Ivan greedily inhaled the foul air, coughing violently twice. The acrid stench of blood, rot, and decay filled his lungs. He didn't notice the shadow falling from above until he recovered, his senses momentarily dulled by the lack of air.
When he finally looked up, he saw the silhouette descending rapidly. It wasn't some bat monster, as he first thought, but a man. The figure's appearance was so bizarre that Ivan's initial confusion was understandable. This man had clearly dressed himself up as a bat, with a cape fluttering around him and pointed ears on his mask, suggesting a questionable state of mind.
What kind of psychopath would dress up like this? Ivan thought, his eyes narrowing.
The flickering lights made it difficult to see the details clearly, but from a rough glance, Ivan could tell that the equipment on this weirdo wasn't cheap. The armor looked like some kind of highly durable fiber material, with reinforced plates at crucial points. With a quick visual inspection, he felt that this outfit's bulletproof and explosion-proof performance was likely better than that of their top-tier gear.
Ivan soon remembered that the witness in the Klein Building also reported seeing a bat-shaped monster. So unless there's a second lunatic in this city who likes to pretend to be a bat and perform in the middle of the night, it should be this person in front of him.
Greg, who had been kicked away, stood up and twisted his neck joints in a grotesque posture, his movements fluid and unnaturally smooth.
"Huh? What are you?" he grinned, tilting his head as he looked at the newcomer with a predatory curiosity.
At the same time, Charlie—who was watching through the screen behind him—was also scrutinizing Greg cautiously. This grisly scene, coupled with Greg's unsettling smile and the craziness of the entire incident, naturally reminded Charlie of the infamous Joker.
If this was the true Batman, he'd probably think: 'Being Batman isn't easy; the Joker once turned Gotham upside down, putting him in a state of constant distress. Nowadays, it seems everyone wants to play the Joker, turning Batman into the enemy of the whole world.
[TL Note - I'm clueless about what the author is referencing. Can you Batman fanatics, please enlighten me]
Now, in a different world, Batman thought he could escape the daily struggle with the Joker, only for a spiritual heir to the Joker to appear out of nowhere.
Batman would have been cursing under his breath, thinking, "The Joker is still chasing me..."
"Be careful," Ivan said, his voice tinged with concern. "This guy is not easy to deal with."
Although he wasn't sure who this bat-dressed weirdo was, judging by the signs so far, it was more likely the other party was an ally. The situation, however, was still grim.
This bat lunatic might also be infected or a specialist individual. But Ivan didn't think this bat maniac was an enemy. He had just personally experienced it; he knew Greg's power was exceptional, even among the infected. Among all the agents of the Secret Service's Ninth Branch, Ivan himself had a relatively high level of infection. Except for those with special abilities, few in the Ninth Branch were better than him regarding physical prowess.
While his thoughts were racing, Greg had rushed forward. He was incredibly fast, reaching Batman in an instant and extending his blood-stained hand with a terrifying swiftness.
Batman showed no expression, only shifting slightly so that Greg's bloody fingers only brushed near his nose. He then lowered his center of gravity and suddenly extended his right hand from under his cloak, pressing his palm against Greg's chest with a calculated precision.
The next moment, under Ivan's astonished gaze, Greg flew backward with a low bang, crashing into a parked car and knocking it over. The impact was so powerful that the car's frame crumpled, and the vehicle skidded several feet before coming to a halt.
Ivan was stunned. What kind of power is this?
Even for the infected, isn't this kind of power too outrageous?
Batman stood there calmly, exuding an air of confidence reminiscent of a martial arts master.
Ivan looked at him with complicated eyes. But he didn't know that Batman wasn't infected, nor did he have superpowers. He simply had the ability to make money.
As the saying goes, the poor rely on mutation, and the rich rely on technology. Batman was undoubtedly the latter. Although he didn't wear a tin can like the playboy Tony Stark, Batman had many portable yet useful gadgets in his utility belt.
What Batman used just now was a one-time spray micro-propeller. It looked like an inconspicuous little button, but once activated, it would release a powerful thrust, propelling Greg away with astonishing force.
Despite this, Greg quickly got up, his smile still intact. His movements were unnervingly smooth as if he were a puppet on invisible strings.
"Ha, interesting little trick. But..." Greg began, his voice dripping with malice.
Batman interrupted him, throwing a small blue device that stuck to Greg; it released a powerful electric current, causing him to convulse and emit black smoke. The air was filled with the acrid scent of burnt flesh, the sound of crackling electricity was almost deafening.
Amidst a burst of convulsions, Greg continued to walk forward, once again extending his hand forward; his skin burned and cracked, his smile even more ferocious. His eyes gleamed with a manic intensity, and his steps were steady despite the damage.
Charlie's raised an eyebrow. Can you still move like this? This guy must have a thick health bar.
Batman threw another device that exploded at Greg's feet, releasing a large amount of gel that expanded rapidly, engulfing Greg in seconds. The gel quickly solidified, trapping Greg like a sculpture. He was completely immobilized, his bloody hand frozen just inches from Batman's face.
Batman stood there, expressionless, as if everything was under control.
Ivan looked at Batman, speechless.
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