"Quick! Boss! Get me a transfer request for someone!"
"Ah…"
Bob slumped in his executive chair, looking like a sack of potatoes casually tossed aside, his face full of the expression of a man ready to complain. "What do you want now? Why do I feel like I have more work to do since agreeing to your plan!"
"You're less than fifty, the prime age for ambition! How can you just lie flat now?" Jay slapped the desk. "Think about the bright future! Don't you want money anymore?"
"…You're right! You can never have too much of that!" Bob instantly sprung up with motivation. "But has that pervert's case been solved? Reporters have been asking several times."
"That's what I'm here to talk about." Jay leaned closer. "Edward Nygma, the Central Precinct forensic examiner—that guy is smart. He easily drew up a profile of the suspect. And he's fine with both forensics and autopsies. We can fill two departments at once."
"More departments aren't necessarily a good thing, kid. More work, more mistakes. Even the smartest person makes errors," Bob glanced at him. "Trouble will follow."
"There will be trouble, but think about the one million dollars the Wayne Group donated. Haven't you been afraid to spend it yet, terrified of being caught by oversight?"
Jay swept his arm around. "Look at this broken precinct, where would we even put two new departments!"
"So… we need to expand?" Bob suddenly seemed to grasp the idea. "That bankrupt commercial building next door?"
"Exactly. Since those scammers were gunned down by their victims inside, that building has been impossible to rent or sell.
We proactively help the government dispose of distressed assets, expand the precinct area, increase operational departments, and even set aside a few floors for future children's housing and schools as part of the placement program."
"And we can spend the Wayne Group donation…" Bob sighed with a bit of regret. "That's not bad, but too bad we can't shake off the oversight and auditing."
"Let the finance and logistics people handle that. They will definitely embezzle. You keep an eye on them, then proactively catch and expose them before the auditors find out," Jay smiled. "Then you'll be an honest hero practicing righteousness over self-interest.
After that, you personally take charge of the whole project. Who would suspect you? Even if someone finds something, it'll just be that the Chief was misled by greedy merchants—you'll be a victim too."
"A million US dollars… a kickback of three hundred thousand shouldn't be a problem." Bob felt somewhat satisfied. "Alright, it's busy, but it's worthwhile. What was the name of the person you want to transfer? Edward Nygma. Has he agreed?"
"I've already settled it with him. You can give him forensics, autopsies, and even the technical division. His brain is definitely up to the task."
"OK. I rarely see you speak so highly of someone." Bob pulled out two official forms and signed them at the bottom.
"Write a… never mind, have Allen write up a transfer request for you and that Nygma separately. I'll talk to Loeb. Let's hope your friend doesn't disappoint us."
"Disappointment isn't likely, but there's one thing I have to warn you about beforehand, heh heh," Jay smiled awkwardly. "This guy has a peculiar temper. Sometimes he might not seem very… respectful towards people…"
"Mm," Bob rolled his eyes. "And what else?"
"Huh?" Jay was surprised that the Chief was so unconcerned. "Else? That's it."
"That's it?" Bob pursed his lips. "I suggest you look in the mirror. As long as you haven't left the East Precinct, any lack of respect others show me has to take a backseat to yours."
…
The phone rang one after another: government, media, general public, strange social organizations, and product salesmen. But none of them had the information Jay wanted.
He sat in the patrol car, constantly wanting to floor the gas pedal and rush out, but uncertain where to go.
It wasn't until five in the afternoon that Nygma's call brought a bit of good news.
"Jay, I re-dissected the three latest bodies. The two officers and the shop owner all have an extremely subtle burn point on the inner side of the right ear, near the skull, in the temporal lobe area of the brain. This can't be caused by disease or accidental trauma."
Nygma's voice was noisy on his end. "But the previous fifteen bodies didn't have it. It can't be that his technique is getting worse, can it?"
"Didn't you say before that he might have increased the power to silence them?" Jay recalled Nygma's previous speculation. "Maybe like putting a can of Coke in the microwave or something?"
"Mm, I thought so too. That means we are now facing not just a psychopath, but potentially a tech-fanatic, too." Nygma paused for a moment. "I really want to see how his device is made."
"No problem, once he's caught, the rest is ours." Jay tapped his fingers on the center console. "But do you have a way to resist the hypnosis? Otherwise, sending more people will only turn them into cannon fodder for him."
"I'm trying to make a simple shielding chip, based on reverse interference against the frequency and band he might be using. In fact, a rough first sample is ready now," Nygma answered cautiously.
"Theoretically, pasting it to the back of the head might help a bit, but I can't say how effective it will be without actual sample testing. Maybe it offers complete immunity, maybe it only reduces the impact, or maybe… it's completely useless…"
"It's okay. Better than nothing. I trust you."
Jay briefly discussed the transfer with Nygma. Just minutes after hanging up, another call came through.
"Cobblepot, give me some good news. Don't tell me your end is a mess too."
"Actually, for now, I don't know if it counts as good news, but it is indeed a mess," Cobblepot complained slightly.
"The bar's basement is packed with over a dozen dwarfs, buzzing like frogs in a rainy pond. But I don't think it's useful; if they had that skill, they wouldn't have been caught by my men. However, while bothering these short guys… I thought of another method."
He sounded delighted again. "That guy kidnapped over a dozen people; he can't go without food and water, right? I had my men check around bakeries, pizza places, and convenience stores selling drinks and sandwiches.
Indeed, some expressionless people bought large amounts of food. I mapped those shop locations, and they highly overlap with your area of suspicion."
"That sounds promising…" Jay mentally calculated. "Give me the locations; I'll check it out."
"Listen to me first. I've already sent people to loudly search for information about dwarfs and dresses in the defined area." Cobblepot grew more animated.
"Although I don't believe in hypnosis or any of that nonsense, just in case, I still require all my men to report their destination before acting. A few people who went to the North Shore of the Sprang River have already lost contact."
"Good thing you have plenty of consumables." Jay clicked his tongue. "North Shore of the Sprang River… what concealed location… "
"Grimm Toys Factory!"
He and Cobblepot shouted the name simultaneously over the phone.
"Exactly. That unlucky old man who was forced into bankruptcy by environmental organizations. That place has been closed for three or four years, and no one wants to take it over."
Cobblepot's laugh was full of enthusiasm. "Great minds think alike. The rest is up to you, Officer. I hope you catch that lunatic soon. But my men aren't 'consumables'; I pay insurance for them."
They should really thank you for that.
Jay tossed the phone aside and checked his weapons. He finally understood the purpose of his high-dimensional artifact skill in his system.
"Immunity to memory modification should also provide immunity to hypnosis, right?"
He thought for a moment, but decided not to notify Gordon. After all, this was just a guess. If it was inaccurate, and a large contingent of police rushed in only to find nothing, catching the guy would be even harder.
After all, it's just a dwarf. Can't I handle him?
Jay turned the key. The engine roared, and the patrol car shot like an arrow towards Gotham City's industrial district. The scenery outside the window quickly blurred. The bustling city center was soon left behind, replaced by increasingly dilapidated streets.
Closer to the North Shore of the Sprang River, abandoned factories and warehouses stood like tombstones. The air was filled with the smell of rust, chemicals, and the decay of river sludge.
He turned onto a small, cracked road—the last one marked on the map—where weeds stubbornly pushed through the cracks. At the end of the road, the outline of a large, twisted shadow gradually became clear.
The Gothic spires of the factory building looked sinister against the murky sky. The huge chimney stood silently.
The perimeter barbed wire fence was long broken, the main gate was skewed and wide open, and the spray-painted slogans on the wall were still faintly visible.
"No Dumping Sewage!"
"Environmental Protection Above All Else!"
"Get Out of Gotham, Give Us Back the Blue Sky!"
"Tsk tsk… Poor unlucky bastard." Jay lamented for a few seconds. He remembered this factory used to have decent business, but with the rise of the environmental movement, its gates were constantly blocked by protestors.
It only lasted a few years before quietly closing down and going bankrupt.
He slowly stopped the car at the factory gate, turned off the engine and all lights. He jumped out. His boot made a soft crunching sound on the gravel ground. Then, a deathly silence enveloped him.
You bastard. Your daddy is here!
Prepare to die!!!
——————
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