novelhk Page 243
Page 243
Batman had already discovered that the hacker was not Ian, but some kind of strong artificial intelligence controlled by Ian, including those synthetic and edited videos that may have been created by this AI.
“Fantasy materialization…”
Recalling his previous speculations about Ian's "superpowers," Batman's mind raced through all of Ian's works, and he roughly pinpointed a very suspicious target.
"Jarvis, the one who appeared in that Iron Man comic?" Batman pondered as he scrolled through the posts made by normal people on the [Superhero Popularity Center].
He saw some posts mourning the other victims besides Pantyhose Superman.
My sister was in the Metropolitan Plaza at the time... she just went to buy something, but she never came back.
Officials, for the sake of votes, keep emphasizing that God is protecting the metropolis and that the number of casualties is very low. But who can tell me, should my father's life be just another statistic?
We admire the choices made by heroes, but we must also remember that those who died innocently deserve to be remembered as well.
……
Bruce remained silent for a moment.
There are reasons why Wayne Enterprises chose to bear the costs of Metropolitan's reconstruction.
Those who died.
That's the reason.
"If I could have made a more accurate judgment back then..." Bruce couldn't help but think about this question, and the thought was like a thorn, deeply embedded in his mind.
The more I think about it, the more unsettled I become.
Batman couldn't resist turning on the news TV.
Many television news programs have mentioned this incident.
Dozens of split screens simultaneously played programs from different TV stations.
The victims' families were crying and questioning.
Some even angrily criticized Superman—though many more chose to forgive him. Local television stations in Metropolis, in particular, and even media outlets that are usually very critical of Superman, offered their condolences.
The news anchor is broadcasting a special program.
The background music was somber and melancholic.
"Today, the entire metropolis is in mourning."
The female anchor's bright red eyes indicated that she had just been crying.
But she maintained a professional attitude.
"Disaster struck our city again, and Superman was unable to stop it in time. But I want to say on behalf of many citizens that we should not blame Superman for not being able to rescue us in time."
"Superman must have done everything he could, but like the families of other victims, the guardian of our city has also lost his own child today."
It is clear.
Metropolitan reporters have had more than one encounter with Pantyhose Superman.
The Metropolitan reporters already knew the identity of this recently very active "Stocking Superman," but they had been pretending not to know.
After all, they're all active in the same city.
They have the same abilities.
Even if a paternity testing agency comes, they can't determine if it's false.
Therefore.
Even the most cynical reporters in the Metropolis didn't choose to criticize Superman tonight, just like the criminals who reduced the crime rate to near zero tonight.
The criminals didn't take advantage of the chaos tonight to commit any atrocities—not because the bad guys were comforting Superman in their own way, but because they were afraid of getting killed by Superman, who had lost his son, if they committed any crimes tonight.
It's the same mentality as reporters who are afraid of being beaten to death.
Yes.
This is not a symbol of peace.
Rather, it is a manifestation of fear.
It's because of the current trending videos from [Superhero Popularity Center].
Everyone thought Superman had lost his son tonight, and what would a father who had lost his child become? Even the most notoriously reckless gangs in the city dared not gamble.
This situation is somewhat comical.
However, Batman's mood was unusually heavy at this moment.
His focus was more on the news interviews with the families of the victims.
This part may not be as popular as the news about the boy, but a simple search will reveal many related interviews or statements from the family members online.
“Ian Kent reminded us of this.”
Batman's hand clenched into a fist unconsciously, his knuckles turning white. He knew he wasn't a god, nor Superman, but he still couldn't forgive himself for that moment of impulsiveness.
Dozens of windows simultaneously display different news reports.
The sounds mingled together.
It created a chaotic symphony.
“Why my Marissa? Why not those damn politicians? Why not those rich people?” The woman’s cries echoed through the new Batcave via loudspeakers.
"She's only sixteen! She just received a scholarship to the art school!"
This woman is not an isolated case.
When the victims' families were interviewed, many cried and asked, "Why my mother? Why me?" These questions had no answers, only heart-wrenching pain.
Their voices were like sharp blades, piercing Bruce's heart.
He closed his eyes, but closing them couldn't stop the memories from flooding back—the moment when Ian told them to stop, yet he still pulled the trigger without hesitation.
then.
Bruce felt like his brain was being controlled by his emotions.
They just want to destroy Doomsday.
Eradicate the threat.
Batman never regrets fighting, but this time, Bruce Wayne regrets his decision. Now that the dust has settled, the death toll because of him has finally reached 1487.
The cost of this mistake was far too high. Even with all the displays off, the silent Batcave, filled only with the mechanical operation of the machines, made those sounds echo even more clearly in my mind.
My mood grew increasingly heavy.
Batman still remembers what he still needs to do.
"If my judgment wasn't clouded by emotions."
Thoughts coiled around me like venomous snakes.
Bruce whirled around, his cloak tracing a sharp arc behind him. He needed action, he needed data, he needed to focus on solvable problems.
The metal box was roughly dragged to the front of the main analysis table.
The hydraulic system emitted a muffled hum. As the lid opened, a ghostly mist poured out, revealing the Red Death Demon's corpse, preserved using special methods.
This being, suspected to be Batman's counterpart, lay quietly like an ordinary specimen, twisted and eerie, its head, which it had severed itself, bearing the final solemnity of its life.
Bruce had an idea.
but.
He hesitated for only a moment before moving the corpse out and carefully placing the Red Death Demon's head and torso into a high-precision analytical instrument.
"Didi dididi~"
The instrument is working.
only.
[No valid sample detected] Just like analyzing The Flash and Lex Luthor, his new instrument still couldn't detect anything, not even the presence of the Red Death.
It cannot be started at all.
It simply cannot be detected.
But the body does exist.
"Because he doesn't belong to our universe? Or is there some other reason?"
Batman frowned. He brought up the holographic panel for manual calibration, but all the sensor feedback pointed to the same absurd conclusion—the instrument couldn't "see" the corpse on the platform, just as a human can't see air. At this moment, Batman realized once again clearly that his equipment was outdated in the face of this new crisis.
“If I analyze this corpse from a physical perspective, perhaps I can gain some insights.” Batman took out a miniature sampler from his tactical belt, the sharp needle piercing the skin of the Red Death’s neck. But when he pulled it out, the syringe was empty—not even the most basic cell sample could be extracted.
This is really quite strange.
It also touched on a blind spot in Batman's knowledge.
"The blood I collected before has also disappeared. Is my counterpart being erased from existence?" Bruce's expression grew increasingly confused after rummaging through the metal box.
He rubbed his temples, completely baffled.
"I probably need a nap now." Batman's mind was a jumble of thoughts, making it impossible for him to concentrate. He glanced at the Red Death's corpse and then sealed it away again.
"If technology can't decipher it, then perhaps... magic can." Batman was still pondering when he walked into the medical area of the Batcave and came to a cabinet.
After taking a bottle of pills from the cabinet, he also took a powerful sleeping pill—this drug is cutting-edge technology that can put a person into a five-minute sleep.
In these five minutes of sleep.
Batman will have plenty of energy to last all day.
Ian's previous statement that Batman takes a lot of drugs wasn't unfounded. The moment a powerful sleeping pill slid down his throat, Batman lay down on the nearby recliner and fell into a sleep even better than a baby.
Bruce's consciousness sank into darkness.
But the darkness did not bring him peace.
The guilt that haunted him did not dissipate; those he failed to save, those moments of misjudgment, turned into a dark tide that surged in his dreams.
Feelings of guilt and remorse still linger.
It's getting stronger.
It even seemed to evoke some kind of special resonance.