Chapter 1189 The Cry of the Lamb (X) (Patreon)

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The cold storm in Batman's deep blue eyes never ceased. After Angela left the office of Wayne Tower, only Bruce was left standing in front of the huge floor-to-ceiling window, gazing down at the entire city of Gotham, which always looked remarkably Prosperous.

This was not a City of Sin, but the largest, most Prosperous, and most charming city on the East Coast of the United States, the enchanting metropolis that countless people dream of, an indispensable part of human Citycivilization.

This is the cancer of the Earth, the bane of humanity, and the hometown of Batman.

Standing by the window, gazing at the city, Bruce heard a faint sound behind him. He gently turned around and saw a figure sitting on the sofa, backlit, another version of himself.

Bruce felt no surprise or alarm, as if his presence there was perfectly normal.

Or perhaps, after that night in Crime Alley, this figure had been his constant companion, never leaving.

Bruce walked over and sat down on the sofa opposite him. The two identical figures sat in front of the huge floor-to-ceiling window, the countless High-rise buildings casting them as two silhouettes, not alone, but equally lonely.

"I wasn't born just today," said the Bruce on the right, raising his head. His eye sockets were filled with a flowing black tide, but it was not terrifying, but had a strange beauty.

"That policewoman said that in the process of constantly investigating the crimes, she understood those Criminals, and discovered another self. She felt fear, so she chose to retreat, but you know, she is not suffering from a mental illness or having any hallucinations, what she said is true, and she is not an isolated case."

The Bruce sitting across from him also had no pupils, only white eyes, paler than any snow in Gotham.

"We should talk about that night first," the Bruce with black eyes said. "The night you've never told anyone about."

The Bruce with white eyes slowly closed his eyes, and the hand resting on the armrest gradually tightened, his chest heaving. Countless fragmented scenes flashed before his eyes.

But not the alleyway, the rainy night, the pearl necklace.

He saw his own raised hands, the sight of the handgun's sights, the bullets flying out of the muzzle, and his parents falling.

"Every great detective must also be a good Criminal," the Bruce with black eyes said, turning his head to look at the Prosperous city, then continued.

"You didn't become a detective because of that night, you've always been a criminal genius, you were born able to empathize with the killers."

"There are too many people in this world whose parents have died, the cases are gruesome, the deaths tragic, and too many children have witnessed their parents' deaths, feeling sorrow and despair, but in this world, there is only one Batman."

"You didn't take this path because of your parents' death, your wisdom, intelligence, excessive rationality, and genius creativity are the gifts God has given you, just like those Born Psychopaths."

The Bruce with white eyes loosened his grip on the armrest, and the Bruce with black eyes stared at him and said:

"I wasn't born that night, I've been with you since the first time you saw Thomas's face, the first time you remembered Martha's smile, and the happy days the Wayne family spent together."

"I was born with you, I'm a part of you, something you've always been trying to escape, but can never shake off - the pathology."

When the pathological Bruce fell silent, Bruce stared at him with slightly scattered eye contact and said:

"I've seen you many times, under the bed, behind the kindergarten door, even in the castle built with toy blocks."

"I wanted to hide under the bed to make Thomas and Martha feel sad about my disappearance, I wanted to suddenly push the door to scare the kindergarten teacher, I wanted to kick down the block castle and make all the classmates cry, and in those moments, I saw you."

"But at that time, we only expressed ordinary malice, every child has the idea of mischief, so I didn't realize that I was different from others, until that night..."

"In the moment I saw the muzzle." Bruce's arms started trembling again, and he said in the same trembling tone, "I had two perspectives, I saw the blood blossom behind Martha, and I also saw the scarlet blood flowing from Thomas's chest through the handgun's sights."

"In every nightmare since then, I can't tell whether I'm standing behind them or in front of them, and I can't tell whether I'm holding what, the movie ticket stub or the trigger of the handgun."

"There has never been a clear boundary between detectives and Criminals," the pathological Bruce said. "The fact you realized that night, that you and the killer who pulled the trigger that night are the same kind of person, or even more suited to being a Criminal, has been causing you unbearable pain for these past decades."

Bruce took a deep breath, his shoulders rising, then slowly exhaled. The pathological Bruce looked at him and asked:

"Why have you never dared to deprive others of life?"

Bruce stared into his eyes, but the pathological Bruce didn't need an answer, he answered himself:

"Is it because of your mercy? No, it's because you don't dare, because you don't dare to see me, to acknowledge my existence, you think that by being a saint, you can wash away the fact that you have the unique criminal genius in this world."

Bruce slowly closed his eyes, his lips trembling slightly before he looked up at the pathological Bruce and said:

"And today, the reason I will see you here is because Schiller made me understand a fact, you exist, you are inseparable, you can never be destroyed, and even... guide and direct me."

"You've already thought about it," the pathological Bruce said. "What ultimately guides human actions? What drives human progress? Is it love? Is it goodness?"

Bruce shook his head, the movement light, but as if he was forcefully pushing a huge boulder off a cliff.

"It's you," Bruce answered.

"In these past decades, what has driven me to constantly learn, improve myself, and build equipment, is not my love and goodwill for anyone, but hatred, anger, jealousy, fear, the innate evil of humanity, and my own pathology."

"Before this, I always had the unrealistic fantasy of expelling you, I thought that as long as I was strong and resolute enough, one day you would leave, and on that day, I would be rid of the nightmares of the past, and never have to fear becoming a Criminal again."

"But Schiller made you understand that I will never leave, and I don't need to leave, you are not my burden, not my shackle, but a sharp knife, and the key to opening another world," the pathological Bruce continued.

"Only by seeing me, acknowledging me, and utilizing me can you venture into the world that ordinary people can never reach, a world where the most terrible group of people on this earth, known as 'Born Psychopaths', reside."

Bruce leaned back in the chair, seemingly drained of all energy, and then continued Pathological Bruce's words:

"Previously, I was able to constantly evade and not acknowledge your existence because I was unaware of the danger these people posed."

"But the appearance of Schiller made me realize that if I don't face you, don't utilize the other power I possess, and don't truly delve into the minds of the lunatics, I will never be able to defeat them."

"You must recognize me."

"I must recognize you."

The two Bruces spoke in unison.

"You must accept me."

"I must accept you."

"You must love me."

"I must love you."

"Because..."

"The only ones capable of dealing with Criminals..."

"...are Criminals."

"How will you defeat them?" Bruce asked.

"I don't need to defeat them," Pathological Bruce replied, looking into Bruce's eyes. "Schiller is not only teaching you, but also teaching me. You have a Professor, and I have one as well."

"Schiller's actions have shown me that I don't need to defeat the lunatics, because I am already stronger than them. I don't need to harm them, because they are precious lambs."

"Don't be a child of anyone, but be a father to all."

"When they offer sacrifices to seek your favor, say to them, 'If you do well, will you not be accepted? And if you do not do well, sin is crouching at the door. Its desire is for you, but you must rule over it.'" (Genesis 4:7)

The light filtering through the window gradually dimmed, leaving only the vibrant and dreamlike neon lights, and Bruce's voice rose like a murmured prayer.

"Utilize your talents."

"Utilize my talents."

"Stand on the high clouds."

"Stand on the high clouds."

"Preach to them."

"Preach to them."

"Let them listen."

"Let them pay tribute."

"Love them as you would the fragile lambs."

"Understand them, soothe them."

"Whip them, admonish them."

"Make them walk on the earth."

"As they would in my kingdom."

"Become a father."

"Become... a father."

The cold glint of the batarang was reflected in Batman's blue eyes, like a fleeting glimpse of a bird in the Arctic storm.

The blade sliced through the stagnant atmosphere of the police chief's office, leaving a cold wake as it cut across Jonathan Crane's carotid artery.

Instantly, life burst forth from the crimson flow, only to begin an irreversible ebbing.

Gordon rushed forward, shocked, and embraced the slowly collapsing Jonathan, glaring at the thrown batarang and yelling at Batman, "Batman, have you gone mad?!"

Lying on the ground, Jonathan, with great effort, pushed away Gordon, who was trying to stop the bleeding, and with a weak, broken voice, said, "Get out of the way!... Let me hear... what he is saying..."

Batman's lips moved.

At that moment, a bright bolt of lightning flashed outside the Gotham police station, followed by the rumbling of thunder, like every night Batman fell from the rooftops.

Batman's voice was soft, but it drowned out the deafening thunder. All the words he had been unable to speak on countless nights were now woven into this gentle yet powerful cry.

Jonathan strained to listen, and he heard the words Batman uttered.

"...Missing persons case in the Morrison District."

[Read at www.patreon.com/shanefreak, and thanks for the invaluable support!]

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Next Chapter>>Chapter 1190 Lamb's Cry (Part Eleven)