-term fatigue and mental tension.

His lips trembled slightly, as if he was trying to suppress the complex emotions deep in his heart.

A faint smile appeared on her face. Although the smile was very faint, it was full of sincerity, like a small flower blooming in the darkness, bringing a touch of warmth to the depressing atmosphere.

As time goes by, Gordon begins to investigate the disappearance of the Penguin in depth.

Figures appear in every corner of Gotham City, whether it is the dark and damp underground passages or the prosperous neighborhoods where evil is hidden.

The footsteps are hurried, and every step is carried out with a persistent pursuit of the truth.

There is always a firmness in his eyes, a determination to never give up until the truth is found.

He and Bruce continued to keep in touch.

At the same time, Gordon also faces dual pressure from inside and outside.

The external pressure was like a surging tide, hitting him wave after wave.

The Penguin's men were spying on him in the dark corners of the city, their eyes full of hostility and threats.

Those figures in the dark appeared around Gordon from time to time like ghosts, giving him an invisible sense of oppression.

The internal pressure was like a heavy mountain, making it difficult for him to breathe.

Some of his colleagues in the police station looked at him with suspicion, with suspicion and alienation in their eyes.

The whispers echoed in the corridors of the police station, and every word was like a sharp knife, piercing Gordon's heart.

"Bruce, I'm increasingly feeling that the disappearance of the Penguin is no simple case," Gordon said during a late-night meeting with Bruce.

There seems to be a powerful force behind the scenes controlling everything."

The sound seemed particularly low in the silence of the night, carrying a mysterious atmosphere.

The figure looked a little tired in the dim light, but the eyes were still sharp.

His hands unconsciously clenched, as if preparing for the upcoming challenge.

Bruce nodded, moving his head up and down slowly and heavily, as if he was thinking about the deeper meaning of Gordon's words.

His brows were furrowed like two tangled ropes, revealing his inner worries.

There was a deep worry in his eyes, an instinctive reaction to unknown danger.

Bruce said worriedly, "Gordon, you have to be careful.

The Penguin's power is all over Gotham, and they will not easily let go of anyone who threatens them."

There was an anxious concern in his voice, and every word was like a bullet full of worry, fired at Gordon.

He leaned forward slightly, as if he wanted to get closer to Gordon and give him more protection.

Gordon smiled bitterly, but said with a firm look in his eyes: "I won't give up, Bruce.

No matter how cruel the truth is, I will find it out.

This is my commitment to myself and my responsibility to this city.”

There was a sense of helplessness and self-mockery in the bitter smile, but his eyes were as hot as a burning flame.

His lips were tightly pursed, as if he was holding on to his inner beliefs.

His chest was slightly raised, an unyielding posture that showed his firmness in his decision.

-

As the investigation deepened, Gordon gradually discovered some clues. These clues were like pearls scattered in the darkness, and he needed to find and connect them one by one.

His eyes constantly searched between documents, photos and witness testimonies, not missing any details.

He often sat alone in dim light, surrounded by piles of documents and materials. The papers were like a small mountain, surrounding him.

He began to wonder if someone was deliberately pointing the finger at him in order to cover up their own crimes.

This idea took root in my mind like a seed, and slowly grew into a towering tree, filling my heart with uneasiness and doubt.

In a secret meeting with Harvey, Gordon whispered, "Harvey, I see something is wrong.

We may have internal problems.”

The voice was as low as the rustling of leaves in the breeze, and full of caution.

There was a sense of alertness in his eyes, like a wild beast sensing danger in the dark.

He hunched his body slightly, as if preparing for defense against possible danger.

Harvey's face changed suddenly when he heard this.

His face turned pale instantly, like a piece of white paper, completely bloodless.

His eyes were wide open, like two copper bells, filled with shock.

His lips parted slightly as if he were about to say something, but he was momentarily too shocked to speak.

Harvey said in shock: "What did you say? Are you sure?" His voice trembled a little, which was his instinctive reaction to this shocking news.

His hands unconsciously clenched, his finger joints turning white from the force, as if he was trying hard to control his emotions.

Gordon nodded, his head moving up and down in firm, decisive movements.

His eyes were serious and earnest, without a trace of hesitation.

He handed over a document with worn paper and frayed edges, showing that he had studied the evidence many times.

Gordon said seriously: "These are some evidence and clues I compiled. They point to someone we are all familiar with."

The voice was low and solemn, as if announcing a great secret.

He held the document steadily in his hand, as if he was passing on something extremely important.

Gordon kept his eyes on Harvey, as if he was waiting for Harvey's reaction, and also as if he was emphasizing the seriousness of the matter.

Harvey took the document, his fingers tightly gripping a corner of it, as if he was holding a dangerous object that was about to explode.

His hands were shaking slightly, a sign that he had not yet fully recovered from the shock.

He began to flip through the pages carefully, each page sliding slowly through his hands, making a slight rustling sound. The sound seemed particularly clear in the silent environment, as if it was the whisper of the secrets hidden in the documents.

His eyes were fixed on every word and every picture on the document, and the bloodshot in his eyes became more obvious because of his concentration.

Harvey's eyebrows sometimes slightly raised, indicating his surprise when he saw a key clue; sometimes they were tightly frowned, as if he was thinking about the complex relationship behind these clues.

His expression gradually changed from shock to anger, and his face turned red as if it was burning with flames.

The blue veins on his forehead began to bulge out like little snakes crawling around, jumping and showing his inner anger.

Harvey said angrily: "How could it be him? How could he do this?" His voice became a little hoarse because of anger, and the volume rose unconsciously. Every word was like the anger erupting from his chest, burning in the air.

His lips trembled slightly, his teeth were clenched tightly, and the muscles in his cheeks bulged, like a beast about to pounce on its prey.

Gordon patted Harvey's shoulder, his hand steady and powerful, as if conveying a calming strength.

His palm was thick and light, and it fell on Harvey's shoulder. The pat was full of comfort and encouragement.

Gordon said calmly, “Now is not the time to be angry, Harvey.

We need more evidence to support our speculation.

At the same time, we have to ensure our own safety.”

The voice was calm and steady, like a bottomless lake, and was not affected by Harvey's anger.

Gordon's eyes revealed a calmness and rationality that were honed over the years in dangerous and complex environments.

His eyes were like the deep night sky, with determined stars twinkling in them.

Harvey nodded, his head moving up and down with determination.

There was a gleam of determination in his eyes, and that light was like a torch lit in the darkness, hot and bright.

Then, he looked at Gordon firmly and said, “Don’t worry, Gordon.

I will get to the bottom of this with you, no matter how ugly the truth is."

The voice was firm and powerful, and every word was like a nail driven into the commitment to justice.

-

On the edge of Gotham City, in a seemingly ordinary restaurant - Bamont's Restaurant.

The exterior of the restaurant looked a bit shabby, with the paint on the walls peeling off, revealing the gray cement walls inside.

The sign at the door swayed in the wind, making a slight creaking sound, and the dim light flickered on the sign, like a tired old man struggling to survive.

Walking into the restaurant, the lights were as dim as the afterglow of the setting sun, carrying an air of decay.

Several chandeliers hung from the ceiling, their lampshades covered in dust, making the light even dimmer.

The tables and chairs in the restaurant were arranged a bit messily, and many of them had scratches and signs of wear, as if telling the stories that had happened here.

There were few customers, only a few sitting in the corners. They were either eating in silence or looking around vigilantly. The whole restaurant was filled with a depressing and tense atmosphere.

The Penguin, now using the alias "Oswald Cobb", successfully sneaked into this restaurant tightly controlled by the Maroni family under Qin Yang's careful planning, and prepared to make his first move here.

Oswald worked as a waiter with a smile on his face. That smile was like a mask carefully painted on his face. It seemed sincere but it hid many secrets.

His lips lifted slightly, revealing a row of white teeth, but the smile did not reach his eyes.

At this time, he was wearing a neat waiter uniform, with a black bow tie tied neatly at the collar of his white shirt.

The black vest worn over his shirt made him look energetic.

The black trousers were wrinkle-free, and the trouser legs just covered the uppers of the leather shoes. Although the shoes were not brand new, they were polished to a shine.

He said to a guest who had just entered the restaurant: "Good evening, sir, and welcome to the Balmont restaurant.

Do you have a reservation?" His voice was gentle and polite, with just the right amount of enthusiasm.

His eyes were fixed on the guests with a look of professional concern.

The guest casually said, "No, find me a quiet corner."

The guest's voice was a little hoarse. He was wearing a long dark windbreaker with the collar turned up, covering part of his face.

His hair was a little messy and his eyes showed fatigue and indifference.

Oswald led the guests to their seats, his steps light and quick.

He was walking in front, leaning slightly forward, as if guiding the guests.

Let your hands hang naturally at your sides, with your fingers slightly bent, and make a please gesture from time to time.

At the same time, he glanced at every corner of the restaurant with the corner of his eye. His gaze was like a sharp blade hidden in the dark, quickly and sharply cutting through every detail in the restaurant.

The penguin was secretly calculating in his mind, as if there was a sophisticated abacus in his head that was quickly calculating various possibilities.

Oswald said to himself, “This is the new starting point.

Qin Yang's plan will be implemented from here."

His heart was like a turbulent ocean, but on the surface he appeared calm as water.

Thoughts raced through my mind like a high-speed machine.

Soon after, the restaurant's manager, Carl, a middle-aged man loyal to the Maroni family, noticed that Oswald was different.

Carl was a little overweight and was wearing a dark suit, the lines of which were somewhat distorted on his fat body.

His belly was slightly bulging, like a bag full of things. (End of this chapter)