Chapter 395: Barbara Gordon and Kara Zor-El (3)
The Demon's Price
When the demon's phantom descended, the world around it changed.
Birds tucked in their wings, insects stopped chirping, and flying creatures and ground animals hid in their nests, trembling. The entire forest fell into a deathly silence.
The magic circle seemed to come alive. Blood flowed into the soil, constantly seeping downward, giving off a sharp, hot, sulfurous smell.
"A demon's exchange requires a balanced scale."
The low voice seemed to come from another dimension—ancient and profound. It was impossible to tell if it was male or female, but it reached the depth of the soul.
"Siobhan, my loyal servant, you must pay the cost."
"But..."
Siobhan lifted her head, then quickly lowered it again. "My request is for the ancient book, for you, my Master. I am searching for the book on your behalf."
Ho-ho-ho-ho!!!
The phantom laughed eerily, slowly dissolving into the air, leaving behind a mysterious, violet-like pupil.
"The other end of the scale hangs your blood, Siobhan McDougal, my loyal servant. Trade the magical blood of the McDougal family for what you desire."
Siobhan knelt on the ground, unable to rise until the moon ascended and the birds began to chirp again. The head fixed to the stake was now a bare skull, and the wolf's liver and lungs were reduced to ashes.
"Crolos!"
Siobhan gritted her teeth, slamming her fist into the ground. The terrifying force exploded the earth, sending up a wave of air and dust. The altar and the magic circle were buried, and the robber's headless corpse was flung far away, rolling into the bushes.
"Father was right. Demons are nothing but evil. Perhaps she had this planned from the moment I fell into the abyss."
"Vile!"
"Crolos, you deserve to die! And Caine, and Bevin—you are all to blame!"
Siobhan cursed inwardly, but dared not utter a sound. She was sick of it all: the family, the demon, and her hateful uncle and brother...
"No, I cannot give away the family bloodline."
Siobhan clenched her jaw, but a look of hesitation crossed her eyes.
She truly had no better option.
The Silver Banshee curse was growing stronger. Before long, she would lose her humanity and become a puppet obeying the demon. At that point, would her bloodline truly matter?
The Circus and the Missing
If the DC world's Earth were compared to a fantasy world of cultivation, then Gotham would be the land where demons and monsters run rampant.
Gotham produces unique talents, most notably from its circuses.
As a circus that was gradually making a name for itself, the Strange Circus was warmly welcomed by the lower and middle classes wherever it went.
It was unlike other circuses. The owner didn't seem interested in making money, as the profits earned in each location were exchanged for food and distributed to homeless wanderers.
Over time, the circus began to stand out and successfully drew the attention of the police.
After completing a nationwide tour, the Strange Circus returned to its original home—Gotham—to hold one last show to bid farewell to the year 2004.
When the news spread, it garnered a lot of interest from the lower classes, and some media outlets spontaneously publicized the event.
The day the circus opened, it was packed. Nearby tramps and homeless people gathered there to watch the performance and enjoy free pork hamburgers.
Gotham City plainclothes police and several FBI agents were mixed in the crowd. They weren't there for the free food, but for the increasingly frequent missing persons cases that had been escalating in recent years.
The Strange Circus was the prime suspect. Every time they performed somewhere, people would disappear. Initially, the police didn't pay much attention, as those who went missing were always homeless wanderers—who cared about the life and death of a vagrant?
As the disappearances multiplied over time, the police could no longer ignore it.
Inside the noisy circus, the crowd was jammed together, with some sitting directly on the ground. Since most attendees were homeless, the air was thick with a persistent sour odor.
Captain Bellon, the officer in charge of the case, hid in a corner smoking, his expression clearly frustrated. He thought this would be an easily solved case, but after all this time, he hadn't found a single lead.
Investigating a crime requires evidence. Without finding the missing people, they couldn't secure a conviction; mere suspicion was not enough.
A plainclothes officer walked over, holding two pork hamburgers.
"Captain, want a taste? It's not bad."
Bellon shook his head, glancing at the warehouse not far away.
"Find anything?"
"We searched everywhere. Nothing, not a single hair. Did the FBI get it wrong?"
"I hope so."
Bellon exhaled a long drag of smoke. For some reason, he still felt there was something deeply sinister about this whole affair.
The plainclothes officer gobbled down the hamburgers. He looked around and whispered,
"Captain, can I ask you something? Has the police power armor manufactured by Tesla been delivered yet?"
Bellon glanced at him and smirked. "What, you want a set too?"
"Who wouldn't want one!"
The officer grinned excitedly. "I heard the police armor is bulletproof and extremely powerful. With those, capturing criminals would be a cinch."
"It's not that simple."
Bellon tossed his cigarette butt onto the ground and stepped on it hard. "The police armor is good, but it's too damn expensive. $900,000 a set. Hell, they're practically robbing us."
"Tesla is highway robbery."
"How many sets is our precinct getting?"
"Only four sets, and the Commissioner had to throw a tantrum and fight tooth and nail just to get those."
"That doesn't sound right!"
The plainclothes officer scratched his head, completely confused. "Didn't the Mayor order over two thousand sets of police power armor from Tesla? How did we only get four?"
"You think all those power armors are for the police?"
The thought rankled Bellon. "The Guard Force needs them, the Armed SWAT needs them, the Prosecutor's Office won't let go of their share, and then there are the prisons, department guards, narcotics unit, homicide division—everyone is sticking their hand out."
"They're all just babies desperate for milk!"
Just then, a commotion arose in the front. Laszlo Valentin, the Ringmaster of the Strange Circus, walked onto the stage to greet the guests. He was a tall, fat man with a broad brow and round eyes. He looked somewhat fierce, but his voice was incredibly infectious.
His address ignited wave after wave of applause from the crowd.
After the speech, the performance officially began. Truthfully, the Strange Circus's acts were unremarkable: the equestrian show, the monkey riding a bicycle, the grizzly bear with a hula hoop, the dog on a motorcycle, the clown playing jump-ball were mediocre.
The reason it attracted so many guests was the Ringmaster Laszlo Valentin's "charitable acts",he gave bread to the poor, and the poor naturally supported him. This world is never short on the lower class.
The show started at 7:30 PM and lasted until 11:00 PM. Afterward, people gradually left, but a portion of the homeless stayed, taking up residence in the temporary shelter provided by the circus.
"Time to start," Bellon said, looking at his subordinate. The officer nodded, changed into tramp clothes, and blended into the lingering crowd.
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