amaotonovel Chapter 3760 Rapid Pursuit (5)
Chapter 3760 Rapid Pursuit (5)
Chapter 3760 Rapid Pursuit (Part 5)
"Click."
The light came on. The man, bound to a chair, had his head drooping. His suit was covered in dust and scratches, and the edges of his shoes had many burn marks. He whimpered and slowly woke up.
“No time, imposter. Tell me, where is the real Batman?” A hoarse voice came from in front of him.
Elliott snapped out of his daze and saw an exceptionally terrifying face staring intently at him. The other person's skin had an unnatural, cold white hue, and they were practically skin and bones. The two pointed ears on the mask were unusually sharp, and the metal spiked eyepatch and wide-open mouth below were utterly bizarre.
What horrified Elliott even more was that there was a wound on the upper body of the other man that almost cut him open, from the right shoulder to the left waist, where broken ribs and blood-soaked alveoli could be seen.
The muscles around the wound were constantly twitching, healing at a speed that seemed incredibly fast, but was actually still too slow. The lung damage made every word he spoke have a heavy, wet murmur, like a water ghost hiding in a deep current.
"you……"
"boom!"
Before Elliott could finish speaking, he was punched. The other man grabbed his hair with a pale hand, and the terrifying face drew closer until Elliott could see the bloodshot in his eyes.
"Tell me, where is Batman?!"
Elliott was choked by the strong stench of blood. He coughed twice and said, "Batman? Who's Batman?"
"Bang!" Another punch.
"Bruce Wayne, where is he?!"
"Did he send you to kidnap me?" Elliott looked up, staring intently at the person in front of him. "Too bad you're too late, he's already dead."
"boom!"
The punch successfully drew blood from Elliott, and blood also flowed down his philtrum.
“You can’t fool me,” the pale madman said through gritted teeth. “Batman won’t die, he can’t die!”
"The body is in Arkham Asylum. Don't you want to see it for yourself?" Elliott chuckled twice. "I've gutted him and put his internal organs in a specimen jar. Remember to come with me for a visit."
"Bang!" Elliott got punched again.
But he wasn't having an easy time either. Every movement he made caused the deep, long wound on his chest to bleed profusely, and the healing process became extremely slow. Blood even seeped from the corner of his mouth, completely uncontrollable.
"Batman must still be here... still somewhere in this city," he muttered to himself. "I have to find him, otherwise, that madman..."
"How on earth did he find me?!" The roar echoed in the room. "He shouldn't have, he couldn't have..."
The suffocating pain pounded relentlessly in his brain. For the first time, the Bat of Laughter realized that when pain reached its peak, it was an excruciating agony from within, as if something was trying to burst from his head. At that moment, you always hoped for a violent outburst to end the agony, but that moment never actually came. From the initial injury to recovery, every single second was the most excruciating pain imaginable.
The intense pain emanating from his chest reminded him of the horrific experience a few hours earlier when the madman nearly cleaved him in two.
A few hours earlier, in a printing factory in the old town, the rusty gate was pushed open. A flash of lightning before the night rain struck, casting the pale shadow of a man on the ground. A low, sinister laugh echoed.
A gaunt figure approached the newspaper printing workshop, turned a corner, and arrived at the archives where sample copies were stored. Pale fingers pulled out one old newspaper after another from the cracks in the drawers until they found one that announced the deaths of the Wayne couple.
“Haha,” he said. “Batman is an orphan again, how unexpected… But where did this Elliott come from?”
Suddenly, a faint rustling of wind came through. The Bat of Laughter whirled around, but it seemed to be nothing more than the wind howling through the street blowing into the window. He turned back to the newspaper, his slender fingers gently curling the edge of the paper.
The iron frame on the ceiling creaked.
The laughing bat looked up and met the gray eyes of a figure in a suit—he only had time to gasp for breath.
The attack came suddenly. But the Bat Who Laughs seemed to have anticipated it; he quickly rolled away to dodge, and before he could even speak, the filing cabinet came crashing down on him.
"boom!"
The Laughing Bat was sent flying. Only when his back hit the ground did he realize that it wasn't some small cabinet, but a steel cabinet made entirely of metal as tall as the ceiling, which had been thrown out and hit him directly.
The Batman Who Laughs used almost all his strength to pry the thing off. The moment he got up, he felt a sharp pain in his ribs. He gritted his teeth and reached for his batarangs, attempting to block the other's path before it charged—or at least trying to block it, but to no avail.
The moment the two batarangs struck the opponent's chest and shoulder, the stench of blood filled the air. They didn't even manage to knock him back, let alone injure him. The impact of a thrown weapon could never exceed that of a pistol bullet; the principle behind stopping an enemy is to utilize the fear of pain and pain itself, but neither of these seemed to work.
The Batman Who Laughs was sent flying again. This time, he couldn't get up. The other person grabbed a small cabinet and smashed it down on his head and limbs. Each blow sprayed out high plumes of blood; the Batman Who Laughs' head was almost completely smashed to pieces, and his limbs were all crushed to pieces as well.
But he was still conscious. He felt someone grab his ankle and drag him in one direction. The destination didn't seem close; it took several minutes to walk there.
In those few short minutes, the Batman Who Laughs regained some of his vision. The first image that appeared before his eyes was Schiller's slightly cruel smile reflected on the gleaming metal surface of a large paper cutter.
Although his vision had returned, his limbs hadn't recovered as quickly. The Batman Who Laughs was completely immobilized and was thrown under the giant guillotine. Schiller was still repeatedly adjusting its position, as if contemplating how to cut a steak.
Under the horrified gaze of the Laughing Bat, Schiller's hand gripped the guillotine handle and pulled it down sharply.
"Ah ah ah ah ah ah ah!!!!"
The Bat Who Laughs knew perfectly well that with the force Schiller had used to throw the filing cabinet at him, that blow would have sliced him in two. But Schiller didn't do that. He seemed to exert force suddenly, but the blade landed on his body very gently, pressing in slowly.
He let go halfway through the cut, stared at the wound on his chest for a few seconds, and didn't seem satisfied.
“The recovery is too slow,” the Batman Who Laughs heard him say. “Sure enough, it’s nowhere near as good as the Joker’s immortality. It’s far inferior.”
His tone was filled with deep disappointment. Then he added, "Looks like we'll have to cut back. Let's leave it at that for now."
Then he left.
The Bat of Laughter in front of Elliott couldn't help but shiver. His brain, which could originally predict everything in the multiverse, was not so sharp after being physically destroyed.
After being beaten up by several Batmen before, parts of his brain still hadn't fully healed; this time, his head was smashed to pieces by Schiller, leaving even more areas unusable. No matter how high his intelligence is supposed to be, it's useless without the necessary hardware support.
So he really couldn't understand how Schiller had managed to find him. He hadn't left any trace at the time, and he chose the newspaper printing plant because it was located in the chaotic old town, unlike the newspaper office or news center, which were more conspicuous. Logically, no one should have known he was there.
The wound left by the guillotine was so deep and painful that the relentless, agonizing agony made the Batman Who Laughs even less focused. This meant that the only way he could think of to escape Schiller was to find the Batman of this universe.
He hadn't forgotten that this was the Dark Multiverse. He had previously used the same method to persuade many Batmen in the Dark Multiverse that with their protection, he would no longer be threatened by that madman.
But he learned from Elliott that Bruce Wayne, who was supposed to become Batman, was dead. This almost shattered all his hopes. And the physical pain constantly reminded him that the madman was coming soon.
Fear drives people crazy, makes them lose their minds, and makes them irrational.
"Bang! Bang! Bang! Bang!"
The Bat of Laughter relentlessly punched Elliott, left and right, like hitting a punching bag. But due to the pain, he didn't inflict any fatal damage on Elliott, and instead exhausted himself.
He let out a long sigh, staggered back two steps, and said, "I need a Batman. If Bruce is dead, then you will be the one. I will teach you how to be a good Batman."
The rain was pouring down harder. Puddles reflected the gold vine patterns on her dark green high heels. Talia stood in front of an armed pickup truck, pulling her gloves up to her wrists. Armed security personnel were handcuffing the blindfolded redhead.
Talia walked around the front of the car, looked at him, and said, "Long time no see, Barbara. Where did you put Thomas?"
“I didn’t arrest him,” said the redhead called Barbara. “Everyone saw him walk past the helicopter wreckage and disappear. Maybe he didn’t want to see you anymore, so he just left.”
Talia's expression darkened slightly, but she didn't refute him. She simply said, "'Outsiders' have been completely wiped out this time, Ms. Gordon. Are you still going to remain so stubborn?"
Barbara scoffed and was led into a police car. Many other members of the resistance were also taken into the car with her.
Then they met up with Elliott's group at the police station. Because the investigation into yesterday's banquet murder was still ongoing, many of the suspected attendees were still there.
Barbara walked through interrogation rooms one after another, seeing almost all the prominent figures in Gotham, but one was missing.
“What about Chief Justice Dante?” Barbara asked.
Talia paused. Just then, Brock, covered in sweat, ran down and whispered a few words to her. Talia's eyebrows furrowed, and she glared angrily.
"What are you good for?! There are only a few important people in total, and three of them have run away?!"
“I’m so sorry, ma’am. The police station is short-staffed, and we really can’t do anything about it. Besides, we also have to deal with the tax authorities. How about this, let’s just treat it as a rebellion and release everyone else.”