Starting from scratch, Batman crushed my dream of getting rich

Chapter 619 Actually, I've always wanted to be a good person
To be fair, the blunder of scattering at the sight of friendly forces couldn't be entirely blamed on the prisoners being stupid.

They've been in Gotham City for too long. The latter half of their criminal careers was overshadowed by Batman's debut. Living like this for so many years has led to an instinctive reaction of running away at the sight of Batman; fleeing at the sight of Batman is basically muscle memory.

Their rehabilitation period at Gotham City Prison was only a year, and this time was not used to overcome their psychological trauma, but rather to strengthen their bat phobia.

Whenever prisoners are disobedient and the guards can't control the situation, the kind-hearted Sir Wayne often chooses to seek help from the righteous Batman, giving the troublesome prisoners the warmest Gotham-style education and making them understand in the most convincing way what it means to be in prison and to be civilized.

In short, the people in Wayne State Prison fall into two categories: those who were educated by Batman for several years and then reformed, and those who were educated by Batman for several years, reformed, and then continued to be educated. Although they have gone from being escaped prisoners to ordinary prisoners, they have not yet fully adapted to this change in status.

Fortunately, Jack, as the bus driver who took over from Old Jack and had the longest survival time, was still mentally sharp enough.

"Idiots! Batman is on our side now!" Jack yelled in exasperation. "What are you running for?! We're with Batman, our boss, what's there to be afraid of?!"

".ah?"

"Huh? Right, we don't seem to be in the middle of a gang fight."

"Weren't we acting in self-defense?"

"We are innocent civilians now! Those bastards with guns and armor are the real villains who are causing chaos in Gotham!"

Aren't we prisoners?

"Prisoners have human rights too. We're not breaking out of prison; we're helping the citizens of Gotham City fight off thugs!"

That makes sense.

Amidst the cacophony of voices, everyone's eyes grew brighter, and their minds, in just a few dozen seconds, completed the entire process of abandoning darkness for darkness, gradually becoming more active.

"Before, I followed the boss and got beaten to a pulp by Batman. Now that Batman is our prison boss, if I still get beaten to a pulp, then I'm just wasting my time in prison."

"Is Gotham City's toughest guy finally going to start his own gang? If you had told me this earlier, I would have come to join you sooner. Why did I have to get beaten up, thrown into the hospital, and then sentenced in court?"

"What gang? Bullshit gang! Where is the gang? We are law-abiding citizens now, fighting for the people."

"You know, I've been a Batman fan for a long time, but he didn't take on any underlings before, so I had to become Falcone's subordinate."

"Actually, my childhood wish was to be a good person."

The group was talking increasingly outrageous, and it looked like they were about to create a new mob family in Gotham. But then Batman finally walked over, his disapproving gaze sweeping over the bunch of idiots who were spouting nonsense, and they immediately shut their mouths.

Don't misunderstand, this time it's not out of fear of him, but out of respect for Lao Da.

Batman had already signaled to stop talking; how could a henchman not know the rules?
Arkham Batman glanced at Batman with a strange look, then at the armed good citizens who were climbing into the bus through the windows. He couldn't help but mutter to himself—his Gotham City was full of lunatics too, but this level of madness was a bit too extreme.

Is there really nothing wrong with my other self in another universe?

With that thought in mind, he walked up to the two surviving thugs, grabbed their ankles, and pulled them out of the stuck military vehicle like he was carrying two chicks.

The two thugs wore tough expressions, seemingly unafraid of Batman. They weren't insignificant low-level henchmen, but rather squad leaders close to the upper echelons of the organization under Scarecrow. Furthermore, they knew that Batman never killed anyone, which gave them a sense of impunity.

Batman? What can he do? He's not going to pull out a gun and shoot us in the head.

As long as we keep quiet and grit our teeth, even Batman can't do anything to us!

However, just as the two had mentally prepared themselves, they discovered that Arkham Batman didn't ask any questions. He simply took two ropes from the Batmobile and secured one end to the back of the Batmobile. The other end? The other end, of course, was secured to their legs.

"Wait, what is he going to do?!"

"He wouldn't do that; he can't be Batman without killing."

However, Arkham Batman ignored them and jumped back into the driver's seat of the Batmobile. The hatch closed instantly, and the Batmobile's engine roared to life.

buzzing-

"No, no, no, no—please stop! Don't drive!"

"He wouldn't dare, he wouldn't! That car would drag us to our deaths at that speed."

Then the Batmobile sped off.

boom!
A powerful jet of flame erupted from the rear of the Batmobile, and the two thugs being dragged behind it immediately began to rub against the ground. After two seconds of high-speed travel, their mercenary uniforms were torn to shreds.

Although the baton hadn't yet rubbed against their backs, the strong headwind, carrying the astonishing heat of its high-temperature exhaust, was blasting towards their faces. The feeling of being dragged along at breakneck speed further intensified their fear. For a moment, the two couldn't be sure whether they would be dragged through the streets by the baton, their flesh and blood being ground into skeletons, or whether they would be roasted into charcoal by the baton's exhaust.

But in any case, one thing is certain now: they really don't want to die.

"Ask away! Go ahead and ask! How can I answer if you don't ask me?"

"Batman! We surrender! We'll tell you everything!"

The two screams pierced the night, their words even identical, their near-perfect synchronization demonstrating the shared, powerful human instinct to survive no matter what.

The Batmobile then turned a corner on the road and gradually came to a stop.

Batman from Arkham jumped out of the car, his tall, dark body completely blocking out the thin moonlight, casting a shadow of terror on the two thugs on the ground.

Where is the scarecrow?

"He's in Chinatown! Outside some attic in Chinatown. That's all I know, I swear!"

The other man, trembling, pulled a syringe from his pocket—filled with a strange reddish-brown liquid.

"This was given to us by the scarecrow. He said if we run into you, we should use this against you. Please, we've told you everything we can; we really don't know anything else."

"very good."

Click!

"what!!!"

The two men's hands were mercilessly broken. Batman Arkham threw them to the side of the road and casually sent a message to Gordon, asking him to send people to clean up the mess.

He then looked at the bus next to him, and the lunatics on it seemed to fall silent for a moment—exactly the effect he wanted to achieve.

If it weren't for the need to slightly intimidate those Gotham people from another world with their somewhat erratic brain circuits, he wouldn't have needed to go to such lengths; breaking a few bones would have been enough to get the information out of them.

(End of this chapter)