Chapter 5 In the Human World

It was late at night.

Bane and his men left their hiding place and walked on the streets of Gotham City's slums.

In the imagination of ordinary people, the big villains are usually strong and powerful, as strong as bulls, and look like the kind of sturdy men who can eat three children in one meal.

But in fact...

Yes, Bane is such a person.

But even so, in Gotham, some people who are desperate will seek help from such vicious freaks.

For example, now.

"Excuse me, can you save my mother?"

A little girl stared blankly at the muscular monster as burly as a mountain looking down, and couldn't help but timidly grabbed the puppet in her hand.

It was a puppet picked up from the trash can, which matched her worn-out clothes very well.

"My mother has cancer, she needs medicine, she is in so much pain. People say that only God can help her."

She trembled and looked at Bane with hopeful eyes.

"Can you help me?"

Bane stopped his men who wanted to drive the little girl away.

"Where is your home?"

The little girl pointed to the dilapidated house behind her.

Bane walked in.

A few minutes later, Bane came out and wiped off the brain and blood on his hands.

"Your mother will never suffer again... bury her."

"... Don't rashly seek help from others, otherwise the suffering of the world will come to you automatically."

He raised his head slightly and saw the eastern sky, with stars hidden under the dark skirt.

Bane said:

"There is no God here... but Bane is here."

...

...

...

The night in Gotham is so quiet, full of tombstone-like peace.

The gray rain with a faint sour taste intertwined with the haze full of industrial exhaust gas under the neon lights. Death Shooter stood on the rooftop of the building and saw Gotham City grinning in the misty drizzle.

On the street, a car whizzed by, splashing mud all over a passerby. The passerby immediately took out a submachine gun from his arms and fired directly at the car going away, da da da da da...

The people in this city are too exaggerated.

While thinking so, the Death Shooter skillfully took out an anti-tank rocket launcher and mortar from his bag.

He gave a thumbs up to the building in the distance, measuring the distance and wind speed.

"I must remind you, Death Shooter, my mission requires that no one be injured or killed."

The employer's voice came from the headset.

"Ventriloquist, you've been in the mafia for so many years, how did you come up with this superhero-like requirement of not killing people?"

"A bad guy should look like a bad guy."

Death Shooter complained, setting up the mortar on the edge of the rooftop: "If you weren't an old customer, I would have thought you were Batman's informant."

"Speaking of which, the new doll in your hand - you wouldn't really have joined Batman, right? Didn't Batman give you a set of Robin uniform without pants?"

Air!

The mortar fired, drawing a deadly parabola in the air, and the voice of the ventriloquist came at the same time.

"Deduct money for the dead."

"Okay, okay, I get it, don't worry."

Death Shooter licked his lips and raised the anti-tank rocket launcher.

Bang!

The rocket was launched later but arrived first, and it had a French kiss with the mortar shell on the roof of the building.

Boom!

With a loud noise, the roof of the building was torn open like an opened can, and it was blown to pieces, revealing the panicked enemies below like ants.

"Look, I told you, I will bring the Mad Hatter to you intact."

Death Shooter took out his sniper rifle, but did not move: "But now, my employer..."

"Because of your distrust, I don't want to do this job anymore."

"? What?"

"After being frightened like this, the Mad Hatter will probably hide. It will be 10 times more difficult to catch him again. And Gotham is the city covered by Batman, and there are not many mercenaries willing to come here."

"Employer, you don't want to fail to complete the mission, right?"

"...Enough! State the conditions directly."

Death Shooter looked up at the sky at a 45-degree angle, and said without hesitation, righteously, clearly, and righteously:

"It will cost more money."

...

...

...

The night is like a girl who has taken off her clothes, lingering with the city sincerely and passionately.

The Cheshire Cat gracefully strolled through the empty corridors of Gotham Heights High School, with sirens and countless people shouting in panic outside the window.

"I must remind you, ma'am, the target of this mission [Mr. Zsasz] is a deadly killer just like you."

The ventriloquist - oh no, it should be the voice of the bat doll in his left hand - came from the headset.

"I have no doubt that you can defeat him, but my requirement is to ensure the safety of every student hostage. So, you have to separate Zsasz from those female students first, and then fight..."

"Oh, really?"

The Cheshire Cat's slender fingers slid across her slender waist and the touching whiteness on her chest, and stopped on her smiling cat mask.

"I don't think it's necessary to go to such trouble. Is it?"

"What are you talking about-"

"She's not talking to you."

The cold moonlight mixed with the red and blue light of the police lights shone on the killer who was rising from the shadows.

Dense scars were engraved on his burly muscles.

Victor Zsasz, one of Gotham's famous villains.

His eyes stopped at the woman's graceful figure:

"Why don't you let me see your beauty, ma'am?"

"Oh no, you know."

The female killer turned around.

"The cat never takes off her mask - especially in front of a naked exhibitionist."

A short knife appeared in the other's empty palm.

The Cheshire Cat sighed. She took out a retractable knife from the back, and then took out a lot of shurikens from the front, like a hamster pouring out its own food.

Then she tilted her head.

"Catfight?"

Gotham's famous exhibitionist and serial killer "Mr. Zsasz" showed a twisted smile:

"Cat Quest."

...

...

...

In the bat cave under Wayne Manor, Chen Tao was using the voice of a ventriloquist to remotely micro-control those mercenaries like a bald guy.

"...Enough! Just state the conditions. What? More money?"

He waved his hand and made a dog-rich voice: "More, anything!"

He turned his head and saw the third generation Robin Tim Drake holding a piece of paper in front of him angrily, which read:

"Batman, I still can't believe that you didn't take me with you and spent money to find those mercenaries to help you deal with Bane!"

The real ventriloquist squatted in the corner with an innocent look, trying to pretend that he was a real dog.

Tim felt his fist hard as he looked at him, but it was not good to beat him up in front of Batman.

So the young Robin could only grit his white porcelain teeth and continued to write with grief and indignation: "And not only did you bring the bad guys outside home, but you also called other bad guys in front of me!!!"

Batman hung up the phone and sighed.

The third generation Robin was silent for a while.

He asked:

"Is it because of Paul? (Jean Paul, the Angel of Death killed by Bane in the previous article)"

"Not entirely." Chen Tao replied: "Listen to me."

He turned around, grabbed the other's shoulders, and looked directly into Robin's eyes.

"I plan to retire."

"What...what?" This unconventional answer confused Robin.

"Youth will eventually fade, Tim. Youth is gone, gold cups are gone, old dreams are gone. Batman is just a dream that an eight-year-old boy doesn't want to wake up from... and now it's time to wake up."

"I want to do one last thing for Gotham, and then live a normal life, the life I deserve. You too, Tim."

"You are a successful student, smart, and have a father and a mother."

"You don't understand how rare this is!"

"You deserve all the good things in the world. You should go to school and meet your soulmate one day."

"She will have blond hair and sea blue eyes, or burgundy hair... She may be named Gordon, or Brown, but one day she will be named Drake."

"You will know each other and fall in love, my child... Such a young and pure love is something I will never have the chance to do again."

"We should all escape this nightmare."

With a bang, the tray in Alfred's hand fell to the ground behind the two of them and shattered.

He covered his face and cried with joy.

"Is this real, Bruce? Am I really not dreaming - Bruce?"