Shane Freak
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Chapter 752: Bat Night Talk (Part 2)
🕑 Added 2023-11-21 14:04:21 +0000 UTCIn DC World With Marvel Chat Group : Table of Content/Chapter List
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As Schiller and Gordon entered the room, the theater owner was still struggling, his eyes filled with disbelief as he stared at Bruce, who remained expressionless. He stammered, "Mr. Wayne, you must be misunderstanding something. Please, release me!"
Bruce released his grip and stood up. In that moment, the theater owner turned to run.
Schiller picked up an umbrella, and a faint blue light emanated from the tip of it. With a swift motion, an ice spike struck the theater owner, freezing him into an icy sculpture. This was Schiller's first time using the ice gun attachment that Peter had installed on his umbrella, and it seemed to work quite effectively. Though the theater owner couldn't move, his voice still resonated from within the ice sculpture.
Bruce approached and picked up the long sword, which was wrapped in a costume. The bloodstains on the blade had been wiped away, but there were still noticeable stains at the junction between the hilt and the blade.
At this point, the theater owner had no room left for denial. After all, in the laws of any country, a murder weapon was the most crucial piece of evidence. With three eyewitnesses seeing the murder weapon in his hand, one of them being Bruce Wayne, there was no way for him to escape conviction.
"Tell us, Mr. Andover, why did you kill Miss Vicky, and how did you commit the crime?" Schiller tapped the ice with the umbrella's tip.
Through gritted teeth, the theater owner replied, "It's all that ***'s fault! That damn ***! She not only wanted to leave herself but also take Alex with her! She was seduced by some foolish movie dream! A cursed movie dream!"
"I know she got involved with a rich person who promised to cast her as the lead in a movie. That idiot actually believed him!"
"If it weren't for me overhearing her conversation with Alex, I wouldn't have known about her foolish daydream! And that foolish Alex, he actually believed Vicky and wanted to leave the troupe with her!"
"They never considered that I was the one who propelled them to fame! Thinking of leaving the troupe? Dream on!"
The theater owner's face contorted in anger. Gordon approached him with his notebook and asked, "How did you kill Vicky?"
"Of course, with that sword..." the theater owner snorted, "I had just finished crafting a new costume for Alex, hoping to make him even more famous. But since both of them didn't want to stay, they can go to hell together!"
Gordon nodded and didn't press further. After all, as the theater owner, accessing the prop room and taking a sword was a simple task.
"Did you bribe Props Master Molly?" Gordon inquired.
"I didn't bribe her," the theater owner scoffed. "I told her that I wanted to teach Vicky a lesson because she was jealous, and she immediately agreed to cooperate. That ugly freak could never step onto the stage; she deserves to be in jail!"
Before Gordon could ask more questions, the theater owner continued, "Originally, I was planning to put this sword in Alex's dressing room to threaten him, to ensure a successful performance, and to keep them from leaving the troupe. Otherwise, I'd send him to prison."
"But as soon as I pulled the sword out, someone climbed in through the window! I don't know who it was, but I had to flee with the sword in a hurry. I only managed to hide in this room when I ran into those visitors going upstairs on the second floor..."
"So, while we were focused on Props Master Molly, you rushed in to move the murder weapon," Schiller shook his head. "You fell for such a simple trap; you're even more foolish than the fools you mentioned."
Ten minutes later, on the rooftop of the Gotham Grand Theater, the headlights of police cars illuminated Bruce and Schiller's faces. Schiller turned to Bruce and said, "Your performance today truly surprised me. The old Bruce Wayne wouldn't have done anything."
Bruce remained silent, watching as Gordon led the theater owner into the police car. He said, "I need to be with Alfred."
Then he turned and left. Schiller stood on the rooftop of the grand theater, gazing at the still dark night of Gotham. He knew that as the lights of Gotham grew brighter, the once dark bat would gradually take on different shades.
This bat, aspiring to be a god of Gotham, would soon understand that gods didn't love the world, and the world didn't love the gods. Gods might bring floods to destroy, and people enjoyed seeing gods fall. Their love was not mutual; instead, there was lasting hatred.
Unbeknownst to him, Batman could no longer be a lonely and glorious god because in this world, there were always those willing to accept his imperfections, forgiving him repeatedly for things he held dear, treating them as mere trivialities.
When people were constantly forgiven, they became unusually lenient.
Sitting by Alfred's sickbed, Bruce felt the blood in his heart flowing like receding tides. After a while, Alfred woke up from his slumber and smiled when he saw Bruce.
Bruce poured him a glass of water, adjusted the bed to help him sit up, and Alfred coughed a bit but felt better after taking a sip of water.
Bruce looked at him and asked, "Don't you find it disappointing?"
"Disappointing in what?" Alfred asked in return.
Bruce paused for a moment before saying, "Everything I've done, everything Bruce Wayne has done..."
Alfred shook his head and said, "Why would I feel disappointed? A child who didn't have the protection of parents, who didn't seek revenge against society out of resentment and anger, who didn't become unreasonable and arrogant due to a lack of education, who didn't self-destruct and harm his own body without supervision. What more can I hope for?"
"You don't want me to..." Bruce lowered his head, took a deep breath, and said, "You don't want me to seek revenge against those criminals?"
"No, Bruce," Alfred called him by his name for the first time, causing Bruce's fingertips to tremble slightly. He heard Alfred continue, "I hope that you can forever forget about this, but sadly, I can't."
"If I were a person like Professor Schiller, I would do everything in my power to make you forget your past, to never mention that tragic period again, as it's the source of all your pain. You were never meant to bear all of this."
"Don't you think... don't you think I can become a hero? Don't you think I can save this world?" Bruce stared into Alfred's eyes.
"Perhaps you know that I once embarked on the path of saving the world with such fervor. I didn't make it to the end; I was a cowardly deserter, a loser who gave up resistance."
Bruce wanted to interject, but he heard that Alfred's tone remained calm throughout, devoid of sadness and excitement. So, he continued to listen.
"But even to this day, I don't regret that experience."
"So, if I hope for you to save the world, to become a hero, it's not because I want to see this world saved."
"It's because I hope that as you walk this path, you will encounter more friends who share your great ideals, who walk the same path. I hope that after you finish this journey, you can tell your children about those glorious years."
"But if, in the end, you have no family, no loved ones, no friends, then what are you doing all of this for?"
"If a world would lead a hero to end up alone and deserted, is there really a need for it to be saved?"
"Then why did you... why did you teach me so many skills? Combat, reconnaissance, intelligence... wasn't it to prepare me to save the world?" Bruce asked.
Alfred shook his head and said, "If I ever gave you the impression that I did it for that reason, then I'm sorry. I was just... back then, I felt empty and needed something to do."
Bruce recalled the sight of snowfall he had witnessed in Metropolis. He had wondered if his butler had seen more magnificent snow in that northern country.
Now, he had a positive answer. If he hadn't experienced grander vistas, why would the days at Wayne Manor, so splendid on the surface, seem so dull, monotonous, and empty?
Bruce took a deep breath, feeling like it was all a joke.
From beginning to end, apart from himself,
No one expected him to do anything.
No one had any expectations of him beyond those of an ordinary person, and the burden he had placed on himself, the illusion of being heavily burdened and highly anticipated by the masses, was nothing but a dream.
Bruce covered his face with his hand. Today, for the first time as Bruce, he had taken action.
He had set a trap for the theater owner, first using his Wayne identity to apply pressure, making him desperately search for a scapegoat, then collaborating with Schiller to intentionally shift the primary suspicion onto the props master, allowing the theater owner to lower his guard.
Then he deliberately mentioned the murder weapon, breaking down the theater owner's psychological defenses, and finally pretended to leave, waiting in another room to track the theater owner. He apprehended him at the scene where he was handling the murder weapon, caught him red-handed.
What would Batman do?
But perhaps Gordon wouldn't rely on him. He would probably call Schiller in the end because Professor Schiller seemed more experienced.
This made Bruce start to ponder. Was Schiller's concealed animosity towards him rooted in a suspicion that he might commit crimes or in a fear that his identity and abilities could be replaced?
Bruce remembered their first meeting in a Gotham alley, when Bruce was investigating the disappearance of Morrison District's population, and Schiller claimed he was doing the same.
In that moment, Bruce wondered whether Schiller's suspicion was directed at him as the perpetrator or whether it stemmed from a fear that his perfect identity might be replaced.
Bruce couldn't find an answer, but he felt that he had no reason to ask Schiller. He simply didn't want to do it.
But not seeking out Schiller didn't mean Schiller wouldn't seek him out. The door of the hospital room rang, and Bruce turned to see a figure holding an umbrella appearing outside the door.
Bruce stood up, looking at Schiller. Schiller pointed his umbrella at the ground and said, "I forgot to ask you something earlier."
"Bruce, do you know how long it's been since you turned in an assignment? Do you know that you owe me papers and grades now, enough to graduate a freshman from school?" Schiller picked up his umbrella and pointed it at Bruce, saying, "Listen, Bruce Wayne, this is your final ultimatum. If you don't hand in all your overdue assignments tomorrow morning, I'll immediately publish it in the newspaper for all of Gotham's citizens to see that the renowned Batman doesn't do his homework!"
"I'll say it one last time, tomorrow morning, I want to see all your assignments on my desk!"
Watching Schiller's departing figure, Bruce closed his eyes and sighed. He thought to himself.
No, not everyone has no expectations beyond those of an ordinary person.
At least, this professor believes he has eight hands. [:D]
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Next Chapter>>Chapter 753: Life and Death Speed of Batman (Part 1)
