"Boom!"
Another loud explosion sounded in the sky behind them. Gordon, who was wearing a gas mask, turned around and saw a ball of flame in the sky. The poor sheriff couldn't help but draw a cross in front of his chest. Everything that happened tonight was too exciting for him.
The moment the train loaded with microwave emitters rushed out of the narrow island, Gordon was in despair. When the sea behind the drawbridge was stirred up into a huge white water column, the thermal well at the edge of the narrow island was blasted open. Fear gas filled the air and the fog on the narrow island rose again.
There were less than 100 policemen who could still fight beside the sheriff. Most of them were armed mercenaries who had evacuated from the narrow island battlefield. Of the 200 best mercenaries, only 155 were left. Their commander, Battier, had died in the previous attack. They retreated to the suspension bridge defense line under the leadership of their respective commanders.
Now, Gordon was their commander.
The entire area in front of the drawbridge was covered in blood. Most of them were the black-clothed warriors who tried to attack the defense line among the civilians who were driven away. There were also a small number of armed villains in orange prison uniforms. These guys were released from the police station on the narrow island during the first wave of attack.
They drove the civilians who were infected by the fear gas to attack here. But when gunshots rang out and the people around them were shot down, the civilians screamed in fear and fled in all directions. As a result, these dangerous people were exposed. They were then caught and beaten up by the angry mercenaries.
This could be considered retribution.
As the fog thickened, there were occasional explosions and roars. Coupled with the dim lights on the narrow island and the corpses and blood stains lined up in the direction of the police cars, it made the place look like hell. Another series of roars and running noises were heard. All the mercenaries subconsciously unlocked the safety of their weapons. The night of battle had drained them mentally and mentally. Almost instinctively, they pointed their guns at the fog.
"Don't get close! Put down your weapons and retreat! "
"Bang!"
Before Gaden could finish his sentence, a bullet was fired from the fog. Although the bullet was still thousands of miles away from Gaden who was wearing a bulletproof helmet, the next moment, gunshots rang out like a storm from his side. The bullets came from the civilians who were staggering like zombies. After the toxic gas of fear increased in concentration, these poor people had completely lost control of their own will. Now, all their actions were controlled by their instincts, and their instincts had to succumb to the distortion of fear.
In a situation where one's ego had already been destroyed, there was no way one could expect to reason with them. After a series of gunshots rang out, Gaden could only see the figures in the mist being knocked down, followed by increasingly terrified howls. These guys who were already scared out of their wits turned around and fled. This allowed Gaden to heave a sigh of relief.
He was really frightened by the violent charge ten minutes ago. Looking at those people being hit by bullets and falling to the ground with blood flowing everywhere, it was like a scene from a nightmare. During the charge just now, Gordon also fired. He didn't know if he hit those black-clothed warriors, but he didn't want to recall the scene just now.
He stared at the fog in front of him. When he noticed that the last running sound had disappeared, he heaved a sigh of relief. He leaned against the car beside him and squatted down. He felt that his throat was very dry and his lips were about to split open. He wanted to drink more water when a tired voice sounded in his earpiece. "Sir, I'm sorry. Sir, I'm sorry, but I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry."
A few seconds later, Gordon stood up from his hiding place. He clenched the communication device in his hand and shouted, "Their leader is dead.
"Their leader has been killed. We've won!"
This news stunned everyone on the line of defense. Then, the police officers who were extremely tense cheered first, followed by the mercenaries. Gordon was also very excited. His eyes were even red. He was happy about the victory, and the rest was relief from the pressure and finally being able to escape from the nightmare in front of him.
He was an upright police officer. He wasn't Saber, nor was he Bruce. Killing a few strangers with his own hands was enough to make his conscience uneasy. If possible, he also didn't want to stay here as the commander of the line of defense.
Behind them, the drawbridge that was remotely retracted by Lucius was slowly descending. The National Guard was less than 50 kilometers away from Gotham. Now, most of the Gotham police officers were trapped in the chaos on the narrow island. The order of the entire city that was about to collapse due to the invisible fear needed these armed soldiers to maintain.
In times of peace, everyone said that they hated violence, but when the situation was terrible to a certain extent, only violence could bring about an indescribable sense of security. Everyone was actually the embodiment of this self-contradiction.
Ten minutes later, the people on the drawbridge returned to the main city. They rebuilt the line of defense inside the city. In the communication that had just been restored, the sheriff learned of some other news. The Shadow Dancers had also sent out a group of people to break into the prison in the suburbs. More than 450 prisoners of various kinds had disappeared in the prison riot.
They also set a fire in the suburbs of the city and burned down Gotham's iconic Wayne Manor. Fortunately, no one was injured. Finally, there was news that the National Guard had entered the city. They had set up a simple sentry post on the bridge that left the city. It was said that the chaos at the outermost edge of the city had ended.
They quickly arrived at the narrow island that was the most affected by the chaos.
Gordon finally breathed a sigh of relief. He removed the gas mask that was making it difficult for him to breathe and tossed it aside. Then, he pulled out a crumpled cigarette from the box of cigarettes in his pocket. Placing it between his lips, he took a deep puff of smoke.
There was still smoke coming from the narrow island in the distance, but thanks to the large amount of water vapor that had evaporated from the moist fog, there were no traces of a fire. This was Daxin's misfortune.
"This is a … disaster."
Gordon stood at the edge of the seaside road. He looked at the narrow island that was still shrouded in fog. How many people had died in the chaos tonight? 200,300, or even more. These numbers and the bloody scene were engraved in his mind. It was as heavy as some kind of mission, and it even made him a little breathless. Everything that happened tonight would be deeply engraved in his heart, and he would not forget it even when he was old.
On that night in Gotham, in the darkness that was induced by fear, some people's fates were completely changed. Gordon was one of them, but those who were trapped in fate would never know the ups and downs of fate. There would always be an invisible hand that would push them in a direction that they could not even see. Gordon was one of them. Gordon was one of them, but those who were trapped in fate would never know the ups and downs of life.
In the thick darkness, there were even more dangerous creatures entrenched there. The house was filled with the smell of blood, and it was a little nauseating.
"Ha!"
A chilling but pleasant voice sounded from the darkness, and then a guy climbed up from the ground. With the dim light outside the window, one could see that he had a head of messy hair, as if he had not taken care of it for more than ten days.
In the darkness, the fellow staggered to his feet. Then, he let out a groan as he clutched his waist. A bullet wound was still bleeding from the wound there.
He was wearing a dark purple suit that looked a little loose. Inside was a messy green shirt and a dark-patterned tie. He was wearing black gloves, and in his left hand was a switchblade. In the darkness, one could not see his face, only his eyes. Even under extreme pain, those eyes were surging with a strange color.
Deep in his eyes, his pupils were abnormally dilated, indicating that this guy was currently in a state of being affected by the fear gas. He slowly walked forward in the darkness, holding the wall, and behind him, there was a thick smell of blood.
There were also two corpses. Four hours ago, they were his partners. However, after inhaling the damned fog, they were overwhelmed by fear and began to fight with pistols and sharp blades in the narrow space. In the end, he was the only one who survived.
He walked to the window and stretched out his hand to pull open the heavy curtains, letting the dim light into the room. Looking out the window, the street was dead silent, and there was not a single person moving. His eyesight was very good, so he could still see the people lying on the street, not knowing whether they were dead or alive.
There was also a horse that had lost its owner. After the fog slowly dissipated, it regained its calmness. Now, it was standing alone under the street lamp, as if looking for its owner.
This was a house on the edge of the narrow island. It was originally the base of a thriving small gang, but after the attack launched by the Shadow Dancers, it was dead silent.
"Ha, haha …"
The guy began to laugh crazily. As he laughed, he waved the switchblade in his hand. No one knew what he was laughing about, but after a few seconds, he suddenly stopped. He pulled a chair from the side, ignoring the unpleasant sound the heavy chair made when it was dragged across the floor.
His feet were still sticky, it was the feeling of being stained with blood. He sat on the chair, supported his chin with his left hand, and began to think, like a philosopher. He suddenly inserted the switchblade in his hand into the table, then carefully pulled open his purple coat, and tiptoed to take out a bloody poker card from the inner pocket. He did this very carefully, as if he was afraid of disturbing someone. He closed his eyes and muttered to himself.
After a few seconds, he suddenly pulled out the poker card and threw it on the table. With the dim light, he saw the Joker on the card.
"Ah, I'm in luck!"
He pursed his lips, and his mood became cheerful at a speed visible to the naked eye. He stood up, humming a song, and kicked the stool he was sitting on. He accidentally touched his wound again, and the pain made him grimace. He looked back at the two people lying in the dark house, who had lost their lives long ago, and said with a hint of sadness, "What a pity.
We actually got along well, but we will always be separated. I'm used to it! "
After saying that, he pressed his whole face against the glass in front of him, opened his mouth, and blew on it. Then, he used his clumsy drawing skills to draw a Joker on the glass. Satisfied, he covered his wound and left. When he turned around for the last time, he stared at the only mirror in the house.
What was reflected in the mirror was a face covered in white paint, matched with an abnormally high right hairline, messy blond hair, dark circles deliberately made with black dye, and a mouth painted with bright red paint on both sides of the mouth.
The skin at the corner of the mouth that was torn and sewn together by a sharp object was clearly visible. This made the originally rather comical appearance have a trace of abnormal distortion and madness. This combination was called fear!
He took a deep breath, and the faintly poisonous gas of fear was breathed into his mouth and nose. The world before his eyes distorted again, and he vaguely saw himself in the mirror talking to him, smiling at him.
He stood in front of the mirror in a daze, and finally, he opened his mouth, revealing a painful grimace.
"Hehe, this is me …"
"This is the Joker! Game, start! "
Bang!
The door to the room closed, and after the last survivor left, this place was dominated by silent death. It would take a few days before anyone noticed this place and the corpses here.
But no matter what, the island was destroyed, and the invasion was finally over.
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