NOVEL NEXT 270. Gotham Falls.
Gotham, long shrouded in clouds and shadow, now resembled a hell on earth.
The streets had descended into chaos, countless citizens fleeing in all directions, desperate to survive this horrific disaster. Yet their fear only worsened the situation, drawing in more Parademons.
Police sirens blared throughout the district, but these defenses were as fragile as candles in the wind. The sudden invasion caught the Gotham City Police Department off guard; many officers had been hastily assembled.
Under the onslaught of the Parademons, the officers' defenses were gradually crumbling. Bullets might hold up against ordinary Parademons, but against those of the Doomsday variety, they were nothing more than sticks.
Even so, they did not give up. The Gotham City Police Department was deserted, with all available personnel deployed to combat.
Shouting "GCPD," they rushed to the most crowded streets, where countless Parademons were slaughtering civilians, making it the battlefield that needed them the most.
Gunfire roared incessantly. Within half an hour, a third of Gotham had already fallen. By the time people began to realize what was happening, this isolated city was cut off from help.
"Chief, is there still no word from Batman!?"
The Bat-Signal had been illuminated once more, a bright bat symbol shining down from the heavy clouds above. But now, this emblem of courage and hope was doing nothing to help.
"We haven't heard anything. I'm afraid we can only rely on ourselves," Chief Gordon said as he stood on the rooftop, gazing at the western half of the city engulfed in flames, his expression grave.
In the past, whenever a crisis arose, Batman would foresee it and intervene. But now, Gotham was on the brink of destruction, and both Batman and the others had not responded, which was clearly out of character.
Gordon had to prepare for the worst. If Batman hadn't appeared by this point, there could only be one possibility.
"39th Street has fallen. Three of our squads have lost contact, Chief, what should we do?" a frantic officer shouted.
"Gather our forces, get everyone together!" Gordon had no time to consider anything else. He loaded his handgun and turned to the detectives beside him. "We don't have enough manpower to support the entire city; our priority now is to establish a safe zone."
"What about the districts that have fallen? There are still many civilians trapped there," a young detective said, his expression filled with despair.
"We can't worry about that now. Contact all teams; how many of us are left?"
Gordon waved his hand and turned to an older detective beside him, asking, "How many do we have?"
"Thirty, I guess," the older detective sighed heavily.
"Thirty-one, actually."
Suddenly, an unfamiliar voice echoed on the rooftop.
The detectives turned in surprise to see a figure they could hardly believe was there, grinning grotesquely as he walked slowly up the stairs. It was a man in a suit, appearing polished like an elite, but when the focus shifted to his face, it was enough to make anyone recoil in horror.
The left side of his face was entirely disfigured, horrific and ghastly flesh visible beneath the skin, repulsive to behold.
"Harvey!?"
Gordon's eyes widened as he stared at the man, momentarily at a loss for words.
"Hi, James. Surprised to see me?"
The Two-Face smiled slightly, madness glinting in his eyes. "I don't think now is a good time for reminiscing. It's time to move."
Swallowing hard, Gordon nodded, the gravity of his nod increasing with each passing moment.
"Right."
Feeling the eyes of everyone around him on him, Gordon felt an indescribable strength surge from within. He gritted his teeth.
"Gentlemen, it's time to move!"
Smoke filled the air, and the sound of gunfire rose. All the gangs in Gotham were stirred into action.
Although the fighting strength and numbers of the Parademons were terrifying, these people showed no hesitation, throwing themselves into the battle with complete resolve. The sounds of artillery echoed everywhere, the explosions of submachine guns and grenades adding a fiery intensity to the war.
At the Iceberg Lounge, the entire building trembled under the bombardment. But Oswald Cobblepot, the head of the Cobblepot family, sat calmly at the dining table, holding a knife and fork, pondering how to cut into the steak on his plate.
Suddenly, a blood-soaked old man rushed over, stumbling to Cobblepot's table and collapsing on the floor.
"Boss! Those monsters are charging again! Many on the front lines are dead, and Maximilian Zeus's stronghold has been breached. Our people can't hold out much longer!"
At these words, Cobblepot finally shifted his gaze from the steak.
The invasion of the Parademons had been sudden, but initially, the gangs weren't afraid, as they believed the Justice League would protect them. But as time passed, not only had the Justice League not shown up, but even Batman was nowhere to be found. Now, these crime lords began to realize the seriousness of the situation.
Maximilian wasn't the first gang to engage in this conflict, and he certainly wouldn't be the first supervillain to fall.
Just five minutes earlier, Cobblepot had received the news of Deadshot's death while trying to protect his daughter.
Cobblepot's lips trembled slightly, his eyes wild, beads of sweat rolling down his forehead, yet he forced a smile.
"Maximilian was nothing but garbage. Send everyone we have out there; we cannot let those monsters tarnish my kingdom."
"But... but all our communications have been cut!"
"What did you say?"
Cobblepot's eyes widened as he focused on the old man, breathing heavily, as if suppressing some uncontrollable power.
"What about the others? What about the people here!?"
"The people here are protecting you. They are our last armed force; we can't send them out!"
The old man quivered as he stood up, hands gripping the table, carefully speaking.
"W-we might be able to retreat…"
"Retreat?"
Cobblepot's face turned pale as he shouted angrily, "This is my city!"
He stood up abruptly, limping around the table to confront the old man.
Grabbing the old man by the collar, Cobblepot pulled him close, his voice trembling with fury as he gritted his teeth, speaking each word with intensity.
"Gotham is a part of me. If those monsters want to take it, they'll have to kill me first!"
Furious, Cobblepot tensed his body, like a rock, glaring with bloodshot eyes, his cheeks ashen. After a pause, his voice suddenly dropped, sounding almost like a whisper.
"Do you understand?"
The old man, held tightly, trembled uncontrollably, unable to say a word except for a nod.
In the next moment, Cobblepot roared with all his might.
"Then grab that damn gun!!"
The thunderous shout startled the old man, who scurried away in fright. In the vast dining hall, only Cobblepot remained, breathing heavily.
Huff—ha—huff—ha—
Veins bulged on his forehead, and Cobblepot stared blankly at the direction the old man had fled, lost in thought. His eyes were wide, as if they might pop out of his sockets.
After a long moment, Cobblepot turned, picking up a wine glass from the table and downing it in one gulp. Then he grabbed the assault rifle prepared under the table and strode confidently toward the exit.
Though he limped, his steps were resolute!
.....
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271. A Dance of Madness!
272. Part of Gotham.
273. What Is Hope?
274. Defeated Soldiers.
275. Into the Dream with the Wind.