Gotham National Bank had stood since the city's founding. A renovation project a few years ago erased its weathered marble columns, sun-cracked pediments, and spiderwebbed façades from history, leaving only faded photographs and the memories of the elderly.
Today, what greeted Gotham's citizens was a sleek, modern structure. Floor-to-ceiling glass windows and self-service kiosks radiated an air of contemporary convenience and financial opulence.
A group of casually dressed tourists wandered through the building, snapping photos. Among them were a class of summer camp students in white shirts and sunhats, led by their female teacher.
Elizabeth and Isabella, identical twins down to the beauty marks at the corners of their eyes, stood out among the children. To help distinguish them, Cristina had tied Elizabeth's hair in a ponytail while Isabella wore pigtails—a system the twins found unfair and often subverted by swapping hairstyles to avoid daily baths.
The assistant manager of Gotham National Bank, acting as a tour guide, rambled on about the bank's proud history—from hosting visits by President Hoover to surviving the stock market crash of the last century. His verbosity rivaled that of the overly chatty cab drivers in New York.
Elizabeth, bored and exasperated, heaved a dramatic sigh and rolled her eyes. Adjusting the square-shaped yellow backpack on her shoulders, she slipped away from the group unnoticed.
Skipping toward the corner where a self-service coffee machine stood, she grabbed a paper cup and poured herself a hot drink. The sugary liquid brought a smile to her face as she licked the foam from her lips and let out a low whistle of satisfaction.
The clacking of little boots on marble echoed as Isabella hurried to her side, looking anxious. "What are you doing here? Come back with me! If the teacher finds out, she'll scold you again!"
"What's the big deal? There are so many kids in the camp; she'd never notice," Elizabeth replied lazily, leaning against the wall. Offering her sister half a cup of coffee, she added, "Want some?"
"Want some of what?" A shadow loomed over the twins. Looking up, they found their teacher standing nearby, her silent gaze of disapproval piercing through them.
The assistant manager hurried over to defuse the situation. With a cheerful tone, he said, "Ah, what refined taste! The updated coffee machine is one of the most praised features of our renovated bank. The old one left grounds stuck in customers' teeth—absolutely dreadful! Frankly, I believe it scared off hundreds of potential clients."
As the manager made small talk, Elizabeth stuck out her tongue and tugged her sister's hand, retreating into the group with a display of contrite obedience.
At that moment, Li Ang pushed open the revolving doors and entered the bank. Spotting the twins in the corner, he waved and quickly made his way over.
Elizabeth drained the last of her coffee and bounded up to him, grinning. "Li Ang, what are you doing here?"
"Cristina had something come up, so I'm here to pick you two up instead," he explained nonchalantly.
Cristina's family lived in an old apartment building in Gotham's lower district. Li Ang had visited once and noticed a heavy, oppressive aura lingering in the place—likely the result of restless spirits.
It wasn't surprising. Buildings like that had stood for decades, and it would be unusual if no one had died there. Gotham's infamously poor safety record only added to the likelihood, with tales of gang shootings and automatic weapons mowing down civilians in broad daylight.
Even now, Gotham led the nation in annual missing person cases. Internet urban legends claimed these victims were kidnapped and murdered by underground syndicates, their bodies stuffed into oil drums and sunk in Gotham Harbor. Unsurprisingly, these rumors dampened locals' enthusiasm for seafood.
Hearing the word home, Elizabeth's eyes sparkled mischievously. In a syrupy, childish voice, she cooed, "Li Ang, can we stop for ice cream? I've been craving it forever..."
Behind her back, she prodded Isabella's hand, prompting them both to grab Li Ang's arms and plead in unison.
Li Ang sighed, his eye twitching. "Fine, you can pick any flavor, but only one scoop each."
"Nice!" Elizabeth cheered, pumping her tiny fists in the air.
Their conversation was interrupted by the sudden roar of an engine. Outside the bank, a dull yellow school bus revved loudly, accelerating abruptly.
With a deafening crash, the bus plowed through the bank's glass façade, shattering it into a thousand pieces. Alarms blared as shards of glass flew through the air.
Thanks to stringent U.S. safety standards, school buses were built to be as durable as military-grade armored vehicles, making them far tougher than they appeared.
The assistant manager rushed forward, stunned. "What's going on here?!"
Before the burly security guards could respond, several black rifle barrels jutted from the bus's darkened windows. A hail of bullets rained down, punching through bulletproof vests and turning the guards into lifeless heaps.
Blood sprayed across the pristine marble floors, painting them in a gruesome crimson. The sudden eruption of gunfire sent everyone in the lobby into a frenzy of screams and panic.
Li Ang wasted no time. Scooping up Elizabeth and Isabella, he pushed off with his legs, sliding behind a wooden counter.
"Stay down and stay quiet," he whispered to the twins, pressing them to the floor. Using his phone's black screen as a makeshift mirror, he peered cautiously over the counter to observe the scene.
A loud crunch broke the silence as a heavy leather boot crushed the glass shards littering the floor.
A figure emerged from the bus—a man clad in a black hoodie, his face obscured by a grotesque clown mask.
Raising a semi-automatic rifle, he fired into the air. The bullets shattered the bank's Swarovski crystal chandelier and its intricately painted ceiling. The dazzling destruction was a chilling prelude to the chaos yet to come.