American comics: Starting with replicating Superman's talent

Chapter 79 When Darkness Was Born

"Beep beep beep~"

The red and blue lights on the roof drifted into the car, reflecting Bruce's unpredictable face.

A police car sped along the mountain road, two officers laughing and joking as they discussed which brothel to visit after get off work.

Bruce's eyes gradually hardened.

He couldn't be taken back to the police station; he couldn't reveal his identity.

"Stop the car and let me out," Bruce said slowly. To be honest, if it were a normal person, they might have already fainted after losing so much blood. However, his strong willpower and the scene of two fingers and a gun that he had seen earlier made Bruce miraculously straighten up.

The corrupt cop in the passenger seat turned and gave Bruce a warning look: "Hey, you better sit tight!"

but.

The moment the corrupt cop turned his head, Bruce opened his arms and lunged at the front seat.

"Bang!"

He gripped the steering wheel with both hands and suddenly twisted it.

The two corrupt cops, horrified, tried to stop Bruce: "Oh, damn it, you lunatic!"

As the steering wheel moved to the right, the police car, which was originally going straight, veered off the road, swaying and flying off the road like a drunken burly man, and crashing down the slope.

boom!

The overturned police car came to a slow stop after crashing into a large tree.

Bruce kicked the broken car window and crawled out of the police car on his hands and feet.

A strong smell of gasoline wafted into my nostrils.

Bruce remained silent for a moment, then dragged his badly injured body to rescue the two policemen from the car.

boom!

Another explosion occurred; the leaking gasoline ignited and exploded instantly upon contact with the flames, sending plumes of black smoke soaring into the sky.

Bruce dragged his badly injured body away into the distance.

He has to leave this place and then find a way to save himself.

The wound being covered continued to bleed.

Bruce was panting heavily.

He took out his phone from his pocket.

result.

The broken screen and body of the phone meant it was unusable.

My vision gradually blurred.

"Click, click."

It sounded like boots stepping on tree branches.

Bruce turned his head with difficulty.

In the vast forest, under the cover of moonlight, he saw that eerie figure again.

The other person stood under a towering locust tree, and then, an arm stretched out into the darkness.

The gentle moonlight illuminated the suit and fell on the mysterious man's right hand.

He was holding a telephone in his hand.

Although Bruce couldn't see the person's true face, he could tell that the other person was in a good mood.

He fiddled with the phone, watching Bruce with a playful look in his eyes.

then,

He tossed his phone like a god on high, his right hand gloved with white.

A brand-new cell phone traced a graceful arc in the moonlight and landed on an empty grassy field two hundred meters away from Bruce.

It was as if a ray of light called "hope" had fallen not far from Bruce.

Having done all this, the other party stepped into the darkness.

"Wait a minute!" Bruce gripped the soil with both hands, his fingers digging into it. He struggled to support his upper body and roared.

He wanted to find out the mysterious person's true identity, but the figure gradually disappeared into the moonlight.

A feeling of weakness washed over me again.

Bruce had no choice but to abandon his search for the mysterious man's true identity. He used both hands and legs, like a patient who had just gotten out of bed after receiving partial anesthesia.

Pain and exhaustion kept sweeping over his body, and the man had no idea how long he had been crawling.

He finally managed to grab the brand-new keypad phone and laboriously press the button to dial the number of the butler, Afu.

After telling the other party his location, the tension in Bruce's mind finally snapped.

His eyes rolled back, his cheeks buried in the damp soil, and he lost consciousness.

Wayne Manor.

The ancient castle, built of black marble, is quiet and majestic. The iron railings of the manor isolate the castle from the outside world, just as someone separates their heart from the world.

When Bruce woke up again, he found himself covered with a thin blanket.

He looked around, and the familiar room layout made him feel relieved.

He returned to the castle.

Bruce tried to sit up.

"hiss."

Bruce felt a sharp pain shooting through his legs.

He lifted the blanket and saw his legs wrapped in white gauze like a rice dumpling.

Although in pain, I can barely walk.

Bruce shuffled his legs to the window.

He drew back the curtains, and soft moonlight shone on Bruce.

He paused for a moment, then drew the curtains again.

Bruce sat back on the bed, but his mind was still replaying the scene from last night.

Just as he had guessed, the crime rate in Gotham City was skyrocketing at an unimaginable rate.

"Mr. Bruce."

A slow, deliberate knock came from behind me.

An elderly man in a sharp suit walked leisurely toward Bruce carrying a tray.

"Your breakfast."

A steaming hot breakfast was placed on a table not far from Bruce.

The elderly man with gray hair silently stared at Bruce's back, his eyes full of heartache, but his words were somewhat sarcastic: "Mr. Bruce, your left femoral artery has been severed, and your right calf has been pierced by a bullet."

"To be honest, it's a miracle that he survived this kind of injury."

"I know, Alfred, but I'm fine." Bruce shook his head and stood up. He refused Alfred's help and walked towards his parents' house.

He was going there to think about some things.

Make some decisions.

Bruce went to his parents' room.

The once spacious room now contained a bust of Bruce's deceased father.

He slumped onto the soft sofa, Bruce squinting as he examined the statue, his mind racing with thoughts of what had happened the night before.

Sinful Gotham, a mysterious man wearing a bat mask.

Bruce took a deep breath, his handsome blue eyes filled with weariness: "I possess the greatest wealth."

"Possesses superb martial arts skills."

"Has an excellent butler."

He stared intently at the statue, his eyes burning with intense passion.

"I tried to wait."

"I tried to be patient."

"But what should I do?"

He seemed to be asking the statue, or perhaps he was asking himself.

"How can I make these vicious criminals fear me?"

No one answered.

But the image of the masked man raising two fingers and making a shooting gesture resurfaced in his mind.

"bat."

Bruce muttered to himself.

"My fear."

He recalled the image of himself falling into a bat cave as a child.

Those countless bats flying in all directions became Bruce's fear for many years.

A light gleamed in Bruce's eyes; he seemed to have suddenly understood something, and murmured:

"If you want to instill fear in others, you must become fear!"

Bruce took a deep breath; an idea, a plan, formed in his mind.

He rang the bell beside him in a low voice.

"Ah Fu, contact the technology department for me and have them send over some materials. I need to build something."

In the next chapter, Bruce's open confrontation with the protagonist will require me to think about how to make the conflict more intense.

(End of this chapter)