"Let's not talk about that right now," Shiller patted Cobblepot's shoulder and said, "I heard you have a good relationship with Edward. I hope you could comfort him, help him to relax as much as possible, and accept hypnosis. Generally, it only works if the patient cooperates."
Cobblepot nodded, "Actually, I've been comforting him all along, but the results aren't very noticeable. His condition fluctuates, sometimes he seems normal, but at other times he's a bit crazy. Both my mother and I hope he gets better."
As they left the office and walked down the corridor, Cobblepot said, "Williams arrived in Gotham quite early, he's one of the first who dared to eat crabs."
"Before the music festival?"
"Actually, it was when the mob just started transitioning," Cobblepot explained, "He's a very powerful businessman, sharp and good at seizing opportunities. Many who accepted his investments or cooperated with him made a fortune."
"Including Bob?"
"Who's Bob?"
"He's a manager who knows Williams, the person in charge of the Wardled Engineering Group. Have you heard of him?"
Cobblepot shook his head slowly, but Shiller wasn't surprised since even now, Wardley didn't count as a particularly famous large company.
"Do you need me to look into it?"
"No, better stay with your mother," at the crossroads, Shiller stopped and said, "Pamela came into some unexpected money—she invested at least four million US dollars in Roy's project. They are hoping to use this money to spread rooftop plants over the other three districts to tackle the problem at its root, what do you think?"
"That's wonderful," Cobblepot smiled, "I'm grateful for the lady's generosity, Roy will thank her properly."
"A party won't buy her off, unless our dear mayor adds a dozen beauties to the mix," Shiller also laughed.
"Money talks. While four million US dollars isn't much at the city construction level, it's almost enough for solving the plant issue. It's gratifying to resolve the issue of money so easily."
"I'll give the mayor that suggestion," Cobblepot said, waving goodbye to Shiller, "You haven't been resting properly lately. You should go back and get some sleep. I'll handle Edward's matter. Goodnight, Professor."
Shiller nodded, feeling truly tired. Investigating the mysterious principal had him running circles around Gotham, burning quite a few brain cells. He indeed needed a good night's sleep.
Just as night fell, two figures stealthily cracked open the door of an office, the moonlight shining through the window revealed them to be Jason and Dick.
"Not done yet?" Jason whispered lowly, "This company is definitely shady; I've never seen such complex locks on a filing cabinet."
"I'm not good at this," Dick complained, "If Tim were here, he'd be perfect. He's one of the best at picking locks."
"The locks at Wayne Enterprises are enough of a headache for him, I heard there's been some financial strain lately, he's working on ways to increase income and reduce expenses..."
Click—a filing cabinet popped open, they quickly grabbed the documents. Jason glanced at them and knew whether they were of any use.
"Damn it, more tax documents, we get it you pay your taxes... They're definitely hiding something."
Suddenly, Jason's communicator on his wrist vibrated. He pressed the button and Star Lord's voice came through.
"We couldn't lead them too far away, the guards are heading back. Did you find what you were looking for?"
"Not yet, can't you stall them a bit longer?"
"No, the guards are ordinary people, we can't actually shoot them, even though they are quite irritating... Are these guys really just guards?"
"Give me ten more minutes!" Jason gritted his teeth, "There's definitely a secret here, we are about to find it!"
"Who's there, put your hands up!"
The flashlight beam suddenly lit up from outside the window. Jason and Dick were stunned; just as they dropped the documents and tried to flee, the police streamed in, and seeing a few familiar faces, Jason knew there was no escape tonight.
Meanwhile, outside the company's walls, countless fully armed police officers surrounded the Guardians of the Galaxy, the beams of their flashlights shining down on them, causing everyone to squint.
Their group was thus taken back to the Gotham Police Department, where James Gordon was emanating a gloom, his face as dark as the bottom of a pot.
He slammed the table fiercely, causing the few men pressed against the wall to shudder, and soon Williams appeared in the police station, fishing rod in hand.
"Good evening, Commissioner," Williams' attitude towards the police was very cordial, as he shook Gordon's hand firmly, "I was just fishing when I heard that someone stirred up trouble at my company. Where are they?"
Gordon gave him a look, and as Williams turned around, it seemed as if he was only just noticing Robin and the Guardians of the Galaxy.
"Damn it… it's you guys! Sheriff, I must tell you, they were causing trouble at my construction site during the day, and I can't believe they had the audacity to illegally intrude into my company. We must make these lawless brats pay!"
"These people…" Gordon glanced at the Guardians of the Galaxy, and after a moment's hesitation, said, "They are guests of a very prestigious psychology professor here."
"So, you don't plan to administer justice?" Williams leaned slightly, staring down Gordon from above his glasses.
"If you insist, I can do that, but don't blame me for not warning you—chances are you won't succeed in locking them up, and if you try, you might encounter troubles beyond what you can handle."
Gordon was as diplomatic as possible. In reality, he wanted to insist that Williams take a good hard look—from the clothes they wore to the weapons they held, nothing about them resembled Earthlings. Wasn't throwing them into jail a joke?
Even if they could stay overnight, could they really spend a lifetime in prison? He could enforce the law impartially, but didn't anyone consider the feelings of the prison?
Moreover, these people hadn't even entered Williams' company; they merely caused a disturbance on the street without any real damage. At most, community service would be a generous verdict, and if they really needed to be locked up, it would have to start with the jury. But if you take a dark turn first, the Professor will not be accommodating.
As for the two who really did enter the company, one's surname is Wayne, and the other is a star student of Professor Shearer. Sending them to jail would mean no peace for the Gotham Police Department.
Williams caught the subtext in Gordon's words. He was clearly skilled, pulling the sheriff into another room and, holding a fishing rod, said, "Listen James, I can call you that, right? I am a businessman who doesn't want trouble, but if they provoke me time and again, I can't just let them get away with it, can I?"
He then took out his phone, showed a few photos, and pointing to contract terms, said to Gordon, "I obtained that land legally and properly; even if that house really belongs to Bruce Wayne, can he simply disregard the law?"
"If it truly were Bruce Wayne's, I wouldn't be reminding you," Gordon retorted, somewhat irritated. "Unfortunately, the one living there is Schiller Rodriguez, and he won't discuss the law with you."
"He will, sheriff, after all, he's the renowned psychology expert and a professor at Gotham University, a respectable scholar who certainly wouldn't allow someone to commit violent acts in his name."
Gordon sighed and asked, "What do you want?"
"Now that things have come to this, I don't want to be too aggressive, but I also can't let these little punks off without a lesson. I'll look for a friend to mediate, and you could make it easier for us, how about that?"
Gordon weighed the situation in his mind. This was not just a street brawl—both parties were prominent figures in society, and it obviously didn't need to escalate to a public court battle. A private settlement would be the most desirable outcome.
If it weren't for Schiller's involvement, Gordon would have agreed immediately, but he truly feared that Schiller had set his sights on Williams. If that were the case, it was only a matter of time before Williams would be hanged in the police department.
Thinking of the last guy who was hung in the police department sent a chill through Gordon; he definitely didn't want to witness the birth of another 'piece of art.'
So he asked, "Who can you find?"
"I have a decent relationship with the head of the Cobblepot Group, a very likable young man. I can give him a call."
Gordon frowned; he had the feeling that Williams came prepared. The relationship between Cobblepot and Schiller was quite good; if Williams really could get in touch with Cobblepot, the issue would be nearly settled.
"Alright, you can go back now. Let's meet at the police department at 9:00 a.m. tomorrow morning, and don't be late."
Williams nodded.
Gordon glanced at the group crouched in the corner and waved his hand to signal his subordinates to take them to the detention room. Whether they could be bailed out would depend on the negotiations tomorrow.
Once in the detention room, Dick unlocked his phone and made an 'ok' gesture to the others, who immediately heaved a sigh of relief.
Soon, part of the data was sent to Dick's phone—it came from Helen and Aisha.
Turns out, they had split into two groups. The Guardians of the Galaxy, along with Dick and Jason, made a conspicuous disturbance at William's real estate company, drawing all the police to their location.
Meanwhile, Helen, Aisha, and the New Warriors Team members secretly infiltrated the Wardled Engineering Group to see if the company had any dirty secrets.
Williams, believing he had caught the intruders into his company, would naturally lower his guard and was unlikely to remind Wardled to tighten security. This would make it easier for Helen and Aisha to find leads.
Moreover, from certain performances of Williams, Dick inferred that the man was targeting them, specifically Schiller, and these reckless, impulsive youths were just the leverage Williams had against Schiller.
Intentionally causing disruption near Schiller's house while he had guests, and provoking them from the start to make these young people act impulsively and commit the offense of illegal intrusion—this was so Schiller would come to negotiate with them.
But due to scant clues, no one knew why Williams was doing this. Yet, to the others, he seemed to be heading down a path of certain doom.
Dick looked at the data and photos on the communicator and saw Bob's photo without surprise, but soon his attention was captured by another piece of information.
"Look at this." Dick sent the information over and said, with Jason also noting the information.
It was an income report from about four years ago, recording payment for a construction project. Unlike other detailed income entries, the source of this money had no record at all.