I, the younger brother of Superman, ended up with a Thanos template.

A piercing scream instantly rang out inside the bank. Before the terrified people could scatter like birds and beasts, a gunshot rang out, blowing the head off the bank manager, whose expression had frozen.

"Following the old ways is not bad for people."

The body fell, and the man smiled elegantly, his index finger touching his lips. The words he uttered were like a winter wind blowing through the hall, sending chills down everyone's spines.

"For example, you should all lie on the ground right now, like rats on the church rafters, without making a sound, or we'll use you to decorate the walls!"

Robbing a national bank during the day—a daring crime.

Less than an hour from Gotham, we'll be getting to experience Gotham's unique specialties again.

David glanced at it.

Is this city so eager to awaken our memories of it?

They were all wearing red hoods, black suits, and even red roses pinned to their chests. They looked so dignified and elegant that they seemed to be attending a banquet rather than robbing a bank.

How classy! But then again, Gotham has no shortage of classy criminals.

"Oh, there's another kid over here who hasn't done it. Does he not understand what I'm saying?"

The people in the hall trembled and lay down, but one person remained standing there, his face calm and even a little curious as he scanned the scene, seemingly oblivious to the fact that this was a bank robbery in which people could die at any moment, making him quite conspicuous.

Upon seeing David, the bandit leader smiled and waved, as if sending a waiter to bring him a glass of champagne at a banquet.

"Red Hood No. 5, give this disobedient gentleman a lesson he'll never forget."

One of the robbers behind him stepped out, ran up to David with a fierce demeanor, and deftly pointed a gun at his head, his deep, menacing voice frightening.

"Kneel down! I told you to kneel down!"

As he spoke, he kicked him hard in the back of the knee, but it was like kicking a steel pillar, and the knee didn't budge!

A dull ache shot through his foot. Beneath the Red Hood No. 5 hood, he frowned, a flicker of surprise crossing his eyes.

"I had heard that the people of Gotham were living in hardship."

Raising an eyebrow, David chuckled as he looked at the unremarkable Red Hood No. 5 before him.

"But who would have thought—that Bruce Wayne, the owner of Wayne Corporation, would stoop so low as to rob a bank?"

The update is a bit late; I wrote an extra 1800 words in both chapters combined. Please continue reading! (ω)

Chapter 51. Let's see who you are.

[Bruce Wayne's tension +33, + astonishment 41...]

After David finished speaking, the hall fell silent.

"Bruce Wayne?"

The people in the bank lobby, who were lying face down with their heads in their hands, looked at each other with confusion and bewilderment.

People in Gotham may not know who the mayor is or what his name is, but they certainly don't know Bruce Wayne. From the moment Gotham citizens are born until they die, the Wayne Group's influence is felt in every aspect of their lives, from food and clothing to housing and transportation.

Bruce Wayne is the heir to the incredibly wealthy Wayne Enterprises.

But Bruce Wayne has been missing for several years, how could he possibly be here, and robbing a bank?

"There's a gang of thugs in Gotham called the Red Hood Gang, led by someone named Red Hood. They're not particularly powerful or well-known."

David was also somewhat surprised.

Compared to well-known villains like Bane, the Joker, and Scarecrow, Red Hood is just an unknown minor character.

But the Joker's origin story in many worlds is that of a former Red Hood who fell into a pool of chemicals while trying to escape Batman's pursuit, which is how he became the pale-skinned, green-haired Joker.

"I originally wanted to use emotional triggers to see if this red-hooded guy was the Joker."

Red Hood Number Five stared at him in shock, a playful smile playing on his lips as he looked him up and down.

"Unexpectedly, instead of seeing the Joker, I saw Batman."

As Red Hood Number Five, tasked with disciplining this disobedient hostage, approached him, an emotional alert from Bruce Wayne was triggered.

"Shut your mouth. If I were some nobody whose corpse is rotting somewhere, would I be standing here?"

"Red Hood No. 5" roared angrily, raising his rifle butt to smash it into David's forehead.

"Wait a moment!"

The Red Hood leader suddenly raised his gun and aimed at Number Five.

"Boss? I don't understand. You said you'd teach him a lesson, and I'm doing it now."

With a gun pointed at him, "Red Hood No. 5" hurriedly raised his hands, his tone bewildered.

"Could it be... that you believed this kid's nonsense?"

The remaining Red Hood henchmen then pointed at Number Five, their dark gun barrels aimed at Number Five and David behind him.

"I don't know if you are Bruce Wayne."

But you're definitely not number five.

Red Hood shook his head regretfully.

"Number Five is the craziest among us; he would never use his gun if he could just fire it."

You talk too much!

The expression under the "Red Hood No. 5" mask changed.

He originally intended to kick the seemingly fearless young man to the ground, then knock him unconscious with the butt of his rifle, and that would be the end of it.

However, his failure to fire immediately drew the other party's attention.

"And... Number Five is left-handed." The red-hooded leader curled his lips into a contemptuous sneer.

Red Hood No. 5 glanced at his right hand holding the gun, a look of embarrassment flashing in his eyes. He had made more than one mistake.

David confirmed that the red-hooded henchman in front of him was indeed Batman Bruce Wayne, but he was probably a Batman who had just returned to Gotham to fight crime not long ago.

"The current Bruce Wayne is like a newcomer, not the mature, cool Batman who will later give people the feeling that he will never make a mistake."

Where are the bank's security personnel?

Ignoring the seven or eight submachine guns pointed in their direction, David looked around.

At the entrance to the security room, a figure lay on the ground, his lips purple and foaming at the mouth, with another person on top of him, looking exactly the same.

It turns out that the poisoning had been administered beforehand.

"Now, take off your hood..."

Despite robbing a bank and the police potentially arriving at any moment, the Red Hood leader showed no sign of urgency, instead pointing his gun at the ground with interest.

"Let's see who you are. Are you some orphan from the infamous Wayne family, or some officer who thinks he can take us down by himself?"

"If it really is Bruce Wayne, then we won't have to worry about the next life."

The henchmen with guns burst into laughter.

“We’re not that idiot Joe Cher, who killed Gotham’s richest couple for a pearl necklace.”

The piercing sound echoed in the hall, and David saw Red Hood Five raise his hand, the veins on the back of his hand bulging.

Joe Cher, a cowardly street thug despised by the mob, became infamous after killing the Wayne couple, a tragedy that no one in Gotham knew about.

Under the threat of gunfire, "Red Hood No. 5" had no choice but to stiffly remove the hood from his face, revealing a middle-aged face with a thick black beard, and an angry expression as if he had been misunderstood.

Number Five?

In the instant that the Red Hood henchmen were stunned, Red Hood Number Five flicked his wrist, and a miniature remote control shot out from his sleeve. With lightning speed, he pressed it down.

Bang!

The bank's heavy, sturdy glass doors were shattered by the explosion.

The shockwave from the explosion swept through the hall, sending shards of glass flying and knocking the group of red-hooded figures to the ground.

Almost simultaneously, a smoke grenade was thrown on the ground.

Red Hood Five turned around and tackled David, who was standing, and jumped into the bank counter with him to avoid the gunfire that followed.

But Bruce, who had turned and charged out like a beast, felt as if his shoulder had hit a bronze statue weighing hundreds of pounds. He groaned and looked up in surprise.

He had considered that the young man might have practiced martial arts, but no matter how skilled he was in martial arts, he couldn't change his own body weight. Under a surprise attack, how could someone who was proficient in more than a hundred styles of martial arts not be able to bump into him at all?

David, who didn't feel he needed to hide, glanced at the astonished middle-aged man's face and the wrinkle on his neck, smiled slightly, and casually tossed Batman behind the solid wood counter.

The Batman who was just starting out was still a bit green in planning, but he had long had the habit of always having a backup plan.

"Shoot! Kill him!"

Seven or eight submachine guns fired simultaneously, bullets roaring from the barrels, the torrent of metal easily piercing through the heavy counter, and Bruce Wayne clutched his head and lay on the ground.

One after another, the bright yellow bullets struck David's body, immediately losing all kinetic energy and falling crisply to the ground.

"Ceasefire!"

Hundreds of bullets were fired, and the red-hooded leader let out a low shout.

In the swirling smoke, a slender figure with indistinct outlines stood motionless.