Chapter 6252: Chicago Memories (21)

Using the sewer as a crime hideout has many advantages. On one hand, it’s not something that was built overnight, and there’s not just one version of it. Often, renovations and such operations have no blueprints, and even the original designers might not understand it decades later.

This means that unless someone has been operating here for many years, it’s hard to find the way. When the police come chasing, one can easily slip into any nook and cranny and escape capture. Conducting a carpet search here requires unimaginable manpower and resources, and at least in this era, it’s almost impossible to accomplish.

On the other hand, committing crimes like body disposal is very difficult because it must not be witnessed and must leave no residue. Committing bloody acts on the surface might go unnoticed, yet the smell of blood might attract nearby people and thus draw in the police.

In the sewers, this problem doesn’t exist. There are no residents here, and it’s far from the surface, so you can do whatever you want. Moreover, there’s a rich water system down here. The water usage for slaughter is immense, and disposing of bodies can follow the water flow into a natural water body, making it difficult to discover.

And the most important reason, which Bruce believes is why they set up the warehouse underground, is actually because there’s no traffic underground. Chicago is notoriously congested. Since its establishment, this steel forest never considered the convenience of living. The trade-off for having the most oppressive urban landscape and skyline is that the roads are narrow, with some main roads only having two lanes, causing heavy traffic during peak hours.

Human trafficking isn’t a nine-to-five job; delays in transporting live goods can’t be afforded. If there’s traffic congestion today, you can’t deliver, and congestion tomorrow means you can’t transport. A few delays can affect the condition of the goods, possibly leading to illness and death. Convenient transportation is a basic requirement.

Bruce isn’t too keen on exploring the sewers alone. He may not know what lies in Chicago’s sewers, but hasn’t he already discovered what’s in Gotham’s? Even though this world appears to lack superpower users, there’s no guarantee something like a Thunderous Crocodile won’t suddenly appear. Bruce never trusts his luck.

But coincidentally, Stark came to tell Bruce that his initial model was completed, inviting Bruce to the scrapyard to appreciate his latest masterpiece.

Bruce was mentally prepared for what Stark had created, but upon seeing the real thing, he realized his mental preparation was still inadequate.

It wasn’t a Mark 1; just by judging from the appearance, it should be called Gundam 1. Considering its operation, it should be named Mecha Hunter 1.

Bruce initially thought this thing would be just over a meter tall in total, but the thing before him was indeed over a meter tall, albeit lying down. When standing, it was at least ten meters high.

Bruce couldn’t help but frequently turn to look at Stark, his expression seemingly asking, “What exactly are you planning?”

Stark gave him a look back: “I haven’t even gone all out yet.”

Bruce sighed and then stepped forward to inspect the mecha. Indeed, as Stark said, it’s not considered high-tech because it doesn’t use special energy; it’s just electric. Plus, due to the era’s poor battery technology, there’s an extremely bulky battery pack on its back. Furthermore, the cockpit is completely enclosed, sacrificing visibility for bulletproofing, which doesn’t look very flexible and likely can only manage basic movement.

But as an urban warfare weapon, it’s already invincible. Just being able to move such a thing in this era, with the ability to fire a gun, makes it unbeatable. As for accuracy, it’s not that important. Not only does it have shoulder cannons, but it can also wield a machine gun. Under such firepower covering, precise aiming isn’t necessary.

However, possibly due to weapon restrictions, Stark didn’t equip it with high-powered weapons, only giving it a rifle. Still, it was far superior to humans. For a person carrying a rifle, they can’t bring much ammo, but this mecha, with ammunition hanging on its shoulders and waist, even has an ammo compartment on its arms, allowing for continuous strafing.

“Can it stand up?” Bruce asked.

“Of course,” Stark said, “but it can’t stand up; it’s too tall and too easy to spot.”

Despite Chicago’s skyscrapers, there aren’t any tall buildings nearby, and Bruce could foresee that the sound it makes would be quite loud, at least not appearing during the day.

“Then dismantle it,” Bruce said, “Take it apart and transport it into the sewers. Trust me, there’s nothing that can match it down there.”

Stark frowned slightly and said, “Why does everyone like the sewers so much? Peter was also here every day before…”

At this point, Stark suddenly stopped talking. He fell silent and walked away. Bruce sighed, too, as he scouted around the scrapyard and discovered a good sewer entrance conveniently connected to the underground garage, allowing parts to be transported directly in.

Without a doubt, Jennifer’s father is daring and decisive; he’s even willing to sponsor such a venture. Upon hearing Stark was going to develop in the sewers, he promptly drove his family’s truck over. To avoid alarming too many people, there was only one vehicle, so they took several trips under the cover of night, moving the entire mecha as if an army of ants was relocating to the sewers.

Jennifer’s father was busy with work, so Jennifer became their driver. Since the mecha still needed adjustments and a lot of raw materials, Bruce took charge of sourcing from the black market, while Jenny handled transportation, keeping all three of them constantly engaged.

Bruce was no longer inexperienced; Selina had taken him to the black market numerous times before. Mainly because later, as his finances tightened, he was forced to purchase dubious items — the black market was the best choice. By now, his skills in scouring for goods were highly developed.

After a bout of busy work, the mecha was finally completed. Stark stepped into the cockpit, initially leaning back, then curling up. Once the lid was closed, the mecha began to move slowly. Though the speed was somewhat sluggish, its stance was remarkably stable. Little by little, it stood upright.

What was shocking was that this machine wasn’t slow at all; its legs moved quickly enough to mimic a human running. It’s no wonder Stark was an expert in humanoid mechas, managing to craft such a robot from rudimentary materials — it was simply absurdly impressive.

Bruce had indeed pondered why Stark was so focused on humanoid robots; given his skills, it wouldn’t be difficult to construct a tank. Nevertheless, after some thought, he realized this machine’s intimidation potential far surpassed that of a tank.

Upon seeing a tank, people would think that guy has clout. But in this era, witnessing a Gundam, you’d have to wonder how sheer his intellect truly is.

However, this mecha has significant shortcomings, particularly insufficient energy. Even with a large battery compartment, it can only operate for two hours or so. Beyond that, it becomes immobile. Still, it’s sufficient; they can rely on cars for transport at other times.

Bruce embarked on sewer exploration, identifying several suspected locations convenient for transport. Since he wasn’t planning a forceful incursion, he didn’t take Stark and Jennifer — he went alone, driving his vehicle.

One such location was near the University of Chicago. Its geography is excellent, situated in a bustling immigrant zone, adjacent to Lake Michigan, with the Chicago River meandering through, rich in waterways. The students are relatively naïve; they don’t concern themselves with odd noises or activities.

More importantly, something precious must emerge from the university — precious high-value commodities the mob cannot afford to lose, mandating the shortest possible transport routes. Establishing a base there is optimal.

Bruce silently gauged directions in his mind, noting all nearby sewer entrances. Perhaps due to proximity to the river, there were numerous entrances connected one after another. As he approached the river area, he heard noises.

Quickly, he turned off his car, concealed it by the side, and ventured towards the sound on foot. The sewer had lighting facilities, but due to its ample space, it wasn’t very bright — a condition beneficial for Bruce to hide himself.

He walked along the wall’s edge, but the further he progressed, the more he felt something wasn’t right. Amid the sewer’s characteristic dampness, a faint scent of blood lingered. His footsteps were as hushed as possible, yet there was a barely audible noise. Then, he heard a duet of footsteps from the other side — gradually aligning with his own.

Bruce felt a brush of fear, indicating he had been discovered. Without hesitation, he sprinted at full speed until there were no longer any sounds from behind.

Panting heavily with his hand braced against the wall, Bruce tried alleviating the burning sensation in his lungs. He knew the inherent caution of Batman’s instincts had saved his life. He unequivocally believed there was some hunting rule, that once the footsteps fully synchronized, a terrifying hunt would commence.

Bruce couldn’t help but curse internally: Wasn’t it agreed there would be no special powers? Why did he feel like he was in a horror movie? The city was flooded with frightening murder tales; had he not been formidable, he’d have died eight times over by now.

Reflecting carefully, at a banquet, he had noticed something amiss with the Pink Rabbit, seized the keys instantly, then fled. Had he stayed, they wouldn’t have spared him — death was certain.

Upon the Pink Rabbit realizing he wore the deceased’s clothes, Bruce immediately threw the keys to him, possibly disrupting some ability, preventing the Pink Rabbit from exploding in violence.

In the sewers earlier, Bruce had keenly perceived others’ footsteps, and upon hearing the second set of footsteps, he fled immediately, preventing an attack from the other party. What would the next experience be?

As Bruce panted to restore his physical strength, he thought about the newly audible footsteps getting closer — evidence the person walked contrary, approaching inside from outside.

Correlating this with the blood scent, Bruce could already envision the events transpiring. However, upon turning into another tunnel and witnessing the hanging corpses, he instinctively retreated a step — overhead, the bodies dangled like willow branches, akin to hanging limbs.