Bang!
The door was flung open. Returning home, Bruce saw Gordon, who could only move his arm, using it to wheel his chair to the kitchen to pick up a knife. Bruce emerged from the bathroom and fixed his gaze on him in the darkness.
"I'm truly sorry about your parents," Gordon said, his eyes regaining their spark in the dark, making them shine intensely. "But I did my best."
"No, Uncle, that was just something I said in anger. You're not a burden, and you shouldn't... just to avoid being one on me."
"No, I just don't want to indulge you anymore," Gordon said. "I finally understood something—right is right, and wrong is wrong."
"My guilt over you doesn't mean you haven't done wrong. It's this indulgence born out of guilt that has led you to lose your sense of right and wrong. That's my only mistake."
Gordon looked at Bruce and said, "I didn't find the murderer of your parents. If the law finds me at fault, it will judge me. I don't need you to punish me."
"I couldn't save my friends, leaving their child to become a wanderer with nothing, nor could I vindicate them. If I deem myself at fault, I will judge myself. I don't need you to take punishment into your own hands."
"You have no right to do what you're doing," Gordon said, staring deeply into Bruce's eyes. "And the only way to correct this mistake is to stop it, to not allow one error to lead to another."
Bruce took a step forward, but Gordon had already placed the knife against his own throat, looking at Bruce with nostalgia. "It ends here, Little Bruce. Officer Ge Yin has collected enough evidence. After we both die, an informant will reveal everything, and you too will have your day in court."
"No!!!!"
Jason embraced the fallen Batman, who had been shot. Watching the Joker approach step by step, he was not afraid, but overwhelmed with endless, blinding rage.
Just as he was about to raise his hand, One Hand grabbed his wrist. Batman's eyes were fixed on him so intensely that Jason was involuntarily lost in that gaze.
Meanwhile, Peter, who had escaped his bonds, looked up at the figure soaring in the sky. He slowly stood up as the world spun around him; pedestrians and streets whirled like birds in a storm, but he alone was in focus.
Why should the safety of one group be exchanged for that of another? Why does ensuring the safety of some mean altering the destiny of others?
Because he wasn't strong enough.
If he had trained his self-control immediately after gaining his paranormal abilities, he wouldn't have had to run away passively during the encounter with Thompson, fearing his own strength. This led to Jason stepping in for him and causing monetary loss by breaking toys. Instead, he could have taught them a lesson just enough to stop them from wrongdoing.
If after damaging the teddy bear he had reflected and honed his skills to deal with criminals, he wouldn't have caused a traffic jam during the pursuit of The Clawed Killer that resulted in an accident altering the fate of others.
If after learning about Bruce's ordeal, he was no longer conflicted and lost but realized that all of it was because he was not strong enough and chose to continue honing his superhero abilities, dedicating himself to becoming the ultimate instrument of justice within twenty years, then no one would have died in today's disaster.
Even if there had been deaths, another ten years might have prevented them.
Those efforts to surpass oneself in the process, apart from striving for perfect justice, also naturally become a stronger driving force when flaws emerge. Even if he never became a perfect superhero after all these years, every bit of effort would eventually converge into a river named 'Clear Conscience'.
Clark flew over the heads of the crowd, and the birds in the storm suddenly grew quiet as Spider-Man slowly raised one arm.
With a whoosh, in the instant the Spider Silk Launcher appeared, a strand of spider silk wrapped around Clark's arm. He gave a strong pull upwards, turning and shooting into the sky.
The Spider-Man suit reappeared on Spider-Man's body, and he swung from the spider silk, gliding over the heads of the panicked crowd. Clark threw the spider silk forward, Spider-Man somersaulted to the ground, landing in a half-kneel before slowly rising to his feet.
The figures in red and blue appeared in the reflection of the sunglasses. The gang leader took off his mask, and as he turned his head, two figures each appeared at opposite ends of the sunglasses' lenses.
Bruce, wearing a hoodie with a smiley-face print, and Joker, dressed in a truck driver's uniform, stood face to face.
"Long time no see, Jack," Bruce called out the Joker's name. Jack wobbled the bomb detonator in his hand as he looked at Bruce and said, "You ran all this way just to play these dress-up games here?"
"Yeah, you're right. It's just a game, why so serious?" Bruce said with a smile. "Who invited you here?"
"I am, of course, forever Batman's loyal audience." Jack said. "No matter whether you're dreaming or not."
"What the hell is going on here?" Jason asked, looking at them. "What the heck are you guys up to?!"
With the help of Poison Ivy, the Robins who arrived in the Dreamworld, alongside the Batman and Batwoman who had been here before, all arrived. They kept their distance from the two cautiously, merely standing around and observing them.
"I'm sorry," Bruce shrugged. "I just needed a sufficiently spectacular drama for my PhD application materials."
"Drama?!" Jason gritted his teeth, looking at him.
"Quite spectacular, isn't it?" Bruce turned to survey the crowd, his gaze sweeping over each face. He said, "A young hero confused about the future chooses to retreat, returning to an ordinary life, but when he faces a great disaster years later, he stands up again. Their heroic heart is not extinguished, but wasted years mean they no longer have the power to save others, only able to watch helplessly as their loved ones are harmed."
"A true hero, who lost all his powers and grew incredibly weak, never forgot his original intention for decades, and even with an unimaginable willpower, completely broke through his arch-enemy's limitations, ultimately saving the world."
"A righteous sheriff, out of guilt allowing an old friend's son to embark on a long revenge, finally realizes his mistakes in the end, conquers his guilt, and chooses to let the nephew he sympathizes with and cares for face legal judgment."
"They influenced each other, saved each other, and eventually saved the city, rebuilding a new justice on the ruins left by disaster."
Jack clapped his hands, and Bruce lifted his head proudly, but soon he turned his gaze back onto Jack's face.
"So now there's just one question, my dear Disaster Sir, where are you from? You're not a disaster I designed, which made this play lack a perfect ending, and forced me to come out early to explain to everyone."
Bruce looked dissatisfied, but Jack responded with a laugh, "I said, I'm always the faithful audience of Batman, how could I not join in such a magnificent theatrical performance?"
Bruce was about to speak when Jack suddenly pulled a face, staring at Bruce and saying, "Did you think I would say that? What's the necessity for your crappy movie to have a perfect ending?! Is popcorn tasting good enough a reason to show the audience a pile of shit?!"
Bruce visibly flinched, narrowing his eyes at Jack, who puckered the muscles around his nose and said, "I'd rather say my ending adds some rainbow sprinkles to your pile of shit; it's still shit, but at least it looks a little better."
"Is that how you evaluate my drama?!"
"If that thing can really be called drama," Jack snorted and said, "I guess that's why you've failed to get a PhD for three years, and after three more years, you plan to take your application materials to the grave, right?"
Bruce's face turned ugly as he glared at the Joker, saying, "Whether my application is accepted or not is not for you to decide."
"Oh, right, how could I forget about that professor." Jack sneered, "Before you dump that pile of shit on his desk, you'd better dress up properly to avoid him knocking the shit out of you."
And Bruce really did dress up.
Jack rolled his eyes, crossed his arms, turned around, and said, "I don't want to hear it at all, he insists on praising a pile of shit, but who asked him to let me indulge in a big explosive binge here? Follow me."
"So all this is just a game to you?!" Jason turned his head to watch Bruce, who was passing by him, even though he was now in a bat suit, he didn't look like Batman at all.
He glared venomously at Bruce, but Bruce deftly turned his head and said, "Why not? Why so serious?"
Jason grabbed his shoulder and swung a fist toward his head, Bruce dodged backward, pulled away Jason's hand, and flung him aside, saying, "Did you think I'd be a good doctor, carefully and patiently mediating your conflicts? Don't be ridiculous, no one cares about your petty problems, except for yourselves."
Jason's face stiffened, but now he had to save Batman, he coldly stared at Bruce walking away, and eventually picked Batman back up.
Spider-Man landed in front of the mob boss, looking at him with ill-intent, but as Joker and Bruce disappeared into a portal, the mob boss took off his sunglasses.
Spider-Man suddenly widened his eyes, because he saw a familiar face, one he had seen in the photos from "Gotham Travel Notes," unmistakably the one with the eagle hook nose.
Bruce followed Joker through the portal, and they arrived at a hospital, Bruce looked around bewildered and asked, "Arkham Asylum? Which universe's?"
"Of course, it's that pair of feuding father and son's," Jack said, and Bruce knew he was talking about Arkham Batman and Arkham Knight, Jason.
The fog outside the window hadn't lifted yet, Bruce followed Jack to the end of the office building to a room.
Upon opening the door, there was no one inside, but there was a desk piled with documents and photographs pinned on a felt board, and walls plastered with storyboards.
As he walked through the room, Bruce found that the storyboards on the wall were similar to those in the Dreamworld, yet different, and many featured familiar people.
The owner of the gift shop where he worked, the first victim of The Clawed Killer, a little girl, the leading troublemaker in the mob...
Their frozen poses in the photos struck a chord with Bruce, and countless fragments flashed through his mind.
He paused in his steps, suddenly understanding something.
Jack just stood in front of him, turned around to look at him, and said with a smile, "Don't rush, we're almost there."
The malicious gleam in his pupils was no different from the look those people had as they faced the camera in the photos.
The last door was pushed open.
Clayface, Doll Master, Professor Pig, Mr. Freeze, Harley Quinn, Scarecrow, Two-Face, Riddler...
Surrounded by a horde of madmen, sitting in the center of the room was Schiller Rodriguez.
As the dim daylight streamed in, he looked like a blackbird perched upon thorns, grey pupils reflecting the entire cosmos.
Bruce walked in, Schiller stood up from his chair, the sun swallowed the eclipse, and the blackbird spread its wings.
The madmen all turned to look at Bruce at the same time, and Schiller opened his arms with a smile.
"Welcome to Gotham... Laughing Bat."