Day 13 of clearing the border

Batman's body tensed. Boss? His sharp gaze swept across the room, his gray-white irises scanning the surroundings. It was a one-bedroom apartment with only a sofa in the middle of the living room. The door behind him was tightly closed, and the sand-red curtains hung silently. At least the person in front of him had nowhere to hide.

The boss Adrian mentioned either hid behind the door or, like him, took an unconventional route, entering the room from the outside. Regardless of how he entered, the moment Adrian called for help, it meant that Batman had fallen into their trap.

In just a few days, an outsider was able to climb up to the local Gotham power structure. Batman was not surprised at all. Anyone who could survive in Gotham without some real skills would be double-crossed by the local gangs. The only ones left were troublesome and extremely troublesome.

The young man who was firing a gun at him was not only difficult to deal with, but he could also bring along helpers.

Just as Batman was on guard, Adrian had a big question: Where were the Arkham Knights? They couldn't possibly be avoiding Batman's attacks. Ten seconds, a minute, Adrian gradually froze.

“My gang isn’t one you can just walk into as you might think,” said a burly young man wearing a brown leather jacket and a blue helmet, as he loaded and unloaded a gun.

The Knight of Arkham has never had a good impression of those who relentlessly pursue him; their frenzied behavior easily reminds him of bad people and things. Adrian, who is racking his brains to get close to him, has unintentionally stepped on many of his landmines.

The Arkham Knight loaded his magazine, knowing that if this outsider didn't give him a satisfactory explanation, one of the bullets in the magazine would explode on his forehead.

"Of course I won't prove who I am or whether I'm of any use to you empty-handed. You just need to accept my pledge of loyalty, and then you can consider whether to accept me."

"A pledge of allegiance? You think I need it? Now that you've said it, you can stay."

Adrian remained unfazed by the click of the magazine being chambered. "What if this pledge of allegiance is Batman?"

"Your name".

“Adrian, Adrian Melson.”

The Arkham Knight snapped out of his reverie. "Adrian, this subordinate is someone I absolutely must take in."

The makeshift base was far less hygienic than one's home, filled with a musty, damp, and moldy smell, along with a faint, deliberately masked odor of alcohol.

Arkham Knight's gaze swept across the floor and walls before finally settling on Batman.

Batman, knowing Adrian had accomplices, began searching for them. No one spoke in the hall; they came but didn't come out.

acquaintance?

Batman's gaze finally settled on the unmoving sand-red curtains on the balcony.

"Come out." Batman's voice was deep and carried an undeniable sense of pressure. He instinctively felt that "the boss" was the main event of the night.

silence.

Adrian pressed himself against the wall, trying to minimize his presence. He was about to reveal the true nature of Arkham Knight's feelings for Batman. He was simply curious, sensing that there was something juicy going on between the two.

The shocking revelation came as Adrian had predicted.

Batman walks step by step toward the balcony, a batarang—a signature weapon collected by Gotham's suppliers—between his fingers.

At the same time, a very faint metallic clicking sound came from behind the curtains.

Batman dodged to the side, and the bullets collided with the wall with a sickening screech.

The sound of tearing silk suddenly rang out! A figure the size of a small mountain pounced out like a ghost, its movements so fast that only a blurry blue and white afterimage remained! Outsmarting Batman? The Arkham Knight insisted on a head-on confrontation, wanting to see if Batman's skills had declined after all these years.

Let him see if he still shows mercy to his enemies.

Bang!

A heavy thud! Batman felt an astonishing force as he crossed his arms to block, causing him to slide back half a step before regaining his balance. The attacker used the force to flip backward, landing lightly and blocking the balcony door.

Moonlight shone through the Arkham Knight's armor, and Batman instantly noticed the pointed ears of the copycat monster described by the defeated gang member.

He knew it wasn't an imitation. Batman clenched his fists and charged forward, clasped in high-tech armor. When had Gotham ever had such independent technology besides Wayne?

Covered entirely in blue and white tactical armor, its sharp, flowing lines exuded a menacing aura. The full-face helmet obscured the Arkham Knight's entire face, with only his eyes gleaming with a cold white light, fixed intently on him. The hatred in his gaze was almost tangible, making the air thick and dangerous.

The Arkham Knight. The victor of the Gotham gang war was right in front of him. Batman didn't have time to think about the source of the hatred in his eyes. He blocked the Arkham Knight's attack and was forced back by the force.

“Batman.” The knight’s voice came through the voice changer, hoarse and distorted, as if stating a fact, “You arrived slower than I expected.”

“I thought you would find me when we first took over Blackmask and Penguin’s territory, instead of me finding you.”

The two separated and each occupied a corner. Arkham twisted his neck and said, "You've become less perceptive while playing house with the Joker and the others, or you've become so immersed in the warmth of family that you've become timid."

"Who are you?" Batman asked in a low voice. The Arkham Knight knew his true identity, who he was, and how many people knew him. Batman couldn't help but feel anxious.

"You don't need to know who I am. You only need to know that I will be the architect of Gotham's new order. Batman, you will be swept into the dust of history."

"What are you going to do?" Batman asked in a deep voice, ignoring the Arkham Knight's declaration of war. His muscles tensed to their peak fighting condition as he analyzed his opponent's stance, weapons, and fighting style. This armor was far beyond what an ordinary mercenary could possess; what was his connection to Deathstroke?

When Batman discovered that Arkham Knight's moves contained elements of Deathstroke's style, his heart sank to the bottom.

"Ha, I will end you." Before the knight finished speaking, he had already launched his attack! He charged forward at lightning speed, his right hand flashing to his side, drawing not a gun, but a high-frequency vibrating short knife crackling with electricity, the arc of electricity shooting straight for Batman's throat!

Batman dodged, the vibrating blade grazing his cape, the gust of wind from his other arm brushing past his chin. He tried to seize the knight's wrist, but the knight's arm strength was immense, and his armor was exceptionally smooth, making Batman's grab largely ineffective.

At the same time, the Knight's free left fist, accompanied by the sound of wind, slammed towards Batman's temple!

Block, counterattack! Batman's fist slammed into the opponent's chest armor with a dull thud. The knight merely swayed, then swung his sword back at Batman's carotid artery.

The high-frequency vibrating dagger left a white mark on the Kevlar fiber.

Close-quarters combat is extremely dangerous! The Knight's fighting skills are ruthless and efficient, with every move aimed at a fatal blow. Moreover, he seems to have an extraordinary understanding of Batman's tactics and reactions, and he has predicted Batman's dodge direction several times.

Bang! Batman seized an opening and delivered a powerful punch to the knight's abdomen, knocking him back two steps. Batman himself also felt a dull ache in his ribs from taking a direct elbow strike.

“You’ve been trained,” Batman’s voice was colder. “What do you intend to do to my Gotham?”

“What to do? To build New Gotham, of course,” the knight said with a twisted laugh, shaking the hand holding the knife. “You’re old. Old people should stay where old people belong. People who can’t keep up with the times should be swept away like garbage.”

"Your target is me."

“Finally figured it out, Batman.” The Knight’s voice suddenly turned shrill. “But it’s too late!”

The Arkham Knight still didn't like using a knife. He was no longer in a hurry to get close, and the large-caliber firearm he had brought with him finally came in handy. He raised it high and aimed.

There was nowhere to hide in the cramped space! Batman instantly threw an explosive batarang and simultaneously performed a backflip!

Boom! Boom!

The explosive dart collided with the bullet in mid-air, triggering a violent explosion! The shockwave collapsed the already flimsy furniture in the room, and flying sparks ignited the sand-red curtains, which then burst into flames!

Like the blood in his memory, like the fire in his memory, the Arkham Knight's eyes stung, and his attacks became increasingly violent.

Amidst the flames and thick smoke, the knight charged once more. The two exchanged blows, abandoning the clash of modern weapons and transforming into primal beasts, locked in a battle to the death.

Batman flew out of the window, using his grappling hook to forcibly change direction. The thrown projectile grazed his armor, sending sparks flying.

"All you can do is hide?!" the knight roared as he chased after him, his attacks like a storm. "Bang bang bang," a string of gunshots pierced the rooftop and ground, and Batman kept dodging.

It was that same premonition again. Batman almost felt a chill run down his spine. He finally remembered who the moves in Arkham Knight resembled. But how could a soul buried six feet below the surface reappear? Anger tore at his reason. The blue eye bleeding beside him seemed to be laughing, laughing at his wishful thinking, laughing at his cowardice and guilt.

He thought, "We must turn things around."

Batman took a punch from Arkham Knight, using the force to smash through the debris on the rooftop. At the same time, his grappling hook grabbed a load-bearing structure on the adjacent rooftop, pulling him up sharply.

The knight's vibrating blade pierced the spot where he had just been standing almost simultaneously.

Batman leaps into the air, unleashing a barrage of batarangs that rain down on the knight! Not all of them are aimed at vital organs; many target joints and sensors!

Clang! Most of the batarangs were blocked or avoided by the knight's arm guards, but one still struck the seam of the armor on his wrist where he was holding the knife, and another hit the side sensor of his helmet.

Even the most technologically advanced armor isn't perfect, as is the case here.

The knight's movements faltered for an extremely brief moment, and he let out an angry growl.

Now! Batman pounced like an owl, gathering all his strength in his right foot, delivering a heavy downward kick straight to his opponent's left shoulder!

The knight, unable to dodge in time, hastily raised his hand to block!

boom!

The immense force forced the knight to his knees, and cracks instantly appeared in the concrete floor beneath his feet! The white light on the side of his helmet flickered violently a few times.

Batman landed, about to give chase—

"Enough!" the knight roared, no longer holding back. A device suddenly popped out of his arm armor, emitting a piercing high-frequency noise!

Batman felt a sudden wave of dizziness and nausea, and his movements froze.

Taking advantage of the opportunity, the knight suddenly rolled backward and threw two balls toward Batman.

It's not a bomb. It's a high-intensity smoke grenade!

Blinding white light and thick smoke instantly engulfed the entire rooftop, completely blocking vision. Batman's tactical goggles adjusted automatically, but he could only see a blurry outline of a heat source rapidly approaching the edge of the rooftop.

He immediately gave chase, but several precise shots fired from the smoke forced him to dodge.

When he rushed through the smoke and flames to the window, all he saw in the alley below was a heavily modified motorcycle, also painted with a black skull, its engine roaring and its tires screeching as it sped into the deep night of Gotham like an arrow, quickly disappearing around the next street corner.

All that remained was a devastated rooftop riddled with bullet holes, and the lingering smoke of gunpowder in the air.

Batman stood on the edge of the rooftop, the night wind ruffling his cape. He gazed in the direction where the Arkham Knight had disappeared, his brow furrowed beneath his mask.

This Arkham Knight is more than just a well-equipped mercenary. His fighting style, his familiar moves, and the hatred directed at him all point to an impossible possibility.

If he were still alive, he would be this age by now. Batman's heart sank.

*

Adrian had already left the battlefield when Arkham Knight and Batman started fighting. Like a shadow blending into the Gotham night, he silently climbed onto the apartment rooftop.

The distant sounds of explosions and the clanging of metal echoed in his ears, but his heartbeat remained unusually calm. From the surviving surveillance footage, he witnessed the clash between Batman and the Arkham Knight, seeing the Arkham Knight's precise and ruthless moves, and also Batman's near-inhuman strength.

The outcome of the subsequent battle was not as one-sided as he had imagined.

The two main characters in the faction war are currently almost evenly matched in terms of combat power, but they seem to lack a bit of composure when facing Batman and Arkham Knight. No, they really are.

Adrian became even more convinced that Arkham Knight and Batman had a secret relationship, but Batman didn't recognize Arkham Knight. Adrian raised his camera and started filming Batman and Arkham Knight Kuku.

After a series of rapid gunshots, a suppressed, twisted groan of pain came through the communication channel—from the Arkham Knight. This was followed by an unsettling silence, broken only by the Arkham Knight's heavy breathing and the faint sound of his motorcycle engine at some frequency.

The knights failed, a wounded kind of failure.

Adrian did not hesitate. This was an opportunity that was both dangerous and promising. If he handled it well, he would rise in the eyes of the Arkham Knights. If he failed, he would be reverted to his previous state, so the danger was no longer a concern.

It's all beneficial and without any harm; if he doesn't rush to do it, who will?

Adrian followed the approximate location of the system's last signal, tracking it like a hunting dog. He moved cautiously, perfectly evading potential pursuit by Batman and the Gotham police thanks to the system.

They eventually found Arkham Knight at a large pipe junction in the sewers before Batman could catch up.

The air was thick with the stench of rotting sewage, gunpowder, and the heavy stench of blood. The Arkham Knight leaned against the cold wall, the dark green moss pressed into a curved shape. A startling crack ran across his high-tech armor helmet, its edges charred black, clearly caused by some powerful impact. One side of his visor was shattered, revealing tightly pressed, bloodless lips and a taut jawline.

The other scars on the armor will not be described in detail. When the Arkham Knight's cold and sharp gaze swept over him, Adrian almost hallucinated a scarred stray cat that was not friendly and had a strong aggressive nature.

One hand hung limply at his sides, while the other pressed tightly against his ribs, dark blood seeping from between his fingers. As he watched, Adrian felt a strange impulse rise within him: if only the knight were a little more fragile.

Adrian realized what the other person was thinking...

It's over, the pervert is himself. Adrian fell silent.

The deliberately light footsteps betrayed his weakness. The Arkham Knight abruptly raised his head, the unbroken part of the eyepiece flashing a dangerous red light, while his other green eye, peering through the crack, projected a beast-like alertness and ferocity. In an instant, his other intact hand rose, a modified pistol pointed precisely in Adrian's direction. Though his movements were slightly slowed by the pain, his killing intent remained undiminished.

"Who?!" A hoarse voice came through the mask's filter, sounding faintly young and more emotional, but unable to completely conceal the weakness beneath.

Adrian stopped and slowly raised his hands to indicate that he was unarmed and meant no harm. His gaze calmly swept over the knight's wounds, assessing their severity.

"Relax, knight, I am not your enemy. Have you forgotten that I am here to fulfill my promise?"

Adrian's voice was deep and steady, unusually clear amidst the flowing water in the sewers, "I saw your fight. You need help, or you'll bleed to death before Batman finds you."

The Arkham Knight did not lower his gun. He seemed to have heard a joke, his sharp gaze fixed on Adrian as if assessing the truthfulness of his words and his worth.

"Follow me? You might as well take advantage of my weakness and kill me. I believe that with your methods, you can gain control of Crime Alley without lifting a finger. As for the other territories that belong to me, it's only a matter of time before you get them."

Hearing the Arkham Knights' allure, Adrian slowly crouched down, feigning consideration. "It sounds like a good suggestion, but I have no interest in managing or seizing territory, and besides, I need you alive."

“I will be in big trouble if you die, I have no choice,” Adrian said, his large eyes seemingly trying to let the Arkham Knight see the sincerity in them.

The faction war is not over yet and there is one player missing. It is bad luck and we don't know if the game can continue. No matter which side has an Arkham Knight alive, the benefits are maximized.

The Arkham Knights still didn't believe it, and Adrian's smile vanished; things were getting complicated.

With Batman's pursuit right behind them, Adrian didn't want to go to jail for the time being. He just wanted to get the Knight away immediately so the two of them could run away quickly and postpone discussing anything else.

He silently operated the system, maximizing his trust and charm levels, and then followed the system prompts:

“I’m tired of surviving in the dark, tired of those hypocritical rules that target specific groups. God said all men are created equal, but humans selfishly divide people into different classes, with the powerful oppressing the poor. We are all the same, all working to build a new era for Gotham.”

Adrian took a slow step forward, meeting the knight's scrutiny without flinching. "Batman represents the past, the old ways, a stubborn symbol that cannot eradicate the darkness of this city. But you... your methods are more direct, your goals clearer. You see the true nature of this city and are willing to use force to cut it off. I believe your approach is the 'cure' Gotham truly needs, not letting criminals roam free under the guise of not killing them, allowing them to come and go in prison at will, threatening the lives of others at any moment."

He paused, his gaze lingering on the knight's still-bleeding wound. "As for now, I want an opportunity, a chance to join the side that can truly change the situation. And you need an accomplice who can do more than just shoot, someone who can ensure the plan can continue even when you're temporarily unavailable."

The Arkham Knight remained silent for a few seconds, only his heavy breathing echoing through the tubes. He seemed to be thinking intensely, weighing the pros and cons. Finally, his fingers, pressed against the wound, grew even paler from the strain, but his gun-wielding hand fell to his sides with extreme slowness. It was a signal, a tacit agreement, and a sign of his trust in the person before him in his extreme weakness.

He shook his head. No...

Adrian interrupted the Arkham Knight's thoughts, "I think you need help."

“…Treat the wound.” The knight’s voice lowered, filled with barely concealed exhaustion and pain. “The tools are in that silver box over there.”

Without hesitation, Adrian grabbed the medical kit. He knelt beside the knight and expertly opened the kit, taking out hemostatic gel, bandages, and a knife. He carefully cut through the damaged armor fibers around the knight's wound, revealing a deep wound. Fortunately, it didn't seem to have damaged any major organs, but the blood loss was significant.

"I'll treat the surface wounds first, and continue after we leave. We need to leave as soon as possible."

"......good."

Throughout the entire process, the knight kept his body tense, enduring the excruciating pain from the cleaning and bandaging, without making a sound. Only the cold sweat constantly seeping from his forehead showed what he was going through.

When Adrian finally secured the bandage, the knight seemed to be relieved of a tremendous burden, leaning even deeper against the wall. He raised his hand and pressed his trembling fingers against the side of his mask.

With a soft "click," the light from the iconic red goggles went out. Then, he laboriously removed the shattered helmet.

A face, though still youthful and pale from blood loss, was revealed beneath a domino bone mask, and a pair of green eyes burning with pain and rage. Those eyes were now fixed intently on Adrian.

"Are you sure? Once you join me, there's no turning back. You either become my servant, or..."

Adrian calmly met his gaze, his face showing no surprise or fear. He interrupted the knight, his tone firm:

“I choose to stay. Tell me what to do next, boss.”

He deliberately emphasized the last title to show that he was loyal to the "Knight of Arkham" and followed his boss, not anyone else.

Jason Todd—the Arkham Knight—stared into Adrian's unwavering eyes, in which he saw similarities to his own.

He nodded slightly.

"Well... welcome, soldier."