Chapter 787: Deadly Joke (14) (Patreon)

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To defeat a madman, you must be crazier than him. Bruce, now crazier than the Joker, faced Copperpot, who wasn't initially insane but suffered from mental issues. He was at the bottom of the villain hierarchy. Confronted with a Batman who was unusually mad, Copperpot had to acknowledge his defeat.

"Wayne, our match ends here. I acknowledge it; you've won. I don't care about the fate of those children you took away. Just by looking at your current state, you indeed won," Copperpot declared, raising his hands.

"If you want to make things difficult for me in this way, it's unnecessary. We are all businessmen; let's not make it undignified," he continued.

Bruce, with piercing eyes, stared at him and said, "Why can't you understand my words? I came here for business. I have all the information you need about Living Hell nearby. Just pay for it."

Copperpot wore a helpless expression, stepped back, and said, "If you want to use this method to trouble me, there's really no need. We're all businessmen. Don't make it so undignified..."

Bruce continued staring at him. "Why can't you understand my words? I came here to do business with you. I've memorized all the information about Living Hell nearby. I have everything you need. Just pay for it."

Copperpot, showing a helpless expression, took a deep breath, then walked to the telephone behind him and called the Gotham Police Department.

Copperpot didn't want the police to take Bruce Wayne away; he wanted them to take him away.

Unable to provoke, he could avoid. Even if it meant spending a few months in prison, he could use the time to strengthen relationships with long-lost gang leaders.

And so, Gordon took Copperpot away, Bruce's plan to earn extra money failed, and his extraordinary memory had no use.

Watching Copperpot leave, Bruce felt no joy in victory. Instead, he was full of regret, thinking that Copperpot had gone mad.

Copperpot wanted to reorganize the rules around Hell's Kitchen, and Bruce happened to come with a deal and sincerity. Still, Copperpot chose to report himself to the police. Wasn't that madness?

Standing in front of Iceberg Lounge, Bruce sighed, looking at the still gloomy Gotham sky. He knew he had to find another way out.

It wasn't that he was tired of being a truck driver, but the truck he obtained had reached the end of its lifespan, and he didn't have enough money to fill the bottomless pit of repairing it.

Fortunately, the place he moved to, despite leaking water every day and constant noise, had one advantage – an excellent location.

It was close to the pier, much closer to Selina's residence, which meant Bruce could work as a porter.

Discovering this, Bruce felt excitement and happiness he hadn't experienced in a month because the threshold for being a porter was lower than that of a truck driver. They didn't even check personal records; anyone could do it.

On a morning when the temperature rose, Bruce applied at the pier for a job. The person in charge of hiring looked at his figure and shook his head, saying, "You're too thin, and your arms lack muscles. Can't sell you at a good price."

"But I'm strong," Bruce insisted.

The person in charge flipped through his notes impatiently and said, "Everyone who comes here says the same, even if they're as thin as a bamboo pole... Well, if it weren't for the shortage of people here, I wouldn't bother dealing with you."

"Firstly, do you smoke? Where do you live? Do you know anyone from a gang?" The person in charge asked a series of questions. Bruce answered truthfully, and upon hearing that he didn't smoke or drink, the person in charge rolled his eyes and said, "Are you from out of town?"

Bruce could only nod and say, "But I've been a truck driver for some time before. I know the roads well."

"That's an advantage," the person in charge replied. "But you can't handle unloading cargo on the ship. You'll cough blood within a week. You'll be working in the indoor warehouse. Oh, by the way, are you brave?"

"Brave?" Bruce asked. "Do you need courage to be a porter?"

"Don't ask so many questions," the person in charge became impatient. Rolling his eyes again, he said, "Indoor cargo handling pays very little, but there's a special job now. Your partner has a special situation. If you're brave, the salary increases by thirty percent."

"I'm brave," Bruce immediately replied.

He didn't think there was anything in this world that could scare him. Well, except for that paper before. But there shouldn't be anything like that again.

Until he arrived at the warehouse where he had to handle goods, Bruce discovered that his partner was a crocodile.

Calling it a crocodile was not entirely accurate. It was a crocodile person, with the head of a crocodile and a tall, muscular body. Bruce stared at him for a minute, realizing that this crocodile person could do the work of three people.

So, Bruce's first emotion upon seeing him wasn't fear, disgust, or confusion. It was envy. Bruce thought that if he looked like that, the agency wouldn't dare to trick him.

In fact, Bruce recognized him. In the Dream Realm, there was a crocodile person in Gotham, but at that time, he was the Crocodile Cat. Bruce had thought that there might be a corresponding criminal appearing in the real Gotham City, but he didn't expect it to be like this.

However, Bruce wasn't nervous because he knew Crocodile Cat was quite easy to get along with. So, he approached him, greeted him, and said, "Hello, I'm your future colleague, also working in this warehouse."

The crocodile rotated its eyes, looked at him, and in a buzzing voice asked, "Aren't you afraid of me?"

Bruce looked up at his gaping mouth. But then, his gaze fell on the box he was carrying, full of metal parts, appearing quite heavy. Bruce glanced at a similar box nearby, walked over, and tried to lift it. He found out he couldn't move it.

"Don't move," the crocodile person suddenly said. "It'll strain your back, and if it breaks, you'll have to pay for it."

The crocodile person's voice was a bit hoarse, and the accent was very strange, as if the vocal cords were different from regular people. But Bruce felt he was already doing quite well. After all, you couldn't ask for more from a crocodile.

The two worked in silence, and Bruce casually asked about the crocodile person's situation. Then he understood that this crocodile person was even more unfortunate than him.

Crocodile Man was not a local, but he hailed from the outskirts of Gotham. Originally a normal person, he suffered from a atavistic disease, causing him to gradually resemble a crocodile...

In the small town he came from, people couldn't tolerate someone with his appearance. Armed with guns and cannons, they drove him out.

Nowhere to go, Crocodile Man had no choice but to try his luck in Gotham. Initially, he lived in the sewers, and everyone knows the rest.

To counter the Court of Owls, Schiller sealed off the entire sewer system in Gotham. Although the Court of Owls no longer existed in history, the sealing of the sewers remained.

Crocodile Man was tragically sealed in a small room, hungry for a whole month. It wasn't until Gang renovated the cold storage that they dug him out.

But Gotham had an advantage – its people were worldly, rarely easily surprised. They didn't see Crocodile Man's odd head at first glance; instead, they saw his strong arms. Thus, Crocodile Man joined the ranks of Gotham's development.

Since he hadn't killed anyone yet, he wasn't given the title of Killer Croc. He was just a strong and capable crocodile person, earning the wages of one person while doing the work of three. Gang even awarded him the title of Labor Vanguard.

"So, you mean they provide food and shelter here?" Bruce asked Crocodile Man. Crocodile Man glanced at him, swayed his large head, and said, "Don't think too much. They provide me with food and shelter because I look fierce. No one would rent a house to me. If I leave Gotham, they won't find anyone to do so much work for them."

Bruce felt a bit sad but didn't say much. In the next few days, he discovered that this was indeed an ideal job for him. Crocodile Man was so capable that Bruce didn't need to exert much effort in lifting heavy objects. He only needed to arrange the shelves and label them.

The wages here were also decent, and unlike being a truck driver, it wasn't dependent on luck. The volume of goods transported here was enormous, with work available every day. Bruce's life in the slums once again stabilized.

However, there was never a day without unexpected events in Gotham. The weather forecast here couldn't predict the unpredictable weather. In a warehouse near the pier, on a day with humidity reaching 87%, a fire broke out.

The exact cause of the fire was unclear. When Bruce heard the news, he only heard the gatekeeper say it seemed like there was a problem with the storage specifications of some chemicals, leading to leakage. Additionally, one of the warehouse clerks smoked a cigarette, causing sparks to fall onto the chemicals. This triggered an explosion and a massive fire.

Hearing the word "chemicals," Bruce knew it might be the warehouse where he worked. Before leaving yesterday, he had double-checked that his labels were properly affixed. Those labels read, "Chemical agents, destined for ACE Chemical Factory."

Bruce rushed into the burning warehouse area and found the fire to be intense. He knew he had to go in because Crocodile Man lived and ate inside the warehouse, and he wouldn't have had time to escape.

Bruce didn't know if Crocodile Man had crocodile-like instincts, but regardless of whether he liked water or not, he definitely wouldn't like fire.

Bruce rushed in at the fastest speed. He found his way to the room he worked in. Although the fire there wasn't the most intense, the smoke was thick. Bruce remembered that a batch of wood had just been delivered yesterday morning and hadn't been sent out yet, becoming perfect kindling.

The raging fire reflected on Bruce's face. When the pain from the fire entered his blue eyes, it was like the afterglow of the setting sun under a blue sky. But this beautiful sight didn't last long. Bruce heard a "bang," and the warehouse beams collapsed, meaning it couldn't hold on for much longer.

Bruce picked up his coat, covering his nose and mouth. He entered the warehouse, enduring the choking smoke. He felt he could rescue Crocodile Man, but he overestimated his strength and underestimated the danger.

Upon entering, Bruce saw that Crocodile Man was pinned under a piece of wood. Many beams had collapsed, and when Crocodile Man was probably trying to escape, he wasn't careful and got trapped. The beam was pressing on his waist, making it impossible for him to exert force.

Bruce wanted to lift the piece of wood, but the reduction in muscle mass made him less powerful. Even at his peak as Batman, he might not have been able to lift it quickly. Bruce was already feeling the lack of oxygen.

The only way now was to forcibly pull Crocodile Man out. Bruce half-knelt beside him and said, "Hang on. It might hurt a bit, but it'll be over soon..."

He captured Crocodile Man's strong arm, pulling him with all his might. Crocodile Man let out an intense scream but couldn't move at all.

Bruce covered his nose and mouth with his coat, staggering to stand up.

In his ears, a cacophony of sounds arose. He couldn't hear what was being said; he only smelled an extremely pungent chemical odor. He understood; when these things burned, they were toxic.

It seemed everything had come to a dead end. Bruce thought he finally got what he wanted. He had touched the bottom of this dreadful abyss.

What's at the bottom? Only Death.

No, no, no, Bruce thought. Not just Death, not just Death... There must be something else down here.

Suddenly, that noisy noise became clear. Bruce heard it – laughter, a very happy laughter.

This laughter was so sincere, sounding like the final mournful cry of countless souls that died in the snowy night.

After exhausting his strength, his consciousness began to fade. In the shadow of the campfire, Bruce slowly fell down.

He lay on the ground, facing upward. The firelight shone on his face, gently touching his cheeks. Dust irritated his throat, and the flames burned into his eyes.

Like all Gothamites, in the flames of the mundane world, punishment burned everything, turning bone and blood into ashes. Hell's eighteen layers couldn't squeeze out a single tear.

The raging fire collapsed the shelves. The nearest one to Bruce collapsed with a bang. Numerous chemicals on it, like raindrops, scattered onto him.

In the blazing fire, Bruce welcomed a night rain in Gotham. It was icy and unbearable, bone-chilling cold.

His lips slowly curled upward because he saw it. The truth of this massive fire, he was facing the craziest thing in the world – reality.

Countless ordinary people, in the repetition of ordinary life, sought nothing extraordinary. No grand wars, no brilliant rotten stories.

Fatigue, hunger, insomnia – day after day. Drug addiction, gambling, prostitution – irreversible. Job hunting, house hunting, partner hunting – exhausted. No money, no love, no hope – alone.

At this moment, Batman finally understood why the Joker wanted to laugh.

Because the Joker saw a god standing above the clouds, swearing to save everything, taking a full ten years.

Batman, in ten years, lived out a joke.

It was really funny. So, Bruce laughed too.

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Next Chapter>>Chapter 788: Deadly Joke (Part 15)