American comics: Starting with replicating Superman's talent

Chapter 132 Homelander Clark

"Bang!"

Another security guard collapsed to the ground, the sharp pain in his back causing him to cry out in agony.

"You, you can't do this!"

The security guard was a middle-aged man with a large belly. He struggled to raise his hand to grab the strange man wearing a red and blue mask.

The other party was standing under the bank counter, with shards of glass scattered on the marble floor of the lobby.

Just minutes earlier, this man suddenly appeared in the bank lobby and smashed the bank's bulletproof glass in a terrifying manner, demanding that the teller put all the US dollars into the sack he had brought.

Security guards arrived quickly and tried to stop the guy.

But when people saw that the bullets only sparked a few weak sparks when they hit him, their fighting spirit crumbled. Then the man seemed to have vanished into thin air. When he reappeared, all the security guards had been knocked unconscious.

"We can't do that?"

A cold snort came from behind the mask. Clark grabbed handfuls of US dollars from the cash register and stuffed them into a sack, while simultaneously giving the security guard the middle finger. The large ruby ​​gleamed under the light. Clark sneered, "I can do whatever I want!"

Clark only picked up the sacks after they were all filled with money, and then, under the desperate gaze of the security guards, he vanished like smoke, leaving only a mess in the hall.

"Thank you. Now, friends, I'm asking you to invest with me, to invest in the future of Gotham City. I promise you, if we join hands, if we work together, then..."

A better, brighter Gotham is just a dream away!

Bruce finished his speech and stepped down from the stage.

What followed was an endless stream of conversations, with people vying to speak with Bruce Wayne about his plans for the future of Gotham.

After another round of discussion, the butler, Alfred, walked to Bruce's side and exclaimed, "Well done, Mr. Bruce, inspiring! However..."

"Thank you, Alfred."

Bruce smiled.

"But you didn't mention that you plan to build a lot of bat bunkers all over the city?" Afu teased, tilting his head.

Bruce smiled and replied, "Next time for sure, Alfred, next time for sure."

"So you've been here, Bruce."

A woman's voice interrupted their conversation.

A woman named Vicki Weir, with long blonde hair and wearing a light blue dress, looked at Bruce with a smile: "The speech was truly amazing, Bruce."

"If I hadn't already given the title of Gotham's chosen one to Lincoln, it would definitely belong to you."

Let me introduce you.

The woman pulled the man behind her over; he was a tall, middle-aged man with black hair, dressed in a suit.

The woman introduced them: "Lincoln March, Bruce Wayne."

"Hello," Lincoln said with a smile, extending his hand.

Bruce extended his hand in response, shaking hands in a gesture of goodwill. Bruce smiled and said, "Mr. Lincoln is running for mayor. I've heard of you, and you funded your March Ventures clinic in the East End, haven't you?"

"Wow, Mr. Bruce, I'm truly honored that you know so much."

Lincoln was somewhat surprised, but then gave an even warmer smile.

But soon, Lincoln also inquired with Bruce about Gotham City's future city plan and showed great interest.

After all, this is Bruce Wayne, the richest man in Gotham. No one can stop him from doing what he wants.

Bruce was about to talk to Lincoln a little longer when he noticed that Sheriff Gordon in the corner picked up his phone, his previously relaxed brow furrowing.

Without a doubt, something big must have happened in Gotham, something that those idiots in the police department couldn't handle, which is why Gordon was brought to their attention.

Bruce stared at Gordon's lips; his travels around the world had taught him to read lips.

He watched Gordon's lips move, mentally translating the same words.

"What?! Wayne Bank was robbed?" Gordon's face darkened. "Dozens of security guards were taken down by one person?!"

The middle-aged man took a deep breath to calm himself: "Even bullets can't harm it? Is that really true?"

"My God, this is absolutely insane! I wouldn't be surprised if Jesus were to rise from the dead someday."

"I'll be right there."

After saying that, Gordon got up and left the banquet.

But a glint of light flashed in Bruce's eyes. Ignoring bullets, superb fighting skills—all of this made a figure flash through his mind.

The mysterious masked man standing in the alley, pointing a finger at me; the masked man luring me into the maze to torment me.

"Sorry, Lincoln, I have something to attend to right now. We can talk about 'Gotham Tomorrow' another day."

Bruce wasn't going to waste any more time.

For Bruce, or perhaps for Batman, building Gotham was far less appealing than exploring its mysteries.

"Okay, I won't bother you anymore." Lincoln smiled understandingly.

Bruce strode away, calling out to his old butler and loyal assistant through his headset: "Alfred, activate the Batcave located beneath this hall."

The cold wind howled and made a rustling sound on Gordon's brown trench coat.

"call."

Gordon exhaled a smoke ring.

He was standing outside a bank in Gotham City, the revolving glass doors shattered, looking like a disaster caused by a drunk driving his car into the bank.

Police cars had already surrounded the damaged bank.

Many police officers were busy setting up a cordon around the area, while others were questioning the only conscious security guard and taking his statement about the details of the scene.

"Da~"

Gordon flicked his cigarette butt away, waved his hand, and gave the order: "Everyone stay here. I'll go in and check it out by myself."

He feared the robbery was a group crime, and had been at the Gotham City Police Department for three or four months. Gordon knew all too well that there was considerable corruption within the Gotham authorities.

Gordon bypassed the security cordon and stepped into the hall.

The floor was covered in shards of glass, and the bank counter was broken.

And the dented fist marks on the wall—all of this made Gordon feel like his head was spinning.

He couldn't understand why he kept encountering these unpleasant things since he took office.

But complaining wouldn't solve the problem. Just as Gordon was about to call in professionals to remove the dented palm print, which was also the only clue in the area, a deep, hoarse voice sounded behind him: "Give me a minute before your men tamper with the scene."

"Who?!"

Gordon's heart tightened. He drew his gun and turned around, only to see the mysterious figure hiding his body in a black cloak, wearing a bat mask, with only his "buttocks" chin visible.

Gordon pursed his lips slightly, his tone complex: "It's you again, Batman."

During his months in Gotham City, Gordon developed a tacit connection with this mysterious figure. The man would always appear at Gotham locations before Gordon and make requests regarding the cases.

Gordon initially refused. "Do I, a police officer, need the help of an outlaw?"

But soon, the Gotham police's incompetence left Gordon with no other choice but to trust Mystic and fight crime with him.

Gordon holstered his sidearm and asked Batman, "Batman, what do you think?"

(End of this chapter)