Starting from scratch, Batman crushed my dream of getting rich

Chapter 288 A Hero Who Has Not Yet Become a Hero
P.S.: The second update will be a little late, sorry.

When Clyde and Mark started robbing the bank, Ma Zhaodi had considered simply taking them down.

He has the ability—even without the superhuman bonus, he still has advanced firearms skills and master-level stealth; even though he can't use the Samurai Blade, he can still buy other pistols.

But after thinking about it, he decided not to take action directly. Instead, he secretly used someone else's phone to call the police immediately.

"My identity information is all fake," he thought to himself. "When I take them both down, the police will definitely come looking for me."

He hadn't had time to put all his data into the government archives yet—not to mention that most of the archives were still paper-based, he'd have to sneak in. Even if he did manage to put the information in, he didn't want to be noticed.

He knew he had never lived in this universe, a fact that couldn't be faked. He didn't want the meticulous police to go to his birthplace for a thorough investigation—what if they found something?

Besides, he also has an Asian face.

So he rummaged through his inventory again and finally ruled out blowguns, opting instead for the least conspicuous method: stealing bullets from the brothers' guns and pockets.

For him, this was actually quite easy to do; it was simply a matter of replacing the magazines in their guns with empty ones. Thanks to his master-level stealth skills, Ma Zhaodi's presence was extremely subtle, allowing him to completely disappear from the enemy's sight and attention. Catwoman had even praised Ma Zhaodi's stealth abilities, saying he was a born thief, blessed with natural talent, and then casually taught him a couple of pickpocketing tricks.

Although Ma Zhaodi wasn't sure whether Catwoman's words were a compliment or sarcasm, he had indeed performed quite well in dealing with the two brothers today.

You have acquired a new skill: Basic Pickpocketing Mastery

After a real-world experience, pickpocketing was recognized as a skill.

"I'll just take it as a compliment."

Ma Zhaodi scratched his head. He needed to find a hotel and think carefully about what kind of job he could find in this universe.

The only consolation is that, since it's an illegal immigration method, the legality restrictions have been lifted, and the rewards earned through normal labor can be converted into asset points.

Half an hour later, the bank entrance was completely blocked off by the police.

Police cars lined up inside the cordon to prevent any form of damage to the scene. Dozens of officers went in and out of the bank to investigate the scene, question the people inside, and record their statements.

Two detectives in plainclothes were exchanging information about the case in front of the bank while also observing the scene.

"According to the cashier's identification, it was Mark Madon who fired the shot."

"what?"

The detective, holding a coffee cup, paused for a moment, then his face lit up with realization: "Ah, I remember now, the habitual offenders Ma Dong brothers—good heavens, these two have started committing crimes again?"

The elderly Black detective standing nearby nodded.

At that moment, a superior officer in a gray trench coat walked up to the two men and casually asked, "Any leads?"

"The suspect shot and destroyed the surveillance cameras, robbed the bank, and seemed to want to fight back against the security personnel while fleeing, but for some reason, he didn't fire in the end." The black detective said, handing two photos of the suspects to the officer. The two blond brothers in the photos looked calm, and one of them even gave the camera a contemptuous smile—they were the two who robbed the bank.

The police officer recognized the photos immediately; the Ma brothers were repeat offenders, and these two photos were taken when they were arrested for committing crimes.

“I’ve already investigated with the Ma brothers’ former accomplices, and it was these two who did it,” the black officer continued. “They didn’t manage to steal anything, but there’s something a little strange about it: they didn’t shoot the officers who were chasing them—that would be normal for the composed Mark, but it doesn’t fit Clyde’s style. He’s always been impulsive and reckless.”

“Maybe his gun jammed.” The officer shrugged. “That’s not important. Let’s catch them first, and we can ask the rest later—has the CSI (Crime Scene Investigator) arrived?” Hearing this question, the black detective looked slightly embarrassed. “Uh, no.”

“Alan didn’t come? Where did he go? Joe, you can’t keep protecting him forever. If he’s not here, we’ll have to leave him aside and continue our investigation.”

Just as the police officer was berating the black detective, a young voice finally came from the crowd of onlookers.

"Excuse me, CSI, CSI, could you please move aside?"

The young man, looking hurried, crossed the police tape and officers, ran to the three men, and awkwardly apologized to the officer: "I'm sorry, Inspector Singh, I'm late."

Seeing Allen arrive late, Singh's face showed displeasure. He said sarcastically, "Why are you late this time, Mr. Allen? Did you forget to set your alarm? Think carefully before you speak. Last time, your excuse was that your car broke down."

Allen's embarrassment deepened.

Do you want to know why I've kept this reason in mind until now?

"Uh, I don't have a car."

"correct."

At this moment, the black detective stepped in to smooth things over, saying, "He went to run errands for me—Barry, stop standing there and give me the stuff."

Barry Allen searched his pockets for a while before awkwardly pulling out a pastry that had been bitten a few times.

The detective took a deep breath, trying to suppress his anger.

"Get to work."

Barry dared not say anything more. He put on his gloves and went to the tire tracks in front of the bank. The moment his eyes met the evidence, his gaze immediately calmed down, and he entered working mode.

He quickly analyzed, “The escape vehicle was a Mustang. They had a specific model, twelve feet long, with wide rear wheels and asymmetrical tire marks—it was a Mustang GT500.”

“According to the security guards, they punctured the Ma brothers’ tires while chasing them,” the Black man said. “I’ll have someone check the surrounding auto repair shops to see if anyone has had a Mustang GT500 repaired today.”

"That's not all, there's something else."

As Barry spoke, he bent down to examine the small fragments in the tire tracks: "It looks like fecal matter; we need to take a sample back for testing."

"anything else?"

Barry shook his head.

The black detective chimed in, "There's something else that's a bit strange to me. We found the person who called the police based on the phone call, but he denies that he called the police himself."

"Who did that?"

"I don't know, we can't investigate. The bank's security cameras were damaged from the start, and people around said they didn't see who called the police."

“Never mind then.” Singh waved his hand and turned to Barry, saying, “Mr. Allen, I hope you won’t be late next time—now, get back to your job.”

(End of this chapter)