“Click.”
The jarring sound of a bolt being pulled was amplified infinitely in the heavy rain.
Three beams from high-intensity flashlights sliced through the thick curtain of rain like sharp swords, sweeping inch by inch into the depths of Alley 22.
“Search thoroughly!
That piece of trash took two of my bullets; he’s bled enough to fill the sewers.
He definitely couldn’t have gone far!” A gravelly voice, accompanied by the chaotic sound of splashing water, was approaching at high speed.
William knelt in the mud.
Rainwater slid down his pale cheeks, mixing with the blood from a scratch left by a dart, and dripped onto Bruce Wayne’s tattered tactical body armor.
He looked down at the future Batman on the ground.
The man weighed nearly two hundred pounds and was built like a young bull, but at this moment, he was exhaling more than he was inhaling.
“A real pain in the neck, this one.” William pressed his tongue against the roof of his mouth, tasting a hint of blood.
His brain worked frantically under an extreme sense of crisis.
Run?
With a two-hundred-pound dying casualty, he wouldn’t even make it ten meters in this muddy alley.
Fight?
He was a man who wielded a scalpel, while those outside were mob hitmen armed with thompson submachine guns.
Just as the bright light of the flashlights was about to sweep past the edge of the trash can, a faint blue countdown panel flickered violently at the edge of his retina.
[Host detected performing a high-risk first aid mission for the first time.
Issuing newbie safety reward—Optical Camouflage Medical Blanket (Invisibility Cloak Version)]
[Note: This item can perfectly refract light and mask the scent of blood.
Duration: 30 minutes.]
The compartment of the medical kit suddenly felt heavier.
A sharp glint flashed in William’s eyes.
His wrist darted into the bag like lightning, pulling out a silver blanket as thin as a cicada’s wing.
Without a second’s hesitation, he threw the blanket over Bruce’s massive frame.
A miraculous scene unfolded in the downpour.
The moment the thin silver blanket touched the ground, Bruce’s body, along with the blood-stained water around him, seemed to be erased by an invisible eraser.
Light twisted and refracted strangely on the blanket’s surface, eventually blending perfectly with the dirty red brick wall and the rusted trash can behind it.
He had vanished into thin air.
But there was only one blanket.
William had nowhere to hide.
The beams of light had already reached the alley entrance.
William took a deep breath.
Cold rainwater flooded his lungs, forcing his racing heart to calm down.
His expression shifted in a tenth of a second—from panic to extreme indifference and the impatience of being disturbed.
He quickly smeared the blood on his hands from Bruce onto his yellowed old white lab coat, disguising himself as if he had just finished a bloody emergency consultation.
Then, he grabbed his tactical medical backpack.
Instead of hiding, he strode toward the alley entrance, facing the three blinding beams of light.
“Who’s there!
Stop!
Hands behind your head!”
As soon as William stepped out of the alley, three dark muzzles of thompson submachine guns were instantly raised, aimed squarely at his head and chest.
The mob leader was a man with a fleshy face and a scar running from the corner of his eye to his chin.
He squinted through the rain, trying to see who it was, his index finger already tight on the trigger.
The atmosphere dropped to freezing point instantly.
If William made any unnecessary movement, he would be riddled with bullets in the next second.
“Did you see a masked freak in black?” the scarred man demanded fiercely, shoving the gun barrel hard against William’s forehead, causing a sharp pain.
William didn’t raise his hands.
His eyelids drooped slightly, and his eyes, framed by heavy dark circles, stared coldly at the scarred man as if looking at a corpse already laid out on an autopsy table.
“Move it.” William’s voice wasn’t loud, but it carried a bone-chilling calmness in the rainy night.
“What the hell did you say?
You want to die—”
The scarred man flew into a rage, but just as he was about to lash out, the flashlight finally illuminated William’s handsome yet sickly tired face.
The scarred man’s voice stopped abruptly.
He saw the old white lab coat covered in fresh blood, recognized the iconic black medical kit, and most importantly, saw those extremely cold black eyes that seemed to look right through human bone.
“Dr…
Dr.
William?
What are you doing here?!” The scarred man gasped, his hand holding the gun beginning to tremble uncontrollably.
The two lackeys behind him clearly recognized the face as well.
They lowered their guns as if they’d been electrocuted, even taking half a step back.
In this East End controlled by the Maroni Family, you might not know the mayor, or even the Director, but you absolutely had to know this “Unlicensed Miracle Doctor” before you.
Last month, Boss Maroni had his abdomen blown open by a rival’s shotgun during a turf war.
His intestines were everywhere, and the specialists at Gotham General Hospital had issued a critical condition notice overnight.
It was this man who had walked into the ward with a worn-out bag, kicked everyone out, and spent four grueling hours literally scratching Maroni’s name off the God of Death’s ledger.
The first thing Maroni said when he woke up was: “If anyone makes Dr.
William unhappy from now on, I’ll chop up their whole family and feed them to the dogs.”
“I’m on a house call.”
William said coldly, casually pushing aside the gun barrel pressed against his chest.
His blood-stained index finger pointed unceremoniously at the scarred man’s tactical vest, leaving a stark bloodstain.
“The patient just died.
I’m in a bad mood.
Is the Maroni Family blocking my way to collect the body now?”
“No, no, no!
It’s a misunderstanding!
Definitely a misunderstanding!”
The scarred man bowed repeatedly in terror, his fleshy face contorted into a smile that looked worse than crying, rainwater and cold sweat pouring down his face.
“We didn’t know you were working here…
We’re chasing a freak who injured our brothers…”
“A freak?
In this alley, besides dead rats, there’s only that unlucky bastard who just died under my hands.” William pulled at his collar impatiently.
“What, you want me to pull out his internal organs for you to inspect?”
“We wouldn’t dare!
You’re joking!” The scarred man swallowed hard.
He didn’t dare ask why Dr.
William was in The Slums in the middle of a storm, nor did he dare ask who the so-called “unlucky bastard” was.
But the walkie-talkie behind him suddenly erupted with Maroni’s angry roar: “Have you found him yet!
I want him alive or dead!
If you don’t find him, you’re all going into Gotham Bay tonight!”
The scarred man trembled, looking conflicted.
He glanced at the dark alley, then at the stone-faced William, and spoke up tentatively.
“Dr.
William…
the Boss gave a direct order.
We…
we still have to go in and take a look.
Just one look, we won’t get in your way!
Otherwise, we won’t be able to report back—”
William’s heart leaped into his throat, but not a single crack appeared in his expression.
He snorted coldly and stepped aside, clearing the path.
“Search then.
If you find nothing, tomorrow when your boss gets his dressing changed, I’ll ask him if he thinks he has too many men under him.”
The scarred man shuddered.
Gritting his teeth, he led his two subordinates into Alley 22 with their guns raised.
William stood at the alley entrance, pulling a flattened cigarette from his pocket and putting it in his mouth without lighting it.
He watched the swaying flashlight beams inside with cold eyes, his left hand behind his back already quietly gripping a scalpel in his medical kit.
“Drip…
drip…”
Rainwater hammered down relentlessly.
The scarred man’s flashlight beam swept back and forth around the trash can.
The light passed over the red brick wall, the puddles on the ground, and the area covered by the invisibility blanket.
There was nothing, only a pile of stinking garbage.
One of the mob lackeys took a step forward.
“Splash.”
A heavy leather boot stepped into the puddle next to the trash can.
The puddle was right at the edge of Bruce’s thigh.
The corner of William’s mouth, with the cigarette still in it, twitched violently.
The mud splashed by the boot hit the edge of the invisibility blanket.
The droplets paused eerily for a tenth of a second in mid-air before sliding down the transparent curve.
However, in the heavy rain and dim light, this tiny visual distortion was completely overlooked.
“Boss, there’s nothing.
Not even a ghost.” The lackey wiped the rain from his face and complained.
“Damn it, that’s weird.
Someone clearly said he came this way—”
The scarred man spat, looking back warily at William, who stood silently at the alley entrance like the God of Death.
He never would have thought William would harbor a freak who opposed the mob; after all, this miracle doctor had taken quite a few U.S.
dollars from them.
“Withdraw!
To the next block!” The scarred man waved his hand and led his men out of the alley dejectedly.
As he passed William, he didn’t forget to bow and scrape: “Sorry to disturb you, Dr.
William.
Have a good night!”
The sound of footsteps and sirens finally faded, disappearing completely into the rain.
William spat out the cigarette that had been soaked through by the rain, and his tense shoulders slumped instantly.
He rushed back to the trash can and whipped off the silver invisibility blanket.
Bruce Wayne lay silently in the mud, his face as pale as a corpse in a morgue.
The rise and fall of his chest was so weak it was almost imperceptible to the naked eye.
The blue countdown on his retina had turned a piercing crimson.
[Remaining Time: 24 minutes 15 seconds.
Target’s vital signs continue to decline.]
“Fuck.”
William cursed through gritted teeth.
He stuffed the invisibility blanket back into his bag, then leaned down, grabbed the straps of Bruce’s tactical vest, and took a deep breath.
“Up!
Damn it, Bruce, you pig, why are you so heavy?!”
The dead weight of two hundred pounds pressed down on his shoulders.
William’s knees buckled, and he almost knelt directly into the mud.
“You’d better pray you have the money to pay my medical bills later, Master Wayne.”
William squeezed the words through his teeth.
Carrying the man who was as heavy as a mountain, he stumbled out of the alley and jogged toward his clinic under the cover of night and rain.