Starting from scratch, Batman crushed my dream of getting rich

Chapter 125 Boss, we meet again, did you expect that?

"The plaintiff calls upon Salvatore Vincent Maroni, also known as 'BOSS', to take the witness stand!"

In the courtroom, the judge sat solemnly, the jury looked solemn, the bailiffs stood silently by, and the audience (the audience) sat in rows. Maroni stepped forward and glanced at Assistant District Attorney Vernon, also sitting in the courtroom. He couldn't help but laugh. I didn't know this kind of thing could even sit in the courtroom.

But when he saw Harvey Dent in the courtroom, he couldn't help but be surprised.

The prosecutor, dressed in a crisp white suit that matched his snow-white shirt, a silver-gray silk tie, and black leather shoes, looked spotless. The courtroom lights shone on him, his beautiful blond hair gleaming—he was dressed to the nines, as if about to step onto a grand stage.

When Harvey was a rookie prosecutor, he just came to Gotham and was so handsome and shining, a golden boy. Others called him Apollo.

How long ago was that? Maybe three years, maybe five. No one particularly cared. His colleagues only remembered him being dragged down by the sins of Gotham City. Falcone, Maroni, the super criminals. In just a few short years, the once golden boy had dried up, shriveled up, and tortured into a gray, middle-aged man.

"Prosecutor Harvey, you've never worn a white suit before."

"Perhaps, Mr. Maloney, is that strange?"

Of course it was strange, Maroni thought. Harvey had only worn black suits before, because in court, plain, dark-toned formal attire conveyed seriousness and seriousness. And the meticulous Harvey Dent would never make a mistake in such a situation. He had experienced countless setbacks in Gotham over the years, and had matured rapidly. Of course, he would remember every detail that could increase his chances of winning.

Of course, it was useless to wear anything when he and the Romans had no intention of letting him win.

He smiled disapprovingly and turned his head to look around the court today without restraint.

Judge - three million, and he has to threaten his family; jury - three hundred thousand each, and there's no need for threats if most of them are bribed; bailiffs - thirty thousand each, no more; jury - oh, they're just some boring spectators who come to join in the fun, and they don't care who wins unless their own interests are involved.

Maroni walked calmly toward the witness stand, but after taking a few steps, he suddenly felt something was wrong.

Wait, that lone guy at the end of the jury row looks familiar.
He suddenly turned around and looked at the last row of the jury. There was a familiar figure there, wearing a cheap coat, with sleepy eyes and a pocky stick in his mouth.

The moment he saw him, painful memories flooded Maroni's mind subconsciously and uncontrollably: the burning car, the shattered restaurant, the hideout that was completely slaughtered, the despair of huddling in the secret room listening to the footsteps of the festival killer, and the words he typed, "Boss, pizza?" - Is this a question a human can ask?

I almost died at that time!
He was like a fuse, instantly causing all the negative emotions to explode in Maroni's heart. When he saw this figure in the courtroom, the alarm bells in his heart began to ring wildly.

Maroni's expression seemed to become a little ferocious in these few seconds, as if he was wearing a mask of pain - he had heard of Ma Zhaodi's reputation within the Falcone family in these days, and he didn't expect that this disaster star was not satisfied after being fired by him, and chased him to the court.

And that figure did not disappoint Maroni's attention at all. He accidentally saw Maroni's gaze, immediately put away the pocky in his mouth, zipped up his half-open jacket, and nodded solemnly at him. This action made Maroni even more desperate.

If you really respect me, please disappear right away.

Ma Zhaodi sat in an unassuming corner at the end of the courtroom's audience, slacking off. He wasn't actually sleepy, but the courtroom's atmosphere was far too solemn, and it wasn't accustomed to him. Thinking no one would notice a passerby like him, he half-closed his eyes and started a system game.

After noticing someone was looking at him and showing a little respect to Maroni, Ma Zhaodi stopped looking at him - I have already put away the pocky, what else do you want from me?

Then he noticed Harvey Dent, who was like a knight of light in the court, and couldn't help but doubt his life.

"Hou Lixie, what's wrong with Harvey today? He looks like a peacock with its tail spread out."

He saw Prosecutor Harvey's face lit with a friendly smile, his every move elegant and graceful. The white suit and smile, which were clearly not conducive to a court trial, seemed just right on him. Harvey didn't see any trace of the prosecutor struggling and carrying a heavy burden. Instead, he looked like the perfect knight of light in people's minds.

Was it because of Maroni's confession? Was it because what he was about to say and do in court was about to tear apart one of Gotham's most powerful mafia families? Was it because of this that Harvey wanted to greet this day with his original appearance?

After all, in the eyes of many people, today is indeed a day full of hope.

No, Ma Zhaodi shook his head. The flower that has bloomed cannot turn back into a bud. Harvey is a scarred fighter. The flawless knight of light is not his nature at this moment.

In court, Maroni recounted one thing after another about the times when the Romans had cooperated with him - for these parts, he had evidence.

"Yes, yes, he found Mickey Gazzo and his brother Frank and dumped their bodies in the Gotham River."

"A lot of 'smart' guys, the ones you're looking for - they're all in the Gotham River - oh, I finally understand why I got a stomach ulcer, maybe it's from drinking too much dirty water.

Everyone in the courtroom suddenly looked a little strange. What crazy things was Maroni suddenly saying?
Harvey suddenly heard Maroni say this, and a slightly puzzled expression appeared on his face: "Stomach ulcer?"

"Yes, it's killing me—and perhaps it's killing me with my conscience, too, isn't it, Dent?"

"What nonsense are you talking about?" Dent frowned, the smile on his face disappearing, and a hint of gloom appeared on his face. "I now demand that you answer truthfully under oath. Do you admit that you saw with your own eyes that the murders and felonies just now were committed by Roman, that is, Carmine Falcone?"

"Falcone? Cough! Cough!"

Maroni did not answer the question, but instead began to cough violently, reaching his hands into his arms while coughing.

In the pocket of the clothes was the bottle of medicine that Vernon had sent.

(End of this chapter)