Starting from scratch, Batman crushed my dream of getting rich

Chapter 389: After a hard night's work, Snart reaped all the rewards; I'm so upset.
"Old Ma? Why didn't you go back?"

“Go back? Go back where?” Ma Zhaodi rolled her eyes. “If I leave, it’s uncertain whether you’ll be able to get back to the lab today, or even how you’ll get back.”

"Maybe I can take a taxi back."

He's still in the mood to joke, so it's clear that Barry is probably alright—of course, he might not be able to laugh anymore after he gets back and has his check-up.

"How is he?" Barry looked at Gibran, who was lying motionless on the ground, and sighed subconsciously. "With all that bleeding, if I could still run, I could at least get him to the hospital in time—"

"He's just asleep."

"But his nose and mouth were full of blood, so much of it, he might have a concussion."

"He's just asleep."

"But you just sped down the street in a semi-trailer truck, blinded us both with your headlights, and then sent Gibran flying several meters. I even heard several cracking sounds of bones breaking. He must be—wait, wait, why does this scene feel so familiar?"

“No, he was just asleep.” Ma Zhaodi calmly refuted Barry’s guess. “And of course you’ll find this scene familiar. My idea for driving a big truck came from the Clyde case you told me about. To be honest, I’m tired of hearing about it.”

“I see.” Barry nodded in sudden understanding. “But based on my experience in that case, it’s practically impossible for an ordinary person to survive being hit by a truck like that—”

Snoring, snoring.
At this moment, Gibran's snoring interrupted Barry's words; he sounded like he was fast asleep.

“I already told you, he was just asleep.” Seeing Barry's shocked expression, Ma Zhaodi remained calm, even adding a touch of wistfulness in his voice: “Youth is wonderful; he can fall asleep the moment his head hits the pillow.”

“No way,” Barry couldn’t help but complain, “He was just hit by a semi-trailer truck, how could he actually fall asleep in that situation? Doesn’t he have any sense of danger?”

"What are you babbling about?" Ma Zhaodi waved his hand. "Hurry up and help move him. The whole city is without power. Luckily, the car can start. We need to move him into the alley quickly and wait for Cisco to pick us up. Otherwise, when the power is restored, the substation workers will definitely call the police, and we'll be in big trouble if someone sees us."

"No, no, no, I don't think it's possible to hide such a large semi-trailer truck embedded in the outer wall."

"No need to trouble yourself, you two." A voice sounded behind them: "Just leave him to me. It must be inconvenient for you to carry a bleeding person in the middle of the night."

"Who?!"

Barry turned around in surprise and saw a figure in a trench coat standing behind the two of them, holding an ice-blue gun with the muzzle pointed at them.

"Snat, what are you doing here?"

“Is it strange that I’m here? Kahlil Gibran was one of the team members I was planning to recruit, so naturally I have to keep an eye on his situation.”

"You're also keeping an eye out for the super-powered criminals who have been appearing lately?"

Snart didn't answer Barry's question, but simply said, "No need for nonsense. You two should step back a few steps. You've already caused enough commotion tonight. I don't want to freeze you myself. How about we cooperate a bit and save face for everyone?"

"When did you come?"

“Me? I arrived about ten minutes ago after the substation alarm was triggered. I guess I was lucky; you didn't manage to resolve the issue within ten minutes today.” Snart suddenly chuckled. “Don't look so angry. How about I tell you some good news? If Gibran had tried to kill you, I would have shot him with the freeze gun. So, strictly speaking, you're not in any danger.”

"What?!" Barry stared at him in disbelief. "Why... why do you call this good news? Gibran almost died!"

“The Flash is a hero of Central City, and heroes and their companions don’t kill. I trust your professionalism,” Snart calmly replied. “As for why I do this, you know why. My team follows a principle: avoid killing unless absolutely necessary—of course, that principle has now become ‘never kill unless absolutely necessary.’”

“I sympathize with Gibran’s plight. He was young, wasn’t he? He had such a bright future ahead of him, yet he electrocuted two of his friends. I completely understand his desire for justice, but I don’t like that he became a real murderer because of his emotional outburst. As you know, there are two things I hate most—losing control, and murder.”

"Now, could you please step back a few steps?"

After hearing his answer, Barry remained silent for a moment. He looked at the muzzle of the freeze gun and could only slowly retreat a few steps with Ma Zhaodi.

“Snat, you’re a man of principle. Don’t keep making this mistake.”

"Wrong, Flash. I'm just a bad guy with principles, but thank you for your cooperation anyway."

Seeing that the two had made way, Snart waved his hand behind him: "Mick, put him in the car."

“Snat, I hate doing this kind of chores.”

Both Ma Zhaodi and Barry turned their attention to a car parked quietly on the side of the street. The car windows were covered with reflective film, making it inconspicuous. A bald, burly man got out of the car. He looked fierce and had a thuggish air about him. Compared to Snart, he was more like the kind of ruthless bandit people would imagine.

"Don't make me do this again next time."

“Next time, Gibran can do this for you.” Snart watched as he hoisted Gibran off the two men, then, gun in hand, he and the burly man retreated back to the car.

Have a nice evening.

Snart said goodbye to the two men, then turned and got into his car.

"Oh, right, there's one more thing—I hope you can get back to your speed when we start snatching the paintings in a couple of days, otherwise, this whole thing will become quite boring."

The car didn't linger and drove off the street.

But Barry felt a chill in his heart. Snart had indeed noticed that he had lost his speed. If he couldn't recover, would he have to fight with his bare hands?

"Don't think too much about it." Ma Zhaodi patted him on the shoulder: "Think positively, at least Gibran won't be involved in the crime."

"why?"

"He drank a mouthful of the 'Thousand-Day Intoxication,' and theoretically, he probably won't wake up from his bed until the year after next."

(End of this chapter)