It was rumored that the cloaked strange person was also injured during his raids, but no one had concrete proof, and no fingerprints or blood traces were found at the scenes. The Bat-monster legend was intense for a while, then slowly subsided.
Initially, a few muddle-headed thugs jumped out claiming to be the ruthless vigilante.
But as Falcone and Maroni offered bounties of one million and five hundred thousand dollars, respectively, these imposters rushed to find guarantors and priests to swear they were absolutely not the person in question.
$1.5 million dollars…
These two bounties practically burned at Jay's nerves every day. He dreamt nightly that someone figured out Batman's identity and claimed the reward.
Although he had no intention of actually selling out Bruce Wayne, the mere thought of that figure clawed at his heart.
If I got that money, I could run straight to Central City!
But then, the thought of a dark, gritty, and petty-minded bat constantly peeking through his window made him doubt even Barry Allen could protect him.
For now, he could only spend his days eyeing the criminals in the holding cell, contemplating the feasibility of framing someone to fraudulently claim the reward.
This went on for over a week. Gotham ushered in the New Year amidst a flurry of gunshots, remaining relatively calm.
If the billionaire Bruce Wayne hadn't appeared pale and escorted by a supermodel at the New Year's charity gala, Jay might have gone to Wayne Manor to check if some low-level gang member's shaky gun hand had actually killed the boss.
"I think that pale look is because his kidneys are shot, take a look?"
Jay tossed the newspaper to Anna in the passenger seat, rolled down the window, and waved at two thugs trading threats outside.
"Stop yelling like loudspeakers, will you? Either pull out a knife and kill the other guy so I can shoot you, or go do something more productive. Pick one!"
The two men glanced at the monster-like assault vehicle, then exchanged a look.
"Officer,w… we're good brothers! We would never fight!"
Jay watched them walk away, awkwardly leaning on each other's shoulders. He was about to reach for his thermos when the in-car platform crackled to life.
"…All units be advised, Gotham Public Financial Bank is currently being robbed. Suspect is masked, wearing… strange… static… attire, possibly armed with lethal weapons and is in an abnormal mental state. Nearest units proceed immediately to assist."
Jay suddenly shivered.
Strange clothing? Mentally abnormal? Could the Joker have shown up this early?
Bruce Wayne was truly a curse! Why did trouble start the moment he returned?
Previously, the occasional bank robbery in Gotham was either impulsive or organized by minor thugs.
Gang bosses like Falcone or Maroni wouldn't rob banks—their own money was kept there.
"I'm going to check it out. You first call Central for backup!" Jay cursed as he hung up the radio, telling Anna to take the rifle and shotgun off the rack and check them.
The young woman's face was flushed with excitement, probably her first case of this type, making Jay's mouth twitch uncontrollably.
"You stay put in the car. You are absolutely not to exit the vehicle without orders!"
"Yes, Sir!"
Someone dressed strangely, and mentally abnormal?
If it really was the Joker, not only would these rookies be useless, but even Jay himself could easily be blown into pieces, scattered everywhere.
The scene would likely need a shovel and a mop to clean up.
But then he reconsidered. The bank that reported the robbery, Gotham Public Financial Bank, sounded grand, but it was just a slightly larger community bank. If it were truly the Joker, why would he bother with a place like this?
Did the Joker have a "newbie" phase?
The advantage of the new war machine was its bulk. With the siren wailing, cars ahead quickly swerved out of the way. This was completely different from driving a standard Crown Victoria.
What, a car not yielding?
It's an emergency! Pedal to the floor!
The public's safety and property are at stake!
I just want to catch the suspect quickly. What did I do wrong!
No time to explain! Talk to the police department's insurance company!
The police car sped along. The Ford E350's chassis drove with the presence of Optimus Prime, reaching the scene in under ten minutes.
He pulled the car sideways in front of the entrance to use as a shield, grabbing his gun and jumping out of the driver's side.
But there was no anticipated storm of gunfire, not even a single shot. The bank was loud and chaotic, and he could hear someone screaming.
He crouched down, cautiously peeking his head out from behind the front of the car.
In the bank lobby light, a large group of people were clustered in a circle.
In the middle, a masked person wearing a green facial mask and black sunglasses was holding two guns, supervising a teller stuffing cash into a bag.
Jay crept along the outside wall of the bank. He pressed against the glass for a closer look and felt his heart sink. The two guns in the masked person's hands didn't seem to be standard models; two tubes connected from the grips to canisters on the person's back.
Hiss… Don't tell me this is some maniac with a flamethrower?
He thought for a moment and then crouched low, scooting toward the main entrance. Whether the person opened fire or he accidentally blew up the fuel canisters, the density of the crowd meant this wouldn't end with just one or two casualties.
The only way to minimize the danger was a guaranteed headshot from a vantage point.
The door wasn't far from the window. Jay scurried to the door and found it unlocked. Inside, a security guard was on the floor, groaning and clutching his eyes.
He didn't kill anyone?
He lightly braced his foot against the door frame, planning to slowly push the door open, then burst in and fire.
But then the masked person's shouting became clearer.
"Hurry up and load the bag! Don't try anything funny! Or I'll let you taste my special hot sauce!"
Huh? What kind of strange metaphor is that?
Jay felt his brain short-circuiting. Ever since he considered planting potatoes in a flowerpot to prevent zombies from silently sneaking in to eat his brains, his head felt insufficient to process reality.
You're a bank robber. Do you hear what you are saying?
He observed the hostages around him. No one looked particularly terrified. A few people who looked like managers even seemed a little excited.
Finally, they can balance theiraccounts!
But Jay didn't know their thoughts. He just found their expressions strange.
Could this robbery be fake?
If so, he couldn't just shoot the robber, or there would be no witness to the setup.
But staging a robbery and filing a false police report…
How dare these bank employees pull this off?
Unless they were convinced the robber wouldn't be caught, they would face charges and their careers would be over. The risk wasn't worth it.
He looked down at himself; his body armor was still on.
So, Jay decisively kicked the door open, dove behind a pillar near the entrance, and leveled his rifle, roaring: "GCPD! Drop your weapons and surrender immediately!"
The masked person let out a strange laugh at the sound, suddenly spun around, and opened fire.
"Eat my Mustard Strike!"
Before shouting, Jay had already placed his sight on the masked person, but he still felt something was off. Seeing the person turn and shoot, Jay immediately ducked behind the marble pillar.
After all, two small handguns couldn't match the destructive power of a PKM machine gun.
The guns went off, but there were no bang-bang sounds. Only two sticky, squishy pfft-pfft sounds. Then, two thick, viscous streams of liquid—one red, one yellow—flew past his eyes, carrying a strong, spicy, and savory aroma.
Aaaah? Holy cow! The hot sauce you mentioned was real?!
He raised the AR-15 in his hands, then lowered it, his mind completely bewildered for a moment.
Hot sauce. Bank robbery. How did those two words end up together?
Jay shook his head and placed the rifle against the wall. He took off his uniform jacket, held it up as a shield, and charged forward.
The pfft-pfft sound continued, the uniform jacket swaying as thick liquid constantly dripped down from the back of the fabric onto the floor.
I have to admit, it smells pretty good.
After three or five steps, he was right in front of the masked person. He threw the uniform jacket over the person's head and launched a flying kick.
The masked person screamed instantly, clutching their stomach and tumbling to the floor.
"Damn it, this level of skill and you try to rob a bank!" Jay cursed. He picked up his uniform jacket and saw that both sides were thoroughly soaked in thick sauce. Even his shirt underneath was splattered.
Shit, the East Precinct doesn't offer free laundry!
He walked up, removed the robber's gear, and cuffed him.
Then, he looked around and asked loudly, "Who's in charge? Is anyone hurt?"
Two suit-wearing managers emerged from the crowd, their faces grim, looking somewhat displeased.
They shook their heads at Jay. "No losses, Officer, except the guard's eyes need washing out."
Jay opened his radio, called Anna in to take statements, and couldn't resist secretly dipping a finger into the sauce on his uniform to taste it.
Hmm… the flavor is actually pretty good.
He bent down and knelt in front of the man. "Hey, your sauce is good. Can I get the recipe?"
Though the robber was still groaning on the floor, his eyes suddenly lit up. He whimpered: "Twenty-five… percent… tomato juice, plus thirty… percent… Mexican… Extra hot… hot…"
He couldn't continue, seemingly overwhelmed by the heat of his own chili. Jay anxiously slapped his face.
"What about the other 45%? Son of a bitch! Finish telling me!"
Just then, Anna led an elderly man in his sixties over. They went inside and were horrified to see Jay seemingly interrogating a suspect…
——————————
"Sir, this is the caller. He's a long-time customer of the bank."
"Was?"
"Until this afternoon!" the old man gestured wildly. "I heard from a friend that the bank was having financial issues and was about to go under. But it doesn't matter, I just withdrew all my savings anyway. This guy…"
He pointed at the robber on the ground. "He's a restaurant owner. He's been crazy ever since he went bankrupt, but I don't know why he decided to rob the bank today."
Jay nodded and had Anna escort the suspect to the car. He glanced back at the noisy bank lobby, and 3 words suddenly popped into his mind: Chaos is descending.
Gotham… was finally starting to see crazy people in strange clothing.
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