hotmtlnovel Chapter 4302 Body of Steel (7)
Chapter 4302 Body of Steel (7)
Chapter 4302 Body of Steel (Part 7)
Gotham's night isn't a deep, dark black. Black is emptiness; at its extreme, it allows one to forget everything and simply enjoy the moment of tranquility. Gotham's night is a rich, deep blue, and the lights emanating from the skyscrapers flicker like distress signals, never allowing a moment's peace.
Batman stood on the rooftop, his cape stained with the marks of the fierce wind and rain. In the distance, the signal lights on distant buildings flickered, rain dripped from his mask, and the city appeared blurred in his eyes, like the lingering shadow of a twenty-year-long dream. Now, he was no longer swayed by any light or darkness here, but understood more deeply than anyone else that what was gone would never return.
Suddenly, a blinding light shone through the city, and a gigantic bat projection appeared in the sky. The Dark Knight leaped down, squeezing through the gaps between countless skyscrapers, fleeing desperately through the steel jungle. When a person goes to an appointment they don't want to keep, the line between coming and going becomes less distinct.
The figure he saw under the Bat-Signal momentarily stunned him. Aside from the Joker, no one had dressed so elaborately to see him in a long time. After all, he wasn't a hero, just a monster in a bizarre city.
When the figure turned around, Batman's pupils contracted sharply, but he didn't call out his name because he knew that it wasn't the Schiller he had seen before, it definitely wasn't him.
The man before him seemed far too dangerous. His rain-soaked hair clung tightly to his cheeks, his grey eyes were deeply sunken in their sockets, and he was like a silver knife piercing through the rainy night. The vast city hung upside down behind him, the torrential rain like pouring blood. All the twists and turns associated with him were not the final stroke of an ending, but the bullet marks left by the starting pistol.
Batman approached him. As he stopped, the puddle sliced his reflection into segments, making him appear even taller and more imposing, as if he had returned here decades ago. The danger signal reignited his passion, and for a fleeting moment, he had the illusion that he was still a hero.
“How did you get here?” he asked.
“That’s not important. I just want to tell you something.” Schiller’s expression was serious, but his tone was nonchalant. “Lex Luthor has gone mad. The men he sent to kidnap Superman Clark Kent’s mother, Martha Kent, left Metropolis three hours ago and are heading towards Kansas. You don’t have much time left.”
Batman's breath hitched for a moment. He heard the other person's voice again through the rain: "I escaped from the police station to tell you this. So, I'm afraid there's no time to explain what happened. Batman, let's make a bet—if you only have enough strength left to save one person, that person will definitely be Clark Kent."
His words were followed by the sharp wail of sirens. State trooper helicopters had arrived, and countless spotlights and gun barrels were aimed at the scene. The shouts faded into the distance, and in Batman's mind, Clark Kent's words echoed: "Whatever I become, good or evil, I will change the world."
Batman heard his own answer. He acknowledged that Clark Kent would be the one to change the world.
Stop him?
why?
Batman surveys the city. Why stop Clark Kent?
He had no reason to do it, and he wouldn't. He knew the world wasn't good enough, and he believed someone needed to change it.
Everything he did was not to stop Clark Kent, but precisely to help him, to help him become the real Clark Kent.
Batman closed his eyes and leaped from the top of the building. In that instant, he felt like an exhausted antelope, with circling helicopters like vultures drawn by the wind. What killed him wasn't the lions and cheetahs chasing the flock, but his own youthful self.
With a click, the blinding light came on. Clark tilted his head slightly, first raising one eye before focusing both eyes in the same direction—a habitual gesture of his. He usually looked at people this way when he was in a bad mood.
"Go in, Mr. Rodriguez. I really didn't expect that we'd encounter two of the toughest criminals so soon in the new year. Don't try anything funny, or we'll make you regret it."
Clark glanced at the cell next door—separated from the adjacent cell only by a transparent glass panel, he could see everything clearly. He saw a thin man in a suit walk to a seat facing the same direction as him and sit down; the man's profile looked somewhat familiar.
Clark stared in shock at the black-haired, gray-eyed man, who turned to look at him as well. But the instant he saw those gray eyes, Clark forgot to call out his name and simply froze.
No, he didn't actually know him. Clark thought, he had only seen his counterpart in the Battlegrounds. Every counterpart was different, just like he had seen other Wonder Women in the Battlegrounds, but he had never met the Wonder Woman of his own universe and didn't know her at all.
He knew that Schiller Rodriguez was no ordinary man. Otherwise, why would the military have imprisoned him with him?
Clark was actually a little curious about what Schiller had done to make the military think he was someone who could be compared to a dangerous alien molecule who could punch an alien spaceship to pieces.
So he asked, "Why were you brought in?"
"I've been kidnapped," Clark heard him reply.
"Were you kidnapped by the military?"
"No, I was kidnapped by a group of terrorists who attacked Luther Manor."
"Then why did you come here?"
"I am an antique dealer."
“Can you get to the point?” Clark was getting fed up with his evasive answers. “I’m asking why you’re under military control.”
"Because I don't have your strength."
Clark took a deep breath. He thought he had calmed down, but now he felt a little angry again.
"I'm just quietly running a small business."
"The 'small business' you mentioned was using Egyptian national treasures from the British Museum to deceive Lex Luthor and Diana Prince, causing them to fight tooth and nail for you and commit a series of terrorist acts, including the attack on Luthor Manor and a kidnapping staged by a traffic accident?"
A black officer with slightly graying hair appeared in front of the glass window and immediately recognized Schiller: "I think you are a strong candidate to be the biggest swindler of the 21st century."
“It’s my pleasure,” Schiller replied.
Clark looked away. Despite having greatly raised his expectations of Schiller, this was still somewhat unexpected. He didn't know much about Lex, but he knew he was incredibly wealthy; the name Diana Prince was slightly unfamiliar, but he could recall it being Wonder Woman's name; and the British Museum and Egyptian treasures only made him feel like he'd stumbled onto the set of a Hollywood adventure movie. Even though he was a terrifying alien capable of smashing an alien spaceship with a single punch, he was completely out of place in this level of conversation. So, Clark decided to remain silent and not say a word.
As it turned out, his decision was correct, because what followed was a conversation between Schiller and the officer that, while still in the style of a Hollywood blockbuster, contained content that was completely beyond his knowledge.
"Where's the snake's tail?" the Black officer asked.
“I thought you had already found it. It seems you are no match for Lex Luthor either. In that case, why bother bringing me here?”
"Answer my question, where did you hide the snake's tail?"
"If you can't find it, you should consider whether Lex Luthor took it. Although you are not as rich as him, he is smarter than you."
“Don’t try to fool me!” The black officer’s tone turned serious. “I know Luther didn’t get the serpent’s tail either; he only got the gem. Tell me where the mural is; I need to know it now.”
"I don't understand. The most valuable thing in that mural is the gemstones. Why are you more concerned about those clods of earth?"
"You should know this better than we do. Don't you remember the Egyptian legends you told Lex Luthor?"
“You’re certainly keeping a close eye on him.” Schiller tilted his head slightly, sighed, and said, “I can tell you where the mural is, but can you be sure that Lex Luthor isn’t watching you?”
The black officer stared intently at Schiller, his eyes darting left and right, but it didn't seem like he was observing.
“Think about it in your head,” the Black officer said.
"Feel sorry?"
"Just think about where the mural is in your mind, and I'll naturally find a way to find it."
"That's amazing! So you've already invented a device for reading brainwaves. Why don't you use it on this friend next to you? Doesn't this thing work against aliens?"
“You do know a lot.” The Black officer’s tone turned serious. “We won’t use those inefficient methods to dig out your secrets, but we also won’t let you disrupt the situation and start a war. I have always respected human rights, but…”
"But when it comes to a conman like me, you can cross the line a little. I fully believe you're capable of doing it, but..."
Schiller mimicked his tone, drawing out the last syllable of the transition word. He stood up, went to the glass, and faced the Black officer, the two separated almost entirely by the pane of glass.
"You and this alien should have more in common, right, Mr. Hunter?"
Schiller noticed the contraction in the Black man's pupils. He smiled slightly and said, "Helping us is helping yourself."
“I’m trying to help you,” he said in a low voice, “but you, the chaos you’ve caused, are only making things worse.”
Schiller shook his head slightly, took a step back, and said, “Then let’s see who’s right, sir. You’re not a cop…you’re not anymore.”
The Black officer took a deep breath, almost filling his entire chest. Just as Clark thought he was about to punch the glass, he turned and walked away.
“What’s a snake’s tail?” Clark asked.
"Oh, this? I'm so glad you have the leisure to listen to me introduce a great creation from ancient Egyptian civilization. The serpent's tail is the tail of the Phriene Serpent, which is a sculptural mural left by ancient Egypt..."
Clark sensed something was amiss, so he interrupted Schiller, saying, "Why can't I have the leisure to enjoy myself?"
"Usually, when people are in jail, they are more concerned about their own safety than about an antique."
“Then you’ve got it wrong. I’m not in jail.” Clark shook his head and said, “I came here voluntarily. I just wanted to explain some things to them and remind them of some things so they could be on guard.”
"I see. I thought you were worried about your own safety and didn't have time to worry about anything else."
"Other things? What other things?"
"The terrorists who kidnapped me were employed by Lex Luthor. They are a well-known brokerage gang that does all sorts of dirty work. They were released on bail half an hour after their arrest. I can't say I know the ropes, but generally speaking, if someone is willing to pay a lot of money to bail them out, it means they have some very urgent work to do."
"What does this have to do with me?"
Schiller walked to the glass partition between the two men, placed the lit screen of a cell phone against it, bent down, and said to Clark, who was sitting down, "If this Martha Kent in Smallville, Kansas, in the text message has nothing to do with you, then I'm probably overthinking it."
(End of this chapter)