"I think I might know what's going on." Batman looked at the device in front of him and said, "We're a step late, not the first ones here."
He turned to look at the somewhat dazed Superman, then said, "This is a moral dilemma game, Clark. What I'm about to say might be very important, and you probably need to listen carefully to prevent thinking that what I'm going to do next is insane."
The last sentence sent a chill down Superman's spine. Usually, when Batman said something like that, his subsequent actions would indeed seem insane, and not just any kind of insane—it would look like a death wish.
"We arrived here very quickly, which proves our seamless cooperation and significant sacrificial spirit. The key to this moral dilemma game is to use moral coercion to extract enough blood from those who arrive first."
"For each morally unscrupulous villain that comes after us, we need to contribute extra blood, taking on part of their cost; otherwise, a chain collapse would occur, and the game would fail."
"In my view, we should be second or third. Judging by the blood volume in this basin, the third is more likely, but it's still ahead. This means we must extract enough blood for those behind to see hope of victory."
"However, if we split it equally, the result would be that both of us lose most of our mobility, and neither can save the other. The challenge won't end here; there are more dangers ahead, so doing so would be the most disadvantageous."
"The best method is that we work collaboratively. Let one person fall into weakness while the other remains strong. The one who becomes weak might have reduced mobility but will not lose their wisdom and can still take on the command role. Meanwhile, the other will be responsible for execution. This way, our pace won't be slowed down significantly."
"Considering the need to maintain rational thinking in a weakened state, the one who becomes weak needs very strong willpower. I assume you wouldn't want to compete with me in this regard, Clark. After all, I win every time, don't I?"
Superman gave him a smile, but it looked somewhat sorrowful. He looked at Batman silently and said, "You know? Every time this moment is painful for me, Bruce. I know you can always persuade me; your language and logic are almost flawless, and you always manage to persuade everyone. My rational mind tells me I should trust you, I should listen to you."
"But no." Superman said, "Another part of me is screaming madly, opposing you, saying you're insane. It even wants to attack you. I can't even tell if that's resentment; I can't face such an evil version of myself."
"Overcome it," Batman said.
"Yes, I almost always manage to do so." Superman looked at him and said, "Maybe I can do it this time too, but will there be a time when I can't? Batman? Have you thought about that?"
Batman's movement paused for a moment. He extended one hand, seeming a bit hesitant, then put it down and said, "Sorry, I'm used to not having too much physical contact with super aliens like you. Even if now we're both ordinary humans, I still can't adapt. So I can only tell you with words that I wanted to give you a hug."
"When a person decides to sacrifice themselves, it's undoubtedly more painful for the one who remains alive." Batman looked into his eyes and said, "I fully understand this, so every time I assure you, I'll come back. I've done it so many times, and isn't that enough for you to trust me?"
Superman sniffed, "At least let me go first, Batman. This way, when you lose your strength, I can still take care of you."
Batman nodded. The details of the dilemma puzzle lingered in his mind; he sighed softly, feeling as if there's something he hadn't considered, but under such circumstances, there was no better choice.
To others, the grand scenes of sacrifice were just normal for Batman; in a way, it's a form of path dependence.
"Oh my God, what is this?" Harley and Pamela stared in shock at the huge device, "Don't tell me we're going to be thrown in and crushed..."
They circled around the machine, and soon they understood. Harley thought for a moment and said, "I thought we were fast enough, if not the first, then at least the second. Who would have thought there were experts here?"
She lowered her head and took out a disposable needle, intending to reach inside. Pamela quickly stopped her, "What are you doing?"
"Isn't it obvious?" Harley said, "We must inject enough blood to open the mechanism. Even though we're not at the forefront, we shouldn't be the last. To ensure the puzzle is completed, we must give more blood."
Pamela watched as she skillfully attached the needle, preparing to insert it into her arm. As she inserted the needle, she mumbled, "Luckily, I used to be a nurse. Back then, what happened to Gotham? Gordon was short on staff and crazy, so he insisted on pulling me in to help. I knew nothing at the time, but luckily I learned quickly..."
Just as the needle was about to pierce her arm, a hand pressed down on her. Pamela looked up at her, "Are you really going to do this?"
"Didn't I explain it already?" Harley said, somewhat helplessly staring into Pamela's eyes, "This is how this round is played out, it's a very classic moral dilemma puzzle. You can think of it as testing people's strategic thinking and the ability to execute hypothetical plans into reality. If we don't provide enough, there won't be hope of victory for those behind us..."
Harley rambled on for quite some time, and Pamela just watched her like that. Harley paused and then asked, "Did you understand?"
"I say no." Pamela's tone was very calm. Although her superpower was gone, those green eyes still appeared somewhat bewitching under the bright light. She usually maintained a mild, ordinary human demeanor, but when she wasn't smiling, a certain careless indifference floated up.
"I have a different perspective on your game hypothesis."
"Uh-huh," Harley nodded, signaling her to continue.
"Why can't we be that villain?"
"What?"
"Everyone up front is leaving space for that selfish villain who refuses to sacrifice themselves. Why can't we take up that space?"
"Because there might be more villains behind us."
"If there are so many villains, the task itself would be impossible to complete," Pamela said, "Miss Quinzel, I'm afraid you're turning into Batman by fooling yourself. You should find a Joker to liberate yourself. Why are we playing this Saints game with them?"
"Because if we don't play, the whole game will be lost!" Harley explained very earnestly, "We participate in the game because we want to win. If we don't want to win, there's no point in playing. So now, to win, it's normal to make some sacrifices. It's not entirely a Saints game, right?"
Pamela crossed her arms and shook her head, "If they gave us chips to throw on the table to gamble, I'd completely agree with you. But now?"
Harley looked at her, her gaze following her movements. Pamela turned back to look at Harley and said, "We have nothing, which means you can't purely consider the problem from a rational game theory perspective. Because what needs to be sacrificed isn't external things like money, but your health and comfort, which aren't the kind of things that can be used as chips in a game."
"You sound more like Batman than I do," Harley couldn't help but say.
"Quite the opposite," Pamela said, "If Batman had to sacrifice these things, he would probably do it because, in fact, he's a madman too. Whereas I'm just a normal person who's never been a Superhero or a Super Villain."
"Exploit the morals of the good and the competitiveness of the bad to make them willingly sacrifice." Pamela walked over and propped herself on the wooden platform, looking into Harley's eyes, "But victory? When did I ever want that?"
She slightly raised her head again, "You say we teamed up to play the game for victory, and that's not wrong. Because you want to win, and I hope you enjoy yourself, so of course, I would do my best to help you achieve victory."
"So what's different now?"
"But if it's at the cost of your prolonged suffering to exchange for that moment of happiness in victory for both of us, I would find it not worth it. If you think it's worth it, then you should check your brain."
Harley didn't know what to say. She put down the syringe somewhat helplessly, then said, "It's just a game."
"I really don't want to do this." Pamela walked over and cupped Harley's face, or more accurately, clamped her head so she couldn't move at all, "But, dear miss, the era of madmen playing games with each other is over. I'm tired of playing these harmful games with them, and I've been prepared for a long time—you should go learn a few tricks from my cabbage."
Bam! Pamela knocked Harley out with a punch.
"Thor, step aside a bit." Loki picked up the syringe and gestured at his arm, "These little gadgets designed by the human race are really a nuisance. Can't they make it automatic? How dare they assume I would use..."
"What are you doing?" Thor asked him.
Loki said nothing, merely reached out to grab the tube, looked again at the now heavy right side of the scale, his face darkened slightly, but still attached the needle and tube.
Just as he was about to stick it into his arm, Thor pressed his hand, "Loki, you can't pretend I'm blind. Maybe I'm not as dumb as you think. At least I can tell this device is for drawing blood."
"Oh, how rare," Loki said, "This must be your peak intelligence in nearly a thousand years. Are you sure you want to use it here?"
"Loki, whenever you get scared, you try to change the subject," Thor moved closer and looked at him, "Look into my eyes, and tell me what you're doing."
"Completing the task," Loki said, "We're already way behind, perhaps last or second to last. Although this time, being behind has an advantage, next time it might not. We better hurry up."
"How are you going to complete the task?"
"Even if I told you, you wouldn't understand," Loki said, waving his other hand at the side of his head, "It's a very complex game theory issue, but most of it is already done, we don't have much to do."
"Including what?"
"Just need to draw a little blood," Loki said, "People before us have given a lot, it's really not much."
"Then let me do it," Thor said, "My body is much healthier than yours."
"This... occasionally let me do it once," Loki looked at Thor with his eyes, "At least let me prove that I don't rely entirely on you, I can accomplish something independently."
Thor let out a cold laugh, "The fact that you'd say this proves it's not just a little blood. Put it down, don't make me do it myself."
"I'm serious," Loki turned his head away, "What gives you the right to stop me, we're both mortals now..."
Bam! Thor punched Loki, grabbed him by the neck, slammed him to the ground, and then dragged him toward the exit, "You're right, but unfortunately, there are differences even among mortals."