The man in the trench coat stood at the scene for three full minutes.
Not because he needed to confirm the fat man's death. The bathtub was completely saturated with blood, water level risen several centimeters from the added volume. The target had definitively become a corpse.
Something else troubled him.
He stared at the small pumpkin lantern in his hand. The twisted, pained expression carved into it seemed to evoke a unique artistic atmosphere. Elements of Millet's classicism, Monet's impressionism, Matisse's Fauvism, Munch's expressionism, Balla's futurism, Picasso's cubism, Dali's surrealism—all compressed into one hideous gourd.
In a word: "This pumpkin is unbearably ugly."
He studied it with genuine confusion. Why had he bought this thing on the street? If he left it at the murder scene, the first thing police noticed might not even be the dead body in the bathtub.
Still, it had been purchased nearby on a public street. The vendor with the abstract pumpkin head hadn't said much, hadn't asked questions. No trail to follow. No risk of exposure.
But this pumpkin was really ugly.
Why hadn't he just walked to the convenience store two blocks over and bought a normal jack-o'-lantern? Slightly farther, yes, but at least it wouldn't be so conspicuous at a crime scene.
Wouldn't this detract from the image of a psychopathic killer? Absolutely. Wouldn't it make everyone think the murderer was just a regular idiot instead of someone calculated and dangerous?
After hesitating, he finally sighed and placed the ugly pumpkin lantern on the bathroom floor. Beside it, a pistol. And a broken pacifier.
Fine. He couldn't exactly leave and buy a replacement pumpkin now.
Jude walked through dark alleys, feeling complicated emotions he couldn't quite articulate.
He'd put away the eye-catching pumpkin head costume. The experience had given him insight into why superheroes and supervillains always wore masks. It looked like you were covering your face, but really? You were taking off a different mask. The one society forced you to wear.
With his face hidden, Jude had felt a sudden, intoxicating freedom. "I can do whatever the hell I want." He'd genuinely considered stealing candy from children—but held back. Bullying kids was too tasteless, even for Gotham.
Besides, he'd tried that brand before. It wasn't very good.
The pumpkin head was too recognizable anyway, not ideal for his next job. He needed to blend in.
He scanned the street for common costumes, then bought a pure black robe from the system shop. Added a white ghost mask to his face. Dozens of similar "monsters" prowled the Halloween crowds. He disappeared into them easily.
Following the system's navigation through Burnley's streets, Jude eventually arrived near a warehouse. The interface confirmed: Second Job Location Reached.
The warehouse door was locked. Not a problem. Jude spent $100 in asset points and discovered an unconventional entry route through the system map—a climbing path up the side of the building.
Which meant he needed climbing skills.
Basic Climbing Proficiency - $1,000
He stared at the price, then at his current balance. The tips from recent shifts made this affordable, barely. If he hadn't been earning so well lately, these points would be completely out of reach.
"Let's see what's inside first," he muttered.
Following the system's instructions, Jude circled the warehouse perimeter. After removing the white mask—too visible—the black robe the system provided proved sufficiently concealing in darkness. Nobody on the street noticed the slender figure scaling the warehouse wall.
The climbing skill worked effectively. His technique was awkward, unpolished, but quiet enough. His relatively thin build helped him squeeze through tight spaces and grip narrow ledges.
Thud.
Jude hit the warehouse floor with a heavy landing, rolled to absorb the impact. His back and legs ached, but nothing felt broken. The sound worried him more—too loud in the empty space.
He held his breath, listening.
Silence. No footsteps. No guards rushing to investigate.
"Nobody's best. Nobody's fine," he whispered to himself.
His eyes gradually adjusted to the darkness. Dim starlight filtered through high windows, barely enough to see shapes. In the center of the warehouse loomed something massive. A black hill.
"What the fuck? Why is it so big?" His eyes widened. "What kind of job is this? Heart Arsonist?"
His phone was ancient, lacking even a flashlight function. He used the dim glow from the screen to search for light switches, moving carefully through the darkness. Afraid something might jump out at him. Afraid he'd trip over unseen obstacles and crack his skull open.
Finally, in a corner, he found the main power switch.
"Let's see what we're dealing with."
He flipped it.
Overhead lights blazed to life. Jude's dark-adjusted vision went white with glare, forcing him to squint against the sudden brightness.
"Jesus, I didn't realize warehouse lights could be this intense."
When his vision cleared, he saw the hill clearly.
The system notification appeared:
SYSTEM UPDATE: Halloween Heart Arsonist
Task: Burn all counterfeit currency in the warehouse. For every 20% destroyed, receive $2,000 in asset points.
Total Reward: $20,000 (100% completion)
"Oh my god!" Jude shouted at nobody. "Why does the Heart Arsonist literally mean SET A FIRE?! Why is Harvey Dent doing this kind of work at night?! Was he already this unhinged before becoming Two-Face?!"
Three consecutive outbursts barely vented his shock.
The scene before him exceeded his limited knowledge and life experience by several orders of magnitude.
Green hundred-dollar bills stacked in neat bundles. Densely packed. Tightly fitted together. Forming a small mountain of cash in the center of the warehouse. Loose bills scattered across the floor around it. Picking up a handful would equal Jude's daily earnings.
More money in one room than he'd seen in his entire life.
"This much counterfeit money and Batman doesn't care?"
Jude stared at the task prompt, at the massive reward, and felt his principles begin a fierce internal battle with his pragmatism.
Twenty thousand dollars in asset points.
For burning fake money.
For Harvey Dent.
Before Harvey became Two-Face.
Meaning this was still the White Knight of Gotham asking him to commit arson.
"Well," Jude said to the mountain of counterfeit cash, "at least it's not real money."