Thompson crawled out of the car already battered and bleeding profusely, and the few homeless men in the cargo hold were seriously injured. Of the group of four rescued from the park, three climbed out immediately, and their lives were not in danger.
Thompson and Jason entered the overturned cargo hold, trying to rescue the last one, but all they found was a corpse.
This guy was just unlucky, Thompson had intentionally left some secured cargo in the van so they could hold onto the ropes tied to the goods while riding, but this person had to show off, neither sitting nor squatting, instead climbing to the top of the cargo.
As a result, when the vehicle flipped over, he tumbled inside like clothes in a washing machine, without any fixed measures, and broke his neck on impact.
When Jason and Thompson dragged his body out, one of the foursome rushed over, and, like a madwoman, started shoving Thompson. This woman claimed that the deceased was her brother and, claws bared, tried to gouge Thompson's eyes out.
Jason quickly pulled her away, but the crowd of onlookers surged forward, encircling the two, and began hitting and kicking them because the timely manner in which Thompson drove out meant the bomb hadn't reached the homeless in the van, and no one knew if there had been any fatalities from the explosion.
Though Jason and Thompson were strong, they were no match for a dozen people, especially since they had just been battered in the vehicle accident and couldn't even stand up; they could only lie there, curled up, and take the beating.
Fortunately, the others knew it was a forgone conclusion, and that beating this group was pointless; better to quickly secure a good spot for themselves and their families and pray the bomb didn't go off there.
After the crowd dispersed, Jason and Thompson slowly got up from the ground. Clearly having trouble walking, Thompson's leg was injured in the vehicle, and Jason's arm wasn't functioning well. The least injured, Peter, came over to help the two, but could only help them walk with great difficulty.
And the Joker, reappearing on the television screen, announced a message of despair: the good news was that no one died in the blast, but the bad news was that the location of the sixth bomb would not be disclosed.
Peter and the other two hid away.
Clearly, the locals had labeled them as the culprits because if they hadn't tried to save those damned homeless, many could have escaped before the sixth bomb went off, but now all hope seemed lost.
They faced an even more desperate situation; those who had confronted them spread the word, and everyone, especially those who hadn't experienced the explosion and could be targets of the sixth bomb, frantically began searching for them.
People had already completely forgotten about the grinning Joker on the TV initiating a witch-hunt for the new century; they just wanted those who put them in danger because of their meddling to pay the price in blood.
Worse, some had seen their faces and could describe their features, and former neighbors knew where their families were.
Jason knew they had to go back, but going back might mean he and his family would be killed by a completely crazed mob. Hesitating in this decision, they missed their last chance.
The sixth bomb exploded in an overcrowded community with almost no one able to escape, and many of the exiles who had just arrived from other areas were also killed in the blast.
The devastation was so severe that no one dared look it in the eye, and then the ultimate frenzy arrived—Joker announced that the locations of all the bombs would no longer be disclosed.
All of this, of course, was blamed on Peter and the other two, because they had caused a hitch in the chain of bombings. No one dared provoke the frightening Joker; they preferred to vent their anger on those weaker than themselves.
Eventually, a mob found the community of exiles who had escaped from Peter's neighborhood, using guns to coerce the residents into revealing the whereabouts of their family members.
Peter and Jason's families had not taken any particular measures to hide because they didn't know that the mob outside was looking for their own husbands, so their homes were broken into without any resistance.
The wives and children of both men, as well as Thompson's wife and daughter, were taken out to the street, and the mob's leader prepared to execute them in the square.
Peter, Jason, and Thompson could not just stand by; they had already arrived nearby and saw the mob leader tie up their families, planning to tie them to the stake. Thompson was the first to lose his temper and rushed out shouting.
But he was just a slightly robust ordinary man. As soon as he charged out, he was subdued and his action revealed Peter and Jason's position, leading to their capture as well.
The three were pinned to the ground, and the mob leader, wearing a hood, paced in front of them, weighing a crowbar in his hand, and letting out a mocking laugh.
"Keep hiding," the mob leader scoffed, "Do you not have the guts to own up to what you've done?!"
"What have we done?" Peter struggled, grinding his teeth, "All we wanted to do was save people, we just didn't want to watch innocent people die!"
"Did you think about the consequences?!" the mob leader raised his voice, "Didn't you consider the rules of the game before you saved anyone? Didn't you know what would happen as a result of your actions? All the deaths in Luz community are on you!"
Jason bit his lip, staying silent. When he saw from the newspapers that almost everyone in that entire block had been wiped out, he was lost for words.
Suddenly, a figure burst from the crowd, staring intently at the short, fat mob leader, "Wanting to save people is not their fault! It never was!"
The mob leader saw those shining blue eyes. The man before him was still tall but no longer burly, with long hair and a beard, and dressed shabbily like a disheveled vagrant.
And, for some reason, he seemed very weak. Although he spoke with a roar, his voice lacked strength, giving the impression that he could be blown over by a breeze.
"What did you say?!" The gang leader stepped forward, looking at the man and said, "He caused the death of so many people just to save a few worthless vagrants, and you still say they did nothing wrong?!"
"I said their desire to save people was not wrong," the man said, pronouncing each word clearly while his gaze drifted towards the crowd.
At that moment, the entire square was packed with many people, and the man's vision settled on one individual among them, Batman, the Batman he recognized.
Yet there he stood, not opposite his old nemesis the Joker, not in front of his children, nor at his usual high vantage points or within the shadows; he was standing amidst a group of ordinary people chasing after the wind.
In Clark's eyes, Batman looked profoundly disappointed.
But he dared not step forward. How could he? He knew that as soon as he did, Jason would remember everything.
Or rather, Jason had never fully forgotten; that nightmare hovered over his head, and the moment a bat surged out from the dark of night, the long-absent storm clouds would descend once again.
Batman now simply wanted to silently and anonymously save Jason and his family, to quell all this and let them return to the peaceful life of their dreams.
Not to appear suddenly, once again playing Jason's savior, only to send him back to hell.
"Their only mistake is that they lacked the ability," Clark said, half-kneeling on the ground, looking up at the gang leader's malevolent eyes. "They didn't persist in their beliefs from start to finish, they didn't hone their abilities day after day for that belief."
"So they were only able to save a few, but not the majority, not everyone. They gave up too early, too weak; that was their sole error."
"And at any time, their inability to be indifferent to their kin's suffering is not a mistake—it's the instinct that has allowed you to survive to this day. To deny that instinct is to deny humanity itself."
Clark turned back and glanced at a few people, lowering his eyelids as he said, "If they wished to be heroes, then they should give their all, make themselves strong enough, and strive to do their best—not by sacrificing a group for the safety of another, but by saving everyone."
"But that's impossible, isn't it?" the gang leader said.
"No, at least they must hold on to that belief and strive for it. And I once knew someone who almost did it perfectly," Clark's gaze still rested on Batman's face; he spoke, "He knew he couldn't do it, and he was always tormented by it, but he never gave up trying."
"Then he's a madman!"
"He is a madman," agreed Clark. "It may seem so from an outsider's perspective, but if you became him one day, you'd understand the greatness of persisting in such belief for decades, honing oneself until breaking through all impossibilities. And what a great hero he is."
"So what? This bunch of bastards has killed so many people; we must judge them, only by doing that can those who should die, die."
"No one should die," Clark said, looking at him. "They will all be saved."
"That's impossible..."
Suddenly, a glint appeared in Clark's eyes, and the entire Dream space began to tremble. Looking up, his gaze penetrated the layered cosmic barriers; the manhole in the sewer spouted out bright light which grew larger and larger.
Prime Universe Clark, who kept watch over Batman and Superman's bodies, was shocked to see Superman's arm trembling uncontrollably, clutching the multi-colored Kryptonite ring.
Yet, clearly, his soul was not here, and Superman could do nothing with the Kryptonite. However, the oblivious body kept trembling more and more violently.
The muscles in the arms began to swell, the hand gripping the Kryptonite ring squeezed, then squeezed tighter...
Clark's eyes widened in shock as he rushed over, and reflected in his deep blue eyes was a sprinkle of Kryptonite dust leaking out between the fingers.
Suddenly, Superman from the Dreamworld soared into the sky, a laser beam incinerating the stake on the pyre. He circled in the air, lifting the bound woman and child and setting them on the nearby rooftop.
Then, shooting up into the sky, his red-glowing blue eyes scanned the surroundings. Several beams of laser fired out, disintegrating bombs hidden across the city before they could detonate.
Startled by this series of events, Peter and his companions were shocked until the fleeing crowd scattered, and amidst one figure lingering on the spot, Jason finally saw that familiar face.
Batman...
At that moment, a figure suddenly appeared behind Batman. At the end of the hurried stream of people, the dark muzzle of a gun was aimed at Batman's body.
Bang! Bang! Bang!
In Jason's stunned gaze, Batman fell, and as Jason lifted his eyes, all he could see was his long-standing nightmare, the eternal storm cloud of Gotham—the Joker.