The building of the Florence Super Prison is a hollow regular hexagon as a whole. Each side of the outside is a different type of cell, and the ventilation area is in the center of the building, which can prevent prisoners from escaping.
However, a very big problem with this type of building is lighting. The polyhedral surrounding structure is destined to have buildings in several directions that cannot receive direct sunlight.
But fortunately, prisons don’t need good lighting. In other words, having a window in an ordinary prisoner’s cell that is only big enough to put an arm in is already a special gift for Amanda. Before she compromised the FBI,
, all cells are completely enclosed cans.
This small window added later had no effect. It was just to fulfill the minimum requirements of the Bill of Rights. Therefore, the sunlight could no longer be used as a natural alarm clock. Bruce was woken up by a commotion at the end of the corridor.
He heard the sound of extremely heavy footsteps. Each step on the ground was as hard as making a hole in the ground. But soon, Bruce could tell that this was not someone stamping hard, but that the person coming was a terrifying person.
big guy.
Bruce rarely used the adjective "scary" to describe anyone, but when he looked over the railing and saw the person outside the door, he even felt that scary was not enough to describe this monster.
It's not like Bruce has never seen big men before. His good friend Crocodile Man he met in the East District is a very rare big man. But the man outside the railing is a head taller than Crocodile Man and much wider than him. It is no exaggeration to say that
, this man's arms are thicker than Bruce's thighs.
Bruce knew that even if he had not lost weight, he would not be able to compete with this monster in terms of weight, but he also knew that it was impossible for ordinary humans to achieve such an arm circumference, and he must have used medicine.
Bruce looked up again and saw that the person who came was also wearing a mask. The black and white mask covered the upper half of his face. What was more eye-catching were the hair-like tubes on the back of his head and the strange equipment on his back.
Bruce slightly narrowed his exposed one eye and looked at the liquid surging in the pipe. Then he heard the prison guard calling the man's name and pushing him into the cell.
"Bane?"
Bruce sat on the bed and stared at the big man and shouted. The other person ignored him and just sat on the edge of the bed, staring at him with deep eyes under the mask and saying nothing.
Bruce finally ended his relaxed posture. He lifted the quilt and sat up. The muscles in his back tensed like a spring ready to be ejected at any time, while the other party's eyes kept looking at the muscles on his neck, waist and legs.
muscle.
"Amanda lied to me."
The big man known as Bane kept staring at Bruce with his penetrating eyes. After being silent for a while, he said: "She said you were just a crazy rich young man, but you are not."
"I am."
Bain's gaze remained unchanged, still staring at Bruce. It was very rare for Bruce to feel the pressure in the eyes of others. The last time he felt this kind of pressure was when he faced Schiller, and it was Schiller who was sick.
"You have the cold-blooded temperament of a general. Have you ever fought in a war?"
Bain asked again, his tone was not cold, it just sounded ordinary, and it did not sound like many people deliberately lowering their tone when forcing others to answer, but it made Bruce's hair stand on end.
"That's right."
"Where?"
"hell."
It seemed that Bain took this answer as a cold joke that was not funny. His eyes were unblinking under the mask, and Bruce asked again: "Amanda asked you to kill me?"
"No one can make me do anything." Bain replied: "It's up to me, and it's up to you, to kill you or not."
The alarm bell in Bruce's heart rang even louder. In addition to being very strong, the opponent was also very smart. He was no less powerful than the madmen in Gotham.
Bruce entered the Batman state again for the first time in a long time. He took a deep breath in an undetectable way, increased his heart rate, and allowed more blood to be supplied to the brain.
In an instant, space and time condensed, and blue-eyed Bruce stood up from Bruce's body, walked to Bane, and began to observe him.
Bain's body smelled of the sea, but it was not the smell of sea breeze, but the smell of humid air that amplified the body's sweat. It is very likely that he had lived in a relatively closed area for a long time. The moisture content in the air
In a higher place, Bain probably lived there for more than ten years, so it has such an atmosphere.
Gotham is a seaside city, and Bruce has also lived in a seaside slum. He is very familiar with this smell. It often appeared on the people who worked hard in the living hell of Gotham's East End before it was transformed.
Basements in coastal cities are relatively humid, and the underground water veins flowing next to them are prone to seawater intrusion and have high salt content. If the air is not circulated, a strong sea smell will easily accumulate on your body.
But there are no traces of hard labor on Bain's body. Although his arm muscles are well developed, the skin on his shoulders has no scars left by long-term wear and tear. He has never done any work of carrying things or stretching. Compared with other parts of his body, his waist muscles are not developed enough, and his fingers are not strong enough.
There are no signs of wear either, so it's not a mover, and there are light signs of wear on the feet, so it's not an errand either.
Bruce showed a puzzled expression. The opponent was very strong, but there were almost no traces of exercise on his body. There were many scars. Judging from his strength, he should not be bullied at any age, unless this kind of
Strength does not accompany him throughout his life.
Transformation of people?
Bruce focused his attention on the tube behind Bain's head. He had avoided looking there as much as possible because he felt that looking at it again would be an insult to his knowledge of biology and chemistry.
From the insertion angle to the handling techniques to the technical content, those tubes are just a piece of shit.
Bruce has tried his best not to judge them based on his own technical level, but if we look at it from the perspective of modern human biology and chemistry, this thing is not only a piece of shit, but also violates all laboratory safety and hygiene.
Regulations.
Seeing this, Bruce couldn't bear it anymore. He gave up further observation and reasoning, looked at Bain's deep eyes with his one eye, and then pursed his lips and said.
"Let's not talk about anything else. Who connected the tube in the back of your head to you? Does he have a doctor's license?"
Bain didn't seem to expect that he was going to talk about this, so he didn't say anything for a while, but Bruce spoke again.
"Have you ever felt that the second tube on the right side of your head is particularly painful when you turn your head to the left? That's because the doctor didn't avoid the nerve there when he cut, and why did they fix it outside the interface?
A ring of metal bolts?”
"Because the pipe needs to be fixed..."
"No, because they chose the wrong pipe material for the implant in the back of the brain. They should have used flexible pipes instead of hard metal pipes. They connected the pipes to your brain, only to find that the pipes could not be broken apart, so they only
You can attach a ring of metal bolts and force it over."
When Bain saw the bandaged young man opposite him, he took a deep breath, then held his chest and said, "Listen, I definitely don't have obsessive-compulsive disorder, but this is outrageous."
Bain narrowed his eyes slightly and said tentatively: "I killed seven people in the original prison, so I was chosen to be the experimental subject."
"No matter how much you deserve it, you can't cover up the fact that their technology is no better than drilling wood to make fire."
Bain looked at Bruce in silence. After a long while, Bruce sighed, covered his only remaining eye with his hand and said, "I'm sorry, where did you just say it?"
"This is not something a rich kid would understand." Bain's tone became slower, sounding more like chatter than a threat.
Bruce tightened the muscles around his eyes and said, "Actually, do you know how bad they are?"
"Of course, fish butchers are better than them."
Bruce felt very strange. The big man opposite made him feel very conflicted. He was not the kind of big dog who always shows his strength and exudes aggression towards everyone.
He even has a scholarly temperament when he is silent, as if he has thought more deeply than anyone else in the first half of his life. This calm temperament is completely inconsistent with his rough appearance, just like the body of a beast
It contains the soul of a philosopher.
As a result, Bruce also stared at Bain silently, and the two of them stared at each other for several minutes, as if they were reading each other's soul through their eyes.
"You are not a rich kid, nor are you a murderer." Bain tilted his head slightly and said, "FBI agent? Police? Mad scientist?"
"You are not a murderer, who are you?"
"Just a prisoner."
The two fell silent again, but this time it was Bruce who took the initiative to end the silence and asked.
"What is your purpose here?"
"Coming to kill you, originally."
"Then why did you change your mind?"
"Because you are not you."
"Then you can kill me too."
"I'm not going to do that."
"Why?"
"I will kill you when it's time to kill you."
Bain's answer seemed meaningless, but with his eyes, Bruce could read more information.
Bain must have planned to do something when he came here. There must be an opportunity for him to kill his fellow prisoners, but not now. Now he is waiting, waiting for some opportunity.
Bruce sat back a little further and leaned his back against the wall. He was thinking that Bane was by no means a good prison cellmate, and more importantly, he was not a good manipulator.
Bruce was very helpless, even a little bit complaining. This kind of mentality is not common in Batman's career.
And all his thoughts can actually be summed up as--
Why is it the Sunset King Shrimp again???
There are always people who say they want to see Batman be in bad luck.
Is there a possibility that bats are always in bad luck?