The alarm of the Batwing made Bruce grip the joystick tightly.
Inside the cockpit, red warning lights flashed frantically.
Bruce's fingers danced across the control panel, attempting a tactical evasion.
But the light dot on the radar gave him no chance to calculate.
It ignored all aerodynamic principles, cutting directly into his flight path at an astonishing angle.
The next second.
A figure appeared without warning, less than ten meters in front of the Batwing.
Suspended in the night sky over Gotham City.
Black hair whipped wildly in the high-speed air current, and blue eyes shone brighter than any star in the night.
He met Batman's gaze in the cockpit.
Bruce's heart felt as if it had been squeezed by an invisible hand.
His body instinctively tensed, and the knuckles of his hands, gripping the control stick, turned white from the effort.
Tel-Rol's face held a playful, cat-and-mouse expression.
He extended his right index finger, bent it, and tapped lightly with his knuckle on the reinforced glass of the cockpit.
"Knock."
"Knock."
The crisp sound penetrated the roar of the fighter jet, echoing directly in Bruce's mind.
"Tin can."
Tel-Rol's voice carried a hint of curiosity.
"I can't feel your power."
"But you have something interesting about you."
Bruce's expression beneath the mask remained unchanged.
Fear and surprise were emotions for the weak.
His task was to analyze and respond.
He pressed a button on the control stick.
Without a single wasted word.
"Hiss—!"
Several nozzles extended from the bottom of the fighter jet, spewing a thick green sedative gas towards Tel-Rol.
This was enough to knock out an elephant in three seconds.
At the same time.
A high-voltage electric net, shimmering with blue arcs, descended like a predatory python, covering Tel-Rol!
Facing this sudden attack, Tel-Rol didn't even bother to dodge.
He simply held his breath.
To him, the gas was just ordinary mist.
Looking at the electric net enveloping him, he even found it a little amusing.
He extended a hand.
With a casual swipe.
"Rip—!"
The electric net, capable of paralyzing an entire squad, erupted in a dazzling flash of electricity the moment his palm touched it.
Like fragile paper, it was effortlessly torn in half by him.
Blue arcs danced on his fingertips for a few moments, then extinguished.
"That's it? Giving me electrotherapy?"
Tel-Rol pouted, his face full of disappointment.
He felt as if he had picked the wrong target.
This dark-clad guy was really just an ordinary human.
Was that interesting aura just an illusion?
He lost the patience to continue playing.
He wanted to end this boring game of hide-and-seek.
His figure flickered in the air.
Appearing directly beside the right wing of the Batwing.
He extended his right hand and grabbed the wing, which was made of special alloy.
"Screech—!!!"
A sound of twisting metal echoed through the night sky!
The muscles on Tel-Rol's arm bulged only slightly.
The high-speed Batwing was forcibly gripped by one hand!
The plane's speed abruptly halted!
Inside the cockpit, all the instrument panels were wildly fluctuating!
The overload alarm was almost bursting!
Bruce was pressed firmly into his seat by the immense inertia.
He looked at the figure outside the window, who was holding the wing with one hand, forcing the entire fighter jet to stop in mid-air.
Was this the monster Kal-El and the others faced?
It turned out that human technology was truly so vulnerable in the face of absolute power.
"No."
Bruce squeezed out a single word through gritted teeth.
"Technology is not wrong."
"It's just that my technology isn't strong enough yet."
At the last moment, just before the fighter jet was about to disintegrate due to structural failure.
Bruce's hand slammed down on the red button beside his seat.
"Bang!"
The cockpit canopy burst open!
A huge thrust ejected him and his seat upwards, into the sky!
Tel-Rol let go.
He watched the Batwing, smoking and spiraling towards the ground, and shook his head.
"Too fragile."
He looked up at the dark figure, who had spread his black cape in the high altitude and was gliding towards the rooftop of a distant building.
Well, maybe it was still a little interesting.
At least the escape was quite stylish.
His figure vanished from its spot again.
Bruce had just landed on the roof of Wayne Tower, his feet not yet steady.
A gentle breeze swept past.
Tel-Rol was already standing in front of him.
Less than three meters apart.
"You run quite fast."
Tel-Rol crossed his arms, scrutinizing Batman with a condescending gaze.
"You are very weak."
"Too weak to warrant my attention."
He spoke with undisguised contempt, a smirk playing on his lips.
"However, I am very curious."
"What is that interesting aura about you?"
Bruce remained silent.
He simply stood there, like a statue merged with the night.
The night wind rustled his black cape.
He did not answer the other party's question.
Nor did he make any aggressive moves.
He just slowly raised his right hand and reached for the utility belt at his waist.
In a lead-lined compartment there, lay the last resort he had prepared for a certain friend.
Tel-Rol watched his movements, raising an eyebrow.
Still trying to resist?
Interesting.
He wanted to see what other toys this weak human could pull out.
Bruce's finger lightly pressed on a heavy lead box.
"Click."
A soft sound.
The lid sprang open.
A strange, ominous green light emanated from the box.
The green light was like a will-o'-the-wisp burning deep in hell.
It illuminated the taut outline of Bruce's jaw beneath his mask.
And it also illuminated Tel-Rol's puzzled face.
He looked at the glowing green stone.
Tilted his head.
And asked a question in a very puzzled tone that even made Bruce pause.
"What do you mean by pointing a glowing stone at me?"