In the vast Bat Cave, only Vico’s shouting voice remained. She continued her performance in front of the cara and had already decided to treat today’s date as her future lucky number.
Not only did she survive Deathstroke, but she also witnessed many dark secrets she hadn’t imagined before. The major news she obtained today was worth a year’s worth of reporting, leaving her in a very cheerful mood and further solidifying her resolve to pursue a career in journalism.
Unfortunately, Barbara was not as happy.
She originally thought Batwoman was the city’s hero, but it turned out to be like this instead.
Batwoman had a dark heart, not trusting anyone. Just hearing about her life gives an idea of it.
Seeing this machine and the surveillance on everyone in the city gave Barbara an empty feeling as if her idol had crumbled.
Su Ming saw that she seed completely lost in thought, and the others were still waiting for her result, so he waved his hand in front of her.
"I say, if you’re going to mourn your girlish sentints, find a better ti. Isn’t now the mont to check that license plate? Gordon is still waiting for rescue."
"Uh, just a mont."
Barbara snapped back to reality and began to input the license plate that was engraved on Gordon’s glasses.
Yes, whatever about the Bat. She’s just another person in a tight suit, and yet I thought of her as the city’s hope. How naive...
Whether or not the Bat’s peeping habit is normal, her search program is undeniably effective. Almost imdiately, the registration information of the car appeared on the big screen.
The owner of the car was irrelevant; the na was likely a pseudonym. What was important was its activity today.
If there wasn’t any for today, then past traces can be used, such as where it stopped, where it refueled, and areas it frequently appeared. With this information, the system can mark a small enough area for them to search, and a professional rcenary could definitely find so clues.
No one can escape so many hidden caras; wherever people go, they inevitably leave traces.
Barbara called up all the video recordings, conducting queries and cross-references. The large screen was divided into countless smaller screens, starting to play wildly. The program would sift out all useful information using digital recognition technology.
The worst-case scenario that Su Ming envisioned did not occur, because today, the movents of that car were quickly summarized by the system, marking its final destination on the map.
"No, not here."
Seeing the red dot flashing relentlessly on the map, Su Ming shook his head helplessly. In such a big Gotham, with so many places to hide, why did it have to be the one place he least wanted?
"What? Is there sothing wrong with this place?"
Barbara pulled up data on this area; the na shown was Indian Mountain, located near the eastern river docks in Gotham, at a scrapyard.
Long before Gotham City was built, this was an Indian reservation, hence the na, but with continuous urbanization, the Indians eventually succumbed to the power of capital.
They sold the hill where their ancestors’ remains were buried, for a long string of numbers on a check, then left Gotham, reportedly to open a casino in Las Vegas, becoming wealthy tycoons.
But no one rembers who bought it or what they originally intended to do with it; only that long ago, probably since the invention of the automobile, it beca Gotham’s spot for scrapping vehicles.
Before old cars were crushed into small tal blocks and sent to steel plants for reuse, they would be stacked like bricks one by one, forming small mountains there.
The current Indian Mountain is more like Wandering Mountain; countless holess people like to set up nests inside the discarded cars, enduring the cold nights, maybe starting a fire to warm the leftovers they found in the trash bins.
At least it’s a place any gang wouldn’t care for, absolutely lacking in profit, with land as barren as its people, unable to grow anything. Even thieves and robbers who act in the night wouldn’t go there, knowing it’s a futile effort.
What could you possibly gain from scavengers and the holess? Fleas and bedbugs?
Barbara couldn’t understand why Su Ming seed so reluctant after seeing Indian Mountain. He and Cindy had previously spoken about Arkham and Black Gate Prison with ease, joking as if entering and exiting those places was no great effort.
But however one looks at it, a scrapyard shouldn’t be comparable to the other two places, right?
Cindy also didn’t understand. Could it be that Su’s cleanliness has beco pathological, feeling itchy all over upon hearing about wanderers? Probably not, otherwise, he’d scream just breathing Gotham’s air.
Su Ming looked at the two of them, fiddling with the armor plate on his elbow, pondering how to speak up.
He wasn’t a local; he knew well what lay beneath the cover of the scrapyard at Indian Mountain.
In the DC Main World, it was a secret research center the United States established after World War II, studying biological weapons...
By the typical course of the Dark Multiverse, things would only get worse, so the Indian Mountain here should be that kind of place too.
Any biochemical projects you could think of could be found there, except the owner has changed from the United States Governnt to the Amazon Council.
Modified people, mutants, genetic monsters, deadly viruses, doomsday weapons...
He and Cindy should be fine, but the 800 million people in the city are at risk.
If Gotham were destroyed, no matter who was responsible, Briss of Earth -11 would beco a super villain.
If Atlantis subrged Gotham, she would beco ’Drowned’; if Gotham were destroyed by Amazon’s research into biological weapons, she might beco sothing like ’Poisoned’; if Gotham was gone for other reasons, she might beco ’Burnt’ or ’Fallen Destruction’ or such.
No matter what na she takes after turning dark, as long as she falls into darkness, Barbatos’s conspiracy would succeed, adding another mber to his Dark Knight Order.
anwhile, Falcone had prepared a grand gift for the Assassin Alliance there, attracting them to co.
If Su Ming and the others went in before the ninjas, they would undoubtedly take the hit, but if they were too late, Gordon might be in danger, leaving him sowhat undecided.
His mind ran wildly, making calculations and guesses.
The two won exchanged a puzzled look as they watched him staring blankly at the big screen, but they knew Su Ming wouldn’t deem sothing troubleso without a reason, so they waited quietly for an explanation.
Su Ming finally sighed and told them what he could, just saying that in his original world, it was an underground biochemical research facility where so not-so-good things had once escaped.
"What do you an by not-so-good things?"
Cindy also got serious, asking further. Any experint associated with the military usually involved weapons, like Deathstroke himself.
"In your world, magic is also used in military affairs, so combining technology and magic, I don’t know what might be inside. Maybe it’s zombies that can use magic? Or magically enhanced Black Death virus."
Upon hearing this, not only Barbara, but even Cindy paused in surprise. They originally thought Jester was the world’s craziest person, but it turned out politicians and generals are the craziest.
The 800 million residents of Gotham City had been living unknowingly atop a giant toxic vat for decades.
"Now... this is a bit tricky." Cindy also pondered Su Ming’s earlier dilemma, inadvertently baring her teeth a little, taking a swig from her bottle.
"There is one good piece of news, though," Su Ming also pulled out his own bottle, bit open the cap, and seeing Barbara staring at him, frowned. "You can’t drink, you’re underage."
Barbara stared at him with a ’Are you kidding ?’ expression. "I’m waiting for your good news, not trying to drink your wine."
"I know, just a joke....." Su Ming tilted his head back, downing half the bottle without feeling anything special, his mind still incredibly clear: "The good news is, it stopped operating in the 90s. If there were containnt breaches, Falcone would be the first to face them, and as of now, he seems to be alive."
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