79. Gotham: Redemption Ticket (Revised)
87.
This can no longer be simply attributed to a hallucination caused by lack of sleep, Nightwing thought.
A huge pair of bright purple shorts, without any power source and without relying on any modern technology, bravely remained true to itself in this basement that was a little cramped due to the crowds of people!
It danced gracefully, flapping its trouser legs as if it were flapping its wings, and quickly changed direction in the air and rushed towards the sharp claws angrily!
The entire scene suddenly became incredibly quiet, with only the sound of pants flapping the air. Everyone was shocked by this mysterious and absurd power: Jason and his helmet maintained a rare and consistent silence; the Huntress seemed to be less fond of the color purple, and her eyes were filled with the struggle of "Why did I have to see this thing?"
Even Kashan, whose expression was always constant and only became particularly lively when fighting, tactically leaned back 15 degrees when faced with the visual impact of the huge pair of pants.
And Nightwing, with the excellent psychological quality accumulated over the years, was the first to break the silence.
"Um, so was there an angel in purple shorts passing by just now?" He tried to lighten the mood with a joke, but undoubtedly failed.
Before the situation got any worse, thankfully, Red Hood answered.
"...I think I'd rather believe this is some kind of high-tech," Jason Todd felt a headache coming on. "So we just—wait? And see how it claws?"
The farmer looked serious: "It's our ally now!" So be respectful to your allies!
"It's more likely that the claws will poke a few holes in this thing first..." Red Hood felt a little annoyed. He had seen the farmer wearing this thing before, and he thought he must like it very much. If the claws ripped his pants to shreds, he would have to help rescue the remains from the claws - it was not an easy job at all.
However, the God of Purple Pants does not need mortals to defend him. He is high above, looking down at this group of humble claws.
The Claws didn't know what kind of evil they were facing, and still used the old assassination methods - slashing and stabbing. With their numerical advantage, they could theoretically form an iron barrel to stop the purple rag.
But those attacks had no effect on the rag. The sharp blade couldn't even tear its fabric. The giant purple shorts remained unmoved. When its shadow covered these guys, it angrily swung up one of its trouser legs and slapped these damn thieves hard!
One third of his health was taken away in one go!
"Hahaha!" Getting beaten up and watching others get beaten up are two completely different experiences. The farmer rubbed his hands excitedly and looked at Nightwing expectantly: "I thought we needed to stab them a few more times, but now it seems that's completely unnecessary!"
Although Nightwing couldn't see how much health the claws had lost, the purple pants definitely knocked them to the ground. He stared at the pants spinning in the air and suddenly had an idea: "Wait, it can't be Little Pants's... uh, mother?"
Otherwise, why would the bigger one hit someone when the smaller one is thrown?
"Are you serious?" Red Hood sighed even more deeply, and his head seemed to hurt even more: "Nightwing, please, stop imagining fairy tales."
"Actually, he might not be completely wrong," Aria joined in on this ridiculous discussion for some reason, offering a well-reasoned analysis. "But it doesn't necessarily have to be a blood relationship... Perhaps the owner of the basement simply forgot it for too long, and the accumulated resentment has formed a vengeful spirit..."
"So you've been beaten by this thing too?" Red Hood's eyes cut to the point - otherwise why would Aria be so familiar with everything in the basement and know that it was abandoned.
"Ahem, let's not talk about this," Aria quickly changed the subject, trying to draw everyone's attention back to the battlefield: "They're trying to burn their pants!"
"What will happen? Will the resentment explode?" Red Hood's hand was already touching his gun.
"I don't know!" the farmer's voice rose several octaves. She looked excited, even a little proud. "But it seems that fire has no effect at all! It's simply invincible!"
Just as she said, the purple shorts completely ignored the flames. It continued to swing its trouser legs like a meat grinder, beating the claws to the ground - the entire basement became a slaughterhouse, the claws fell down one after another, and their bodies were still intact.
The plan was successful!
The farmer wanted to put her hands on her hips and laugh out loud, but she held it back. Now she looked at everything with a relieved expression.
The dark history of dying under her pants several times is nothing! This is a monument to her courage to challenge!
…
The dust settled, and the GCPD arranged a safe and proper escort for these important officials. Gordon had been coordinating various arrangements outside the scene and only showed up now. He met with Mayor Lewis and then hurried away - the big things were over, but the small things were still waiting for ordinary people like them to complete. This is how the city of Gotham has always operated.
The farmer, who had been to the police station once, felt a little guilty and went into the basement under the pretext of helping to move the body. Only Lewis and a few vigilantes were left together.
Red Hood originally thought that this incident would end in silence and was about to leave through the window - he had a bad relationship with all the previous mayors, or rather, that was the relationship between "them" and City Hall.
Among all the candidates, Red Hood's reputation was even worse - after all, he had a history of publicly attacking politicians - even though he was trying to save the other person, this extraordinary behavior undoubtedly crossed the red line for those people, and they all looked at him with fear.
Jason Todd didn't care what idiots thought. But this time, he was a little surprised when the mayor stopped him.
“Young man…” There were too many of them, and Lewis didn’t know the code name, so he could only shout: “Wait a minute, I have something to give you.”
The mayor pulled out an orange lottery ticket from somewhere. It looked like something you would find in an amusement park. “This is a tradition I brought back from my previous time in town. Anyone who contributes to Gotham will receive a lottery ticket.”
Lewis pointed to the prize redemption machine in the corner with great pride: "You can redeem your prizes there, and they're all good stuff! - Helping others can bring happiness. I hope that the citizens of Gotham will gradually feel this and make this city more humane."
Red Hood: "Oh."
Red Hood: "I don't want it."
——Things seem to have gotten out of control since the man in purple shorts started hitting people, and the new mayor seems to be a lunatic.
How could anyone be so indifferent to a lottery ticket? Shouldn't they be circling him like the farmer, trying to get more lottery tickets out of his pocket? Lewis was a little embarrassed by being rejected like this for the first time, but after all, he had been mayor for many, many years and had developed a thick skin through the farmers' nagging: "Even if I don't claim the prize, it's nice to keep it as a souvenir..."
"You all did a great job today and protected Gotham's conscience! So everyone gets one except Aria." This means there's no special treatment, so the other party should accept it, right?
Red Hood retracted the half of his leg that was out of the window and asked calmly, "Why didn't Aria?"
Lewis gritted his teeth when he mentioned this; he'd almost lost face today. Since everyone knew about this, he might as well let them indirectly criticize the farmer and stop her from embarrassing him all day. "Of course it's those pants..."
A muffled laugh escaped from under the bucket worn by the young man in front of him. He walked back to Lewis and took away the lottery ticket.
"In fact, the farmer didn't say who the shorts belonged to." Although she could roughly guess, Aria still tried to protect the mayor's pitiful reputation.
Even Red Hood's processed voice couldn't hide his smile: "...But the mayor's reward is quite interesting."
He could already imagine Aria putting on her purple shorts again and "demanding her salary" at the city hall.
…
The distribution of the remaining lottery tickets became easy. The blue boy accepted the gift with a smile. The black-haired girl squeezed out a thank you awkwardly from her throat after receiving it. The girl in purple equipment turned the lottery machine on the spot and got the flower seeds - she seemed quite satisfied with it, and took photos excitedly to share with her companions - her faceless partner left after all the important people arrived at the mayor's residence, perhaps he had other tasks to do.
Not wanting to embarrass himself further, Lewis didn't tell the story about the farmer and his pants.
So when the farmer and Nightwing were busy carrying all the claw corpses up, she became the only one working for free.
Even Batman has one!
…
Although he didn't know why Batman came, just seeing him standing there in an oppressive manner made the farmer want to escape.
The farmer's remaining sense of shame was rekindled at the thought that he might have heard some news and was asking her about the origins of the God of Purple Pants - of course, it was very likely that Mayor Lewis would hang himself before her.
But the thing Lincoln March had asked her to give hadn't been given away yet, and the brooch had indeed nailed the farmer to the spot like a needle. Bruce Wayne's whereabouts were still unknown, and although Nightwing said someone would guarantee his safety, Batman was probably the only way to contact him now...
"Aria." Batman's voice was low and straightforward, interrupting her wild thoughts directly - if there was still time and opportunity to escape just now, once the man really arrived, even the farmer who was as cunning as a loach would be obedient... it would be strange.
She decided to cheat: "Hahaha, who is Aria here? I'm clearly an AAA agricultural and sideline products distributor..." The farmer pinched the brooch in her hand. Its uneven surface was really uncomfortable. She quickly stuffed it into Batman's hand and said, "Please give it to Bruce Wayne for me! Now the time limit is completed! I have to go back to farming!"
Don't ask her where the Purple Pants God came from! For the sake of everyone's SAN value, don't ask such questions!
But Batman refused the brooch, or rather, the rough brooch rolled twice in his palm, fiddled with it a little, and then handed it back to Aria.
"If Lincoln March asks you to give it to Bruce Wayne, it's best if you give it to him in person."
This thing is quite hot. "Hmm...what if there is important information in it? Will it be too late if I give it to him?"
"There's nothing inside." He had already taken out the note embedded in the gap. The brooch only had commemorative value, but Batman didn't let the farmer lead the topic astray. He slightly turned his head to glance at the others, then his gaze returned to Aria, his tone concise.
"Let me borrow a moment of your time and talk."
Well, the farmer was completely obedient. She followed Batman dejectedly, ready to face the "Farmer's Final Judgment." As they passed Nightwing, the rather familiar vigilante seemed to enjoy the excitement, smiling and making the sign of the cross on his chest in a dramatic gesture—a moment of silence in your honor.
farmer:……
The basement was littered with the corpses of Claws. Although the mayor didn't feel anything about it, he should have just been sad and angry about his underwear being exposed to the public, but the farmer still silently lit a candle for the next mayor who would live in the super haunted house.
Batman still had the lingering smell of gunpowder on him, and it seemed that the battle he had experienced was even more intense, but this man kept silent about it from beginning to end. It was only because the two of them became closer in social distance that Aria smelled something.
"You're injured. How about a potato to replenish your energy?" the farmer said confidently, and immediately tried to help: "I have a high-quality potato in my backpack..."
"No need." Batman's black cape hung beside his calves and was slightly blown by the wind. He interrupted the farmer and took out an orange lottery ticket from his belt and handed it to her.
"This should be useful to you?" Two redemption tickets were stacked together, and it looked like there was only one, but that was enough to break Aria's heart.
The farmer felt as if he were under a petrifying spell: "...This is not mine."
Okay, Lewis, it's just that I embarrassed you in public, so why withhold your reward? She's going to City Hall tomorrow wearing purple shorts to complain!
But in front of Batman, she still tried to maintain her image - even though the farmer's eyes were wide open: "This thing is given to those who have made contributions. You are the real heroes... Just take it yourself."
The farmer sighed. "Besides, I wasn't hired by the mayor for this mission, so it's normal that he didn't give it to me."
"Come to think of it, Bruce Wayne should have one too," Aria began to mutter. "He's carrying out urban construction under great pressure. Isn't he the one who deserves the most recognition? But he probably wouldn't like the things in the prize redemption machine: the bed, the sapling, the star fruit tea... Oh, the fruit tea in the fifth position is especially delicious! The sixth one is a blue and white striped bed, but it might not suit the style of Wayne Manor, and it might not suit you either..."
In the farmer's imagination, Batman's bed was probably pure black, covered with the same black curtains as in European palaces - of course, if someone told her that Batman actually slept in a Gothic coffin during the day, Aria would also think it made sense.
Batman listened to her long rambling quietly, then suddenly said, "He does."
"Who has it?" Aria was stunned.
"Bruce Wayne." Batman's tone even carried a barely perceptible smile. "Mayor Lewis hasn't forgotten him."
The farmer's face immediately showed "I'm the only one who doesn't get a share".
"However," Batman paused, holding the orange lottery ticket between his two fingers, and handed it to Aria without question: "Wayne doesn't need this. For someone who already has everything, what he lacks is not a reward."
"Wayne believes that this thing should be given to someone more suitable."
Aria's refusal wavered. She refused the gift of the lottery ticket largely because the things in the lottery machine could also be used by these vigilantes. If it were Bruce Wayne, for this man who already owned the entire Zuzu City, such a gift would seem insignificant enough to be acceptable.
"...I don't know how to thank Mr. Wayne." The lottery ticket now lay in the farmer's palm. Even her words became lighter: "Thank you, Batman, and thank you, Mr. Wayne."
"No, that's not what I want to talk about."
The air was slightly stagnant, and when the farmer met his gaze with a hint of doubt, Batman found it as difficult to speak this time as every time.
"It's the part about Lincoln March."
He looked at the farmer as if he were a lost child. "His death was not your fault."
————————
Bat: Bruce Wayne and Batman, two redemption tickets, very reasonable
(Originally I planned to give both to the farmer)
Red Hood: I didn't want it but I took it for fun
Today is the farmer who gnashed his teeth at Lewis x
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