"If the coin comes up heads, you'll still be my trusted subordinate."
Harvey Dent's left hand slowly lifted from the back of his right.
"But if it's tails…"
He glanced at the coin—then sighed theatrically.
"What a shame. It's tails."
Harvey shook his head in disappointment.
Without hesitation, he pulled out his pistol, aimed at Kerman Cole's head, and pulled the trigger.
BANG!
Kerman collapsed onto the pavement, lifeless.
Harvey sighed again, then turned to face Hirito.
"Mr. Puppet Master," he said smoothly, tossing his coin in the air. "Consider this an apology for our… less-than-cordial introduction."
He gestured toward Kerman's cooling corpse.
"Now, tell me—are you willing to talk?"
Hirito's eyes narrowed.
"What do you want to talk about?"
Harvey smirked, then elegantly opened the door of his luxury car.
"Let's talk privately?"
Hirito studied him for a moment, then slowly slid his left hand behind his back.
With a flick of his fingers, invisible chakra strings extended—covertly linking to Black Gold's modified pneumatic arm.
If anything went wrong, he could summon it instantly.
Satisfied with his precaution, Hirito stepped into the car.
The car window was open—ensuring his chakra strings could pass through uninterrupted.
Harvey Dent took the seat beside him, then waved his hand.
The driver obediently parked a short distance away before exiting the vehicle, leaving Hirito and Harvey alone.
"Originally, I wanted to discuss only one thing," Harvey began, flicking his coin.
"But now that I've met you in person…"
He grinned.
"It's become two things."
Hirito raised an eyebrow.
"The extra question is—" Harvey's eyes gleamed. "What's your relationship with Ra's al Ghul?"
Ra's al Ghul. The Demon's Head.
Leader of the League of Assassins.
Hirito realized that his ninja-like combat skills had likely led Harvey to suspect a connection.
He smirked.
"I have nothing to do with him," Hirito said calmly. "My skills just happen to be similar to those used by the League of Assassins."
Harvey tilted his head, his expression unreadable.
He didn't press further, but he also didn't seem entirely convinced.
Instead, he pulled out a folded newspaper from the front seat and handed it to Hirito.
"You were an eyewitness to this incident," he said. "I want to know—does this formula still exist?"
Hirito unfolded the paper.
The front page showed a dramatic photo:
Batman and the Joker, facing off on the rooftop of Arkham Asylum.
Hirito's gaze darkened.
He knew exactly what Harvey was after—
Titan Venom.
A modified version of Bane's original Venom drug, designed by Dr. Penelope Young and later stolen and improved by the Joker.
Hirito did, in fact, have a small sample of Titan II Venom left.
During the Arkham breakout, Joker had distributed doses of Titan to certain criminals, hoping to create chaotic distractions to keep Batman busy.
Hirito had injected it into a guard, distracting Nightwing long enough for his escape.
But he hadn't used all of it.
Somewhere in his stash, he still had 10-20 milliliters left.
Hirito leaned back against the leather seat, glancing at Harvey.
"The Joker already proved that Titan Venom can't stop Batman."
Harvey twirled his coin between his fingers.
"But that doesn't mean it's useless."
He grinned.
"The monsters it creates can still slow Batman down—which makes it a valuable tool."
His coin stopped spinning.
"So tell me—do you have it?"
Hirito remained silent.
He understood the situation.
Titan Venom was useless to him right now.
He lacked the scientific knowledge to analyze it.
He had no connections in the biochemical field.
Harvey, on the other hand, had both.
If he played his cards right, he could trade Titan for something much more valuable.
And Harvey knew it too.
The gangster leaned forward, pulling out a folded map of Gotham City.
"I know you only control two streets right now," he said, tracing a line on the map.
"But that's too small."
He tapped two additional streets—along with a small residential area.
"From here to here—I'll give them to you."
His offer was tempting.
But Hirito knew that—given time—he could conquer those streets himself.
It wasn't enough.
Harvey smirked, sensing his hesitation.
He leaned back.
"Fine," he said.
"I have a scientist—someone who can help us reverse-engineer Titan Venom."
Hirito's eyes flickered.
"Victor."
Harvey nodded.
"Victor Fries."
Aka Mr. Freeze.
One of Gotham's greatest cryogenic scientists.
If anyone could study Titan Venom properly, it was him.
Hirito exhaled softly.
Not enough.
Harvey's grin widened.
He knew exactly what that meant.
"One million dollars in cash," Harvey added.
"The money's from a recent bank robbery, though, so you'll need to launder it yourself."
"Plus—a batch of police-grade firearms and two armored bulletproof cars."
Hirito still shook his head.
Harvey's smile faltered slightly.
"You drive a hard bargain," he muttered.
Then—Hirito spoke.
"I need you to personally introduce me to Victor Fries."
Harvey's coin paused mid-air.
He narrowed his eyes.
"You don't have the capital to meet Victor directly," Harvey mused.
"I fund his research. I'm the reason he's able to keep working on a cure for his wife."
"And you—?"
Harvey chuckled.
"You don't have the resources to impress him."
Hirito smirked.
"You're wrong."
He tightened his left fist.
From the factory—
CRASH!
A massive metallic arm smashed through the wall, sending debris flying.
A shadow loomed in the smoke—
Black Gold stepped forward.
Hirito's voice was calm.
"I don't need Titan Venom," he said.
"Because my creations are stronger."
(End of Chapter 40)