Chapter 69: A Man of the Law-Abiding Society

"No!" Johnny Viti was startled, but at that exact moment, the curtains of the Gordon household suddenly drew shut, blocking out the faint illumination from the streetlights and storefront signs, plunging the room into near-total darkness.

"They say the 'Kamaitachi' is virtually invincible in the dark... and there's truth to that." Roland slipped quietly into the crowd, his domain fully open. The razor-sharp air currents danced wildly, capturing every sound and feeding it directly to him.

While Bajiquan is characterized by its fierce, explosive power, it frequently requires a practitioner to measure fractions of an inch with their body to determine victory. Its precision cannot be subpar, and its training methods emphasize striking in inches, intercepting in inches, and unleashing power in inches.

The vertex of the cranium, the back of the head, the heart, the liver, the pubic bone, the groin, the vagus nerve... Every single one of Roland's strikes hit human vital points with pinpoint accuracy, instantly stripping away their ability to resist and denying the mobsters even a single chance to draw their weapons.

"Ugh..." Johnny Viti clutched his groin, writhing on the floor. He hadn't passed out, but that was hardly a blessing; right now, he wished he had simply lost consciousness.

Roland flicked on the light and grabbed Johnny Viti by the collar. "Breaking into someone else's residence without permission while armed—this easily constitutes illegal entry and armed intimidation. I'd be fully within my rights to slaughter the lot of you."

"Wrong! We were taken down the moment we stepped in. How do you plan to convince a jury that it was necessary for you to use lethal force in self-defense?" Cold sweat streamed down Johnny Viti's face, yet his mind remained sharp.

"Tsk..." Roland paused, blinking. "Judging by your appearance, I took you for a street thug, but it turns out you're a law-abiding criminal. Even in a fix like this, you still know how to use legal weapons to protect yourself."

"He's right, and besides, he's merely an accomplice; killing him carries little significance. What matters is using this to legally nail Carmine Falcone for hiring contract killers," Gordon said, walking down the stairs and staring down at Johnny Viti. The murderous intent in his eyes gradually faded. "I've already called the authorities. We just need to ship him off to the precinct."

"Aren't you worried he'll just get released? That sort of thing happens all the time, doesn't it?" Roland asked, concern shadowing his voice.

"The gangsters arrested in the past were let go almost immediately primarily due to a lack of solid evidence," Gordon explained. "As for this time, I am an eyewitness. I'd love to see how they manage to squirm out of this with me on the record."

***

Over at the Falcone estate's dinner party, Bruce couldn't stop praising the cannoli flown in fresh from Italy. "This is truly extraordinary..."

"I'm glad you enjoy it. It was specially imported from Italy by air," Carmine Falcone said with a smile.

"Thank you for your hospitality." Bruce nodded, poured himself a glass of champagne, and clinked glasses with Falcone.

"There's no need to be so formal, Bruce." Carmine Falcone gazed quietly at Bruce's face. "Honestly, you look so much like your father, Dr. Thomas Wayne..."

Bruce felt a surge of emotions churn within him, yet his expression remained completely unchanged.

Carmine Falcone continued down memory lane. "That was back when the Falcone family was just beginning to rise. My father, Vincent Falcone, traveled to Gotham under the orders of Don Verrini, the mafia boss of Southern Italy, intending to establish their own mafia stronghold in Gotham."

"Around that time, another family from Blüdhaven had also gained a foothold in Gotham: the Maroni family, led by Luigi Maroni."

"Both of our families brought ample capital, allowing us to offer terms that the indigenous Five Families of the underworld simply couldn't refuse. Gradually, we replaced them, pushing all five families out into Gotham's East End."

"With our two families rising simultaneously, war was naturally inevitable. During one family feud, a bullet from Luigi Maroni struck me."

"Fearing an ambush by Luigi, my father didn't dare take me to a hospital. Instead, he brought me to Wayne Manor, begging the master of the estate—the wealthiest and most respected man in Gotham, Dr. Thomas Wayne—to save me."

"...Thanks to Dr. Thomas's help, I managed to claw my way back from the jaws of death."

"After Dr. Thomas cured me, my father felt he owed a lifelong debt, though Dr. Thomas maintained he was merely upholding the Hippocratic Oath. Even so, we never forgot that favor."

"Bruce, your father saved my life, and in return, I should help you..."

Just as the conversation reached a pivotal moment, a Falcone family underling came running over, sheer terror written across his face.

"Pardon me, something requires my attention." Carmine stood up. The moment he laid eyes on the underling, an ominous premonition washed over him.

That underling was the one assigned to maintain contact with Johnny Viti tonight. His panicked state could only mean one thing: Johnny Viti had failed.

Attempting to kidnap the relative of a police captain was not something a fixer like Sal Maroni could easily sweep under the rug. Falcone felt a slight numbness creep across his scalp. He pulled the underling aside into a secluded corner and muttered in a low voice, "What happened?"

"It's... it's Batman. Uncle Johnny and the others were ambushed by Batman. They were all captured and have already been delivered to the Gotham Police Department."

"What? Batman?" Falcone glanced back into the banquet hall at Bruce, who was still sipping his champagne. "Are you certain it was Batman?"

"Of course. Batman's costume is so distinctive; there's no mistaking it." The underling nodded. He had once had all his ribs broken by Batman, leaving him with severe PTSD.

The dark cape, the raspy voice, the swooping batarangs, the midnight engine roars—every single element still made him tremble uncontrollably.

So much so that he completely failed to notice that this particular "Batman" didn't have a white jawline.

"This is a mess..." Falcone rubbed his temples. The worst-case scenario had materialized.

"Godfather, what should we do now?"

"Here, go fetch Mario." Falcone fell silent for a brief moment before finally hardening his resolve.

His second son was summoned shortly thereafter. Falcone leaned in close to his ear. "Johnny Viti's operation failed."

"What? Is that guy really that incompetent?" Mario looked baffled.

"This is a critical juncture. He cannot be allowed to finger me. You understand what I mean, don't you?"

"I know. I'll arrange for someone to make him keep quiet permanently." Mario nodded.

"Don't use anyone from within the family. Don't let your Aunt Carla find out."

"Understood, but outside hitmen aren't exactly the most reliable bunch."

"It's fine. I have an organization I frequently collaborate with," Falcone said. "The contact information is in the second drawer of my desk. Mention my name when you go; you'll get a discount."