Chapter 42: Who Is the True Self

As his medical records were read aloud, Harvey’s mental state deteriorated further. He drove in stony silence, soon arriving at an inconspicuous villa on the outskirts of town.

"We’re here," Jason said, parking the car in a secluded corner.

"Wait for me down here. If anything goes wrong, drive away immediately," Roland instructed. "I'm heading up."

"Understood."

Roland scaled the back wall of the villa and climbed toward a second-story window. With the aid of his Kamaitachi, he slipped past the guards, infiltrating the house undetected.

"District Attorney Harvey, you wouldn't want your medical records exposed to the world, would you?" Hearing the commotion inside, Roland used the small crucifix knife hanging from his neck to carve a hole in the window, peering into the room.

Several gangsters had Harvey surrounded, threatening to cooperate or face the consequences: they would print millions of copies of his psychiatric files and distribute them to everyone in Gotham.

Sweat poured down Harvey’s face, his muscles twitching under the immense pressure and the taunts of the thugs. Finally, he snapped.

In an instant, Harvey grew eerily calm. His facial muscles stopped twitching, and a profound, chilling smile spread across his lips.

"I think we can reach an agreement," Harvey said, walking forward with unsettling composure. "Return those records to me, and I might consider sparing your lives."

"Spare our lives?" The gangsters erupted in laughter, the room filled with their mocking mirth.

Harvey calmly drew his pistol and opened fire with blinding speed. The "American-style iaijutsu" was sudden and brutal; Harvey emptied the magazine in seconds. The gangsters reached for their own weapons to retaliate, but it was already too late.

Harvey tossed the empty gun aside, grabbed one of the corpses, and hurled it at the thug who was trying to escape with the files.

"Damn it!" Roland kicked the window open and vaulted into the room, knocking aside a gangster attempting to jump out. He grabbed a chair and swung it, leveling the remaining men still standing.

Harvey looked at Roland with a complex expression, but he didn't stop. He picked up a Thompson submachine gun from the floor and finished off every gangster in the room.

"Aren't you going to stop me?" Harvey siphoned some gasoline from his car, doused the room, tossed the medical records into the puddle, and lit it.

"A prosecutor executing criminals? As a concerned citizen, I’m obviously on the side of justice, right? Why would I stop you?" Roland lit a cigarette and watched the fire consume the room. "Though, this is getting a bit out of hand. I wonder if 'gas leak' will hold up as an excuse."

"The side of justice?" Harvey shook his head. "Forget it. I’m planning to find a bar to take the edge off. Care to join me?"

"Sure." Roland told Jason to go get groceries himself and hopped into Harvey’s car, heading toward the nearest bar.

They arrived at a bar on the outskirts. At this hour, it was nearly empty. Harvey sat at the counter and told the bartender, "A Bloody Mary."

"A 'Pure Shen Teng' for me," Roland said.

"What on earth is that?" the bartender asked, bewildered.

"Never mind. Just give me a Mizuwari whiskey, a Ramos Gin Fizz, and a dry martini."

The bartender’s expression changed instantly, looking like a chef who had just been asked to prepare three of the most notoriously labor-intensive traditional dishes at once.

Twenty minutes later, Roland finally got his drinks, while Harvey was already becoming intoxicated.

"Roland, look at this," Harvey said, pointing to the bar’s sign. "Do you see the symbol in the bottom right corner?"

The purple sign featured a black hand and a skull-and-crossbones emblem.

"What is that? A logo?" Roland asked.

"No, that’s the mark of the Mafia. It means this bar is owned by a crime syndicate," Harvey said, taking a sip of his drink. "Restaurants, bars, dance halls, taxis... so many industries are inextricably linked to the mob."

"Tch, are they really that arrogant? If they’re so bold, why don't they go collect protection money from the Gotham Bank?" Roland downed his Mizuwari in one go and slammed the glass onto the counter. "Besides, didn't we just take out a whole group of them?"

"Those were just small fry. No matter how many you kill, it’s only treating the symptoms, not the disease. It’s useless. This city is beyond saving; it’s like a rotten tree, decayed from the outside all the way to the core," Harvey said, his voice low. "Instead of saving it, perhaps it’s time for a different approach..."

"Don't do anything reckless," Roland said, sensing a dangerous undertone in Harvey’s words.

"I will replace that weakling. I’ll face this rotten city on my own terms," Harvey said, tossing a coin while he drank.

Roland felt a headache coming on. "Let's finish our drinks and go see a psychiatrist."

"No! If I’m 'cured,' wouldn't that mean I’d disappear?" Harvey roared, smashing his glass before being easily subdued by Roland.

Roland forced two more stiff drinks down Harvey’s throat, knocking him unconscious. He hailed a taxi, loaded the comatose Harvey inside, and drove to the clinic of his fiancée, Gilda.

"Doctor, I have a friend who..." A shy woman was mid-sentence when the door burst open. Seeing two drunks stumble in, she shrieked.

"Excuse me, Ms. Gilda, this is an emergency," Roland said, looking awkward.

"Harvey? What happened to him?" Gilda gasped, seeing her fiancé unconscious on Roland’s back.

"It’s a long story. Let’s wait until your patient leaves," Roland said. He had to be cautious; the whole incident started because the mob had stolen Harvey Dent’s medical records.

"Ms. Penny, something has come up. Could you come back another day? I am terribly sorry," Gilda said to her patient.

"Fine. I’ll contact you later," Penny said, casting a glance at Harvey before turning to leave.

"Here’s what happened: Harvey was threatened..." Roland released his Kamaitachi to ensure they weren't being bugged before explaining the day's events to Gilda.

"This is... absolutely terrible." Gilda touched Harvey’s face, her eyes filled with sorrow. "His dark side has suppressed his normal self."

"Do you have any professional advice?" Roland asked.

"I don't know..." Gilda sighed, tears streaming down her face.

"Don't panic. I'll call someone in." Seeing Gilda’s own mental state wavering, Roland pulled out his phone and made a call.

A few minutes later:

"Wait, say that again..." Roland’s hand trembled as he held the phone. "What do you mean, Bruce has been kidnapped?"