In the end, Constantine and Bruce sat side by side on the curb of the street, gazing at the neon lights of Prosperous, the comrcial street across from them. Constantine, with his mind clouded by drugs and alcohol, could always see many illusions in such lights. Then, Constantine said to Bruce:
"You're not from here; you shouldn't be in this place. You should go back to where you belong instead of sitting here, wearing a bitter smile."
"Yeah, they all say that," Bruce replied. "They say I don't belong here, that I should leave sooner. I don't fit into their society, and I can't find any answers here."
"No, I'm not talking about that," Constantine said. "When I tell an angel not to walk in the kingdom of hell, I'm not saying how beautiful heaven is and encouraging him to go back and enjoy that life. I'm warning him not to flow with us."
"People who are already beneath the Abyss can't save others. They can't even save themselves. Right now, I can't stand up straight, I feel like vomiting, my mind is filled with those filthy illusions. You can't expect to help the poor in a charity, preach in a church, or change this city."
Constantine glanced at his palm, covered with the lines of ti. He wasn't really old, but years of bad habits had brought his body to the brink of collapse. He said, "You're young, strong, full of vitality, rich, and stable. You can do many things I can't. Those are the things I once wanted to do but never accomplished."
"Why didn't you accomplish them?" Bruce asked.
"Because a hand reached out from hell and pulled down. That's my fate," Constantine turned to look at the slums' alley, "Whether born in hell or led astray halfway, those who end up there aren't inherently bad guys. Maybe they once thought about saving the world."
"Don't think it's a childish idea, Batman. What you tried to do on the rooftop, the things you spent ti on, might not have achieved the desired results. They might be much smaller compared to what you can do, but it's not laughable."
"You feel like everyone is watching you, mocking you. You could achieve ten, but you only did one, and you're proud of it."
"But in reality, if soone has benefited from your kindness, they will only thank you. Those who haven't received your help can't demand more for the beneficiary because it's not the spectators who saved him, but you."
"For example, . You tried to save , but for so reason, you didn't have the ability to save . I see the effort you put into it, so I'm willing to consider you my friend. And if soone cos out and says you didn't try hard enough, that you should do more to save , I'll punch him."
Constantine looked at Bruce's face and didn't find his expression easing. He could understand what Bruce was thinking right now; his soul's frequency conveyed his current mood.
Before this, Batman might have thought everything was straightforward. His goal was to fight criminals, to avenge his parents. He believed he had been effective. In just two years, he had stopped countless cris...
Later, Bruce Wayne also planned to make so changes. He intended to use the Wayne Corporation's power to do more. He was originally optimistic about it.
But the crazy reality hit him like a blow to the head. He found out that Gotham beca this way not for the reasons he imagined. Criminals were shaless, the poor refused to strive, and those deeply entangled in this vortex had problems with self-preservation. When he fell, he couldn't break free.
What he did and thought before seed ridiculous. He wasn't the night because, standing on the rooftop of Wayne Tower, the night he saw wasn't dark enough. He wasn't revenge because what caused his family's tragedy might be more than just one or two criminals he defeated.
Constantine took a deep breath and realized Bruce was in a very dangerous state. His mind was slipping toward so kind of abyss, and certain hidden natures were awakening.
He had comforted Bruce as best as he could, but Constantine knew he wasn't good at comforting people.
And if Batman didn't co to terms with it, the consequences would be severe. It wasn't just about a well-trained superhero turning into a super villain; the collapse of Wayne Corporation was the most frightening.
Constantine rubbed his eyes with his palm, thought for a mont, and decided to call for backup. He left where Bruce was sitting, took three steps back, and found the nearest public telephone booth, calling the Gotham Police Departnt.
In the Gotham Police Departnt, Gordon was interrogating Copperpot.
But he was also impatient with this task because he knew wherever Copperpot went, he could produce a ntal illness report. In the end, he wouldn't be imprisoned but sent to Arkham Asylum, which had beco the headquarters of gang leaders. Copperpot going there was like going ho.
Moreover, every ti he asked about crucial information on the hired killings, Copperpot would draw a cross on his chest. Everyone in Gotham understood what that ant; the police station chief was the Godfather's man. As Gordon continued the interrogation, the chief's face beca increasingly unfavorable.
At this mont, he just received a call from Constantine. Upon hearing that Batman was in trouble, he saw an opportunity to leave.
Arriving at Bruce's location, Gordon was equally shocked by Bruce's current state. He understood better than Constantine the consequences of Batman going mad.
So, he quickly grabbed Bruce's shoulder and said, "Bruce! Look at ; I'm Jas. We can talk, really..."
When he grabbed Bruce's shoulder, he felt Bruce's body trembling. Gordon focused, as if he could hear uncontrollable laughter emanating from his chest.
Gordon had a bad premonition. He covered his forehead and said, "Jesus! What the hell is going on? Is it that madman again?!"
Suddenly, Bruce looked up and asked him, "I gave you the Bat-Signal, but why have you almost never lit it?"
"I..." Gordon hesitated for a mont and said, "I don't want to lie to you. The fact is, the Bat-Signal is very effective as a light. Its power is imnse, illuminating the entire yard of the police station. So, I fixed it on the rooftop behind the police station building..."
At this point, Gordon quickly tried to salvage the situation, "But it can still be used normally in that position. As long as you adjust the angle, the shape of a bat will appear in the Gotham sky."
"And the reason I haven't been doing it all the ti is that I felt you were busy." Gordon sighed, "Okay, let's not play those guessing gas anymore. I'll be honest. Wayne has to manage Wayne Corporation, Bruce has to go to school, Bruce Wayne has to raise children and educate them, and Batman has to go out and fight cri."
"I really don't know when to find you without interrupting what you're doing. If it's not sothing very tricky, I don't like to use that thod to deal with it."
Bruce looked up at him, seemingly sensing that Gordon wasn't telling the whole truth. At this mont, Gordon turned his head to look at Constantine, who shrugged and said, "You two talk, I need to find a place to lie down; I'm feeling really bad."
After saying this, he turned and left, and Gordon also sat down on the curb. He said, "Since I got promoted, I've understood a reason. The inaction of the Gotham Police Departnt isn't solely due to insufficient firepower."
"People working as police in Gotham can be divided into three types. One type is the ruthless villains. They co to the police station to collect money. Their boss allows them to enter to facilitate their business. If others pay them, they are also willing to help certain criminals escape punishnt."
"The second type of people are just ordinary. They treat being a police officer as a job. If soone calls them, they go. Whether things can be dealt with depends on luck. If soone gives them money, they take it. As long as it's not too difficult, they handle it. They believe that all the evil happening in Gotham will naturally dissipate, and they don't need to make an effort."
"Then there's the last type, like my colleague Brock. He looks like a corrupt cop, often taking money from gangs. But in reality, he's a good person, dealing with many troubles in his own way, doing his best to administer justice."
"What about you?" Bruce asked.
"?... They say I'm a madman." Gordon looked up at the sky and said, "Indeed, in this city, I am a madman. I don't take bribes, I don't help gangs, and as long as soone calls for help, I do my best to deal with the problem, even if it puts my safety and life at risk."
"At first, I was angry. How could they call a madman? Clearly, they are the crazy ones, sinking into evil. Only I rise above it. But later, I found that in Gotham, being a madman is not a bad thing."
Bruce's eyeballs moved slightly as he looked at Gordon, seeming a bit puzzled. In his impression, Gordon was truly Gotham's last conscience. You could lose hope in anything happening here, but you could always trust Gordon.
"One day, I got caught in a very complicated gang dispute. Everyone in the entire police station, including an intern who had just arrived three days ago, advised to make a big deal small and settle the small matters."
"Then, I drove an armored police car to the mansion. Brock, who was driving, pointed a rocket launcher at a certain window of the mansion. Holding a rifle, I entered the scene of the gang leaders' eting."
"I told them I had to get to the truth, or we would all die here together. After all, except for , everyone was not innocent, and I was volunteering."
"They all said I was crazy..." Gordon squinted his eyes, looking at the neon lights on the opposite street. "Every one of them was shocked, saying I was a madman."
"They started blaming each other, saying the other had provoked , and in the end, they found out the real culprit behind the scenes. Then, one of the gang leaders shot him. Another gang leader sent a car to take back to the police station and told the police station chief that the Godfather shouldn't let a madman be the detective."
"You see," Gordon spread his hands, "In this city, if you want to stop evil, you can't be a good person. You have to be a madman."
Gordon took a deep breath, stood up, bent over, hands on his knees, and looked down at Bruce, saying, "Batman, don't see yourself as the only normal person in this city because we all know there are no normal people here."
Gordon's eye contact with Bruce was filled with an indescribable hope, as if he saw his past self. He said, "I didn't want to use the Bat-Signal to find you, not because I don't believe in your determination to fight cri, not because I think you're not helpful, but because if you see yourself as a normal person, you won't be able to deal with these lunatics."
"Don't be ashad of madness. Only when you are crazier than everyone else can you defeat them."
Sitting in place, Bruce thought of the large fire he witnessed, where he saw a reality even crazier than the Joker.
Batman always thought of himself as a normal person, and in contrast, the Joker, who only laughed, was the madman.
But now Bruce realized that in this insane reality, no one could escape it. In these more than ten years of dreaming of revenge, he was still influenced by madness, blinded.
The perpetual rain in this city was fair to everyone. If you thought you hadn't gone mad, you might have gone mad long ago.
Bruce also thought, if he couldn't be sure he was sane, then why should he confront criminals? How could he save Gotham?
Faced with this question, Gordon couldn't answer either. He wasn't very good at this kind of philosophical thinking; he could only advise Bruce based on experience.
But he knew soone who was good at it. He called Harvey Dent, Bruce's ntor and friend.
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