"Are you saying he really shot at the enemy's back?"
Arthur scratched his furry head, asking with a somewhat peculiar expression. Everyone had arranged a lot of things, but he was still stuck on a topic from a while ago.
Oliver shrugged, giving an innocent smile, "Don't look at me. Isn't it common sense for an archer to shoot from behind?"
This could indeed be seen as a cultural difference. Bows and arrows appeared early on, initially invented by humans for hunting. Approaching prey from behind was, of course, common sense.
But firearms were different. The early firearms lacked rifling, necessitating firing at close range to achieve any semblance of accuracy, hence the emergence of tactics like lined infantry firing squads. Using old-fashioned guns for hunting was unthinkable.
Thus, in the Western understanding, gunfights meant facing and confronting enemies directly, while shooting from behind often carried a connotation of cowardice.
You see, in movies, even when heroes have guns and the villain's back is turned to them, they must shout first, letting the bad guy turn around before shooting.
This is the morally correct heroic behavior.
Of course, such traits rooted in knightly spirit were of no use to Su Ming. He adhered to the pragmatic belief that it doesn't matter whether the cat is black or white, as long as it catches mice.
Su Ming patted Arthur's shoulder. "It doesn't matter whether he shot in the front, because he's already dead, and everything about the dead will dissipate with the wind. In a few days, you probably won't remember this matter."
Oliver pressed his lips together, trying not to laugh. Wasn't this indirectly calling Arthur foolish?
But indeed, the Cruel Knight actually fired in front of the criminals. However, through Ivy's illusionary pollen manipulation, the illusion played out according to Deathstroke's arrangement.
The truth is only relevant if we win; how the opponent lost is no longer important.
"Right, Ivy, lift the pollen effect — we've been in Crime Alley all day." Su Ming waved to Ivy. With the Platform of All Things Green, Poison Ivy's illusionary capabilities became indefensible. Inhaling a little pollen or mushroom spores would integrate these things into the bloodstream, reaching the brain to perform theatrics.
Everything is under Ivy's control. If she found some parasitic fungi, Su Ming suspected she could produce a remotely controlled zombie army.
He could use the Strangulation Gang to help expel the pollen from his body, so he could avert the illusion. But there's no need to let Ivy know this; sometimes hiding an ace up one's sleeve is quite useful.
Ivy took out a foul-smelling flower, letting everyone take a whiff, instantly breaking the illusion but leaving behind constant retching and nausea.
"Alright, next time I want to lose weight, I'll come to you." Su Ming looked at Ivy helplessly. She smirked with a self-satisfied expression, while he exhaled deeply, raised his hand to knock on the door of the morgue in front of him. "Director Gordon? Are you in? The community's bringing warmth!"
With a creak, Gordon, clutching a handgun, opened the door ajar. Seeing Deathstroke and half of the Justice League outside, he relaxed a bit, tucking the gun back into his coat.
"Your home is the morgue. What just happened outside?"
"Ah, a madman Batman from the Otherworld. I took him down, but we were a bit late, and the officers suffered heavy losses. Sigh, my condolences."
Su Ming shamelessly told a lie. In fact, they'd teleported to the corridor outside the morgue long ago, setting traps for the Cruel Knight to fall into. Only the corridor was suitable for pinning him down front to back, so the officers in the hall were merely bait.
But let's treat them as having sacrificed for world safety. In that way, their departed souls should feel more at ease....
"Hi~~~ Gordon, did you miss me? Hehe."
Before Gordon could begin mourning or reflection, a girl with twin pigtails suddenly popped out from the crowd, gleefully leaping before Gordon and making faces at him.
"Harley Quinn! How did you..."
"Batman brought me back from the Celestial Eye Association, but don't worry, I'm just here for a vacation. I've recently taken a liking to the sun in New York and plan to find a full-time job, like becoming a psychologist at a private clinic. It's good money and I get to see patients tormented by their own minds. What job could be better? But for such a simple wish, some people just hate it and don't want me to live happily, making the whole world precarious now. How could someone as cute, charming, and smart as Little Harley let them off? Hehehehe..."
For Harley's long-winded talk, Gordon hadn't taken much in. He was just pondering what Batman could possibly gain from saving someone like Harley from the Celestial Eye Association?
Batman is the least adept at rescue missions among superheroes. His hostage rescues almost invariably fail, with countless friends and girlfriends who, for this reason, are either dead or driven mad....
So, not to mention dealing with the Celestial Eye Association, Gordon considered it hard for Batman to even rescue someone from Arkham. Which Batman had extracted Harley?
Gordon fell into deep confusion. The world is changing too fast...
...............
Arkham Asylum, officially known as the Elizabeth Arkham Asylum for the Criminally Insane, is one of the most famous classic landmarks in the DC world. It can be understood as the 'Abnormal Human Research Center' in Batman's world, where most of the extremely dangerous high-IQ criminals are held.
It is located on the Gotham River delta in the northwest of Gotham City. To reach other districts of Gotham, one must cross river bridges.
To the south, across the river, lies the Coventry District, a 'no man's land,' to the north is the territory of Black Mask, the Borile District, and to the west, the Sanmen Bridge leads to Gotham County, home to the power plant supplying all of Gotham City.
It's like an isolated island, floating on the wide river, yet it remains a part of the whole of Gotham. That bizarre and always eerie building seems to have been there since the day the city was established.
The Gotham Police Station is located in the southeast coastal municipal district of Gotham City, while Gordon's home is at the Triangle Cape in the southwest of the city.
This naturally leads to Gordon's complaints, as every time Batman delivers someone to Arkham, Gordon has to head over to deal with the aftermath, practically drawing a triangle on the city's map.
You should know that, excluding bridges and tunnels, there are over ten blocks between the GCPD and Arkham, and if there's traffic, it takes at least two hours to get there. Not to mention, if you finish work and plan to go home, you have to drive across nearly the same number of blocks, passing through many territories held by lunatics.
At this moment, the castle in the pouring rain also suffers from the flooding caused by rising river waters. Many prisoners' cells suddenly turn into water prisons, and for a time, the patients who were sent back after the last flood found the notion of the warden's intention to drown them quite understandable.
Due to the potential impacts it may bring, the hospital guards must conduct ward rounds late at night.
Any reasonable person would be reluctant to stroll in a dark madhouse at past midnight.
Not to mention the possibility of an escaped smart aleck hiding in the dark corners; even the ghostly wailing incessantly ringing in their ears makes one's scalp tingle.
"Bob, once again it's our shift. This is just too unlucky." One guard raised his hand, nodding, as the light swept across the locks of iron doors.
An officer referred to as Bob sighed helplessly. Meeting two floods and a jailbreak in one day would be exciting enough for any guard.
If it weren't for the last flood coming so fiercely and the patients being preoccupied with escaping for their lives, they wouldn't have ignored us guards, and things definitely would not have ended well for us.
"Who wouldn't agree with that? But in a few more days, I'll be retired. Wayne Enterprises offers extra retirement benefits for those of us who've worked at Arkham for many years. I swear I'll never come back. Don't expect me to come visit you all."
The younger guard showed an envious expression. He was too young to determine if he'd live to see a normal retirement. This place was the lunatics' favorite vacation spot. Every time someone wanted to stir up trouble in Gotham, they'd often opt to enter Arkham Asylum in search of accomplices.
This sanatorium had nurtured too much talent for Gotham. Behind these iron doors, there wasn't a single good fellow to be found.
"Wow, you're so heartless. You're too dark... Oh, by the way, I heard the TV you bought the other day broke down?"
The young guard asked Bob with a smile, and the old guard disapprovingly patted his own belly: "Yes, I called after-sales service; they said the refund mechanism is..."
As the two were chatting while patrolling, they suddenly felt like wind blew past them. The subtle yet present sound drew their attention. This sound was quite noticeable even in a hospital filled with strange cries.
They turned around and saw only a blurry silhouette in the darkness, just plastered against the wall behind them.
The shadow had two pointy ears on top of its head, emanating an aura of darkness and chill, with a scent of rainwater mixed with rust.
The two guards were startled; it was the kind of fright from having someone suddenly appear behind them in the dark, and they had not done anything wrong, so they certainly had no reason to fear Batman.
Bob patted his own chest, soothing his heart beating wildly: "Batman? Buddy, you're a bit scary here. We clearly checked the passage switches just now, how did you get in?"
The young guard bent down to pick up a flashlight that fell on the floor, tapping it to make it work: "Indeed, pal, people scaring people can scare them to death."
"Sorry, my bad. Uh, maybe I should send a greeting card first? Hmm? Hahahaha, ah hahahaha!"
Upon hearing the creepy laughter, the guards suddenly fell into a stupor.
Batman laughed?
Is this the end of the world?
As the young officer pointed his flashlight at Batman, he found that this Batman wasn't the one they knew, but a weirdo in a tight leather coat with a big grin on his face, showing a mouthful of yellow teeth.
As they intended to ask more questions, a flash of knife light swept through the darkness. A crescent-shaped scythe directly struck down Bob, almost slicing him in half, spilling his intestines everywhere.