What's wrong with Superman's brother wanting to be Homelander?

Chapter 94 Bats should stay in bat caves

224 Park Avenue, Gotham City.

The northern suburban highlands area.

It's about a half-hour drive from the city center.

Under the cover of night, the ancient, somber, and shadowy Wayne Manor sits here.

And directly below Wayne Manor.

It is the bat cave complex that Bruce has always regarded as a nightmare.

However, after Bruce forcefully overcame his inner demons, he simply transformed this place into a bat base.

The heavy iron gate slid open with a crash under the force of the thick chains, blocking the view of the underground waterfall above.

Immediately afterwards, with an almost roaring engine, the Batmobile sped into the Batcave.

It was parked in the innermost open area.

Because Bruce had only just begun using this place as his base, he hadn't had time to carry out large-scale renovations yet, so the entire cave had a distinctly war-torn feel.

The ground was covered with all sorts of parts and tools.

Stepping out of the Batmobile, Bruce casually removed the simple black cloth covering his head and staggered toward the central control area.

Five controllers have been temporarily installed there, forming a giant LCD screen that displays the locations of Gotham's gang strongholds and main road surveillance points.

However, the entire system is currently only a cobbled-together semi-finished product and is far from being a mature Bat computer.

At the cave bar, Alfred was slowly sipping a cup of black coffee to stay awake.

After all, this was Bruce's first time going out on night patrol.

Butler Xia is definitely not going to sleep.

Coffee is an essential part of his 24-hour duty schedule.

When Alfred saw Bruce, who was bruised and battered and looked disheveled, walking over, he was taken aback.

Ah Fu looked surprised for a moment, then quickly put down his coffee cup, rushed forward, and helped Bruce up, asking with a worried expression, "Young Master, how did you get hurt like this? Who beat you up like this?"

Bruce shook his head, said nothing, and plopped down on the sofa that had been temporarily moved in.

He let out a long breath, his face showing some bitterness.

This was his first major setback since returning from the parade.

Although the cost was far less severe than that of Napoleon, the feeling of being bruised and battered was honestly not pleasant.

Moreover, this severely damaged his self-confidence.

If he can't even handle a Penguin gang, how can he talk about saving Gotham from its decline, or about getting his revenge?

More importantly, this should have been a great and successful operation, but who could have imagined that the bats not only failed to take off, but almost capsized in the gutter.

Afu skillfully turned around and took out iodine, medical sponge, gauze and various topical medications from the prepared medical kit, preparing to treat Bruce's wound.

As a former MI6 agent, he was quite adept at handling such injuries.

"They're just superficial injuries, they'll be fine in a few days," Bruce stubbornly insisted.

"While this is true, superficial wounds are most easily overlooked and can easily become infected."

Moreover, this defeat precisely demonstrates that you haven't yet grasped the rules of street fighting in Gotham.

The methods used outside might not work here; Gotham must have its own way of doing things. The same applies to dealing with the darker corners.

Alfred said slowly as he applied iodine and ointment to the wound.

"You're absolutely right, I have indeed been too conservative."

9

Bruce did not deny it, and nodded.

He was not afraid of a group of thugs armed with knives and firearms. If they were just ordinary scoundrels, he could easily sweep them away.

However, if the opponent is a group of professional elite thugs or assassins, in a one-against-many situation, if the purpose is not to kill, he will definitely be outnumbered.

Besides needing to integrate the learned techniques into practical applications, his equipment was clearly insufficient.

After throwing the bloodstained sponge into the trash can, Afu said, "Sir, I'd like to remind you that next time you'd better make a will beforehand. You can put my name as the beneficiary."

Bruce gave a wry smile: "Ah Fu—"

"I just want you to realize that the consequences of this behavior are not just broken bones or bleeding. You are human, not a god."

Human life is inherently fragile and sensitive. These hidden wounds may one day completely devour you. Afu shrugged.

He habitually uses dark humor to express his concerns.

He will not interfere with Bruce's decision.

But they will remind you again and again without getting tired of it.

"The night is not safe; on the contrary, it comes at a much higher price."

Bruce said sullenly, "You're starting to disagree with my ideas?"

"Actually, I disagreed from the very beginning."

When you told me about your crazy plan to save Gotham with bats, I didn't immediately call a mental hospital to take you away, simply because you said it wasn't some frivolous thrill.

"Excuse my bluntness, young master, but the Wayne family's trust fund in your hands is more intimidating than Batman."

Do you think I should give up on this idea?

No. I will not order you to abandon your choice.

But I must tell you, we fall down so that we can learn how to get back up.

But if you keep falling and getting hurt, sooner or later you'll never be able to get back up.

"It's the Penguins." Bruce sighed.

"From the current perspective, this is clearly not a suitable option."

"No—" Bruce shook his head: "I underestimated them."

He then added, "Oswald is more difficult to deal with than I expected."

He was too vigilant and easily uncovered the mole I had bribed at great expense.

I should have learned more about this man beforehand.

"Oswald is not only meticulous, but his henchmen are also quite capable."

More importantly, unlike Falcone, the Penguin has corrupted almost the entire power structure of Gotham, blurring the lines between darkness and light.

Dawn is no longer dawn, dusk is no longer dusk.

Bruce's expression was serious.

This is the fundamental reason why he attacked the Penguin Gang right from the start.

He understood very well that even a hero, who could be a representative of justice, would find it difficult to overcome an already corrupt power structure.

Unless, of course, one can set fire to all the darkness.

But bats never cause destruction; they descend into darkness, cleansing the filth alone in the gutters where flames dare not touch.

Alfred didn't say anything. After bandaging Bruce up, he patted him on the shoulder.

"This isn't our first time dealing with Oswald. You should know very well that there's a mysterious figure behind him. Even someone as cunning as the Penguin treats that person like a god. And the Penguin alone is already this difficult to deal with."

"Sir, I suggest you choose a different target next time you patrol at night."

Bruce rubbed his temples, but walked up to the Batmobile.

Despite the vehicle's special materials and high cost, he still astutely identified several areas for improvement during this operation.

Next time I face the Penguin Gang, I definitely won't be as passive as I was today.

For example, it can be equipped with smoke grenades, anti-collision ramming fronts, and grappling hook ejection devices to break through multiple enemy encirclements; it can also be equipped with vehicle-mounted weapon mounting positions and central control security systems, and connected to the Bat Cave main unit, etc.

However, he had just opened the car door.

My fingertips suddenly touched a distinct paper-like texture.

It is a letter.

Bruce opened it with some doubt, and the contents made his face change instantly. "Stay in the cave, guarding your ridiculous bat-shaped lamp. Bats should stay in caves. Mr. Bruce Wayne!"