Capítulo 3397: Chapter 2534: The Battle for the Cloak (55)

Batman and Batwoman rushed to the vicinity of the neighborhood they had previously suspected, and indeed, they saw Bruce's figure there; he hadn't aged, just matured a bit more.

The two of them followed Bruce home, or more accurately, deduced Bruce's address from the lights on in the window after he had returned, then climbed onto the balcony.

Through the gap in the curtains, they saw an old man lying on the bed.

Bruce put the groceries back into the fridge one by one, walked into the room, and sat down beside the old man's bed, turning on the bedside lamp.

Batman, standing in the corner of the balcony, saw that it was Gordon, but he was so aged that he was unrecognizable; his hair was white, his body thin and withered, his eyes lifeless.

"Chief Ge Yin got divorced," Bruce said. "Her second husband had an affair and was also involved in sex bribery. She is suing him for custody, but things don't look promising."

Gordon just stared unblinkingly at the ceiling, his gaze unchanging, as Batman and Batwoman heard Bruce say, "I know you came to see him 20 years ago, but it wasn't about The Clawed Killer. You had her investigate me."

"You had her go to the police station to dig up the files on the case when you were shot, suspecting it was me who pulled the trigger."

Gordon finally slowly turned his eyes towards Bruce, staring at him with those cloudy orbs, as Bruce said, "You see me, don't you?"

Gordon's eyes slowly drifted back again.

Batwoman on the balcony looked at Batman; neither of their faces showed surprise, for they had deduced this beforehand.

Gordon had asked that policewoman to retrieve the old case files, keeping it a secret from everyone, even Bruce, which wasn't normal.

Even if he feared there might be moles in the police department interested in the stock dispute, there was no need to hide anything from Bruce, since those hyenas fighting over the inheritance were also enemies of Bruce; they should have been comrades on the same front.

But Gordon had no intention of telling Bruce, even emphasizing to the policewoman not to tell Bruce, so the person he suspected was clear.

"It was me who fired the shot," Bruce said.

Gordon's hand slowly clutched the bedsheet, and Bruce lowered his head and said softly, "I know it's too late to say this now, but I was angry that you couldn't find my parents' killer. I wanted such a useless cop to join them in their grave."

Gordon's expression suddenly shattered. The strength and seriousness of the past, even though it had already eroded, seemed to collapse in an instant.

He became confused and numb, his expression showing traces of pain surging from memories; the case of Mr. and Mrs. Wayne was an obstacle he could never overcome in this lifetime.

"Actually, I regretted firing the first shot," Bruce sighed softly. "I pulled the trigger instinctively, and that led to everything. I know I'm responsible, so I have to take care of you."

"Even if I am a useless cop?" Gordon asked in a hoarse voice, word by word. "A cop who failed to catch the criminal who killed your parents?"

Bruce was silent, then he said in a low voice, "That's a separate matter, uncle. We're going to move soon. I've already bought a new house. Everything will pass."

Gordon's lips began to tremble, and tears flowed from his dry eyes as he slowly turned them back towards Bruce, who had already stood up.

"Do you hate me?"

Bruce heard Gordon ask.

Bruce stood still for a long time before he started walking towards the bedroom door, turning the doorknob and saying, "No, uncle, I don't hate you anymore."

"Of course you don't hate him anymore because your vengeance is complete," a deep voice echoed from the other side of the room, as Batman parted the curtains and stepped out.

Bruce turned to look at the suddenly appearing Batman, backing away like a common person would, pressing his back against the door, grabbing a cellphone nearby and asking, "Who are you? Why are you in my house?"

"Are you going to call the police?" Batman asked. "After everything, are you still going to keep playing the act? Is it because there are no spectators now?"

Batwoman also came out, leaning against the wall with her arms folded, staring at Bruce by the door.

"I don't know what you're talking about."

"If you really shot because Gordon was a useless cop who couldn't find your parents' killer, you could have killed him with one shot. But you didn't."

"You let him live, in a humiliating way, allowing his fiery sense of justice no outlet. He became trapped in the real world, unable to act, only reliving the past and enduring endless mental torment."

"You did it on purpose, letting him see you," he knew all too well that you were the mastermind behind all this. He has felt hatred toward you for turning him into what he is but is still forced to rely on you. He blames himself for every tragedy that has befallen him because he couldn't find your parents' killer, torturing himself without a way to escape."

"You made him think you depend on him; you made him believe that you have feelings for him, that he's your last remaining relative. So he can't even escape this torment through suicide, because he doesn't want to put you through the loss of family once again."

"You've condemned him to a fate worse than death, but death is not an option for him. You've chosen the most brutal form of vengeance imaginable, and now you tell him that you don't hate him. Don't you feel in the slightest bit despicable?"

Bruce looked at Batman with a serious face, as if pondering something, while Batwoman lowered her eyelids and said, "To do such a thing only proves that you are a born antisocial. Because an ordinary person could not witness his pain countless times over the span of decades without feeling a thing. Regardless if he is an enemy or not, just a sense of empathy would make this unbearable. And if you feel nothing, it proves you are a lunatic."

"You don't show a shred of guilt when revealing the truth," Batwoman shook her head and said, "You're devoid of emotions, the only possible disappointment and self-reproach might be from reflecting on whether your creativity in torturing others has reached its limit, unable to come up with a more cruel method. That is all you care about."

"I am not an ordinary person," Bruce suddenly spoke, "Perhaps I am more of a failure: orphaned, dispossessed by relatives, without an education or capacity, having worked odd jobs all my life, and still saddled with a burden."

"You're trying to cast yourself as the victim," Batman said, "That's a classic tactic of the antisocial. When they speak like this, it proves they're not the victims of these tragedies—they're its creators."

"You just want to make Gordon feel more guilty," Batwoman pointed out, "You want him to realize how difficult you've had it, how long he has been a burden to you, and to pretend that you're just an ordinary person struggling with everyday life."

"I've indeed lived like that for most of my life," Bruce said flatly.

"But all of this is because of the gun you fired," Batman said unswayed, "If you hadn't fired those two shots, Gordon wouldn't be paralyzed in bed, and you wouldn't have had to hustle. Isn't this all brought on by yourself?"

"It was a moment of impulse."

"I've told you, no it wasn't. If it were a moment of impulse, you would have blown off his head with one shot, not precisely hit his spine," Batwoman said with a smile and a mocking look, "You don't really think that rendering someone paralyzed but alive with one shot is easier than blowing his head off, do you? How long did you practice for?"

"Then, the origin of all this should be his inability to find my parents' murderer. He's an incompetent cop," Bruce said in a deep tone.

"Then you're an incompetent clerk," Batman retorted, "Anyone encountering any mishap in their job should become a murderer who takes a shot at you. Perhaps your parents were also justifiably killed for screwing something up in their work."

Bruce's expression darkened, and he stared at Batman with a focus that was frightening.

Suddenly, he laughed.

"Did you come here just to play this logic game with me? Well, you've won. But if you don't leave my house now, I'm calling the police."

"No rush," Batman said calmly, "Who shaped this world? For what purpose was it shaped?"

"Don't you think it's too late to be asking these questions now?" Bruce replied without reserve, "It's meaningless now."

"Of course," Batman turned his head to say, "Because no matter who shaped it, it's about to be destroyed."

Batman turned away to leave, and Batwoman followed. Neither of them saw the corners of Bruce's mouth secretly lift in a smile behind them.

Arkham Batman, who was standing at the doorway confronting Little Kryptonite, froze. He heard the conversation between Bruce and Batman coming from the screen, and turning sharply towards it, he exclaimed, "What did he say? It's about to be destroyed? This world is about to be destroyed???"

"But Jason's little daughter hasn't been born yet," Arkham Batman said, distraught, "Just now at the family gathering, he said he was looking forward to it, of course..."

No longer caring about the blockade of animals, he rushed towards the door. Little Kryptonite had no choice but to follow, flying and asking, "Where exactly are you going?"

"I'm going to enter this cosmos," Arkham Batman said, "I have to stop that Batman from destroying it, I must..."

The image of Jason's happy smile flashed through Arkham Batman's mind; that was the life Jason was meant to lead. He thought he needed to set everything back on course. Even if the dream would eventually end, Jason should enjoy a bit more peace here. That was what he deserved.

He would never allow anyone to shatter this beautiful dream with violence, bringing Jason back to cold reality, cutting short this precious time Jason had to escape the painful memories of his past, even if that person was another Batman.

Meanwhile, in the real world, the Robins were faced with an unexpected guest—Poison Ivy.

Here's what happened: they had finally made their way near Wayne Tower and, after a series of trials in the fog, they reached the pinnacle of Wayne Tower and entered the office. Unfortunately, there was nothing left there.

There was no trace of King Robin, and the crazed Robins couldn't make head or tail of where their boss had gone. It was another fruitless effort, and they couldn't help feeling disappointed.

However, at that moment, Poison Ivy walked out from the office lounge. It seemed she had been waiting there for them.

"Well, you finally made it. Looks like you need some help?"

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