American comics farmer: start by adopting the villain savior.

Chapter 267 The Flame of Janus. (Seeking monthly votes)
Don't misunderstand, this is a trivial matter.

It's not to the point that Dior would have to use his authority over time.

It is merely the speed and precision of the "world" that surpasses the limits of human visual perception.
That would be enough to create the perfect illusion in front of Harvey Dent, who was seriously injured.

The moment the coin touches the table, you place it precisely upright, that's all.

"."

The lie was exposed in the most unimaginable way.

Harvey's entire performance, all his pretense, crumbled completely before that strangely upright coin, under the gaze of Dio's eyes that seemed to see through all secrets.

He collapsed back into his pillow, utterly exhausted.

He stared blankly at the pale ceiling, as if the end of his life was written there.

After holding it in for a long time, his chest heaving violently several times, he finally spoke in an almost dreamlike tone:
"I see……"

He murmured, "Actually, your ability... is to control coins to fall, right?"

Dio: “…”

"puff……"

Seeing Dio's expression, which was too lazy to even refute, Harvey couldn't help but laugh out loud. However, the laughter immediately aggravated the wounds on his face and chest, causing him to gasp for breath. After forcibly stopping it, it turned into several painful gasps.

He looked at the blond demon whose ability might be to manipulate the threads of fate with a complex expression.

In the end, I chose to speak up:
“Not long ago… Richard Cionis approached me privately.” Harvey’s voice regained some composure, tinged with recollection. “He wanted my assistance in bringing charges against Cassius Elliott.”

Dio raised an eyebrow slightly, a hint of interest flashing in his crimson eyes, signaling him to continue.

"In the name of domestic violence."

Harvey's lips curled into a smile. "Mr. Richard... has found evidence that Cassius frequently abused his son, Thomas Elliott."

Upon hearing this, Dior almost burst out laughing.

The laughter was deep and pleasant, filled with undisguised contempt.

Is this the 'business war' of Gotham's elite?

It really is……

It's so simple and unadorned that it's almost laughable.

“In short,” Harvey said, ignoring Dio’s sarcasm, his voice gradually lowering, “I can’t stand idly by.”

His face was filled with an intense, unyielding resentment.

The suppressed anger seemed to reignite, scorching his reason:

"Because I've always been like this since I was a child..."

“Mr. Harvey,” Dio interrupted him rudely, his tone flat, “I have no interest in hearing about your childhood.”

"..."

Harvey was taken aback by his words, and the pain and anger that had just risen were once again forcefully suppressed, quickly cooling down and dissipating.

He stared at Dio speechlessly, and finally could only give up the idea of ​​confiding in him, summarizing dryly:
"In short... although Richard 'died' shortly afterward because of that car accident, I won't stop here regarding this matter."

Dior nodded, unsurprised.

He knew perfectly well that the man in front of him, Harvey Dent, was a ruthless character who dared to cause trouble for the Falcone family every day. It was said that Mario Falcone had been driven crazy by this 'Knight of Light' for a long time, and had been frequently visiting the Gotham District Attorney's Office.

Speak the truth……

The fact that Harvey Dent survived until now before this happened is already a minor miracle in Gotham City.

“And that night… Cassius Elliott, he came to me.” He paused, his breathing slightly rapid. “He tried to stop me from proceeding with the prosecution, claiming it would seriously damage the reputation of his family business… and that’s how we… started arguing.”

"Then...the explosion...rose from underground without warning."

Harvey closed his good eye, and hot tears slid down his cheek, but it seemed as if they were flowing down another face.

He could still feel the scorching heat that was devouring everything, and the excruciating pain of his skin and flesh being peeled away inch by inch.

“I have become like this... and Cassius, he is dead.”

His voice betrayed no sympathy for Cassius's death, only a numb sense of loss for his kind.

"But my last glimpse through the firelight and thick smoke..."

Harvey suddenly opened his eyes, his blue pupils contracting slightly, as if he were seeing that hellish scene again. "I could barely make out a black figure... standing not far away."

His tone became extremely certain:

"He... took off his glove and... put his hand directly into the flames." The eeriness and calmness of this action still sends chills down his spine. "Then, he... threw that glove at me."

Dio listened quietly, and only asked after Harvey finished speaking:

"Who do you think...it could be?"

Harvey blurted it out almost instinctively, his voice carrying a mixture of instinctive certainty and bewilderment:
"Richard Theonis, perhaps..."

But then he realized the absurdity of the answer, his voice lowered, filled with a confused sense of disorientation, as he murmured the well-known fact:
"...But he's dead."

The top layer of an iceberg.

So quiet that all you can hear is the endless Gotham City music playing outside the floor-to-ceiling windows.
The whispers of the city, isolated by glass like distant tides.

"His Majesty."

Rochman's voice was deep and clear, "Information about Richard Theonis before his death has been initially compiled."

He stepped forward and placed the folder on the table in front of Dior.

Instead of backing down, they chose to stand respectfully with their hands at their sides and began to verbally extract the most crucial information:
"Richard Cionis, formerly the CEO of Janus Cosmetics, was unusually active when the chaos caused by the Luther Group affected the Falcone family."

Dio nodded, signaling him to continue.

"He has repeatedly and vehemently criticized the Falcone family in public, calling them a 'rotten cancer that hinders Gotham's progress,' and has attempted to take advantage of the chaos within the family to use substantial funds and means to forcibly seize some of Falcone's legitimate businesses that were on the verge of going out of control. His actions were quite aggressive."

Roccoman paused, then stated the prevailing opinion in a completely flat tone:
"Therefore, Gotham's public opinion generally believes that the 'accidental' car accident he suffered was the Falcone family's last struggle and revenge before its complete downfall. He was regarded as... the first overconfident challenger dragged into the grave by a dying lion."

This explanation sounds flawless, perfectly fitting Gotham's old script of blood for blood.

However, Rocman's next words were the real treat presented to Dio. "But a noteworthy point in time is... shortly after Theonis's 'death' was officially confirmed, almost on the same day, a mysterious figure began to appear in the shadows of Gotham."

He looked at Dio and said, word by word:

"He wore a skull mask carved from ebony."

"He calls himself... 'Black Mask'."

As soon as the words were spoken, even the distant sounds of the city seemed to disappear from the huge top-floor office.

"Jingle Bell--!"

The silence was broken by the ringing of the phone. Dio answered it without even giving the other person a chance to speak, his tone as cold as he had expected: "What bad news to share now, Sheriff?"

Gordon's voice came through the receiver, devoid of its previous anger, replaced by a hoarse tone that mixed shock, certainty, and urgency:

"They just attacked again! Black Mask, he led that group of masked lunatics, and stormed the Falcone family's cargo terminal number seven in the port! It was a huge operation, and the scene was complete chaos!"

Dior was not surprised.

Gordon's next words, however, made Dio sit up slightly.

“My team and I have conducted a preliminary investigation of the epicenter of the explosion,” Gordon said quickly. “The forensic team has just provided their emergency analysis results.”

"They detected very distinctive chemical markers in the explosion residue!"

His voice carried a fierce glint, like someone catching a fox by the tail:

"That marking clearly points to Janus's exclusive patented product."

"Their flagship high-end hairspray is internally codenamed 'Janus Flame'!"

Gordon almost growled as he revealed this absurd and dangerous truth:

"Who would have thought? Those expensive cosmetics displayed on department store counters, whose main ingredients, after being accumulated and detonated in large quantities through a specific method, produce a power almost identical to that of high explosives! High stability, difficult to detect, this is simply the perfect material tailor-made for terrorist operations!"

"If you stockpile a large quantity of this, even a farmer in a small rural town can instantly transform himself into an armed terrorist!"

Rocman stood at attention with his hands at his sides, even his breathing became soft.

Dior casually hung up the phone, slowly leaning back into the sofa, his eyes flashing with a cold light.

He no longer needs to look at any more intelligence.

All the fragments
Open radicalism, a well-timed death, the subsequent appearance of a masked figure, and an ideology whose past is dead...

These clues were connected.

A clear outline formed in his mind.

"Janus..."

Dior murmured the company name, a dangerous yet intriguing smile playing on his lips. "The two-faced gatekeeper of Roman mythology, who governs beginnings and ends, gateways and transitions..."

"That's absolutely right, nothing could be more fitting."

A 'dead' Richard Theonis, a 'newborn' Black Mask.

A meticulously planned escape.

A campaign of revenge and conquest against the entire old order of Gotham.

“It seems,” Dio murmured to himself, his gaze seemingly piercing through the map to see the mad and obsessive soul hidden behind the skull mask, “that our new neighbor is more than just a madman…”

"He was also a master of drama."

As he spoke, Dio stretched lazily.

I was just about to stand up from the large chair.

But then the phone rang again.

"GOD!" came a frenzied whisper from the other end.

It's 'Arc' John Jeremy, the man Dior sent on a business trip to a Pacific island nation.

Before Dio could speak, the other person continued excitedly, "God! I've been appointed commander of a thousand men, and I now have a thousand men under my command!"

“Kazan Gamora summoned me the other day and awarded me the Medal of Honor.”

"He told me to serve the empire well and strive to become a general."

"A general isn't enough, Jeremy."

Dio said in a deep voice, "I'm waiting for you to become the boss, don't let me down."

After saying that, he hung up the phone neatly.

Then he got up, walked around the desk, and headed towards the exit on the top floor.

Rocman followed half a step closer like the most loyal shadow and whispered, "Your Majesty, there is one more thing."

"What else?"

Dio was speechless; he was in a hurry to get home and harvest his vegetables.

Before we knew it, the annual harvest day had arrived again.

However, it seems that due to the special fertilizer used this year, the harvest date was actually brought forward.

"Uh, news came from 'Holiday' that Mario Falcone will challenge the Masked Company to a duel at the White Rose Restaurant. So, who are we...?"

“Don’t worry about it,” Dio said calmly. “Our deal at the time was limited to us suppressing ‘Maroni’ and keeping them pinned down in the old town.”

"Falcone's own challenge is none of our business."

"So, what are our plans for the future...?"

"You continue to gather intelligence, especially on the ancient dynasties beneath Gotham—the five families of Mississippi—and report their recent movements to us."

"Yes," Rocman nodded, then asked, "So, Your Majesty, are you going now?"

Dior shrugged indifferently, his tone flat.

"go home."

(End of this chapter)