The flying bat shadow roamed Gotham's streets and alleys. This was his nightly routine—patrol the entire city, rescue some unlucky souls who could be saved, break a few criminals' bones, hang a few people from gargoyles.
A fairly ordinary night for him. But today was Thanksgiving, so crimes seemed fewer on the streets. Even criminals apparently had families to spend time with. Work was easier tonight.
After finishing patrol, he didn't return directly to the Batcave as usual. Instead, he stood among Gotham's high-rises and silently watched lights in the darkness. Psychedelic neon signs and the smell of home-cooked meals drifting from small windows intertwined into a unique festive atmosphere.
"Will there be anything good to be thankful for in the coming year?"
The question went unanswered.
Meanwhile, on Gotham's streets, Jude carried a paper bag filled with prepared cornucopias.
"At least the Cornucopia isn't very recognizable this time. If I run into another psychopathic killer, at least Batman won't target me."
He touched the disguise mask on his face. Next time he did this kind of work, he planned better concealment. Never let the perverted killer see his real face.
He didn't notice a familiar figure appearing behind him—still wearing a black round hat and loose trench coat, face blurred, rough work gloves on his hands.
The man in the trench coat spotted the paper bag in Jude's hand. Walked up naturally. Grabbed it. Immediately turned and vanished into an alley.
"Hey! Whoever stole my—"
Jude felt his hand lighten. The cornucopia he'd prepared disappeared. He cursed reflexively and looked back, catching only a black shadow disappearing into alley depths.
Simultaneously, a task completion notification appeared.
SYSTEM NOTIFICATION
The Cornucopia of Thanksgiving
Task Description: Don't overthink it. Only one customer needs the Cornucopia this time. Do well and receive a reward. Do poorly and receive no punishment.
Note: Low risk, high reward. This job is specially reserved for you. As for last time—there was something wrong with your customer.
Status: COMPLETE (1/1)
Reward: A Horn of Plenty that continuously produces food, allowing survival in the harshest environments. The food it produces can even provide life recovery and vampiric effects when killing enemies—don't worry, it's not a magical item from this world, so there's no price to pay.
Jude examined the Horn of Plenty in his hands. It was massive. Extremely large. As long as his calf, as thick as his thigh. He could stuff half his forearm through the opening.
Were there goats this big in the world? Jude had no idea. He'd bought his own goat horn from a store, but even that wasn't as large as this. Carrying it around would be conspicuous.
"Not easy to take this thing out in public."
SYSTEM PROMPT: Add camouflage effect to Horn of Plenty for only one hundred asset points.
"You're obsessed with money. Wait—does the jack-o'-lantern have this effect?"
SYSTEM PROMPT: The Jack-O-Lantern light can be toggled off with an additional effect. Only costs one hundred asset points.
"I already have a small pumpkin lantern that doesn't light up."
On the night Batman raided the restaurant, Jude had pulled out an ordinary small pumpkin lantern he'd customized from the mall. It looked like the magical version but had no supernatural properties.
With Batman's perception, Jude would never dare present the actual magical lantern. Whether the probability of exposure was 100% or 1%, there was a 100% chance Batman would discover it when reviewing evidence later.
"Wait, let me check—the person's gone!"
Jude hurriedly stored the Horn of Plenty in his system inventory. He'd originally wanted to use long-range reconnaissance equipment to follow the killer from a distance, see who the target was this time. But he'd lost track in just a moment's distraction.
Jude hesitated. Since tracking was impossible, perhaps he could return to the hospital and use the Horn of Plenty to treat Harvey Dent's wife, Gilda?
No. After thinking carefully, too risky. Harvey Dent had only met him once. Why would he suddenly appear at the hospital with magical food?
He dismissed the idea, disguised the Horn of Plenty as a popcorn bucket, ate some strawberries it produced, and headed home.
As for why not popcorn—the Horn of Plenty only produced fruits and flowers, not modern processed food or meat. Regrettable to Jude, who'd been counting on it covering all food expenses.
The good news: no more grocery shopping. "Fruits" was technically "vegetables, fruits, and grains," because tomatoes and corn both emerged from the Horn. The former was both fruit and vegetable, the latter was grain. Therefore, the Horn could produce other vegetables and grains too.
He walked through streets, passing the window of the magnificent Astoria Tower Hotel. Heard clinking glasses and loud singing from inside. The voices sounded familiar. He spat reflexively.
"Bah. Those five criminals will get their comeuppance eventually."
Inside the hotel room, the men feasting couldn't hear Jude's complaints. They all wore smiles, dressed in suits and ties, looking distinguished—completely different from the gangsters they'd been before.
The entire Irish Gang celebrated, proudly discussing today's gains. Mocking the prosecutor's stubbornness. Gilda's gullibility. Commissioner Gordon's anger. Batman's silence. The incompetence and weakness of the entire judicial system.
"Today is Thanksgiving—I'll drink first!"
"Cheers to the Romans, the ones who paid for this damn feast!"
"To the Romans!" the other four echoed.
Delicious food covered the table. The Astoria Tower Hotel's special Thanksgiving turkey steamed invitingly. The tempting aroma intertwined with red wine in crystal glasses. The great joy of becoming rich overnight completely overwhelmed their heads. They grew dizzy, almost drunk in the festive atmosphere.
Then the door opened.
Glasses crashed to the floor. High-end red wine spilled everywhere. Before they could carve the delicious turkey with knives, several men panicked and reached into their jackets, wanting to grab their pistols. But their upper-class tight-fitting suits seemed so cumbersome now, tightly constraining their hands.
What a shame.
Death's patience ended here.