Starting from scratch, Batman crushed my dream of getting rich

Chapter 391 Getting anxious, getting anxious
Ma Zhaodi sighed: "There's an 80% chance that someone's mentality will collapse right now. This person is in a hurry, and we have to be wary of him resorting to desperate measures."

"Let's go, let's finish dealing with Gibran's smuggling first."

So the three-wheeled vehicle, carrying Ma Zhaodi and Daimao, sped off again toward Snart.

In that secret room of the Star Labs, Wells's mentality did indeed begin to crumble.

“Gideon, let me see the future.”

"receive."

The AI ​​Gideon responded to his request in a calm and precise voice, and projected a newspaper in front of him.

"Today's Headline: An announcement for senders—The United States Postal Service will be permanently closing."

The date above is still April 25, 2024, but the news of "The Flash's disappearance" that appeared on the headlines has vanished without a trace. This incident was a complete shock to Reverse-Flash.

Where's my nemesis (bean)? Where did you put my nemesis (bean)?!
Although he had anticipated this, Wells was still feeling dizzy and his blood was rushing to his head. He reached out and grabbed the table for support, took a deep breath, and the tightness in his chest eased a little.

Suppressing his anger, he thought for a moment and then gave the order again: "Conduct a full search, Gideon. List all the news articles related to the words 'The Flash'."

Gideon completed the search in a second: "No news information about 'The Flash'."

"Search again."

"Research complete, number of data entries is zero."

“Find information about Barry Allen and make a list for me.”

There is no news material about Barry Allen.

"Look it again! I told you to look it again!"

Wells couldn't help but roar. To him, nothing in the world was more important than Barry's speed. He could not accept that Barry would lose his speed and become an unknown ordinary person. He could not accept that the Flash would disappear from the world.

Barry Allen cannot do without the Speed ​​Force until he completes his plan.

"I'm sorry, Dr. Wells, I've already made 3452 queries."

Gideon's voice remained completely flat: "The database contains no information related to these two words."

Not a single one.

Wells' expression finally couldn't be contained and turned a striking red.

"I'm going to kill that bastard Gibran!"

But after a moment, he calmed down. Unlike Barry, who acted on instinct, Professor Wells was quite clear-headed. He was a typical adult. He might get carried away by emotions at times, but he would always weigh the pros and cons before doing anything. It had become his instinct.

"Are we really going to make a move? Although, in theory, he can no longer pose a threat to Barry, as Ma Zhaodi's party has rendered him unconscious until the year after next, as long as he is alive, he will be a threat to Barry sooner or later, and to my plans as well."

“Barry’s Speed ​​Force still has a chance to recover, and the effects of Gibran’s training on him have been almost fully realized.”

“My plan may not be guaranteed to be completed by the year after next—good, in that sense, Gibran is of little value, but still very dangerous.” “He must die.”

Half a minute later, a scarlet bolt of lightning shot out of the laboratory again.

"I thought I had seen everything in my life."

Inside Snart's safe house, Mick Rory was marveling at Kahlil Gibran sitting on the sofa.

"But this is the first time I've ever seen a guy who sleeps like he's dead—Snat, are you sure you didn't bump his head or anything else while you were driving?"

At this moment, Snart, standing to the side, didn't even glance at Gibran, but simply fiddled with the freeze gun in his hand, appearing quite calm—though his tone of voice was somewhat cold.

"There's no need to watch anymore, we've been tricked."

With a click, the safety on the freeze gun was released.

"Ma Zhaodi underestimated him. He thought he could easily gain a powerful gang member, but he turned out to be a burden. This guy's methods are truly amazing. Next time we meet, I must have a good talk with him."

"What should we do with this guy? Throw him out on the street? Or burn him somewhere?"

"No, let's find a hospital and have them keep Mr. Gibran alive."

Snart replied, “A hero’s companions don’t kill. If they can keep Gibran in a deep sleep, they must also have a way to bring him back to his senses. We will gain nothing by abandoning Gibran now.”

“He’s meaningless to us now, but he’s meaningful to The Flash. So, we’ll settle for second best and use him as a bargaining chip.”

“That’s easy for you to say.” Mick, looking impatient, grabbed a red gun from the table. It didn’t look like any conventional firearm; instead, it resembled Snart’s custom-made freeze gun.

He suddenly pointed the gun directly at Kahlil Gibran on the sofa: "Putting him in the hospital will cost who knows how much money it will cost. Doesn't that money come from our profits? More mouths to feed, fewer hands to work. He's spending my share of the money. If you ask me, we might as well just burn him!"

At the same time, Snart also aimed the freeze gun at Mick.

“We’ve got an agreement, Mick,” he said coldly. “Follow my instructions, and we can dominate Central City together. Now, put down that gun. I don’t want you to burn down a safe house with one shot, or a bargaining chip of some value—and his medical bills are on my tab, not yours.”

Upon hearing this, Mick's face immediately showed a satisfied expression. He put down the gun in his hand, spread his hands, and indicated his compromise: "Alright, in that case, I'll listen to you this time."

Snart then lowered his gun: "Don't worry too much, Mick. We have many options. Gibran is just one of them—tomorrow, I'll introduce you to Mr. Roy G. Beaver. You'll probably be very interested in his abilities."

The two reached an agreement. Snatt began contacting the hospital, while Mick ran to the small stove nearby and stared intently at the flickering flames, looking as if he were in a daze.

Neither of them noticed that at that moment, a black-robed, masked figure was standing quietly in the corner of the safe house. The dim light provided excellent cover, and their conversation could be heard clearly.

“Good, I knew there was another expert.” Ghost Face took out his notebook and began to recall their conversation: “Roy G. Beverly. When we get back, have Barry and the others help us find out who it is.”

After finishing taking notes, he put away his notebook and quietly went to the sofa.

"It's time to get down to business."

(End of this chapter)