章 3045: Chapter 2198: Battle of the Twin Cities! (39)_2
Gordon stepped forward to handcuff the Penguin Man, looking into his eyes and saying, "I don't want to arrest you, you know why not? Because those who underwrote your arrest think that the greatest threat to you is imprisonment."
"Is it not?"
Gordon lifted his lips, revealing a sharp icy smirk. Few people remembered seeing a similar expression on the face of the police chief for decades.
The handcuffs clicked into place, two muscular officers restraining Penguin Man's arms from either side while Gordon moved close and quietly asked, "Someone just rang the police station. Guess what he said?"
Penguin Man seemed somewhat baffled as the police led him away, and it was not until he was being placed in the patrol car that a chilling guess began to form in his mind.
"No, Batman's real killer move… it's the Joker!"
Penguin Man let out a sudden shriek, startling the two officers escorting him and the driver in front of them. They watched in awe as the portly mayor writhed on the backseat and screamed.
"Let me go! Let me go! I can't go to the police, the Joker will kill me. He will kill me!!"
At that moment, Penguin Man understood what awaited him. The scariest part was that he had become the puppeteer behind this series of events.
And this series of events just happened to include Andrewkin's death.
But that was not his masterpiece; it belonged to Joker. He hadn't just plagiarized the Joker's plot but claimed the first half of his artwork as his own.
What's scarier was, in Joker's view, Penguin Man had thoughtlessly taken away his meticulously sculpted foundations and reworked them into crap with a classically unoriginal method.
That's right, it was classic— killing Batman for vulgar power, for stinking money, for despicable silence.
If Penguin Man had devised his own scheme and killed Batman for these boring motives, Joker would not spare a glimpse. How much energy could be sapped from the artist by a piece of dog crap on the road?
But you just don't snatch the sketch from a street artist and take it home to use as toilet paper.
That, according to the Joker, was exactly what Penguin Man was doing.
The Joker had long forgotten when he had last been so mad, not since he found his memories meddled with.
Joker's retaliation came faster than expected. Before Penguin Man's third scream finished, he choked like a cock with its neck wrung, causing the car to stop abruptly.
Bang!
The two cars directly and diagonally ahead of the police van exploded violently. The bombs had certainly been placed on their fuel tanks, rending the cars into pieces like miniature versions of cluster bombs.
The car directly in front of Penguin Man's police van was dangerously close. A burning debris of explosion soared over Penguin Man's head, making him understood that Joker didn't want to waste his breath on him. To Joker, Penguin Man didn't even qualify to be one of his art pieces. Joker just wanted him dead.
With that realization, Penguin Man understood this was just an appetizer. The officer in front of him and to his left lost his entire head. The one on his left was completely petrified.
The driver swerved the steering wheel and slammed on the brakes just before the explosion, jostling the only two survivors in the patrol car. Penguin Man roared at the officer to unlock the handcuffs while he blankly fumbled for the key.
Once freed, Penguin Man rolled out of the car at his best speed. He fished out his phone trying to call for help, but in the corner of his eye, he saw a manic man driving straight toward him.
It wasn't the Joker but must be one of his pawns. He was here to commit mass murder.
Indeed, the heavy pickup truck rammed into the group of survivors, sending five or six people flying and rolling over the bodies of the dead.
As the pickup truck advanced toward him, Penguin Man ran in one direction as fast as he had never done in his life.
The blast had also affected the opposite lane. Penguin Man just clambered over the central guardrail when he saw a cash transport van stuck a short distance away. Security guards eyed the surrounding area nervously with their guns clenched in their hands, thinking that the explosion was targeting them.
Penguin Man quickly recalled his advantage. He was the Mayor, a public sensation. So he rushed to the transport van, frantically signalling to them.
"I am the Mayor, do not shoot. I am the Mayor. I am in trouble. Protect me. Prepare to protect me!!"
The security was stunned at the sight of the Mayor's face. They remembered how the righteous Mayor had just curbed the dark forces of Bruce Wayne, so none of them fired a shot for the time being.
Once surrounded by the armed security, Penguin Man breathed a sigh of relief and said, "The explosion was meant for me, and I hope you can take me to a safe place now."
The guards immediately understood what Penguin Man meant. It wouldn't be that easy battling Wayne Enterprises. He had just sanctioned Bruce Wayne and now someone was after his life.
The security squad leader nodded at Penguin Man and ensured: "Don't worry, Mr. Mayor, where would you like us to take you? We will do our best to protect you."
"Thank you. But the Mayor's office and the police station are unsafe. I wish you could take me to 126 Modson Street."
Penguin Man was nearly panicked, but he knew he had to be calm and rational to escape Joker's clutches. So he told them in a steady voice.
"I foresaw this day coming a long time ago; it is a safe house I had prepared for myself. I hope you can drop me there quietly. But please remember, don't tell anyone where I am."
The security boarded the vehicle without hesitation, allowing Penguin Man to sit next to the money-crate in the back. The van charged through the barrier and turned around. Other cars backed out of the way at the sight of gun barrels in the smashed window.
They arrived at Penguin Man's designated location as fast as they could— an alley at the outskirts of a slum.
Desperate to flee, Penguin Man jumped out of the van and rushed towards his safe haven. He was completely oblivious to the expressions on the faces of the security guards — a mix of awe and sympathy for him, running towards the rickety neighborhood.
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