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Chapter 72 – Newton: Batman Is Dead! Batman: Newton Is Dead.
🕑 Added 2025-05-07 11:12:41 +0000 UTCHarvey Dent was, in fact, out on the balcony—with his girlfriend, Rachel.
He had just gone through a failed proposal and hadn't yet recovered when the sound of gunfire rang out from the main hall.
Whatever romantic atmosphere remained evaporated instantly, and the two of them crouched behind a marble column in alarm.
Harvey instinctively reached for his waist, only to find nothing—he hadn't brought his sidearm tonight, understandably so, since this was a high-class gala among Gotham's elite.
Now the consequences had arrived—armed thugs, and he had no weapon.
The district attorney sighed, closed his eyes in frustration—and didn't open them again.
Rachel, witnessing everything, went into full cognitive overload.
She saw her ex-boyfriend, dressed in that terrifying armor, descend from above like a demon. His opening move? A chokehold takedown that knocked her current boyfriend out cold.
It all happened too fast—mere seconds passed, and she had no time to react.
"What are you doing!?"
She was completely stunned, almost blurting out his real name—thankfully she managed to hold herself back at the last moment.
Her mind reeled. Harvey had just been badmouthing him, and then bam—he dropped from the sky. Was he summoned!?
"The Joker's coming to kill him,"
Batman explained in a low voice, quickly scanning the surroundings.
The balcony was sparsely furnished—a table, a few chairs, and some potted shrubs.
No proper cover whatsoever.
Left with no better option, he dragged Harvey to the far corner and stacked whatever furniture he could find into a makeshift barricade.
"Stay here. Both of you. Don't come out until I've taken care of them."
Rachel looked at her unconscious boyfriend, then at the ex sprinting off to war, and felt completely done with life.
"If we're just going to hide, then why knock him out!? He could've helped if you gave him a gun!"
Batman's departing figure paused awkwardly. He muttered back:
"He's too righteous. He'd definitely charge out to fight—and that'd be dangerous."
Whether that was true or not, only he knew.
Maybe he was genuinely worried Harvey would get himself killed.
Maybe he was annoyed and wanted to knock the guy down a peg.
Maybe, out of sheer habit, he just didn't like dragging others into his grim crusade.
Whatever the reason, it was done. Now he just had to toss Joker and his crew back into Arkham where they belonged.
Using Alfred's intel and his high-tech tools, Batman scaled the wall above the balcony, lying in wait directly above the exit.
Whoever stepped onto the balcony first… was going to eat the full price of admission.
And who else would it be but the Joker?
Being the first to stick your head out usually didn't end well.
As soon as the Joker took one step onto the balcony, he heard the whoosh of disturbed air above him.
He looked up—and saw Batman gliding out of the night sky.
He was terrifyingly close.
A second later, both of Batman's knees slammed into his shoulders, sending them both crashing to the ground.
WHUMP.
The Joker's back hit the floor. His mouth curled into a grin—not from joy, but from sheer pain.
Unlike most criminals, the Joker wasn't thrown into panic even when caught off guard. He immediately began to resist.
But their combat skills weren't even in the same league.
Before the Joker could twist twice, Batman's iron fist slammed into his face.
THUD. CRACK.
The first sound was the punch, the second was his skull hitting the concrete.
That punch carried a lot of baggage—new grudges, old grudges, and emotional damage.
The Joker straightened out on the floor like a board. KO'd.
It was only when their boss crumpled that the rest of the gang snapped out of their daze.
"It's Batman—!"
They screamed like startled hens.
And yes—it was Batman.
Congratulations! You identified him correctly—and earned yourself a flying elbow for your efforts.
Unfazed by the guns, Batman dove into the group, activating god mode in close-quarters.
He was a master of at least 127 martial arts styles, but ultimately everything boiled down to elbow strikes.
Forward elbow!
Spin elbow!
Charging elbow!
Each blow landed with surgical precision—one elbow, one thug.
BAM. BAM. BAM.
Three of the Joker's henchmen collapsed immediately—at the very least, they'd be waking up with concussions.
Female guests gasped in delight, their eyes shining as they watched the Dark Knight demolish criminals.
Even the male guests sighed in relief—everyone knew, once Batman showed up, the villains were toast.
Meanwhile, the thugs back in the main hall began to panic.
Some tried to flee. Others reached for hostages. Some took potshots at Batman, hoping to earn bragging rights in prison.
But within minutes, Batman—covertly assisted by his butler—had taken them all down and was calmly handcuffing the last one when—
A scream rang out from the balcony.
It was Rachel!
Batman reacted instantly—slugged the one conscious thug in the jaw and sprinted toward the sound.
He reached the edge and saw… nothing.
The Joker's body was gone.
He wasn't knocked out?!
A cold chill ran through Batman's spine.
What would he do to Rachel and Harvey now?
BANG!
A gunshot tore through the air.
Batman's heart skipped a beat.
But the sight that greeted him… wasn't as bad as he feared.
Rachel was there, clutching a shotgun and wrestling with the Joker, who was bloodied and woozy but still fighting.
One glance, and Batman deduced what happened—Rachel had probably tried to pick up the gun to defend herself, but the Joker regained consciousness, leading to this struggle.
There was still time!
Batman exhaled in relief.
Rachel saw him too—and let her guard down for a second.
That second was all the Joker needed.
He seized the opportunity, wrenched the gun from her hands, and jammed it sideways against her temple.
"Hahahahaha! Ahahahaha!"
He laughed maniacally, nose bleeding like a faucet.
"You lose, Batman!"
Batman was only meters away—but didn't dare move.
The Joker dragged Rachel backward until his back hit the railing.
The cold night wind tousled his messy hair, but his grin remained unshaken.
"Drop the gun!"
Batman's voice was low and tense—almost imperceptibly laced with panic.
The Joker, of course, noticed immediately.
"Ohoho~ what's this? Are you worried, little bat? Do you care about her?"
He yanked Rachel's hair, forcing her to face Batman.
"Take off your mask. Let's see who you really are. Or I throw her off!"
Batman locked eyes with Rachel and saw all the memories they once shared—joyful and painful alike.
But he knew—he couldn't give in.
The moment he donned the cowl, he ceased to be Bruce Wayne.
He was only…
Batman.
"Let her go!"
His voice cracked with fury—edging toward something lethal.
Which is exactly what the Joker wanted.
"Oh, you're terrible at negotiating."
"Ahahahahaha—!"
Laughing maniacally, the Joker wrapped both arms around Rachel's waist and heaved.
She lost her balance and toppled over the railing in a headfirst plunge.
"You—!"
Batman roared, dashing forward without hesitation.
The Joker tried to stop him, but he was too slow. His gun was useless now—might as well have been a stick. He managed a few weak swings before Batman's fist slammed him into the floor again.
But Batman didn't linger.
He dove—headfirst—off the edge of the skyscraper.
The freezing night wind screamed past him.
Looking down, he saw—
Thank God.
The building's top few floors had a sloped glass roof beneath the balcony—steep and slick, but enough to break the fall.
Rachel screamed in terror as she skidded down the glass, heels kicking frantically.
Her high heels snapped under the pressure—buying just enough time.
Batman twisted midair, caught up, and grabbed her wrists just before she slid off.
Holding her tightly, he wrapped both arms around her and deployed his cape's glider.
Their descent slowed—just a bit. But the cape was meant for one person.
It couldn't carry two.
They kept falling.
From hundreds of feet up.
Elsewhere, Leo had just arrived.
He watched the whole thing unfold.
"Woooow…"
He whistled, patting down his pockets.
Crap. No phone.
He'd wanted to record the whole thing—or at least snap a photo.
Now he could only watch.
[Pure White, you think we should, uh… catch them or something? If they miss their mark and hit the ground, Batman's gonna end up as Bat-pâté.]
[What are you thinking?]
[I pull the Batmobile under them! Catch them with it! Batman's car saves Batman! Poetic, right?]
[Forget it. That car's outer shell is reinforced steel—like a tank. He'd be safer hitting the pavement.]
Leo hesitated.
What if Batman did die?
In that case, he was getting the hell out of Gotham tonight.
A Gotham without Batman? It wouldn't last a week.
[Relax. I calculated their landing point—it's that blue SUV on the roadside.]
Pure White projected a beacon in Leo's cybernetic eye, letting him witness Batman's most dramatic superhero landing yet.
Leo grinned, tapped the gas, and nudged the Batmobile forward.
Looking up, he could already see the silhouettes.
They were only 30 meters from the ground.
Now it was just a question of who was stronger—
Batman…
…or Newton.
