"Click."
The light ca on. The man tied to the chair hung his head, his suit covered in dust and scratches, with many scorch marks on the edges of his shoes’ soles. He whimpered and slowly ca to.
"No ti left, imposter. Tell , where is the real Batman?" A hoarse voice ca from in front of him.
Elliott snapped back to attention, seeing a particularly terrifying face staring intently at him. The skin on the other’s face revealed an abnormal cold whiteness, gaunt to the extre. The mask had two sharp ears unusually pointed, and the tal spiked goggles and wide-open mouth beneath looked grotesque to the extre.
What frightened Elliott even more was the gash across the other’s upper body, nearly slicing him open from his right shoulder to his left waist, even revealing broken ribs and blood-soaked alveoli.
The muscles around the wound continuously wriggled, healing at an impressive speed, although still too slow. The lung damage made every word he spoke accompanied by a thick wet noise, like a water ghost hidden in deep currents.
"You..."
"Bam!"
Before Elliott could finish speaking, he was punched. The pale hand grasped his hair, the terrifying face getting closer and closer until Elliott could see the bloodshot eyes.
"Tell , where is Batman?!"
Elliott was choked by the intense sll of blood, unable to breathe. He coughed twice, saying, "What Batman? Who is Batman?"
"Bam!" Another punch.
"Bruce Wayne, where is he?!"
"Did he have you kidnap ?" Elliott lifted his head, glaring at the person in front of him, "Too bad you arrived too late, he’s already dead."
"Bam!"
This punch successfully made Elliott cough up a mouthful of blood, nosebleed trailing down his philtrum.
"You can’t fool ," the pale madman gritted his teeth, "Batman would never die, he couldn’t possibly die!"
"The body is at Arkham Asylum, can’t you go and see for yourself?" Elliott chuckled twice, "His organs were scooped out by and placed in specin jars. Be sure to take a tour."
"Bam!" Elliott received another punch.
But the other party wasn’t doing well either. With every move he made, a large amount of blood gushed from the deep and long wound on his chest, and the healing speed slowed significantly. Blood even seeped from the corners of his mouth, completely uncontrollable.
"Batman must still be... still in so corner of this city," he muttered, "I have to find him, or else, that madman..."
"How did he find ?!" The roar echoed through the room, "He shouldn’t have, he can’t..."
The excruciating pain continuously pounded on his brain. The Laughing bat realized for the first ti that when the pain reached an extre level, it was a suffering from inside out, as if sothing was about to burst out of your head. At that mont, you always hope for a violent mont to end all the pain, but that mont never cos. From injury to healing, every second is the most extre pain you can bear at the mont.
The sharp pain continuously emanating from his chest reminded him of the terrifying experience hours ago when that madman almost sliced him in half.
A few hours ago, in an old print shop, the rust-coated door was pushed open. A flash of lightning before the night rain cast the shadow of the pale figure on the ground. Low, evil laughter echoed.
The gaunt figure walked into the newspaper printing workshop, turned a corner, and ca to the archive room where sample copies were stored. Pale fingers pulled one old newspaper after another from the drawer gap until finding an old newspaper announcing Mr. and Mrs. Wayne’s death.
"Haha," he said, "Batman is an orphan again, how unexpected... but where does this Elliott co from?"
Suddenly, a faint sound of wind approached. The Laughing bat abruptly turned around but it seed only the howling wind on the street blew in through the window. He turned back to the newspaper again, his thin fingers gently curling the newspaper edge.
A creak sounded from the iron fra on the ceiling.
The Laughing bat looked up, eting the gray eyes of a suited figure, only having ti to inhale half a gasp of cold air.
The attack hit abruptly. Yet, it seed the Laughing bat had expected it, swiftly dodging and before he could speak, a filing cabinet was thrown his way.
"Bam!"
The Laughing bat was smashed away. Only upon feeling his back hit the ground did he see it wasn’t so small cabinet, but a ceiling-high steel cabinet thrown directly at him.
The Laughing bat, with almost all his strength, managed to push it off. The mont he got up, he imdiately felt the pain on his ribs. Ignoring the pain, he reached for the Batman dart, attempting to block the attacker’s path before they charged again — at least he tried to block it, but to no avail.
The mont two Batman darts struck the opponent’s chest and shoulder, the scent of blood spread. Not only did they fail to injure, but they didn’t even manage to repel. The force of a hidden weapon thrown by human hands could never surpass a bullet’s, and it relies on both the fear of pain and pain itself to stop the enemy, but neither seed effective here.
The Laughing Bat was once again sent flying. This ti, he couldn’t get back up. The opponent directly picked up a small cabinet nearby and smashed it brutally against his head and limbs. Each blow sprayed a high cloud of blood; the Laughing Bat’s head was nearly smashed to a pulp, and his limbs were shattered to pieces.
Yet he still had consciousness. He felt soone grab his ankle and drag him in one direction. The destination didn’t seem close; it took several minutes to arrive.
In these short minutes, the Laughing Bat partially regained his sight. The first scene that appeared before him was the slightly cruel smile of Shiller, reflected off the gleaming tal surface of a large paper cutter.
Although his vision returned, his limbs did not recover so quickly. The Laughing Bat was completely immobile, thrown directly under the massive guillotine. Shiller kept adjusting the position repeatedly, as if pondering how to slice a steak.
In the Laughing Bat’s terrified gaze, Shiller grasped the handle of the guillotine and yanked it down hard.
"Aaaahhhhh!!!!"
The Laughing Bat knew very well, with Shiller’s strength, who could hurl a filing cabinet at him, that one strike would surely split him in two. But Shiller didn’t do that; he appeared to use force, yet when the blade touched the body, it moved slowly, pressing in gently.
Halfway through the cut, he released his grip, staring at the wound on the chest for a few seconds, seemingly unsatisfied.
"Healing too slowly," the Laughing Bat heard him say. "As expected, it can’t compare to the Joker’s Undying Ability, way too far off."
His tone was filled with deep disappointnt. Then he added, "It seems so conservation is in order, so let’s leave it at that for now."
And then he left.
The Laughing Bat in front of Elliot couldn’t help shivering. His brain, originally capable of predicting everything in the multiverse, no longer functioned as well after the physical tornt.
After being beaten by several Batman before, part of his brain hadn’t even fully healed; now, Shiller shattered his head again, leaving more areas useless. Despite his setting granting him high intelligence, without hardware support, it was futile.
So he couldn’t comprehend why Shiller could find him. Clearly, he left no trace back then, choosing the newspaper printing factory because it was in the chaotic old town, unlike the eye-catching press offices or news centers. Logically, no one should know he was there.
The wound from the guillotine cut too deep and painfully, and the ceaseless, prolonged pain muddled the Laughing Bat’s focus even more. This led him to think of the only way to get rid of Shiller was to find this universe’s Batman.
He hadn’t forgotten that this was the Dark Multiverse. He had already persuaded many Dark Multiverse Batn in the sa way; with their protection, he would no longer be threatened by that madman.
But he unexpectedly learned from Elliot that Bruce Wayne, who should have beco Batman, was already dead. This nearly shattered all his hopes. The constant physical pain reminded him that the madman was coming.
Terror drives people mad, robs them of reason, makes them behave irrationally.
"Bang! Bang! Bang! Bang!"
The Laughing Bat punched left and right, continuously pumling Elliot as if beating a punching bag. Yet, hindered by his pain, he inflicted no fatal damage, wearing himself out instead.
He exhaled a long sigh, staggered back a couple of steps, and said, "I need a Batman. If Bruce is dead, then you’ll do. I’ll teach you how to be a good Batman."
The rain fell harder and harder. The puddles reflected the golden vine patterns on the erald green heels. Talya stood in front of an armored pickup truck, pulling at the gloves towards her wrist. anwhile, ard guards were handcuffing the red-haired woman in a blindfold.
Talya walked past the front of the truck and looked at her, saying, "Long ti no see, Barbara. Where have you taken Thomas?"
"I didn’t catch him," the red-haired woman known as Barbara said. "Everyone saw him walk past the helicopter wreckage and vanish. Maybe he didn’t want to et you and left on his own."
Talya’s face slightly darkened, but she didn’t voice her rebuttal, only saying, "The ’Outsiders’ have all been caught in this net, Lady Gordon. Do you still persist in your folly?"
Barbara snorted in disdain and was escorted to a police car. Along with her, many mbers of the rebel army were also taken into custody.
Then they t up with Elliot’s group at the police station. Due to the unsolved murder case from the banquet yesterday, many attendees suspected had yet to leave.
Barbara passed through interrogation rooms, seeing almost all notable figures of Gotham, but one was distinctly missing.
"Where is Chief Justice Dante?" Barbara inquired.
Talya paused in her steps. Just then, a sweat-drenched Brock rushed over and whispered a few words to her. Talya’s eyebrows arched, fury blazing in her eyes.
"What are you doing?! Out of these few important figures, three escaped?!"
"I’m really sorry, ma’am. The police are understaffed, we really couldn’t help it. Plus, we still have to deal with the tax bureau. How about this, let’s just assu the rebel army stirred up trouble and let the others go."
User Comments
0 comments from readers