"Wee-woo, wee-woo～"
The flashing red and blue lights on the roof of the police car flickered into the interior, reflecting off Bruce's grim face.
The wailing police car sped along the winding mountain road, the two officers inside chattering and laughing, discussing which brothel they'd visit after their shift.
Bruce's gaze hardened.
He couldn't be taken to the police station. He couldn't reveal his identity.
"Stop the car, let me out," Bruce said slowly. To be honest, if a normal person had lost so much blood, they would likely have already fainted. However, his incredible willpower, coupled with the earlier scene of two severed fingers and a gun, miraculously kept Bruce upright.
The corrupt cop in the passenger seat turned and glared at Bruce, "Hey, you better sit still!"
Just as the corrupt cop turned his head, Bruce lunged forward, arms outstretched, towards the front seats.
BANG!
He gripped the steering wheel with both hands and yanked it hard.
The two corrupt cops were shocked and tried to stop Bruce, yelling, "Oh, damn it, you maniac!"
As the steering wheel turned right, the police car, which had been driving straight, veered off the road. It swayed drunkenly, like a staggering strongman, and flew off the road, tumbling down the slope.
BOOM!
The overturned police car crashed into a large tree and slowly came to a halt.
Bruce kicked out the shattered window and scrambled out of the car, using his hands and feet.
A strong smell of gasoline filled his nostrils.
Bruce was silent for a moment, but still managed to pull the two police officers out of the car despite his serious injuries.
Boom!
Another explosion. The gasoline that had spilled out ignited and exploded instantly, sending black smoke billowing into the sky.
Bruce, still injured, limped away from the scene.
He had to get away from here, and then, figure out how to save himself.
His injured wound kept bleeding.
Bruce gasped for breath.
He took out his phone.
Result.
The shattered phone screen and its body announced the phone's demise.
His vision began to blur.
"Crack, crack."
It sounded like boots crunching on twigs.
Bruce struggled to turn his head.
In the endless forest, under the cover of moonlight, he saw that strange figure again.
The figure stood beneath a towering pagoda tree, and then, an arm reached out from the darkness.
The gentle moonlight illuminated the suit and fell on the mysterious person's right hand.
That hand was holding a phone.
Although Bruce couldn't see the person's true face, he could tell the other person was in a good mood.
He was toying with the phone, his eyes watching Bruce with interest.
Then,
as if he were a god looking down from above, he threw the phone with his white-gloved right hand.
A brand new phone arced gracefully through the moonlight, landing on the empty grass about two hundred meters from Bruce.
It was like a ray of "hope" had fallen not far from Bruce.
Having done all this, the other person walked into the depths of the darkness.
"Wait!" Bruce forced his hands into the soil, interlocking his fingers. He strained, propping up his upper body and roaring.
He wanted to discover the mysterious person's true identity, but the figure was gradually disappearing into the moonlight.
Weakness washed over him again.
Bruce could only abandon the thought of pursuing the mysterious person's identity. Using both hands and legs, he moved like a patient who had just gotten out of bed after receiving a spinal block.
Pain and fatigue relentlessly consumed him. The man didn't know how long he had been crawling.
Until he grabbed the brand-new button phone and laboriously pressed the button to call Alfred.
After informing him of his location, the taut string in Bruce's mind finally snapped.
His eyes rolled back, and his face plunged into the damp soil, unconscious.
Wayne Manor.
The ancient castle, built of black marble, was eerily majestic. The iron gates of the manor isolated the castle from the outside world, as if someone had shut off their heart from the world.
When Bruce woke up again, he found a thin blanket covering him.
He looked around, and the familiar layout of the room put his mind at ease.
He was back in the castle.
Bruce wanted to sit up.
"Ouch."
Sharp pain in his legs tugged at Bruce's nerves.
He lifted the blanket and saw that his legs were wrapped in white gauze, looking like a mummy.
Though it hurt, he could barely walk.
Bruce staggered over to the window.
He pulled back the curtain, and the soft moonlight bathed him.
He was silent for a moment, then closed the curtains again.
Bruce sat back down on the bed, but his mind was replaying the events of the previous night.
Just as he'd suspected, Gotham's crime rate was skyrocketing at an unbelievable pace.
"Master Bruce."
A calm knock sounded from behind him.
A distinguished-looking elderly man in a suit approached Bruce, carrying a tray.
"Your breakfast, sir."
The steaming breakfast was placed on a table near Bruce.
The white-haired old man silently gazed at Bruce's back, his eyes filled with concern, but his words were laced with a certain sharpness: "Master Bruce, a severed artery in your left leg, and a bullet through your right calf."
"Frankly, it's a miracle you're still alive."
"I know, Alfred, but I'm fine," Bruce said, shaking his head. He declined Alfred's offer of support and walked towards his parents' house.
He needed to go there to think things through.
To make some decisions.
Bruce went to his parents' room.
The originally spacious room now held a bust, and the bust was of Bruce's deceased father.
He slumped onto the soft sofa, squinting as he examined the statue, his mind replaying everything that had happened last night.
The criminal Gotham, the mysterious figure in the Bat mask.
Bruce took a deep breath, his beautiful blue eyes filled with weariness: "I have the greatest wealth."
"I possess exquisite martial skills."
"I have an outstanding butler."
He stared intently at the statue, his eyes burning with a fierce fire.
"I tried waiting."
"I tried enduring."
"But what am I supposed to do?"
He seemed to be asking the statue, or perhaps himself.
"What do I do to make these vicious criminals fear me?"
No one answered.
But, the image of the masked man's two fingers and the gun gesture resurfaced in his mind.
"Bat."
Bruce murmured to himself.
"My fear."
He thought of the scene from his childhood, falling into the Bat Cave.
The countless bats scattering and flying around had become Bruce's lifelong fear.
A gleam flashed in Bruce's eyes as if he had suddenly understood something. He murmured: "If I want to make others fear, I must become fear!"
Bruce took a deep breath, an idea, a plan, forming in his mind.
He rang the bell beside him, his voice low.
"Alfred, contact the Tech Department for me. Have them send over some materials. I need to build something."
Next chapter, Bruce's open conflict with the protagonist... I need to think about how to write it for maximum impact.
------------------------
Completed English PDF of this fan-fic on my Patreon shop if you want to support and own the full fan-fic in one go. Just grab the PDF and binge the entire story from start to finish!
Guys, I've uploaded some High Quality english translated fanfic on my Patreon shop! Feel free to check it out-if you're interested, you can grab a copy and support me there.
Here are a few titles of recently uploaded fanfics:
" Saiyan's in the Marvel Universe "
" Marvel: Writing a Diary Iron Man Breaks Down at the Start "
" Marvel: Starts with Asking Questions About Iron Man "
" DC Universe: You're Fishing, And You Got the Superman Template? " many more are available
Your support means a lot-thanks in advance, legends!
patreon.com/SuperTL
(End of Chapter)