hotmtlnovel Chapter 3754 The Perilous Situation of Dark City (7)
Chapter 3754 The Perilous Situation of Dark City (7)
Chapter 3754 The Crisis in Dark City (Seventeen)
It started raining again in Gotham. The rain washed the metal armor, making it shine even brighter. Dark clouds were reflected in puddles, which in turn reflected on the leg armor. The crimson stain flowed along the reflection, like a fallen figure telling its story in a low voice. Those tragic images flowed into the ears of Arkham Batman.
It all started with a flawed debate.
Lex Luthor lets ordinary people decide his and Superman's fate. He grants them a strange power that allows them to activate devices beneath their feet according to their inner convictions. If people are more devoted to Luthor, the devices will kill Superman; if people are more devoted to Superman, the devices will kill Luthor.
Superman came, Superman died.
These are the two most significant mistakes Superman has ever made.
Batman chose to believe the people and wanted to explain things to them. He opened the doors to the Hall of Justice. This was the worst decision he ever made, as the crazed mob tore him to pieces.
Batman didn't die. He took a long time to rise again, defeated Darkseid, gained the Omega Effect, and used the Anti-Life Equation to rule the entire Earth, plunging those who betrayed him into chaos and war as if they deserved it.
But then one day, a Batman who was constantly laughing maniacally approached him and told him: the evil and madness in the hearts of those people didn't appear out of thin air. They were soaked in a dark jar, rotting from the root. The same tragedy played out in different universes.
“This is just not fair…” Arkham Batman heard Omega Batman say.
Arkham Batman's heart is far less hardened than his outward appearance suggests. He knows very little about the past of all the other Batmen. When he hears of this tragic story, he is momentarily stunned.
Suddenly, a flash of red light. A sharp pain spread through his chest, and Arkham Batman was sent flying. When he regained his senses, smoke from his armor mingled with raindrops. The smell of burning flesh wafted over, and when he looked forward again, Omega Batman was nowhere to be seen.
"Damn it, I was careless," he muttered, then slowly rose to his feet. His opponent seemed to have little strength left; that ray was far less powerful than the first. Nevertheless, it still sliced through his armor, leaving a deep, bone-revealing gash on his chest.
Arkham Batman took a deep breath, took out a healing potion and injected it into his arm, then slowly walked towards the Batmobile. Although he hadn't thought about it in detail yet, he knew that his views on the main universe's Batman were beginning to waver.
As Batman, he didn't want anyone to suffer this calamity. But precisely because he was intelligent, he understood: time flows like water, irreversible. Some scars, once left, can never be erased. Having experienced such a cruel ordeal, Batman could hardly ever return to being the Dark Knight.
If that's the case, then perhaps all they've managed to save with all their might is a battered body and an even more shattered soul. Without will and conviction, all that's left for these Batmen is suffering. Death might not be such a bad thing for them.
Back in the Batmobile, Arkham Batman sighed deeply. He started the car and drove off, but he didn't really know who he was looking for.
Suddenly, the crows on the cathedral were startled into flight. Arkham Batman saw a battle erupting there; a new Dark Batman had apparently arrived to reinforce the city. Meanwhile, the Batman dressed like a dark sorcerer seized the opportunity to summon numerous monsters. Chaos ensued in the city.
As the Batmobile drove by, Arkham Batman suddenly caught a whiff of blood in the damp air. He slammed on the brakes, slowing the car down, just in time to see Schiller emerge from a building and stand under the eaves of a porch, intently counting bullets. Blood trickled down the steps even faster than he did.
The Batmobile stopped in front of the door. Arkham Batman saw Schiller glance at him, put the bullets he was counting back into his pocket, pull up his hat, walk to the Batmobile, bend down, and lean out of the window to say, "Give me a ride?"
The car door opened, and Schiller brought with him the dampness of the rain and the stench of blood as he sat in the passenger seat. Before Arkham Batman could say anything, Schiller sniffed and looked at him with some surprise, saying, "You're injured?"
"Why couldn't I be the one to take care of that guy?"
"You smell of burning. If you hadn't been hit by a laser, would you have given him a proper funeral with flames in this weather?"
“I won’t,” said Batman Arkham. “I’ve thought about what you said carefully, and I think it makes sense.”
“I didn’t say anything to you,” Schiller said, turning his head back. “To be precise, I didn’t talk about you. I was just talking about myself. You shouldn’t be so arrogant as to think that everything I said was a comment or implication about you, right?”
Arkham Batman seemed to have seriously reflected on this, and then said, "People I talk to are usually like this."
“I’m not usually like that. You can talk to your old friends about it.”
"what's up?"
"Whether or not to kill people," Schiller said rather perfunctorily, "and whether or not to save these poor Batmen, what would happen if we saved them, and what would happen if we didn't."
"Haven't you considered these things?"
“I have no need to think about any of that. My mission is to save the Batman of this universe and restore order to Gotham. Nothing else is within my consideration.”
"Even if there are potential negative long-term consequences, would you choose to do it first and think about the consequences later?"
"To me, how many Batmen I save or how many Batmen I kill doesn't have any long-term impact. Maybe no one has ever told you this, because the world does revolve around Batman. But I don't. I don't care at all how you see me or how you treat me."
“Perhaps this is normal,” Arkham Batman said. “And other thoughts surrounding me tend to get overemphasized, which sometimes leads us into delusions.”
"Do you have bullets?" Schiller suddenly asked.
What model is it?
"G19."
Arkham Batman raised an eyebrow in surprise and said, "I thought it would be the M18. Why the compact version?"
“No insurance,” Schiller said.
Batman from Arkham was speechless for a moment. It really was a very simple and straightforward reason; no wonder he shot at the Laughing Man so quickly—he didn't need to disengage the safety.
Batman from Arkham pressed a button in the car, and the armory under the seat opened. He casually grabbed a box of ammunition and tossed it to Schiller; most Glock pistols used 9×19mm Parabellum ammunition.
Schiller opened the ammunition box, loaded the bullets one by one into the magazine, and then threw the extra reloaded bullets back into the box.
"You reassembled it yourself?" Arkham Batman glanced at it as he drove and said, "Good job."
"You flatter me." Schiller cocked the pistol before putting it back in his pocket, seemingly unconcerned about accidental discharge. However, this pistol had a long trigger pull, making it difficult to accidentally fire and well-suited for quick reactions.
"You were a secret agent?"
Schiller nodded.
"The biggest threat to criminals."
"The biggest threat to my superiors' political enemies."
Arkham Batman was speechless again. A silence fell over the car. After a long pause, Arkham Batman said, "How do you plan to restore order to Gotham?"
“I’m considering it,” Schiller said. “There are many approaches, but none are perfect. I hope to get a good mission evaluation, so it depends on the situation.”
"Alright. I'm going to look for those Dark Batmen who are heading over here in the city. Where do you plan to get off?"
“Let’s do it here.” Schiller glanced out the window.
Batman Arkham instinctively looked out the window, because he felt Schiller's choice of this location wasn't without reason; he wanted to know what was there. The instant his attention was focused on the view outside, he felt a sharp pain in his chest.
Schiller took a syringe and injected it into the skin near his chest. The pain began to subside, and his vision suddenly blurred.
“High-concentration morphine.” In a daze, Arkham Batman heard Schiller say, “I don’t know why you think I’d be talking to you for so long for no reason. Can I borrow your car?”
Arkham Batman naturally resisted, but the substance Schiller injected him with was inexplicably concentrated, and the healing potion he had previously injected himself with also accelerated blood circulation. It was an instant intoxication; his senses were blurred, and he fell into a drug-induced hallucination.
He felt himself being pulled off the vehicle, but because he couldn't discern his direction and his brain struggled to properly control his limbs, his reaction was a step too slow. The Arkham Batman was only just getting up from the ground when the Batmobile's engine roared to life.
He swayed slightly in the rain, wiped the raindrops from his chin with the back of his hand, and watched the Batmobile drive away. He reached for the remote control button on his gauntlet, but his vision was too blurry to recall the Batmobile.
Arkham Batman felt himself experiencing respiratory depression. He had to open the communication channel and say to the main universe Batman, "Do you have any morphine to counteract this?"
"...What's wrong?" The main universe Batman, who was fighting the Maniac Laughter, was taken aback. He instinctively said, "There's a Dark Batman who uses morphine as a weapon?"
"No, but there's a despicable agent who uses morphine as a weapon."
The main universe Batman remained silent for a few seconds. He sensed that Arkham Batman was not in good condition, most likely due to morphine poisoning. After hanging up, he told Batman, "You hold them off, I'm going to rescue him."
After saying that, Batman fired his grappling hook, shattering the stained glass windows of the church. He leaped out and quickly located Arkham Batman's position. Upon arrival, he found that Batman was already unconscious.
The main universe Batman administered atropine to Arkham Batman. He woke up shortly after and slowly stood up.
“I’m just a little curious,” the main universe Batman said, looking at the Arkham Batman, “what concentration of morphine would it take to knock you out here?”
“I’m more concerned about why he’s carrying such a high concentration of morphine around,” said Batman Arkham. “That’s far beyond the dosage for pain relief.”
“That’s quite normal,” said the main universe Batman. “Illusions and pain are his weapons. For him, this kind of drug that can induce hallucinations and bring near-death pain is much more effective than adrenaline.”
“This is insane,” Arkham Batman couldn’t help but say.
When they returned to the cathedral together and saw Schiller there, Arkham Batman couldn't help but take a half-step back.
Schiller looked him up and down, then said, "He stole your Batmobile?"
Arkham Batman nodded. Schiller sighed and said, "I think it's time to leave."