Chapter 20 A Few Minutes Ago...

A few minutes ago...

As the rolling door slowly descended, Feng Bujue stood up from behind the counter. He had already set up call forwarding at this point. As long as Clapton outside the door dialed the landline on the bank counter again, it would be forwarded to the cell phone in his hand. Of course, the cell phone's ringtone had been set to vibrate, and he had also confirmed that the number was not bound to a ringback tone.

Naturally, the time could be seen in the bank lobby. Feng Bujue glanced at the electronic clock on the wall and muttered, "It will take them at least seven or eight minutes to get the approximate situation from the hostages..." He took the key and the door card (which he had already retrieved from the manager), passed through the door behind the counter, and arrived at the surveillance room, where he turned off all the surveillance cameras.

Just now, in the few minutes after the hostages had their heads covered but before the police had called, Feng Bujue took the opportunity to walk around the bank and roughly surveyed the building's structure. He knew very well that there were only three ways out: first, the front door; second, the ventilation ducts; and third, the windows of the four or five offices facing the street.

Feng Bujue didn't know the police deployment outside; he could only rely on conjecture.

First of all, there must be someone outside the front door. Even if the influence of the cash bullet was still there, it would be impossible for him to walk out grandly.

Secondly, the windows facing the street were probably being watched as well. Even if there were fewer police forces there than at the front door, he would still have to use pipe wrenches to destroy the protective bars outside the windows to escape. Whether from a time or concealment perspective, escaping from there would be very difficult.

That left the ventilation duct route.

Feng Bujue wouldn't take any chances. He firmly believed that, with his luck and the Gotham City Police Department's intelligence, there would definitely be someone watching outside the exit of this ventilation duct. After he crawled out, he would encounter one of two situations: first, being caught by the police who had been lying in ambush around him; second, falling into the sights of one or more snipers in the distance.

"After questioning, Clapton will know that there is only me in the bank, and there are no other hostages. At this time, he will either send people to attack without saying hello, or he will talk to me and let me go out and surrender." Feng Bujue deduced the development of the situation in his heart, "If they attack by force, it will be easy to handle. As long as I use Death Poker in conjunction with Spirit Sense Gathering Technique, I can slightly stall those police officers who rush in, and then escape from the window they entered through.

However... facing only one person, the probability of him choosing to negotiate with me is obviously greater. He has no reason to put his subordinates at unnecessary risk and further expand material losses. If I express that I will resist stubbornly after communication, then it will not be too late for him to order a strong attack. At that time, he can also use the call to stabilize me and create conditions for his subordinates to approach."

"So, as long as I maintain the call, the first batch of police officers to enter here will definitely take it for granted that most of their attention will be focused behind the counter." Feng Bujue muttered, "This will make it easier for me to lead them into a trap..."

He returned to the lobby and took off the mask of the submachine gun bandit. Then he jumped back inside the counter, put the relatively intact mask in his hand on the face of the money-carrying bandit whose face had been smashed, and then he dragged the body of the money-carrying bandit all the way into the monitoring room.

The monitoring room had two facilities necessary for Feng Bujue's escape. The first was the entrance to the ventilation duct. This thing was in almost every room except the vault, which was not surprising; but the second thing was only available in the counter area and the monitoring room, which was the switch for the metal rolling door on the bank's main entrance.

Feng Bujue put the corpse on an office chair in the monitoring room, and then began to set up a trap...

He pushed the chair into a corner, so that its back faced the door. Then he took out the second grenade from the [Endless Grenade Box], tied a metal wire (found in the warehouse) to the pull ring, and then stuffed the grenade into the dead body's rotten face...

In fact, he could have fixed the explosive elsewhere, but... he just wanted the metal wire to extend from the eyehole of the mask, which might be some kind of unique sense of humor.

So, a metal wire tied to the grenade's pull ring, starting from the corpse's face, went all the way down, passed through the torso, passed between the legs, and was finally fixed on the swivel under the chair.

This was a good office chair, with a high backrest and adjustable, and the swivel under the seat plate was also working normally, and could be turned left and right without too much effort, and the wheels on the chassis were not stuck.

Feng Bujue was very sure that as long as someone turned or pulled this chair slightly from behind, four seconds later, there would be a few more corpses in this ten-square-meter place.

After he finished these things, he walked to the wall, supported himself with both hands, and jumped onto the top of a storage cabinet. The entrance to the ventilation duct was there. He took off the baffle and looked inside, and found that the duct was relatively spacious, and with his figure, he could squat inside and even turn around.

At this time, the phone on the counter rang, and two seconds later, the cell phone in Feng Bujue's pocket rang. He smiled and said, "Just in time..." He jumped back to the ground, took off the Bluetooth earpiece, and pressed the answer button, "What can I do for you, officer?" As he spoke, he carefully put the body of the cell phone into the corpse's coat pocket.

Feng Bujue walked to the console, talked to Clapton for a few words, and then opened the bank door.

"Raise your hands and come out from behind the counter." Clapton roared on the other end of the phone.

"Hehe... I refuse." Feng Bujue wore the Bluetooth earpiece, and his actions were not affected at all. He gently jumped onto the storage cabinet, put his legs in first, and got into the ventilation duct.

"Haven't you had enough fun yet? I don't want to see anyone die again today." Clapton said again. At the same time, several police officers rushed into the bank. As expected, they surrounded the counter in the lobby.

Feng Bujue leisurely picked up the baffle from the top of the storage cabinet, put it back in place, and slowly moved backwards, deliberately telling Clapton about the call forwarding.

Clapton thought for more than ten seconds, then suddenly turned his head and ran towards the hostages. He found a bald head in the crowd and shouted anxiously, "Hey! Where can you control those metal doors?"

The bank manager was stunned for a moment and replied, "In... behind the counter in the lobby."

"Where else is there a switch?" Clapton asked again.

"Uh... in... in the monitoring room." The bank manager replied, "Go in from behind the counter, the door says 'Employee Area', the corridor behind it leads to the vault, employee restrooms, and..."

Before he could finish his rambling, Clapton picked up the walkie-talkie on his shoulder and shouted, "Did you all hear that?"

"Yes, sir, we're about to go in." A police officer replied. He exchanged glances with the other three colleagues who had rushed in with him and approached the door.

When they discovered that the door lock required a key and a door card to open, the police officer decisively fired a shot at the door lock and kicked the door open. They were also very adaptable. One person was left to continue guarding the lobby, while the other three covered each other and moved forward.

"No matter what tricks you're playing, you've reached the end." Clapton picked up the phone again and said to Feng Bujue in a stern tone, "I know you're in the monitoring room. I advise you to put down your weapon obediently, put your hands on your head, and find a place to stand, so that my people don't kill you."

"Hehe... What you think is your business. I can clearly tell you that I'm no longer in that building." Feng Bujue laughed, "I think, if your reasoning ability is still okay, you should realize that in the process of closing and opening the door for the last time, I have already gone out through the ventilation duct."

"Hmph... Is that so? You cunning liar... Then can you explain how you escaped from a rooftop that doesn't even have a fire escape? Before that, how did you get out of the vent under my sniper's nose? Huh?" Clapton sneered.

Feng Bujue got these two sentences out and was secretly delighted. He replied, "Of course I have my ways. You can ask the hostages how I killed the submachine gun robber. After asking, you might understand." He smiled and continued, "Okay, let's end this boring game, officer. I know our conversation should be being recorded, so please remember these words—six super criminals from another world are about to send a few gifts to Gotham City, and that million-dollar rain of money is just the beginning." With that, Feng Bujue ended the call and crushed the Bluetooth earpiece with a pipe wrench.

Under normal circumstances, the distance between Bluetooth and a mobile phone has to be within ten meters. If there is any obstruction, it may be even less than ten meters. Therefore, Feng Bujue did not crawl very far. Anyway, it was almost impossible for his location to be affected by the explosion.

It took the three police officers a little time to reach the monitoring room, because there were several other rooms along the way, and they had to quickly confirm the situation behind each door before they could continue to move forward.

The door to the monitoring room was not locked. When the police officers pushed the door open and broke in, their eyes were all focused on the same spot.

In the corner farthest from the door, there was an office chair with its back adjusted to be very high. A person was sitting in the chair. The top of the person's head was exposed above the backrest, and it seemed that he was wearing a black mask on his head. His hands were neatly placed on the armrests on both sides of the chair, motionless.

The three of them shouted, "Don't move! Police, raise your hands!"

"Raise your hands! Turn around! Now!"

"Turn around quickly! Let me see your hands!"

The other party did not respond.

The three police officers were very experienced. After a simple exchange of glances, one person stood at the door and continued to aim at the chair with his gun, while the other two approached from the left and right.

The monitoring room was only so big, and the office chair was in the corner. They had to turn or pull the chair to see the face of the person sitting on it, so...

…………

One minute after the explosion, Clapton personally led eight police officers into the bank, while the rest stayed on the street to maintain order and stick to their posts.

He had two people guarding the entrance of the bank, two people standing on the two corridors connecting to the bank lobby, and the remaining four people rushed into the employee area behind the counter with him.

When he arrived in front of the monitoring room, Clapton happened to see the fourth police officer who had originally been left to guard the counter. He was the first to rush in after hearing the explosion, and at this moment, he was kneeling on the ground, holding a dying colleague in his arms. He roared to the sky, "Oh! God! Lester... no..."

And Lester, the injured person who was still breathing, was the police officer closest to the door at the time of the explosion. His face was covered in blood and he was groaning in pain.

As for the other two, they had fallen into the monitoring room, their flesh and blood blurred, and died on the spot.

"Call a doctor! Quick!" Clapton roared at a subordinate next to him, "Quick! Go to the street and have them bring in a stretcher..."

Although he was shouting excitedly, he knew in his heart that Lester was probably not going to make it. It was estimated that he would not even be able to hold on until he was carried onto the ambulance, let alone hold on until he got to the hospital. Furthermore... the situation on the street was very chaotic, and the ambulance couldn't get out at all.

"Lester! Lester!" The police officer who was holding him shouted twice, and then couldn't help but cry, "God! Why is this happening..."

"Damn it!" Clapton kicked the wall hard, "That son of a bitch!" He rushed into the monitoring room and went straight to the point of the explosion. His eyes seemed to be spitting fire, "What's going on?"

The walkie-talkies on these police officers were always on, so Clapton could hear their voices when they were acting. He knew that in the dozens of seconds before the explosion, the three of them had already seen the target and controlled the situation, but he didn't know what happened next...

"Could it be that this bastard pulled the bomb on his body..." Clapton squatted down and looked at the charred corpse, "No... the clothes on this dead man's body are not right!" He stood up, frowning, "He made an explosive trap on the corpses of other people? Then where did he go?"

In fact, in Clapton's initial questioning, someone had already mentioned the so-called "strange golden light" and the fact that Feng Bujue could take out weapons out of thin air, but Clapton focused on other information and did not pay attention to these seemingly nonsense situations.

It wasn't until before the explosion that he asked about the details of the submachine gun robber's death again under Feng Bujue's instructions, that he realized that things didn't seem so simple.

"Is this 'Nameless' some newly emerging 'super criminal'?" Clapton grabbed his sparse hair with one hand and gritted his teeth, "Could it be that he has really escaped?" Thinking of this, he picked up the walkie-talkie and said to the sniper responsible for monitoring the roof of the building, "Newman, can you confirm that no one has come out of the ventilation duct?"

"Uh... yes, sir."

"I mean, can you be one hundred percent sure that your sight has never been moved away from that vent?"

The other party thought for a few seconds, "Um... sir, it is impossible for me to stare at the same place every second. There may be a few intervals of more than ten seconds. I aimed at the street and the door."

"Damn it!" Clapton cursed and then exhaled angrily, adjusting his tone, "Okay, come down, Newman," he adjusted the frequency again, "The other snipers, also withdraw, put the rifles back on the equipment truck, and go to the street to help." He adjusted a frequency again, connecting with the tactical squad, "Second squad, third squad, leave three people on the street behind, and everyone else come to the bank door to help."

Clapton was the highest commander on the scene after all. Even though he was more grief-stricken and frustrated than anyone else, he still had to do his duty and dispatch his men to clean up the mess: "Notify the bureau and send a logistics team to the scene to collect evidence. Everyone else, follow me and search every room and corner here to see if there are any other bandits or hostages." He said to the walkie-talkie while returning to the corridor.

At this point, Clapton had basically confirmed that he had encountered a "super criminal".

Feng Bujue's previous series of actions, coupled with his calm attitude, showed that this "Nameless" was by no means an ordinary person. His behavior was fickle and unpredictable. He killed the robbers; then he took hostages; he played with the police; he sprinkled millions of dollars in cash on the street; he released all the hostages; he killed three policemen...

Hero? Outlaw? Robin Hood? Terrorist? Humanitarian? Murderer?

He was like a metronome, swinging back and forth between good and evil, revealing a crazy atmosphere, but also had meticulous thinking and outstanding action ability. If the hostages hadn't described Feng Bujue's appearance, Clapton would have definitely thought of a mental patient from Arkham Asylum.

"Sir, maybe he's still hiding in the ventilation duct?" A young police officer asked in the corridor.

"That's right, then you'll be responsible for checking it." Clapton replied with a wry smile. In his opinion, Feng Bujue must have escaped. He would never have thought that the other party was actually hiding a few meters away from him...

"Uh... just me? Where do I start?" The young police officer asked again.

"Hey... listen, rookie, when you've worked in Gotham City long enough, you'll understand that some criminals can't be dealt with by conventional methods." Clapton said in a lecturing tone, "With just a few seconds of slack, they can slip through the sniper's sight and disappear forever. Some of these guys can walk on walls, some can release nerve gas with their bodies, and some can bite off half of your body in one bite. Do you think the Joker would hide in a ventilation duct? Would Two-Face or the Riddler hide in a ventilation duct?" Clapton shook his head, "I've seen too many things like this today... Go check if you want, the rest of you come with me."

Clapton's thoughts also reflected the thoughts of most police officers in Gotham City. Even Commissioner Gordon could not deny that when facing those super criminals, the only person who could save the city was Batman, and the police's job was to clean up the battlefield for him.

The young police officer adjusted the hat on his head and replied very seriously, "Yes, sir." He looked around a few times, and his eyes quickly stopped on the vent in the monitoring room.

The entrance to the ventilation duct was located at the highest point of the wall, close to the ceiling. Although the explosion had deformed the storage cabinet somewhat, it did not affect the police officer's ability to climb up.

He supported himself with both hands, and his upper body flipped onto the top of the cabinet. After the center of gravity shifted to the top, his legs followed. Then, he reached out to reach the baffle of the ventilation duct...