Chapter 746: Shadows Looming (Part Two) (Patreon)

In DC World With Marvel Chat Group : Table of Content/Chapter List

XXX-----XXX-----XXX-----XXX

In the previous chapter, the story unfolds as various individuals gathered in a room to discuss recent events in Gotham. A portly man, reclining in his chair, casually cleaned his teeth with a toothpick while expressing his doubts about a mysterious figure, "I've said it before; that odd fellow can't be a good person. Saving people unconditionally in Gotham? Doesn't that sound absurd?"

Sitting across from him was a leaner gentleman, noticeably wealthier from the details of his cufflinks and wristwatch. He cleared his throat and responded, "That's exactly what worries me. I have no bias against the Gang, having encountered my fair share of local gangs in the shipping business. As long as we feed them, my ships remain safe."

"But what I fear most are those unemployed youngsters who loiter around in small groups, neglecting their studies and legitimate work, indulging in theft and mischief. Since they blew up the mast on one of my ships, I won't allow anyone under twenty near my vessels."

Beside him, an elegantly dressed lady delicately wiped her lips with a handkerchief and commented, "Yes, those rascals are the worst. In my opinion, Batman is no different."

"I know," the leaner man continued, "this notion is quite popular in college circles. Those innocent youngsters believe that playing hero allows them to act recklessly, and I strongly disapprove of such behavior. The young ladies of the Gotham family certainly wouldn't admire such people."

The portly man chimed in, "Indeed, Madam. Everyone knows your young ladies are the epitome of refinement. But as far as I can see, Batman isn't as benevolent as they say. He claims to save people, but who has he actually saved?"

The portly man speared a piece of mushroom with his fork and continued, "Have any of you heard about his friends or acquaintances being helped? None of my employees at the car dealership have ever received his favor."

At this point, Miss Goth spoke up, "I've never heard any of my schoolmates mention their friends or family being rescued by Batman either. It seems like he's just seeking fame, and this recent incident must have pushed him over the edge."

"Oh, Miss Goth, you attended a ladies' school?" the leaner man asked.

"Yes," Miss Goth replied modestly, nodding her head. "It's a girls' school run by the church. I've been studying there for years, Mr. White."

Mr. White smiled and turned to Mrs. Goth, saying, "Actually, I came to Gotham for the performance by the Angelica Troupe. After seeing their performance of 'Tea Flower Maiden' in Metropolis, I couldn't forget it. The show was truly remarkable."

"Such tasteful theater should be enjoyed by ladies. Would you and Miss Goth be interested in joining us, along with my son, to watch a performance by the Angelica Troupe after our dinner?"

Mrs. Goth smiled and graciously nodded, and the people at the table all expressed their satisfaction.

Just then, there was a knock at the door. Mrs. Goth signaled to the waiter, who opened the door to admit Copperpot.

Over a year had passed, and Copperpot had grown considerably. With his naturally mature appearance and adult-like attire, it was hard to tell his actual age.

...

Copperpot approached Mr. White and shook his hand, asking, "How was your dining experience, ladies and gentlemen?"

"Very good, Mr. Copperpot," the portly man spoke first. "The ingredients were fresh. But I must say, the noise downstairs is quite excessive. How can we dine in the same restaurant as those laborers?"

Mrs. Goth chimed in, "Yes, when I walked in, I was nearly deafened by their ruckus. I've never seen so many uncouth people gathered in one place in my life. If my daughter hadn't insisted on trying this place, I would never set foot here."

Copperpot chuckled and replied, "Don't say that, Madam. I allow them in because of your generosity. You can consider this place as a charitable endeavor. Every expense here contributes to a good cause."

Mrs. Goth's brow relaxed slightly, and she nodded, saying, "In that case, I'll be generous. When I came in, I noticed that some of the waitstaff downstairs are children. Later, I'll have them brought some tips as a sign of pity."

At this point, Miss Goth made the sign of the cross over her chest and said, "I feel so saddened by the story of that poor girl mentioned in today's headlines. She fell into the hands of the bad guys and died on a cold night. I'd like to organize a charity concert in her memory this weekend. I hope more people will come to mourn her."

Miss Goth blinked at her mother, and Mrs. Goth added, "My dear Belle is always so compassionate. Mr. White, how about we visit her school for the poetry recital after the play?"

"Of course, Madam. My son is also eager to contribute to charity."

The two exchanged glances, both expressing satisfaction, and continued to chat with Copperpot about the upcoming comedy performance.

However, during their conversation, a waiter suddenly entered the room. He whispered something to Copperpot, his face displaying a hint of fear. Copperpot briefly glanced at him before turning back to the others and smiling, "A newly opened restaurant always faces various troubles, don't you agree? An untrained rookie broke a sculpture in my office, and now he's scared and crying. I need to handle this matter. Please continue your conversation."

With that, he left the room, closing the door behind him. Mr. White shook his head and commented, "This owner is quite humorous, but unfortunately, he lacks foresight in business."

The others agreed, but Copperpot, who had already gone upstairs, didn't hear their remarks.

In his top-floor office, a dark figure stood by the window. The waiter, stationed outside the door, nervously pointed at the figure and said to Copperpot, "Boss, should we call someone? That looks like Batman..."

"No need," Copperpot replied. "You can leave. I'll speak with him alone."

"But, didn't the newspapers say Batman is a ruthless child killer? Boss, it might be better to call for help," the waiter hesitated, glancing back at the door with trembling hands.

...

Copperpot maintained eye contact with him, and the waiter's voice grew quieter until he fell silent. He then turned and left the room, gesturing to Copperpot that he was ready to assist at any moment.

As Copperpot entered the room and closed the door, he knocked on his own desk and asked Batman, "What brings you here?"

"What have you done?" Batman inquired.

Copperpot remained silent, locking eyes with Batman. After a moment, Batman spoke again, "You fabricated news to frame me. The newspaper editor told me it was your request to publish that article."

"Batman, don't you think that after losing to me, you won't have to bear any consequences?" Copperpot sneered, "We both know that you've lost, and that's the price you need to pay – your reputation shattered, and the public's scorn upon you."

"You're fabricating facts and deliberately slandering," Batman retorted.

Copperpot lowered his head briefly and then raised it, looking at Batman. "Aren't I stating facts? You're responsible for the death of that child, and her corpse likely rests in a grave in the Gotham Suburbs."

"Furthermore, the condition of the children you sent to the hospital hasn't improved. One of them is already in shock, fighting for his life in the intensive care unit. Unless something changes, he won't make it."

"But don't tell me, the illustrious and noble Batman, doesn't consider this a failure," Copperpot added, tapping the table lightly with his hand. "You should have investigated my restaurant before coming here. The children I took away are doing just fine."

"Correct, they are still malnourished, they work every day without pay, but now you can try taking them back. If you succeed, you can claim victory," Copperpot taunted with a challenging look.

Batman wouldn't easily fall into such a trap. Copperpot was goading him to publicly snatch people away, which would solidify his negative reputation. Batman approached him and stared into Copperpot's eyes, saying, "Regardless, fabricating facts and distorting reports is a crime."

"Do you want to arrest me?" Copperpot grinned, baring his teeth, then suddenly turned and bolted out the door.

Batman's anger flared, and he gave chase immediately. Copperpot was more familiar with the terrain, running down the staircase, while Batman knocked over a waiter waiting on the road and didn't see him scramble to reach for a telephone.

As Copperpot reached the fifth floor, he stumbled in the hallway, letting out a painful cry, causing several doors to open in the vicinity.

At that moment, Batman descended and seized Copperpot by the collar, preparing to strike him.

However, his fist never landed on Copperpot. Copperpot began to scream, and the guests joined in, not understanding what was happening.

Batman glanced at them, released Copperpot's collar, and gave him a cold look before jumping out of the window.

Ten minutes later, Gordon opened the door to the rooftop and approached Batman, who was standing at the edge of the building. He sighed and said, "Batman, what's the story behind the events in the news and just now?"

Batman stood in silence on the rooftop's edge, and Gordon joined him, saying, "Today, you went a bit too far. Many high-society figures witnessed your actions, and they believe you pose a threat to their safety. This has put significant pressure on the Gotham Police Department, and they demanded an investigation into your actions."

"If it weren't for my position in the police department, you might already be a wanted man. The Iceberg Lounge just opened, and it attracts a large crowd. You publicly assaulted Oswald..."

"I didn't assault him," Batman interrupted.

"We haven't had this kind of talk in a long time, Batman," Gordon continued. "I'm not here to lecture you, but I must say, you should calm down and reflect on what you're doing."

"Yes, I believe you wouldn't do anything wrong intentionally. If a little girl did die, it might have been an accident or a mistake. But you should also consider better ways to do good. Continuously acting this way will only cause suffering for all of us."

"Why don't you use these words to counsel yourself?" Batman responded. "You should find a different way to do good. There's no need to stay in Gotham."

"You're talking nonsense, Batman. You know this is entirely different. If you hadn't lost control of your emotions, I believe you wouldn't have acted against Copperpot in public. If you did this, it means you might have some recent troubles."

Gordon sighed and said, "You don't need to push yourself so hard. You don't have to deal with all of Gotham's evils overnight. Sometimes, you need to return to a normal life. You still have to live, don't you?"

Turning away, Gordon concluded, "Go back to your Manor, and have a peaceful few days. Don't appear in public for a while, or your name might end up on a wanted poster."

After Gordon left, Batman stood on the rooftop, listening to the cold wind of Gotham's night. Suddenly, another set of footsteps approached, and a whip wound around Batman's waist. Then, a warm body pressed against him.

"Darling, I've been looking for you for days. Where have you been?" Catwoman's voice sounded, and she said, "You look a bit unhappy. What's wrong?"

"You should read the newspaper," Batman replied without turning his head, his tone calm.

"I did, but so what? I don't believe it's you," Catwoman said, wrapping her arms around Batman's neck. "In my eyes, you're a rotten good person. You'd rather sacrifice your leisure time to save people."

"If you didn't succeed in saving someone, it might mean an accident occurred, but it couldn't have been intentional. You seem to love those unsaved strangers more than I do, right, my Jesus?"

...

Catwoman's teasing tone lingered in Batman's ears, but it only fueled his anger. He couldn't stand how Catwoman treated everything like a game.

He pulled away from Catwoman's grasp, took her whip off his waist, and pushed her aside, saying, "You don't have to see me. Go have fun in Paradise; it's all the same."

"Why? What's wrong?" Catwoman was puzzled by his behavior. "We haven't seen each other for over a week. Don't you want to take a stroll with me, just like before, racing on Gotham's rooftops?"

"Selena," Batman turned and addressed her by name, saying, "Not everyone can approach everything happening in their life with such a frivolous attitude, as you do."

Catwoman fixed her gaze on Batman and replied, "Have you ever considered that maybe you're too serious?"

With those words, she took a couple of steps back, snapped her whip into the air, and then turned to leave.

Batman took a deep breath and closed his eyes in pain. Everyone around him seemed to share that attitude, but he firmly believed he was correct.

He should have a plan for everything, strive to increase the success rate of his plans, reflect and improve constantly, and keep everything under his control. This wasn't being too serious; it was the foundation of being Batman.

Standing on the rooftop of a building, overlooking the myriad lights of Gotham, Batman suddenly spotted a nearby shop being robbed. He jumped down, ready to confront the criminals.

However, instead of screams, the shopkeeper, upon seeing Batman, picked up a gun and pointed it at him, shouting, "Batman? It's Batman! Get out of my shop now, or I'll call the police!"

Batman only wanted to subdue the criminals, but the shopkeeper's shouting attracted other shopkeepers, who all came out with guns. One irate shopkeeper aimed at Batman and fired a shot.

Batman rolled to dodge the bullet, instinctively threw a batarang in the shooter's direction, and the panicked shopkeeper managed to evade it. The batarang scraped his hair and embedded itself deeply into the shop's sign.

Batman's silhouette, the terrified shopkeeper, and the sign with a large hole were all captured in the headline of the newspaper the next day.

Picking up the newspaper again from the neighbor's mailbox, Bruce sighed and looked back at Wayne Manor. Perhaps Batman needed a few days of rest.

The recent events had left him exhausted, and he couldn't concentrate. On his way back last night, he had even been grazed by a stray bullet during a gang shootout. During his recovery, he could gather evidence to restore his reputation.

Upon returning to Wayne Manor, Bruce didn't see Alfred in the hall. This made him furrow his brow. Normally, Alfred would be tending to the fireplace at this time.

As he was about to cross the hall and head to the garden, he suddenly heard severe coughing.

In the hallway corner of the Manor, Alfred was leaning against the wall, coughing intensely and even retching.

...

His elderly and somewhat hunched body slowly slid down the wall. His once perfectly crisp attire now had many wrinkles due to his movements.

Bruce widened his eyes and hurried over, helping Alfred up. He asked, "What's wrong? Are you feeling unwell?"

Alfred shook his head and said, "No, it's just a slight cold from the recent drop in temperature. I've taken some medicine, and I'll likely recover soon."

"We need to go to the hospital," Bruce said earnestly. "This doesn't look like a minor cold!"

With that, he supported Alfred, helping him into the car, and they made their way to the hospital.

Ten minutes later, only Bruce walked out of the hospital, holding a diagnosis sheet that read "severe cold," likely caused by getting caught in the rain.

Bruce couldn't forget how Aisha had run out, and Alfred was extremely anxious. He had grabbed the smaller umbrella on hand, and at that time, it was quite windy outside. While running, it was nearly impossible to shield his entire body with the umbrella. When Alfred returned, Bruce was still outside, speeding recklessly in his car, so he hadn't seen Alfred's soaked clothes or taken him to the hospital immediately.

Standing in front of the hospital, Bruce looked up at Gotham's gloomy sky, clenching the diagnosis sheet in his hand.

He didn't understand why he had messed everything up.

Batman's reputation was tarnished, and people would no longer listen to him. He had become a pariah in Gotham, and perhaps soon, the police would be after him.

Dick would rather stay at school than come back, Aisha was still angry with him, Alfred was hospitalized with a severe cold, Schiller was disappointed in him for his reckless driving and drinking, Gordon felt unable to communicate with him, and Catwoman had walked out on him.

Standing on the sunless streets of Gotham, Bruce raised his hand to cover his eyes and slowly crouched down.

He had ruined Batman's life, and he had ruined Bruce's life.

At that moment, Bruce suddenly felt a shadow cast over the ground in front of him. He lifted his head and saw a pale, grinning face.

"What do we have here?" Joker tilted his head and made a crying face, saying, "A sad little bat! Oh! Come here, let me give you a hug! Hahahaha!"

Joker laughed heartily, opened his arms, and inside his embrace were explosives.

[Read at www.patreon.com/shanefreak, without ads and support the work.]

XXX-----XXX-----XXX-----XXX

Next Chapter>>Chapter 747: Theater Murder Case (Part 1)