A Long Easter (III)

"Looks like they’re angry now." Cobblepot sneered as he looked at the heavy rain outside. Schiller said to him, "I think you already know that many people with symptoms similar to yours have shown up at Gordon’s place. Your conditions are probably all related to getting caught in the rain."

Schiller shook his head. "In mental illness, it’s hard to find two cases with completely identical traits. But there are more than just two now."

"We’re discussing how to deal with it. Gotham’s drainage situation isn’t looking good. If this keeps up, flooding will break out tonight."

Batman’s voice mingled with the sound of rain. Suddenly, the room flashed bright, bleaching every object stark white. Then a roll of thunder came from the distance, and all three of them looked out the window.

Schiller looked at Batman and said, "I have a pile of patients to deal with. I don’t want to bother with this nonsense…"

Batman watched him, seemingly paying no attention to his excuse, as though certain Schiller had more to say. Sure enough, Schiller continued, "But they actually made me pay a fortune for a lousy umbrella that was bound to break, then sent down this kind of rain when I had no umbrella to use…"

The rain outside grew heavier and heavier. Roaring thunder drowned out the conversation indoors. Closer to where the thunder rolled across the horizon, Gotham University seemed shrouded in black mist. Only one office still had its lights on, and it was quite noisy inside.

"Are you certain this distance can redirect all the rainwater in this area to the designated elevation?"

"Look here… We have to pay attention to the water pressure here. If we don’t reinforce the supporting structure, the entire underground sewer system could collapse…"

"This part needs controlled blasting. Yes, I’m certain…"

The professors crowded around the desk, discussing it one after another. On the surface, they were discussing how to solve Gotham City’s severe surface flooding.

Ordinary people would not last three minutes in a discussion like this. They tossed around endless engineering and mechanics terms, enough to make anyone listening dizzy.

But this was no minor theoretical exercise. Term after term related to blasting engineering sprang from their mouths. Clearly, this was another meeting imbued with Gotham style.

At the Gotham Police Department, Gordon, having just dealt with those somewhat deranged criminals, took a cup of hot coffee from a young officer. He raised his arm and drained it in one gulp, then walked behind his desk and sat down. Just as he was about to rest for a moment, he noticed a shadow behind him.

Gordon turned around, sighed, and said, "Batman, you really don’t have to make your entrance so creepy every single time."

"I need your help, Detective Gordon."

Gordon did not answer. He listened as Batman spoke, while Batman continued on his own, "Next, I’ll light up the Bat-Lamps at several locations in Gotham City. After that, engineering crews from the gangs will move in and begin digging. You need to send people there to protect them."

Gordon opened his mouth, unable to answer for a moment. "You mean you want the department to send officers to protect the gangs?"

He turned, held out a hand to Batman, and said, "All right. If you’re doing this to deal with that mysterious organization and need us to work together, I can understand that. But are you sure those gangsters need us to protect them?"

Batman’s tone was grave. "This is to guard against possible surprise attacks. The police’s heavy firepower is indispensable."

"Can you tell me the plan? I have to be responsible for my subordinates’ lives."

Batman shook his head. "Do you remember that nursery rhyme? ‘The Court of Owls watches over your every step…’"

Gordon felt a chill run down his back. He instinctively glanced around his office, yet he could not refute Batman. If mysterious forces were involved, Gordon could not say with certainty that he was not being watched.

"I can guarantee that this plan will work."

Gordon looked at him. Finally, Batman said, "Because I’m Batman."

The clouds grew darker and darker. Raindrops crashed down with crushing force, falling fast and hard. Yet amid the unending downpour, a faint hum arose. Then several blinding beams of light lit up across Gotham City.

Standing before the floor-to-ceiling window of a ward in Arkham Asylum, Schiller saw several bat symbols projected into the pitch-black night sky.

Amid the resounding spring thunder, the motionless Bat-Lamps seemed to come alive through the refraction of the rain, becoming like storm petrels soaring through wind and rain, carrying an astonishing momentum that tore through the darkness.

Before this, the noisy rain had nearly drowned out every sound, and dark clouds had swallowed every light. The enormous city seemed as though someone had placed it inside an aquarium, sinking through cold water, deeper and deeper into the Abyss.

But the instant the Bat-Lamps lit up, rain-swamped Gotham suddenly came alive. Like a drowning person transforming into a great whale unafraid of currents or waves, boiling voices shattered the darkness. Lights ignited things that could never burn beneath the water like flames, while bubbles rose, broke through the frozen surface, and spread countless ripples.

On that rain-soaked night of surging undercurrents, the firelight from explosions was louder than thunder. Several engineering crews drove every sort of construction machine forward with roaring engines. The lights of truck convoys sliced through the curtain of rain like blades, while their horns shrieked like kettles, announcing the fevered frenzy of the night.

Curses, shouts, chaotic cries—the gangsters called their friends and gathered their crews, more chaotic than chaos itself, crazier than madness. They blasted apart rock, smashed open the ground, and dug downward wherever beams of light rose, until they opened several artificial Abysses across the city’s surface.

They feared nothing, caring neither for rain like arrows nor wind like blades. Madness was Gothamites’ poison, but it was also their armor.

As more structures were built, the rain falling from the sky onto Gotham began to be artificially redirected underground.

Cobblepot stood atop Living Hell, watching firelight rise through the rainy night. He held no umbrella and did not care. His deep-set eyes brimmed with madness as he let out a cold laugh and muttered, "You rats will never understand. Gotham is Gotham, and it will only ever be Gotham…"

The standing water on Gotham’s surface began to flow underground. Meanwhile, in a dim conference room somewhere beneath Gotham, a figure wearing a white bird-shaped mask gave a disdainful sneer.

"They may just be saving themselves. After all, even idiots have a little sense." A masked woman said mockingly.

"Isn’t it too risky to activate the Water Source Plan this early? We’ve prepared for it for years. We even altered the sewers from the very beginning of the city’s construction…" another, somewhat younger voice asked.

"They’ve already discovered us, and they used such despicable means against us. We have to make these people pay! They actually dared…"

Everyone voiced their fury, then fell silent together, as though recalling that day’s scene and having to suppress the urge to vomit through sheer disgust.

"We cannot abandon Gotham," an elderly voice said. "Retreat and relocation are only temporary. We have operated here for far too long. We absolutely cannot hand everything over to others."

"This is our most secret stronghold," the woman said. "As long as they can’t find us, it has nothing to do with us even if the monsters go mad on the surface."

After saying that, she turned to a man beside her. "Go inspect our sealing devices again. Don’t let any of that rainwater leak in."

"They may want to drain the rainwater into the ocean through the groundwater system, but that’s simply impossible. The sewer system cannot drain that fast. Gotham will eventually be flooded."

"And after this rain ends, chaos will seep into every corner of Gotham again, just as it did ten years ago."

"The owls will watch over this place forever. Be afraid. Scream. You will become our sustenance…"

A series of birdlike snickers echoed through the dark conference room, like night owls calling in the forest.

The downpour never stopped. More and more water was diverted underground, but the flow grew slower and slower. Gordon stood beside the fence at one construction site and shouted, "The sewer system has reached its limit! The entire underground of Gotham should be full of rainwater by now!"

Brock sat on a motorcycle and swung a flashlight in his direction. The glaring beam made Gordon shield his eyes with an arm. He heard Brock shout, "They said everything’s in place!! Get everyone out!!"

Gordon turned back, waved an arm, and shouted, "Everyone, prepare to evacuate! Get everyone into high-rise buildings!"

Then he picked up the phone and said into it, "District Five! Can the person in charge of District Five hear me? How are things over there? Has everyone left the first and second floors?!"

"Didn’t you tell them this is the Godfather’s order?! How many times do I have to tell them to follow evacuation instructions?! Do they want Falcone to call them personally and have a talk?!"

Holding an umbrella, Brock said loudly, "We can only hope the method they came up with actually works. Otherwise, Gotham really is going to be flooded."

Gordon hung up and said, "We have to trust Batman. He’s the only one we can trust!"

Soon, lights began to come on across the upper floors of Gotham’s buildings, while those on the lower floors went dark one after another. Everyone moved to higher ground.

The Court of Owls members, receiving information from surveillance equipment, dismissed this with contempt. In their eyes, it was merely a delaying tactic. The flood would eventually sweep everything away, and hiding higher would make no difference.

But soon, they could no longer laugh.

The Court of Owls members seated in the dark conference room suddenly felt an intense freezing wind sweep through their entire stronghold. This ice storm exploded directly from its point of origin, instantly engulfing every corner beneath Gotham.

The surging rainwater froze solid. As raindrops fell from the sky, even the splashes they kicked up froze into glittering, translucent crystals of ice.

From above Gotham, enormous snowflakes blossomed from a small generating device. In almost an instant, every liquid on and beneath Gotham’s surface froze, as though time itself had stopped.

Then several generating devices were launched into the sky and burst amid the clouds. The accumulated water within the clouds froze as well, shattering as it fell and becoming blocks of ice by the time it struck the ground.

Between the dark clouds gathered above Gotham, layers of cold currents formed a frigid zone. Any rain that fell afterward transformed directly into drifting snowflakes.

Within only a few minutes, everything above and beneath Gotham City had frozen over. The entire city seemed to have had its pause button pressed. Not only had the aquarium frozen, but so had the hand reaching into it to catch fish.

The ice created by the Freeze Rays was no less hard than rock. Layers of ice hundreds of meters thick formed around the Owl stronghold, freezing everyone directly inside one immense, solid block of ice.

"Was this made by Victor Fries?" Batman asked Schiller in the ward at Arkham Asylum.

"You should show your professor a little respect. Don’t address him by his full name. Besides, even if you ask, I can guess that you’ve already prepared hundreds of plans to deal with him."

"Someone capable of freezing Gotham…" Batman muttered quietly.

"Freezing cannot actually solve the rain clouds themselves." Schiller shook his head. "The fact that the freeze-generating devices worked so effectively proves that someone really did tamper with the rain clouds storing all that water."

"All right, stop thinking about your anti-frozen-Gotham plans. I think there’s something else you should be able to learn from this…"

"What?"

Batman watched Schiller walk to the window and stop beside the floor-to-ceiling glass. He gazed at the freezing night outside, cold light reflecting from the ice and snow onto his face. Schiller said casually:

"When I don’t have an umbrella, nobody gets to make it rain."

That’s ten thousand words for today! Please vote!

Editing took a bit longer today. I wrote six thousand words of discarded material, so this came a little late. Please forgive me.