Benjamin did not limit the guests' freedom to move around the Mayor's mansion during the banquet, hence, news of Old Parker's death spread rapidly. Many people stood by the railing of the courtyard corridor, looking down and discussing in awe.
Many people were heading downstairs, wanting to take a closer look at the corpse.
People are strange. When a body falls in front of them, they desperately try to run away. But when the body is far from them, they want to get closer and understand what happened.
The only figure moving upwards was Shiller, which made him stand out as different amongst the crowd. Bruce noticed this when he ca out of his room onto the corridor.
Bruce stood beside the railing of his floor, looking down at Old Parker's body.
He lay there on his back with a large bloodstain on his chest. The wound was faintly visible, seemingly stabbed with a sharp weapon. He, like Mayor White, had been thrown from a great height and had landed in the middle of the banquet hall.
At this mont, several agents were conducting a post-mortem examination with various tools. So wore gloves and scrutinised the body; others took notes, and so used flashlights to look for clues around the area.
Observing these actions from upstairs, Bruce noticed Shiller moving against the flow. Even though they hadn't interacted during the party, Bruce understood his behavior.
You couldn't say that the ongoing incident in the hall wasn't a cri scene. In fact, in the majority of cop and detective films, such scenes are quite common.
Looking down from above, the scene was reminiscent of an old-fashioned thriller— the body with a bloodstain blossoming on his chest, lying in a distorted pose amidst a chaotic environnt. Policen were rushing around, investigating, while spectators exchanged whispers of varying expressions.
However, looking at the timing, the process, and the result of the incident, everything seed too diocre. In his ti as Batman in Gotham, Bruce had encountered mob killing scenes far more intense than this one.
Mob bosses liked various intimidating asures to deal with their enemies. So of them, choosing violence, would throw their enemies into cent mixers or tie them to stones and dump them in the ocean.
Like in 'The Godfather', family bosses would invite family mbers who broke the rules into the church to confess before God. Then, upon exiting the church, they'd shoot them on the spot.
No matter how you look at it, both in terms of ritual sense or impact, the execution thods of Gotham's gangs are much stronger than this scene.
Bruce could almost personally feel Shiller's boredom. Even he found himself perplexed by the shocked expressions on the onlookers' faces. What were they so shocked about?
Thinking about this, Bruce couldn't help but wonder what would have happened if this incident occurred in Gotham.
As soon as he thought about it, Bruce touched the side of his nose as a warning to himself not to entertain such dangerous thoughts. But his mind still wandered uncontrollably.
At the start of the banquet, when the host announced the list of important guests, the first na called would certainly be a dead body descending from the sky.
Subsequently, people would start suspecting and guessing each other. When the second murder occurs, the thod of death would certainly be strange and bizarre, indicating a terrifying serial killer hiding among them.
At this point, soone might inexplicably connect to the hall's television and reveal how they'd been neglected by society, proposing various rules and conditions to make people kill each other.
In the end, many people would be driven mad, unleashing potential they'd never revealed in a civilized society to consu others with an even darker darkness.
As everyone started to fall into madness and chaos, a hysterical laugh would echo with the thunderous sound of a stormy night. Amid the dark, deep curtain of rain, the light from an explosion marked the arrival of a madman.
Bruce shook his head, took a deep breath, and after exhaling, felt a little relaxed. He thought, thank God this is tropolis.
After imagining the scene in Gotham in his mind, Bruce seed to lose interest in the spectacle. He intended to uncover the secret behind it all, but that didn't an he wanted to go down to schmooze with agents and old Lex.
Bruce returned to the room. Selina was fiddling with her wrist guard. Bruce went to the table, took out a box, and Selina stood up to exercise her wrists and ankles. Then she said, "Stick to the previous plan. I will sneak into each room and plant eavesdropping devices, and you go find the surveillance room of this mansion."
Bruce took off his sweater, opened a bottle of wine, and spilled the wine over his sweater until it was soaked with a strong sll of alcohol. He also did the sa to his trousers.
Having changed into the alcohol-soaked clothes, he swigged so wine and spat it out. After ensuring that he slled thoroughly of alcohol, he staggered out of the room.
At this ti, almost everyone was gathered in the middle of the corridor, observing the situation below. When Bruce took the side stairs to go down, he didn't face obstruction.
He speculated that the surveillance room might be on the first floor, thus he had to go there first. He squinted his eyes tightly and mumbled so gibberish, appearing like a complete drunkard.
Just as he descended the side stairs to the first floor and rounded into the corridor, out of nowhere, he observed a figure positioned at the end of the corridor who vanished almost instantly. Bruce leaned against the wall starting to dry heave, but as he lowered his head, he discreetly lifted his eyes, staring intently at the situation at the end of the corridor.
It seed like the person across the corridor had heard so noise as Bruce was moving downstairs and so had ducked to the other end of the corridor. However, after a while, realizing that it was only a wandering drunk, the figure reerged.
Bruce couldn't get a glimpse of the person's face from his angle, so he decided to keep up the act, clutching his chest and continuing to gag violently. Then, he pretended to pass out, sprawling on the ground.
The figure waited at the end of the corridor, observing for a few minutes. Eventually, it started moving in his direction. Bruce, pretending to be knocked out, closed one eye and slightly opened the other.
First, a pair of delicate leather shoes entered his vision, followed by a formal suit pant as he looked up a bit. Judging from the ankle structure, it had to be a young man.
Bruce felt a pair of hands lifting him by his armpits, dragging him towards the other end of the corridor. He relaxed his limbs and offered no resistance to the strength, but he could identify that the person wasn't much powerful, as they had to stop for a breather every few seconds while dragging him.
Moreover, the man seed to be repelled by the sll of alcohol and often covered his nose to cough. Regardless, he laboriously dragged Bruce to a corner in the corridor.
Once passed, there was a storeroom. Bruce felt himself being dragged into the storeroom. As the light flickered, he seized the opportunity to open his eyes, catching sight of red hair.
Bruce was roughly dropped in a corner of the storeroom, propped against a pile of cardboard boxes. When he saw the man turn his back through a crack between his eyes, he relaxed and fully opened his eyes.
He saw a tall and lean young man with red hair, dressed in a suit. The young man left the storeroom, only to co back shortly carrying a whisky bottle that Bruce had been holding earlier. He then emptied the remaining alcohol on the floor.
The mont he turned, Bruce, with his eyes closed, glimpsed a lighter in his hand.
Bruce slowly adjusted his breathing. The mont the sound of lighter echoed, he sprung forward, charging towards the figure, grabbing his neck, and pinned him against the wall.
He stared at a shock-stricken youthful face, Bruce coldly asked, "Who are you?"
The man seed genuinely startled, his chest heaved violently, and his face turned red. Bruce kept one hand on him, closed the storeroom door with the other, and locked it.
Then, he loosened his grip, letting the red-haired youth cough while clutching his neck. When he had finally caught his breath, to Bruce's surprise, the young man half-kneeled on the ground, erupting with laughter.
"Hahahaha, Bruce Wayne... Bruce Wayne..."
The youth kept repeating Bruce's na, prompting Bruce to retreat a couple of steps, fold his arms, and furrow his brows, questioning, "Do you know ?"
"Of course, hahaha, do you know how hilarious this is? That blockhead... that blockhead... the only thing he firmly believes, turns out to be a lie too..."
After laughing for a while, he finally stood upright, leaned against the wall, lifted his head slightly, held his throat, and gasped for breath. He glanced at Bruce and said, "Hello, my na is Lex Luther."
Bruce furrowed his brows — he vaguely rembered eting Lex at a gathering. But, back then, they were much younger and had changed significantly in appearance.
Moreover, if Bruce recalled correctly, Lex was introduced as an autistic child back then. He didn't speak to anyone and just sat quietly in a corner by himself.
"If I have guessed right, you must be rembering our last eting, wondering — I was known as an autistic patient, why then could I communicate so fluently with you now?"
There was always a hint of mockery on Lex's face, which made Bruce feel uneasy, reminding him of another madman.
"This dates back to a certain blockhead."
Lex assessed Bruce from head to toe, then started,
"It begins with a fool who always believed Little Wayne was a real playboy and nagged constantly about it..."
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