Bane was more frustrated than ever. When he was up against Adam, he felt like every move, every secret, was being exposed by this guy from Gotham. Bane prided himself on always knowing his opponent, planning every attack based on their weaknesses. He'd never guessed he'd meet someone who seemed to know all about him—even his tricks with the venom tubes and immunity to gas—then use that knowledge to escape.
It annoyed him even more to realize Adam was just a minor player in Gotham. If someone like this caused so much trouble, Bane wondered how dangerous the true power players must be. Maybe, he thought, it was time for him to visit Gotham and see those famous "heroes" for himself.
Still, he kept his sharp eyes on the burned grassland. Black ash covered everything, and even the bodies of animals that hadn't gotten out in time were scattered across the ground. Bane was unmoved; he searched the area like a hunter.
Soon, he called his men over to a patch of ground. The spot he pointed at was a different color from the rest and covered in lots of footprints.
"Did you find any bodies anywhere else?" Bane asked, his voice angry.
The soldiers looked at each other nervously, not wanting to answer. Bane didn't need them to speak to know what had happened.
"You idiots," Bane snapped. "Take a close look. These fire marks—see them? The Gotham group didn't panic at all, they set their own fire to clear a safe space ahead of the flames. When the big fire came, there was nothing left to burn here, so they survived. Your bad decisions let them escape."
Without warning, Bane struck the nearest patrolman. The soldier didn't even have time to react before he collapsed, his head smashed down with a sickening thud.
No one else dared move. Bane rewarded success, but he had no patience for mistakes.
Bane's adjutant stepped forward, voice barely above a whisper. "Should we chase after them now, sir?"
Bane shook his head, letting out a deep sigh. "They're long gone now. There's no point chasing—too much time has passed. It's a shame we came so close to catching them…"
Despite his anger, Bane always knew when it was time to stop and cut his losses.
Meanwhile, Adam and his friends had made their move exactly as Bane suspected. With a few American dollars, they flagged down a car, sped to the nearest city, rested for a bit, then crossed the northern border into the next country. They found a hotel and quickly bought tickets to fly home to Gotham. Everything went smoothly—the nightmare seemed to finally be over.
At last, Adam could relax. The whole journey had nearly cost him his life, from being hunted to bargaining with powerful groups in South America. But he'd managed to come out ahead—earning money and making a strong ally in Bronze Tiger, one of the best fighters in the DC world. With a friend like that, Adam didn't have to worry about being cornered in Gotham by loan sharks.
Thinking of those debts, Adam suddenly remembered something. He grabbed the satellite phone Black Mask had given him and made a call.
"What do you want now?" Black Mask responded, sounding annoyed—Adam could hear crying and chaos in the background.
Adam ignored the noise, getting straight to the point. "Your guy took the shipment on his own. He should be about to reach Gotham by now, right?"
Black Mask poked back, sounding smug. "What's it to you? Want to track my shipment? Don't stick your nose where it doesn't belong."
"Then don't dump the blame on me if things go sideways," Adam said dryly.
Black Mask laughed, but his tone turned cold. "You finished your job in South America. The rest isn't your concern. You're done—don't ask questions you shouldn't."
Adam hung up, tired of the games. He poured himself a drink and started thinking about how to build his own power in Gotham. He didn't want to be under Black Mask's thumb anymore.
As he walked to the living room, Adam noticed the window had blown open. The breeze whipped the curtains and rattled the calendar on the table.
"Damn, did I forget to close the window?" he muttered. Moving to shut it, Adam spotted something chilling—a huge, muddy footprint on the windowsill. He was staying on the sixth floor. Only one kind of person could have left that mark.
Adam tried to hide his nerves. Calmly, he picked up the wine bottle, faced away from the door, and spoke in a steady voice, "Since you're already here, care to join me for a drink? Sorry, I don't have any jungle-cold rum."
He gripped the bottle tightly—ready to act tough, but really to steady himself.
Behind him, a giant shadow appeared in the doorway: Bane, the brutal villain who'd almost beaten him before. This time, Bane wasn't after the whole group—he was here for Adam alone.