There is no Batman in Gotham City comics.

Chapter 36 The Demise of the Devil

Two police cars were parked in the overgrown square outside the Cathedral of Philendia.

Setting up a cordon, drawing a white line next to the body, taking a few symbolic photos, and finally arresting a few bystanders to take statements—this is typical procedure for Gotham police when solving a bloody case.

"Sir, the identities of the deceased are in. Apart from the two wanted habitual offenders, the other three were all members of the 'Flying Grayson' circus and also a family. However, we couldn't find the youngest child, Dick Grayson, at the scene." The young officer handed the investigation report to Dee.

"That kid must have killed him. Go to the station and issue an arrest warrant!"

Di Jie glanced at the report impatiently, picked up the coffee on the hood, and took a sip.

Perhaps he forgot to add sugar, because the coffee sprayed out as soon as it entered his mouth, and caramel-colored coffee stains were splattered all over the face of old Grayson's corpse.

The young police officer hurriedly took out tissues to wipe it, afraid that the sip of coffee would ruin some clue.

"Why bother wiping it? Just bag it and take it back to the police station."

"But...but we found two sets of bullets with completely opposite trajectories at the scene, which initially suggests that two sides exchanged fire there!"

Before the young police officer could argue further, Di Jie, heavily pregnant, had already swayed away.

Of course, Dee knew who did it; Baron called him immediately after the murder.

When Dee first heard that someone had been murdered in his jurisdiction, he was truly terrified. During this time, Harvey Dent had created a climate of fear among everyone in the police, government, and business circles, and to protect Barron at this critical juncture was practically gambling with his police career.

Barron was relieved when he told him that the deceased was a family of three from a circus.

As for that kid who ran away...

"I'll send my men to search the lower districts. You'll help me issue a warrant for the man in the city. Once you find him, hand him over to me, and I'll make sure he disappears from this world without a trace!" Baron told Dee.

The Gotham Police Department receives at least seven or eight murder reports every day. If they were to investigate each one with full effort, the police force would simply be overwhelmed. Therefore, the police department adheres to an unwritten rule when investigating murder cases.

Ignore it! Only begin the investigation when inquired or urged by stakeholders of the deceased.

Whether the evidence was destroyed or where the suspect was at that time was not their concern.

Barron killed a family of three, and the only survivor will be wanted by both the police and the gang; by any measure, they have no chance of survival.

Once Dick dies, no one will care about the murder anymore, and a few years later the case file will be labeled as a cold case and sent to the archives to gather dust and mold.

It is indeed a good idea, but Baron rarely asks for help, so how can Dejie not make good use of the oil?

"Are you in stock?"

"We have some! Fresh stock from Detroit, high purity. I'll save some for you; come over when you're done."

Thinking of this, Di Jie lost interest in investigating the case. He handed over the on-site investigation to his subordinates and went to Baron's residence.

Barron's residence was not much different from the Senate's, a typical old-style apartment building in the Lower District. But unlike the lone commander Oswald, Barron was well-manned, with four or five people on guard at the door alone, and the noise from inside the building could be heard by Dege across the street.

Di Jie was an old acquaintance, and the lookout nodded in greeting before opening the door for the pot-bellied police officer.

The pungent smell of marijuana hit him in the face, and Dee squinted and took a deep breath.

Since Harvey Dent arrived, Rob has become stricter with the officers, which has led to him not having smoked marijuana in the stairwell for a long time. He is weak and listless when on duty, and relies entirely on caffeine to keep going.

"What a wonderful surprise, my brother!"

Baron greeted him personally, shaking his shoulders and opening his arms to give Dijje a big hug.

After a while, Di Jie noticed that the poisonous dog had become increasingly thin, looking like a skinned skeleton, with blood vessels intertwined in the whites of its eyes, almost staining its entire eyeballs red.

In stark contrast to his slender physique was Baron's excited spirit; he put his arm around Dijon's shoulder and muttered incoherently.

His rotten gums were black and oozing pus, and the pungent stench of his breath made it impossible for Di Jie to open his eyes.

"You should smoke less; you look like you're about to die."

"Really? That's wonderful! I can't wait to meet God."

Baron chuckled wickedly, pulled out the cross from under his shirt, and kissed it hard.

He led Dee to his bedroom on the top floor. From there, one could see far and wide, and there was a monocular telescope mounted outside the window, so any movement in the surrounding area could be detected immediately; turning left after leaving the room led to the stairs to the rooftop, making it easy to escape from the roof.

A few days ago, the Red Hood gang came to cause trouble for Barron, and this escape route saved his life.

Barron drew the curtains and lit a yellowish lamp in the dark room.

"I've got everything ready for you. If you're not comfortable with that, just put on a brace. I don't want to see you so happy that you bite off your own tongue, hehehehehehe!"

"Oh, by the way, I also prepared a small gift for you!"

He comfortably lay down on the yellowed sheets, snapped his fingers, and signaled a young girl to enter the room.

The girl's wrinkled dress was covered in dark brown bloodstains. Her long hair was disheveled and her eyes were empty. At Baron's prompting, she obediently lay down in Di Jie's arms.

A hint of displeasure flashed in Di Jie's eyes.

"Don't look at me like that. This child's origins are absolutely legal. Her mother, who was suffering from drug addiction, begged me to buy her. That day, she pushed her own flesh and blood in front of me and knelt down with a thud."

"She looked so pathetic, clutching my trouser leg and burying her head in her stomach. I bet she would have done whatever I asked back then."

"What a pity, she smelled too bad for me, but the girl was nice."

Barron pulled a small bag of powder from his pocket and waved it around under the light as if to show off.

"Everything, everything, is for this thing."

"Your words are really harsh, it's like you're telling me to quit it." Di Jie pushed away the girl in his arms and straightened up, his face blending into the shadows.

"Oh! Don't misunderstand my friend,"

Barron flicked the needle and inserted it into the familiar spot on his neck.

"This world is going to be destroyed... That mother, this child... and you and me, we're stuck in the mire... Waving our hands frantically will only make us sink faster, we might as well enjoy its embrace... We'll all die sooner or later... Oh God!"

Drugs were eroding Barron's already damaged nerves. The gaunt man hunched over, tearing at the corner of the sheet. He rolled his eyes and groaned with pleasure.

In a daze, he saw a gargoyle stuck in the shadows of the corner wall.

It was a terrifying monster, its dark muscles swollen like tumors, with varicose veins crisscrossing and meandering across them.

The gargoyle growled and struggled, flapping its black wings, and thick saliva trailed long threads down its sharp teeth.

Am I going to die?

Baron was puzzled as to why he, a devout believer in God since childhood, could see such evil things as gargoyles.

He was not pulled from the hallucination until the gargoyle lunged at him and severed his arteries with its sharp, thick claws.

There was no gargoyle at all; instead, the person pressing down on him was a boy dressed in a green bodysuit. The boy gripped a small knife and swung it wildly, stabbing it into the boy's chest again and again.

Great, I can finally meet God...

The drugs robbed him of his sense of pain.

Baron murmured, his consciousness gradually drifting away from his body, but what greeted him was not the gospel of heaven, but the boy's hoarse roar.

"Go to hell, you devil!"