Starting from scratch, Batman crushed my dream of getting rich

Chapter 49 Interrogation
By the time Batman chased Mickey deep into the alley, he had disappeared.

In a ghost place like Gotham, there is no way to get up most of the time, but sometimes there is a door to get into the ground. Batman looked at the manhole cover under his feet, which was half opened and emitted a foul smell, leading to the sewer of Gotham City.

He ignored the pungent stench, quickly opened the manhole cover, jumped, and landed directly at the bottom of the well.

"Solomon Grundy, born on Monday!"

"Solomon Grundy, born on Monday!"

In the empty and dark sewer, the sound of monsters echoed.

After the black bat landed lightly on the ground, he saw the big guy in the sewer. He glanced at Mickey who was knocked to the ground next to him and his life or death was unknown. He was very worried that this guy would be killed by a single punch from the big guy who was over three meters tall in front of him.

"Don't get excited, Grandy. I don't mean to disturb you. I'm just here to arrest the person who disturbed you."

"Solomon Grundy, born on Monday."

"My friend said, black one, pointy ears, avoid him, ignore him"

Strangely, after seeing Batman, Grandy muttered, turned his head and walked deep into the sewer, no longer paying attention to him and Mickey.

"How rare." Batman looked at Grundy who left directly and retracted his hand that was reaching for the weapon belt at his waist. The poor ragged big guy seemed to have suddenly become much quieter. At least when he saw him in the past, it almost always ended in a fight, so he also prepared special weapons against him - but this time they were completely useless.

"Who is he talking about? Who could be friends with Solomon Grundy?"

He thought about this question silently, and after confirming that Mickey was just unconscious, he took him directly back to the police station.

Then, time came to the present.

"We know you did it, Mickey, but we also know you're just a small fish, and the only thing a small fish is good for is catching big fish."

"fish?"

Sergeant Gordon, wearing a white shirt, stood beside the table with a serious expression and the authority of an old superintendent in his words and deeds: "We want to know who hired you to do this job, Mickey. If you help us, maybe we can help you."

Looking at Mickey's innocent face, Gordon frowned, a stern look of anger on his face: "I don't want to stay here. My wife has made turkey and other delicious dishes at home - that's where an honest and upright person should be today."

"But justice doesn't take holidays, Mitch, and if you don't tell us who paid you to kill the Gotham City District Attorney, I'm going to miss Thanksgiving dinner."

The habitual criminal Mickey simply chuckled at this harmless threat. After confirming that he was already in the police station, he was no longer like a sewer rat, full of anxiety and fear, because he knew that this place was within the rules, and his life would never be in danger within the rules - he even fantasized that he could get away with it by denying the crime.

He scoffed in his broken Irish English: "I guess you're going to miss your Thanksgiving, man, because I don't know Carmine Falcone, I've never even heard of—what did you call him? 'The Roman'?"

It was obvious that before today, he had never seen the methods of bats.

At this time, Batman's voice sounded again. This time, he walked out from the shadows with a small evidence bag in his hand, which contained a slightly twisted charred iron nail.

"This nail was part of the bomb you made that destroyed Dent's home. Each nail has a serial number. We followed it back to the manufacturer and to the hardware store just two blocks from your apartment. We also got the receipt."

Batman lowered his head and looked coldly at Mickey, who had sweat on his forehead, and used his final conclusion to break down his psychological defenses.

"You bought these nails."

The atmosphere was silent for a few seconds. The evidence was irrefutable. Mickey finally sighed and gave up on making excuses.

"Harvey Dent. He really asked for trouble. Even if it weren't me, there would still be plenty of other people in the area who would be willing to do this."

"You caught me. Yes, I made the bomb. That's what you want me to confess, right? I'll write it all down for you, buddy."

"But make no mistake about one thing."

At this point, Mickey's expression suddenly became a little strange. He had a half-smile on his face, and his expression was half hidden in the shadows of the interrogation room: "We all know where Mr. Dent has been and what he has done."

"What do you mean?" Hearing this, Gordon's face showed obvious anger: "What do you want to say?" "There is only one question you have to ask yourself - who killed Johnny Vitti?"

This time, the atmosphere was even more stagnant and tense than last time.

"You have nothing to do here. Get out of here, Mickey."

In prison, the Irish gang finally reunited.

"Brothers, you all know what to say, right?" Mickey, who had just been sent to prison, was facing the light. The crowd could not see his blurry face or his expression, but from his out-of-tune and distorted accent, it seemed that he had indeed been interrogated quite harshly.

"Mickey, we've already rehearsed the lines. I don't want to do it again." Donnie shook his head.

"We've never been in such danger before."

"Then let's do it like we did before—collude with them!"

At this point, everyone would laugh knowingly. They were already familiar with this kind of thing.

"I was responsible for driving the car that day and took the other person away from the scene. I'll write it all down if you need it."

"I'm sending a package to that woman, Harvey Dent's wife, Mrs. Dent, you know. I'll write it all down, if you want it."

"I followed Dent to his house. Yes, I did it. I followed him back home. Write it all down if you want. I will."

"I pushed the damn remote. And I'll write it all down if you want."

Five testimonies, including Mickey's, cross-referenced, with no loopholes—whatever Roman had given them, he had spent well.

Batman thought silently.

The police officer on standby heard a low, hoarse voice from the darkness: "Bring Mickey back."

So, Mickey among the five was brought back again.

"Did you ask anything?"

"Nothing. No one mentioned Falcone's name."

Mickey sighed, reached out and tore off the wretched face, revealing Harvey Dent's angular features. "My Irish accent is terrible, but luckily those idiots couldn't hear it. Now that things have come to this, I don't have to be dead anymore."

Back to before the explosion, in the basement, Harvey received a call.

"Mr. Harvey Dent, the Romans send their greetings."

"For the next three minutes, there's no chance our conversation will be eavesdropped on—unless someone has installed a bug in your home. But as far as I know, you're not that careless, and that person wouldn't allow you to be monitored."

"So I'll cut to the chase - there's a bomb in the package upstairs, but it's a small-yield bomb that I've swapped with the other one. It explodes brilliantly, but it doesn't do much damage."

Harvey listened to the voice on the phone and his expression gradually became gloomy and angry.

"Don't talk, just listen. The code for the package is 1942. Besides the bomb, there's also a cross necklace inside. Give it to your wife, or wear it yourself. Believe it or not, this cross necklace can keep you safe."

"The bomb will be activated when you go upstairs. I've modified it to have a delayed detonation, so you have ten extra seconds. Don't go upstairs until you've figured out how to escape."

"Finally—don't just dispose of the bomb. Someone has to claim Falcone's bounty. If you die once, the Romans won't hunt you a second time."

"Good luck, Prosecutor Harvey."

(End of this chapter)