The cold storm in Batman's blue eyes never stopped. When Angela left the Wayne Tower office, Bruce was left standing alone in front of the huge floor-to-ceiling window, overlooking the entire city alone. Brother
Tan looks amazingly prosperous no matter what time of day it is.
This is not a sin city at all. It is the largest, most prosperous, and most charming city on the east coast of the United States, a psychedelic city that countless people dream of, and an indispensable part of human urban civilization.
This is the cancer of the earth, the scourge of mankind, and the hometown of Batman.
Standing in front of the window, staring at the city, Bruce heard a slight noise coming from behind him. He turned around slightly and saw a figure sitting on the sofa against the light. It was another version of himself.
Bruce didn't feel any surprise or vigilance, as if it was normal for him to appear there?
In other words, after that night in Crime Alley, this figure followed him like a shadow and never left.
Bruce walked over and sat on the opposite side of the sofa. Two identical figures sat in front of the huge floor-to-ceiling windows. Thousands of lights composed of stacked tall buildings reflected them into two silhouettes. They were not alone, but equally
Lonely.
"I was not born today." Bruce, who was sitting on the right, raised his head. There were no pupils in his eye sockets, but there were no whites either. There was a flowing black tide between his eyelids, but it was not scary.
On the contrary, it has a strange beauty.
"The female police officer said that in the process of continuously pursuing the murder case, she understood the group of criminals and discovered another self. She felt fearful and chose to retreat, but you know, she was not suffering from mental illness or other symptoms.
Whatever hallucination she had, everything she said was true, and she is not an exception."
Bruce sitting opposite him also had no pupils, only the whites of his eyes, paler than any snow in Gotham.
"We should talk about that night first." Bruce with black eyes said, "That night you never talked about to anyone."
"But Schiller wants you to understand that I will never leave, and I don't have to leave. I am not your burden, not your shackles, but a sharp knife and the key to the door to another world." Ill.
Bruce answered.
"In the past ten years, what has urged me to continue to learn, improve myself, and build equipment is not my love and kindness towards anyone, but hatred, anger, jealousy, fear, the inherent evil of human beings, and my
Sick."
"In every nightmare that followed, I couldn't tell where I was standing, behind them or in front of them. I couldn't tell what I was holding, whether it was a movie ticket stub or the trigger of a pistol."
"I was born with you. I am a part of you. I am the pathology that you have been running away from but can never get rid of."
"You did not embark on such a path because of the death of your parents. Your wisdom, intelligence, excessive rationality, and genius creativity are gifts given to you by God, just like those born killers."
"Before this, I always had unrealistic illusions about expelling you. I thought that as long as I was strong enough and determined enough, one day you would leave, and on that day, I would be free from the nightmare of the past, forever.
No more fear that I will become a criminal."
"Love them as you would a fragile lamb."
"You have to get to know me."
The two Bruces said in unison.
"Every strong detective must be a good criminal." The voice of black-eyed Bruce sounded. He turned his head to look at the bustling city, and then said.
"Whip them and reprimand them."
"I have seen you many times, under the crib, behind the door of the kindergarten, and even in a castle made of toy blocks."
"Standing high in the clouds."
"Is it because of your kindness? No, it's because you don't dare. It's because you don't dare to see me or acknowledge my existence. You think that being a saint can erase the fact that you have a unique criminal talent in the world.
.”
"...Only criminals."
Bruce stared into his eyes, but sickly Bruce didn't need an answer. He asked and answered himself:
"I don't need to defeat them." Sick Bruce replied, looking into Bruce's eyes and said: "Schiller is not only teaching you, but also teaching me. You have a professor, and so do I."
"Be not the son of anyone, but be the father of all."
"Understand them and appease them."
“I wanted to make Thomas and Martha sad about my disappearance by hiding under the bed, I wanted to suddenly open the door and scare the kindergarten teacher, I wanted to kick the block castle into pieces and scare all the classmates.
Crying loudly, I have seen you at these times."
"You have to love me."
"And the appearance of sick Schiller made me understand that if I don't face you, don't use the other power I have, and don't really get into the hearts of madmen, I will never be able to defeat them."
"Becoming a father."
Gordon rushed over in shock and hugged Jonathan who was slowly falling. He stared at Batman who threw the batarang with wide eyes and shouted:
"Batman, are you crazy?!!!!"
"What Sick Schiller has done has shown me that I don't need to defeat madmen, because I am stronger than them, and I don't need to hurt them, because they are precious lambs."
When sickly Bruce fell silent, Bruce stared at him with slightly distracted eyes and said:
"Preach to them."
"Too many people in this world have lost their parents. The cases were tragic and the deaths were tragic. There are too many children who have witnessed their parents die and feel sad and desperate. But there is only one Batman in this world."
"I want to accept you."
But not alleys, rainy nights, pearl necklaces.
Bruce shook his head. His movements were very gentle, but he seemed to be pushing a boulder off the cliff.
Bruce seemed to have lost all his strength, leaning back on the chair weakly, and then said in sick Bruce's words:
"because……"
Jonathan, who was lying on the ground, tried his best to push away Gordon who was trying to stop the bleeding. He covered his bleeding neck with weak hands and said in a broken voice.
"Actually, you have thought about it a long time ago." Pathological Bruce said: "What is it that guides human actions? What is it that makes human progress? Is it love? Is it kindness?"
In an instant, vitality burst out from the bright red, and then began to flow irretrievably.
"You didn't become a detective because of that night. You have always been a criminal genius. You are born to resonate with the murderer."
Bruce took a deep breath until his shoulders hunched up, and then slowly sighed out. Sick Bruce looked at him and asked:
"Why would you never take another person's life?"
"As they offer sacrifices to please you, say to them, 'If you do well, are you not accepted? But if you do poorly, sin lurks at the door, and its desire is for you.
But you have to subdue it. (If you do well, why won’t your Lord be happy to accept the sacrifice? If you don’t do well, sin will haunt you, but you have to let it bow its head) (Genesis
Chronicles 4:7 (NKJV)'."
"I want to get to know you."
He saw his raised hands, saw the sight of the pistol, saw how the bullets flew out of the muzzle, and saw how his parents fell.
"Get away!...let me hear...what he is saying..."
"I want to love you."
"Preach to them."
Bruce slowly closed his eyes, his lips trembled, and then he raised his eyes again and looked at sick Bruce and said:
"And today, I will see you here because Schiller made me understand the fact that you exist, can't be let go, can never be eliminated, and even... guide and guide me.
of."
The light coming through the window gradually dimmed, leaving only the gorgeous and dreamy neon light and shadow, and Bruce's voice was like a lowly chanted prayer, gradually rising in the silent place.
"I was not born that night, when you first saw Thomas' face, when you first remembered Martha's smile, when the Wayne family spent their normal days happily.
, I never left.”
"Those who can deal with criminals..."
"Before, the reason why I could keep running away and denying your existence was because I was not aware of the danger of this group of people."
"But at that time, we only sent out ordinary malice, and every child would have thoughts of mischief. Therefore, I did not realize that I was different from others until that night..."
"Only by seeing me, acknowledging me, and using me can you go to a world that ordinary people can never reach. In that world, there is the most terrifying group of people in the world. They are called 'natural born killers'."
"That they may walk upon the earth."
"The moment I saw the muzzle of the gun." Bruce's arm began to tremble again, and he said in the same trembling tone: "I had two perspectives. I saw the blood blossoming behind Martha, and also
Saw, through the pistol sight, the scarlet blood flowing from Thomas's chest."
"Use my gifts."
"Let them pay tribute."
"Let them listen."
"How are you going to defeat them?" Bruce asked.
"Use your gifts."
"There has never been a clear dividing line between detectives and criminals." Pathological Bruce said: "What has caused you great pain in the past ten years is exactly the fact that you realized that night.
The murderer who pulled the trigger is the same type of person, or in other words, you are more suitable to be a criminal than him."
Batman's lips moved.
"It's you." Bruce replied.
"You have to accept me."
"Become...Father."
Bruce with white eyes slowly loosened his grip on the armrest, while Bruce with black eyes stared at him and said:
"Standing high in the clouds."
When the cold light of the batarang is reflected in Batman's blue eyes, it's like a bird catching a glimpse of the skyline in a polar storm.
"As you walk in my country."
Bruce, with white eyes, slowly closed his eyes. His hand on the armrest gradually tightened, and his chest began to rise and fall continuously. Countless fragmentary scenes flashed before his eyes.
The sharp blade cut through the frozen atmosphere in the Sheriff's Office, carrying an icy wake and severing the artery on the side of Jonathan Klein's neck.
At this time, a bright flash of lightning flashed outside the window of the Gotham Police Station, and rumbling thunder followed one after another, just like every night when Batman fell from the roof of the building.
Batman's voice was very soft, but it drowned out the deafening thunder. Those things that he had failed to express in countless nights were woven into a cry with this soft and soft tone.
Jonathan listened carefully before hearing the words from Batman's mouth.