On the sixth floor corridor, Benjamin limped his way back, muttering curses under his breath. He gripped his pistol in his hand, his knuckles pale and veins standing out from exerting force.
Ever since becoming a senior agent, he hadn't been injured this severely. A penetrating injury was undoubtedly one of the most painful types of wounds. Even more worriso was the uncertainty of whether the iron nail that pierced him had rusted and if he might contract tetanus as a result.
Once tetanus is contracted, the chances of recovery are essentially zero. The only solution is to administer a tetanus shot as quickly as possible after the injury.
Benjamin was now in a dilemma of his own making. He had severed the communication lines, destroyed the helicopter, and failed to arrange for a doctor—to ntion nothing of a tetanus vaccine. Even if he started making arrangents right now, it was too late for optimal treatnt ti.
The agents were prepared with dical supplies, only they were stored in the warehouse on the ground floor. Benjamin hurriedly tried to go downstairs, aiming to find bandages and stop the bleeding. Just as he reached the dim staircase, he saw a faint green light at the stairway's entrance.
Benjamin's heart clenched instantly.
Don't think that foreigners aren't superstitious; their tales of haunted castles filled with ghostly apparitions are widespread. Ghosts can appear in any color, but green is especially terrifying.
Benjamin took a deep breath, clutching his gun tightly. He took half a step forward—just as he saw a small boy cloaked in a green glow standing in the doorway. Benjamin's heart rate skyrocketed.
There's no denying that different characters combined with different lighting produce different effects. If Hal was standing there now, Benjamin might attribute it to so superpower. But it was Dick who stood there.
An ancient mansion, a howling cold wind, thick falling snow, and a small boy appearing amidst the faint green light...
That Benjamin had not run away in panic was a testant to his resilience.
But then, he heard a noise behind him. He was reluctant to turn around, uncertain whether the glowing green boy bore any malice. He took a couple of steps backward and looked sideways, catching a glimpse of a little girl standing behind him from the corner of his eyes.
This little girl was even younger than the boy and was dressed in a beautiful puffy party dress. When he saw the girl's face, Benjamin froze—it looked a lot like Bruce.
The handso face of Bruce Wayne left a strong impression on anyone who saw him, and Benjamin was no exception. So, when he saw a little girl who resembled Bruce, Benjamin's thoughts jamd up.
Too many swift switches in his worldview in such a short period seed to have short-circuited his thinking. At first, it was a spy thriller, then it turned into "Ho Alone," followed by 'Castle Ghosts,' and now seemingly a lodramatic soap opera...
While Benjamin was dazed, the little girl, moving much faster than any adult could see, charged at him. Benjamin had no ti to dodge and was knocked to the ground.
The little boy wreathed in green light didn't use any special abilities. He simply hurried up the stairs and choked Benjamin.
Just as Benjamin was about to struggle, the little girl who knocked him down kicked the gun out of his hand, darted towards it, picked it up and handed it to the other boy.
The boy took the gun and pointed it at Benjamin's head, his movents smooth and confident, uncharacteristic of a child his age.
"Who the hell are you? What's your relationship with Bruce Wayne? Why are you here?" Even though a gun was being pointed at him, Benjamin still fired off a series of questions.
Dick stepped aside, allowing Benjamin to rise. As he got up, he stretched out his hands in a placating gesture. "Put down the gun, kid. That's not a toy. Hand it over to ...."
Dick said nothing, kept Benjamin in his sights. Just as Benjamin was about to take the gun by force, he felt sothing press against his lower back.
When Alfred Pennyworth erged from the shadows, Benjamin slowly raised his hands. At the sight of Alfred's face, Benjamin's pupils contracted.
"Pennyworth?!"
"Were you expecting a surprise? Imagined I'd ask you how you know my na?" Alfred's tone was quite low, a side of Alfred that Dick and Aisha had never seen before.
Just then, a whistle beckoned from the hallway. Aisha and Dick looked back and saw Hal waving at them from a room. They glanced at Alfred, then obediently went to Hal.
"You seem surprisingly unfazed by all this." Benjamin lowered his head, watching Alfred's reflection on the floor. Alfred's face seed old, yet his physique was not frail nor was there an elderly stoop. Quite the contrary, he seed fit, on a par with Benjamin in his pri.
"The invitation you sent to the Manor is full of flaws."
"Impossible, the mayor wrote it."
Upon finishing his sentence, Benjamin's face stiffened. Alfred pushed the shotgun forward and said, "So this is your trap. What are you intending to do?"
"Pennyworth, let be blunt. No matter who you previously worked for, as long as you hand over that list, all will be forgiven."
"You think I'll believe you?"
"I must emphasize to you the importance of this matter. You have raised Bruce Wayne; it's not worth it if he gets implicated because of this."
"I don't know what you guys are looking for. I just want to tell you not to bother . I've already said goodbye to the past."
"Alfred," Benjamin took a deep breath and called his na. "We both know that we can't just simply 'say goodbye' to this line of work."
Alfred's gaze deepened. Upon hearing his silence, Benjamin continued, "You could indeed rely on the Wayne family. Little Wayne might defend you without limits, but you'd better consider the cost that Wayne Enterprises might pay."
"Once Little Wayne is taken advantage of in such a way, he could be used as an excuse to stall anyone, even if several decades have passed. This could never be erased."
"On the contrary, you can receive a guarantee from . As long as you hand over the list, all this can be resolved. You can go back to Wayne Manor to enjoy your old age with Little Wayne, and no one will bother you again."
"Is this the kind of rhetoric the CIA is fond of? You don't want to make any sacrifices, but want to talk your way out of it with the phrase, 'have rcy and let go'? And you expect to believe you?"
"You don't have any other choices." Benjamin bared his teeth, moving his neck around before turning back to look at Alfred, "You are now a target, which ans you will never have peace."
"Unless, both you and your employer never leave Gotham, or else you will always be under threat from the CIA. Besides, there are many ways to bring down a corporation. Although Wayne Enterprises is significant, it's not entirely indispensable."
"Has anyone ever told you?" Alfred's tone suddenly lightened, but Benjamin got a sense of foreboding.
"You're not a good agent. Imrsed in your fantasy of a spy world, the way you operate as an agent is no different from the way those bosses run their companies."
"Aren't you?" Benjamin retorted.
"No, I have an excellent child, or maybe more than one."
Just as he finished his sentence, Benjamin suddenly saw another shadow appearing at the staircase entrance. As the shadow slowly ascended, a familiar face appeared in front of Benjamin—it was Kira.
The female agent was holding her gun towards Benjamin's head.
"Kira?! You..."
"Bang!"
The sound of the gunshot filled the room, with the muzzle flashing as bright as a lamp in the dimly lit stairway. As the gushing blood flowed down the stairs, the snow outside the window was dyed with blood.
Benjamin's body fell into the pool of blood. Kira put down her gun, stationery and took a deep breath. She turned to Alfred; both of their eyes were brighter than the gun's muzzle.
The female agent put her gun back into her waistband, and Alfred's slightly aged sigh echoed in the corridor.
"Long ti no see, Valeria."
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