"I heard countless familiar voices from those noisy noises. I once chatted and laughed with them in a luxurious mansion, but at this time, the hatred in their voices seemed to want to kill me."
"I know it's rude to break into other people's homes and it's against the rules of the Gotham gang, but what prompted me to do it was an emotion I couldn't explain..."
"Why did you do this?" Jason asked in the truck: "Batman, give me a reason. I believe you are not such an impulsive person."
"Although I have not known you officially for a long time, I think you should be very similar to me. You like to make all plans before doing something, so that there are as few surprises as possible. But what are you doing now?
What are you doing?"
"I don't know." Bruce gave an answer that surprised him. He said: "An emotion prompted me to do this."
The shouts around him became stronger and stronger, and gunshots began to sound gradually. Most of the people living in the North District were the leaders of the big gangs, so the place was brightly lit and very prosperous.
This place is like an isolated island, standing above the society of Gotham. Everyone here is the maker of rules and supporters, and they praise it.
Therefore, when a truck that shouldn't be here rushed into the place, everyone was shouting and shouting to kill. The children sitting in the car could see the strong fire rising through the gap in the roof of the truck.
But their first reaction was not to scream, but to cover their mouths with their hands and absolutely not make any sound. This truck was not a good bunker. Once it exploded, no one would survive.
The first thing that was hit on the truck was the tire. The gangsters here are not the gangsters outside. Their shooting skills are very accurate. They also know that a tire blowout may cause the truck to lose control directly, but as long as they can stop it, it is worth it.
of.
The front wheel was hit, making a "bang" sound and white smoke coming out. Bruce's hand tightened on the steering wheel. The few muscles left in his arms exploded with all his strength, twisting the steering wheel to control the truck.
, kick the accelerator and go faster.
"Where is he going?! Stop him!"
"What's happening! It's the manor area! Hurry, hurry, hurry! Shoot!!"
"It's over, it's over, he's going to rush in, hurry up! Call everyone up, something big has happened!!"
"Cabin! Shoot the cab!!"
But the more critical the moment, the clearer Bruce's thinking becomes. The route of the truck is constructed in his mind. The position of every gunman, the direction of every muzzle, and the traces of every bullet are all transformed into...
The flickering light was clearly visible before his eyes.
The blue eyes under the red hood became brighter and brighter, and the speed of the truck became faster and faster, but the needle of the fuel gauge began to shake gradually.
The gasoline in this truck was added by the little slicker before, and his gasoline was taken from the auto repair school. He is just a kid and cannot get so much gasoline. This gasoline can enable the car to drive from the East Side.
By the time we reach the North District, we have reached our limit.
The truck had been being shot at, but because it happened so suddenly, most of the thugs were not prepared, and the truck had already rushed over, so the direct firepower was not too strong, but there were still stray bullets that hit the carriage.
The child who was hit screamed.
This truck is like a short-lived tree. It sprouts, grows, and then withers. In just a few minutes, after its most glorious period has passed, all that is left is its aging body.
There was a "squeak" and the sound of weak brakes came. The truck with white smoke stopped at the door of a manor. Heavy rain poured down and the storm continued to roar.
In the line of rain, the name on the mailbox is like a fallen leaf in the strong wind, constantly swaying but never falling. The letters written on it are very short, but the legend is very long.
Falcone walked out of the manor's gate. He stood at the door of Falcone's manor, took the black umbrella from the waiter's hand, and looked at the dilapidated truck in front of him expressionlessly.
He saw that the driver's door was open, but the man did not get out. Instead, he grabbed the door, stepped on the handle and stretched out his hand. He quickly climbed onto the roof of the truck and looked down at Falcone.
The distance between the two was only a few dozen meters, and each could see the other's image clearly. What Bruce saw was the godfather who came alone, like a stump that was hard to shake in the storm. The part on the ground was no longer young and lush, but already old, but
The root system penetrates deep into the ground, but it is difficult to see even a ten thousandth of it.
What Alfalcone saw was a strange man wearing a red hood, standing on a broken truck on a rainy and windy night, with a violent emotion bursting out into the sky.
"Good evening, Lord Godfather." An extremely hoarse voice was almost inaudible through the strong wind.
The godfather waved his hand to stop the gunman who was aiming at him, and asked everyone around him to retreat. He said: "Hello, your car is really nice. It is very similar to the ones I saw in the early years."
"Aren't you going to let them shoot?" Bruce asked. "Don't you think I'm one of those dangerous lunatics?"
"Are you referring to the one who always likes to laugh, or the one who likes to steal things, or the one who likes to do human experiments?" Falcone looked at Bruce quietly and said: "They won't come to me, because they
Don’t like me.”
Falcone lowered his head and looked at the puddle in front of his feet. He said: "They think I am the most boring person in the world because I created the most boring order in the world, so they never found me."
Pass me."
"I just want to ask you a question..." Bruce's voice echoed in the rainy night. He walked slowly towards the truck shed, and then he cut a hole in the side shed. When the wind and rain blew in,
All the children ran away in fear.
Not only did the cold wind and rain enter the car, but the bloody smell of the injured child also drifted out and blew in front of Falcone.
"Your Majesty Godfather, you have spent forty years creating rules for Gotham. These rules are not perfect, but they are effective... But I just want to ask, who are you making these rules for?"
Falcone gently rubbed his wrist and said: "You don't have to talk in circles with me, kid. If I say, I do it for Gotham, you will say that these children are not living a good life. If I
Say, I am doing it for myself, but you will say that I am doing it for Gotham."
"But in fact, I would make such a rule just because I come from an era in which I could only make this choice and no other way."
"Forty years have passed, and it and I are both old. We have completed our missions, but I will not reform it from top to bottom. Do you know why?"
Bruce looked at the old godfather in silence, watching his figure swaying in the storm, but never moving.
"I lead by example and show them how we decided the direction of history while talking and laughing in that glorious era." The godfather's voice always carries a special sense of time, as if returning to the torch of the Statue of Liberty.
The era that illuminated the world.
"I asked them to imitate me and learn to be a civilized person in chaos, just like taming a dog. These rules are the chains I use to lead the dog."
"I don't have the patience to teach a dog how to be a human, because I know that dogs are dogs and they will not become humans. They plunder profits for me. I use these profits to light up lights and build cities."
"A society that is rich enough will no longer breed dogs, but will definitely breed people with compassion and compassion, and those who have courage, wisdom, and courage among them will eventually stand in front of me.
Say to me, loose your chains and let them go free.”
The godfather looked at the bright red hood, looked into Bruce's eyes through the hood, and looked into his soul through the eyes, and he said:
"These children prove your mercy, this truck proves your courage, this journey proves your wisdom, and being face to face with me proves your courage..."
"Now, you can say what you need to say, and after you finish, I will say what I need to say."
Some of the intense emotions in Bruce's chest suddenly dissipated and turned into a slightly bitter emotion.
He passed through all the obstacles and fought through thorns and thorns, but what was waiting at the end was not the devil, but the last brave man.
In the previous era, the brave men who were limited by their vision, knowledge, wisdom, and social conditions were unable to reach the end.
Amidst the howling wind, Bruce's voice came: "A friend of mine told me that on this road, you don't have to reach the end to be considered a winner."
Obviously, this was not what the godfather wanted to hear. He had not thought that the people who came here would say this to him.
But he was not happy, but said: "If this will make you shaken and give up, then you are destined to fail, so don't waste my time anymore."
"Even if there is no perfect solution to this question, in gang society, it must be the worst answer that is wrong." Bruce paused, but still said those words: "It's time for the old rules to retire, Your Majesty the Godfather."
Falcone turned around and walked slowly towards the manor. His leather shoes stepped on the puddles, and every drop of water splashed was like gold found from the gravel in that chaotic era.
Finally, he stood in the light of the manor gate, crossed himself on his chest, and whispered: "God bless Gotham, Amen."
When his figure disappeared, the lights in the manor slowly went out. The Godfather had never fallen asleep so early, but as the light from his bedroom window disappeared, the light of Gotham's lighthouse became fainter.
Every era will pass, and the arm that holds the torch high and cannot put it down will eventually turn into a rotting log with the storm every night, sinking to the bottom of the sea, and watch the giant ship of history pass overhead.
Standing on the broken truck in the howling night of wind and rain, Bruce saw the lights in the entire North District gradually extinguished, leaving only the deafening sound of rain and the red hood that was particularly conspicuous in the dark rainy night.
Jason, who was lying in the car, understood this conversation better than those ignorant children, or in other words, he even understood it better than Bruce.
In this dream full of confusion, Jason suddenly woke up, sat up from his seat, and stretched out a hand out of the car window. The wind wrote a long poem on his arm with raindrops.
Bruce took off his hood, the disguise no longer made sense.
He threw the hood on the roof of the truck, and it slid down along the rain-wet metal surface, slowly dripping down like dewdrops on young leaves.
The red hood was caught by a young hand, and his fingers slowly closed together. In the dark rainy night, Jason tightly grasped the only touch of color.
His fingers gradually lengthened, and shallow scars climbed up. After putting down the pile of paper on his hand, Bruce looked at Alfred with a little expectancy.
Alfred, holding a candle in his hand, slowly walked to the door, turned to look at Bruce and said, "I like the last scene. You wrote it very well, sir."
"Why? Is it because this is the climax of the narrative?"