Justice or Revenge

Chapter 19 Justice or Revenge

A few minutes later, Batman was lying on a table in the back kitchen of the coffee shop, barely alive.

Kara peeked into the room from behind the door. Shen You removed his bat helmet, revealing the handsome but bruised and battered face of Gotham's son, Bruce Wayne.

"Is he dead?" Kara asked softly.

"Not yet, but it should be soon if we leave it alone."

Shen You took out a first-aid kit, removed two bullets from his body, and performed some bandaging.

The old wizard leaned over for a look and seemed to have a good first impression of this rich second-generation with a cross-dressing fetish, and even gave him a healing spell.

The old wizard was too weak to cast any powerful spells, but he could still easily perform a simple healing spell. He cast the spell and it worked instantly; Bruce's deathly pale face quickly regained color, and he soon woke up.

The young Batman opened his eyes groggily.

The first thing I noticed was the bright lights and the unfamiliar ceiling.

The second thing I noticed was an old man with a big beard and a somewhat handsome Asian man standing around, in a position that seemed to say, "You're awake, the surgery was a success."

He was suddenly thrown up, almost tearing his freshly bandaged wound apart.

"Calm down, we picked you out of a trash can in the back alley; you almost died."

Bruce remained silent, seemingly beginning to recall what had happened that evening. Seeing the bandages on his body and the first-aid kit beside him, he quickly realized what had transpired.

He snorted coldly, ignoring the groans of his body, and stubbornly tried to get off the table. But clearly, his body hadn't recovered yet, and he swayed and almost fell over.

Shen You reached out and supported him: "This is not a good idea."

"I don't need help," Bruce said coldly.

Shen You shrugged: "Okay."

Then, suddenly, he withdrew his hand as instructed.

puff.

Bruce fell to the ground.

The haughty old bat remained silent, struggling to his feet while holding onto the edge of the table. Shen You gestured to the television nearby: "Didn't your date with the GCPD go well tonight?"

He turned his head and saw the television news broadcasting the GCPD's operation to raid Batman that night. A portly police officer said on camera that they were certain Batman was injured and hoped that any citizens who had sighted him would report it to the police.

Bruce frowned, somewhat unconvinced by the pot-bellied officer's boasting: "They can't hurt me on their own. Someone leaked my whereabouts to them, predicted my actions, and even planted a bomb in the Batmobile."

A new face, calling himself the "Riddler."

Shen You understood. It turned out the Riddler was using someone else to do his dirty work, employing the Gotham police as his weapon to get rid of Batman.

Tonight was probably the first time this inexperienced gentleman had dealt with members of his future Arkham fan club, lacking the extensive experience he would later have of mingling with mentally ill people. It was inevitable that he would suffer a setback the first time.

But his proud and defiant nature never changed. Watching the chubby police officer on TV smugly telling the camera how Batman was utterly defeated by them tonight, Bruce snorted.

"It was my carelessness, but it won't happen again."

"What are your plans for next time? Build an armor set with 100,000 horsepower, plus a thruster that allows for faster-than-light travel?" Shen You asked. "Of course, you can definitely do it; it's just a matter of time. But do you think that's what you want? Is that the Batman you envision, your ideal image?"

Bruce remained silent.

For what seemed to be the first time, Bruce looked directly at Shen You, meeting his gaze as if trying to pierce through his eyes with the sharp eyes of the world's greatest detective and see through his thoughts.

"What do you want to say?" Bruce asked curtly.

"It's nothing. I haven't been in this city for very long, but I've seen this place and its people. I've seen them struggle for a living, desperately seeking hope in the darkness."

Your presence has indeed brought about some changes. Rumors have begun to spread, people have started talking about Batman, and they've begun to believe that even in a place like Gotham, there is still hope for the future.

But is this what you want?

Or to be more precise, what does Batman mean to you? Is he the justice you seek? Or a tool for revenge?

Bruce stared at him blankly for a moment.

He then straightened his body, which had recovered, and picked up the helmet and cloak.

"That's none of your business."

Batman, donning his new suit and mask, stumbled away.

He was somewhat agitated. Not only because of Batman's defeat tonight, nor entirely because of Shen You's words—if someone had said that normally, he certainly wouldn't have listened.

Coincidentally, earlier today, before he left the nest, he had a similar argument with his butler, Alfred, in the Bat Cave.

"."

"You can't go on like this."

Alfred urged, "You're trying to shoulder a responsibility that no flesh and blood could possibly bear. Anyone would be crushed by it, sooner or later. At the very least, you can't do this alone; it won't help at all."

"I have your help, Alfred."

Bruce was fastening his multi-purpose belt as he spoke; it was a new piece of equipment he'd just received from the technical department this week.

"All I need is your advice."

"That's the problem, sir. You don't trust anyone, and I think that includes me as well," Alfred said calmly.

"I've shown you what I'm doing, and I've left you sitting in this damned bat cave," Bruce said coldly, pulling on his cloak. "You still think I haven't given you enough trust?"

Alfred shook his head.

"No, this isn't trust, it's punishment, or at least it's your way of expressing anger. I've watched you grow up since you were little, and I always know what you're thinking."

Just as you know that not all JCs in the GCPD are corrupt to the core, at least you know that Gordon is an absolute good guy.

Even so, you never considered seeking his help.

Bruce stopped what he was doing and looked at him expressionlessly.

Alfred continued, "You were just a little boy then, all alone in that alley, watching their bodies grow colder and colder."

Nobody came. Nobody helped. Not me, not Gordon, not a single Gotham citizen. Not even Batman.

So you're going to punish us this way, making us stand by and watch?

Why am I in the Batcave, sir? I think it's because you want me here, to watch you do what I, Gordon, and everyone else can't. You've excluded us all, making us watch as you do what we can't, as punishment for taking revenge on those who hurt you.

But if you insist on doing this, young master, Batman will only become a shadow of your past, an infinitely magnified version of the lingering shadow in your heart. Sooner or later, he will become a demon, not a creation of justice or hope.

He'll fall soon, and so will you.

Bruce and he stared at each other for a long time without saying a word.

Then, in silence, he put on the helmet and activated the Batmobile.

"I have to go, Alfred," he said coldly through a voice altered by a voice changer. "Don't wait for me."

"."

Alfred's words still echoed in my ears.

What exactly is Batman?

He slipped away into a deserted alley, leaned against the wall and caught his breath for a moment, then took the grappling hook and rope from his belt, gathering his strength to throw the grappling hook onto the roof.

At the same time, I made up my mind that when I went back, I must go to the company's technical department to design a new piece of equipment that can replace the hook rope.

He leaned against the wall for a few seconds to recover before being drawn to a noise from the opposite street before he could throw out his grappling hook.

Two older children were pinning a teenager against the wall, forcing him to hand over the pocket money in his backpack.

Batman's first instinct was to step in and stop it.

But a few seconds later, he realized that it wasn't necessary.

The boy suddenly ducked and swept his leg, knocking one of the boys down. Then, a beautiful right hook sent the second, bigger boy sprawling to the ground.

The two young robbers ran away in a panic. The boy behind them gave them the middle finger.

"Boss Shen taught me, you idiots," he said smugly.

Batman remained silent and retreated into the darkness.

The question that young man had asked me echoed in my mind again.

Justice, or revenge?

Or rather, what kind of Batman does this city need?

He threw out his grappling hook and climbed onto the roof.

They disappeared into the vast darkness of Gotham.

(End of this chapter)