Quinzel walked up behind Duke and said, "Boss, what are you looking at?"
"I'm thinking about one thing. Batman couldn't resist the invasion of the Joker's personality, and the Joker couldn't resist his personality either. Isn't this very strange? Logically, one person should lose!"
"You mean, someone lied?"
"Who knows?"
…
Wayne Manor!
Butler Alfred pushed the dining cart into the bedroom. He was in a good mood today. Master Wayne, who had been in a coma for two days, finally woke up. Although it was a bit strange to ask for a strawberry sundae right after getting up, he readily agreed because taking sugar was good for the body.
"Master, I think you should take a look at these. They contain your current physical data." Alfred hurried over, holding a stack of documents in his hands, his words full of disbelief.
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"You're right, we'd better start now." Alfred cried out that his master acted like a playboy during the day and a bat at night, and finally he became schizophrenic.
Wayne's expression remained unchanged, and no one knew what he was thinking. He turned and walked to the wall of the cave and punched it hard. The strong fist burst out with a roar, and the hard stone wall was penetrated like tofu, and half of his arm was buried deep in it.
"Assholes, who gave you the guts to kidnap me? Do you know who I am?" The black man looked at the disgusting toilet next to him and almost vomited. He stood up and walked towards the dark toilet door. However, he heard the sound of iron chains colliding before he took two steps. He fell to the ground with a thud.
"Master, I think you need to have a physical examination." Alfred felt frightened when he thought of the clown's methods.
"I'm fine, really!" Wayne let out a long breath, and the determination in his eyes became even stronger.
Wayne looked at the document in front of him, raised his hand and put it down three times before he took the document and started reading it. Even he, who was always calm, couldn't help but smack his lips.
An abandoned factory warehouse with its door welded shut and its windows sealed with iron sheets, like a prison isolated from the outside world.
"I mean... I'm hungry, Ah Fu, make me something to eat!"
"Uh, what did you say?" Alfred was confused. Wayne was also confused. What was going on with this line? Why did he say it so skillfully?
In a dimly lit room measuring ten meters square, six men with fierce looks and various tattoos woke up from their comas one by one. Some of them had black skin, some had white skin, some were tall, and some were thin, but they all had one thing in common: their photos were hung in the Gotham Police Department, and a large reward was offered for their capture.
"Chocolate sundae, strawberry-flavored milk, anything sweet will do, I feel like I'll get really anxious if I don't take in sugar... Ah Fu, why are you looking at me like that?"
This is not the reaction a normal person should have! …
Wayne nodded and decided to go south tonight.
Who am I, where am I, and what happened? "Afu, you're here, just in time to give me the sundae." Wayne silently put down his hands that were picking his feet and returned to his usual rigorous style.
That's possible!
In the luxuriously decorated bedroom, Wayne lay on the bed, staring at the ceiling in deep thought. When he came to his senses, he found that his little finger had been inserted into his nostril at some point.
The big black man looked down and saw that his ankles were tied with shackles. The iron chain was wrapped around the thick sewer pipe behind the toilet, locking him there.
"What would you like to eat?"
Prank? No, no one has the guts to do that! Kidnapping? Imprisonment? A rebellion?
After a burst of crackling sound of electricity, an old TV on the wall opposite the six people suddenly lit up, and the black and white picture was flickering with snow.
"Of course! Theoretically, you have evolved!"
"How's Gotham these days? I mean, the Joker. Is there any news about him these days?"
"To be honest, I've never been better, so don't worry," Wayne replied, which would have been more convincing if he hadn't been digging into the sundae with a big spoon.
Bat Cave! Wayne stood in the middle of a pile of sandbags without blushing or panting. Iron sand flowed out of the tattered sandbags. Wayne picked up a grain of iron sand and rubbed it lightly with his thumb and index finger, and the iron sand turned into plasticine.
…
Since that night, when the Joker sent the unconscious Wayne home, Alfred couldn't eat or sleep well because his master was not wearing any clothes at the time. Fortunately, Wayne has woken up now and looks good, so he is a little relieved.
"Master, are you all right?"
"It doesn't matter. I've decided to eat what I like and live a short life."
"You say!"
"But you seem to be worried...would you like me to give you some psychological counseling?"
The weird scene made the six people's scalps tingle, and then they saw an even more terrifying figure appear.
Crash! Wayne pulled his arm out and watched the skin that was cut by the sharp gravel heal automatically in a few seconds without even a scar. He was shocked. He remembered what Duke had said to him at that time. There were not many enemies that he could make a special battle plan for. He didn't think about it carefully at that time, but now he understands the deep meaning of this sentence.
Wayne didn't say anything when he heard this. He looked up at the various equipment around the Batcave: the Batsuit, the Batmobile, the grappling gun, the cable launcher, these props that were once the most trustworthy, now looked so pale and powerless.
Wayne knew that some data could not be measured by machines, just like his senses and mind, his thoughts were extremely clear, so clear that he could recite pi by heart. He also had the ability to recover and endurance, and his whole body was constantly surging with strength, and he felt that he was still alive and kicking even if he didn't eat or drink for ten days.
"That's exactly what I was thinking." Wayne stopped taking sugar and was in a coma for two days, but he didn't feel any discomfort. Instead, he felt a burst of energy.
The closed room had a flickering dark yellow light bulb on the ceiling, black toilets were separated by blocks, and a dirty mirror was broken into half. It was obvious that this was an old bathroom, with disgusting stains on the floor and walls, very dirty and smelly.
"Of course..." Wayne said as a matter of course. His face suddenly changed as soon as he finished speaking. He shook his head and said in a deep voice: "Afu, I need psychological counseling, no, psychological treatment!"
"Master, eating too much sweets is bad for your health!" Alfred's eyes twitched.
At this time, in the southern part of Gotham, there are always one or two urban stains in the steel jungle with tall buildings. Dark and smelly ditches, low and dilapidated bungalows, and chaotic slums are not only dirty and messy on the surface, but also full of ugliness in secret.
"Master, are you okay?" Alfred asked with concern.
"Master, are you serious?"
In the toilet, the other five people did the same, each holding a toilet with a chain. The six people looked at each other, although they were all daring villains, this was the first time they had seen such a situation.
"Damn, where is this?" The black man just woke up and was choked by the musty smell in the room.
"It doesn't matter. Men and dogs will change a lot after not seeing each other for a few days or three!" Wayne replied subconsciously.
Strength, agility, sensitivity, and physique have been greatly improved on the original basis, surpassing the limits of humans and reaching the realm of inhumanity. The data of bench press, short sprint, etc., all broke the world record by a large margin. Even some non-human heroes and villains can't do this.
So, when Alfred pushed the door open, he saw this scene: his master first picked his feet, then tickled his nostrils with the hand that picked his feet, and then... he picked his feet again!
Wayne put down the documents and solemnly asked his most trusted butler: "Afu, am I still a human being?"
To put it bluntly, now he can beat a hundred of his former selves as easily as playing a game.
"Oh, there's one more thing."
Alfred: “…”
"This is not the Joker's style. What the hell did he put into my mind..." Wayne was speaking when he felt a little itchy on the soles of his feet and couldn't help but tickle them.
Gotham's nightmare - the Joker! The Joker sat on the screen in a suit, with his hair neatly combed back and sprayed with hairspray.
Well, quite energetic!
"Welcome to the Joker's game, you scumbags! You need redemption!"
Thanks to the book friends: Elegant Cabbage, Unaware of a Thousand Years, Unaware of a Dream, Collecting Beautiful Girls Aged 16 to 25, Book Mountain Pressure Big Noon Nap, Lonely Soul 1994, 08a, Pseudo-Harsh Pseudo-Otaku for their rewards!
(End of this chapter)