Nuclear Bomb

The Scarecrow realized he had made a mistake. He intended to collaborate with the Joker, his formidable colleague, but he forgot the Joker was a madman. And a "madman" wouldn't care about the plan.

Of course, he, the Scarecrow, was also a madman, damn it.

That's why he was now lying on the ground with a bruised face. The fear toxin had no effect on the Joker, who hadn't killed him but merely left him in disgrace, like a beaten puppy.

"Wow. It seems I'm not here at the right time."

Someone pushed the door open. The Scarecrow saw a pair of feet first.

Brown leather boots, a gray and white windbreaker. But when the Scarecrow looked up, he found the visitor was his old friend, Edward Nigma.

The Riddler.

Strangely, Nigma wasn't wearing his signature green question mark-covered suit, question mark cane, eye mask, or green hat. He was dressed casually, like a regular civilian who had just finished work.

"Well, well, what's going on here? I heard the Joker was with you. That's quite troublesome. This is a bit unexpected."

Scarecrow saw Riddler squat down and say: "Can you tell me where the Joker went? Honestly, the plan is halfway through. If the main player just runs away, the fun stops."

Scarecrow struggled to his feet. He saw the figures behind the Riddler: Film Freak, Amygdala, yes, and Ventriloquist and Killer Croc. They were all escaped Arkham Asylum inmates.

When did Riddler recruit them? But what caught Scarecrow's attention most was the large figure in Killer Croc's grasp.

"You captured Jim Gordon – that's surprising. Nigma, what are you planning?"

.....

Ding ding ding! Adam's cell phone rang.

He stood up: "Sorry, Mr. March, I think we should stop here for today. We've reached a consensus on our cooperation, and I believe we'll work together harmoniously in the future."

Lincoln March started to struggle again. The word "harmoniously" seemed to imply something, but it could also be just a normal metaphor.

He left the old Wayne Tower with many questions and a sense of unease, then shook his head at the shadowed figure on a distant rooftop.

The operation was canceled.

He had originally planned to use a staged assassination attempt by the Talons to bring Lincoln and Bruce closer, and to clear Lincoln's doubts, making Batman believe they were on the same side –

But now, all that had to be postponed.

His mind was in turmoil, and he didn't even have the energy to figure out who had just called Batman. All he wanted now was peace and quiet. Today, he had heard a story that completely contradicted what the Court of Owls had told him. Although he was already a rogue Talon, the story still had a profound impact on him.

A few minutes later.

Using his grappling hook, Adam landed silently on the rooftop of a building. It appeared to be the roof of a residential building, cluttered with hanging laundry.

Thanks to Bane-Batman's memories, he had finally learned how to use the grappling gun. Adam silently reversed the muscle enhancements from this Batman variant on his limbs, then quietly approached the two people standing at the edge of the rooftop.

Adam pressed his finger against the communicator: "I'm here, Killer Croc."

"Whoa!"

Killer Croc jumped in fright, almost falling off the roof's edge.

"Damn Batman, uh, I mean Boss."

Adam ignored him: "Penguin?"

The short figure standing beside Killer Croc was the Penguin.

His face was serious: "Batman, we're in big trouble."

Adam remained silent, staring at the Penguin. The Penguin knew this meant "get to the point."

"Something was stolen from me. It's a bomb."

"Ha, what's the big deal? Don't you get robbed often? I'm used to it," Killer Croc said carelessly. "Hahaha, I know you're always getting robbed."

He continued in his less-than-intelligent voice, "I thought you were asking me to contact Batman for you in some mysterious way, so that's it?"

"You're not robbed every day. Sometimes poor people rob you. I've stolen from you before..."

"Shut up. Let Penguin talk."

"Oh, okay."

Killer Croc covered his face with his palm, leaving only two flashing eyes visible. The Penguin glared angrily at Killer Croc, then said, "But what was stolen from me this time was a nuclear bomb."

"What?"

Killer Croc sputtered, covering his mouth as the sound escaped through his ears.

"I said that what was stolen this time was a nuclear bomb, damn it! Jesus God," the Penguin said rapidly, "I had it hidden in my warehouse--"

"What the f***! Penguin, you hid a nuclear bomb? And you actually sold nuclear bombs?"

Killer Croc shouted, "For all these years, we've been living on a nuclear bomb? The Joker is a psychopath, but you're the crazy one! The Joker should bow down to you every time he sees you!"

The Penguin's face turned red with anger. "Enough! That's not for sale! Selling nuclear bombs, can that be called selling nuclear bombs? That's called arms dealing!"

The short Penguin was so indignant that the momentum he suddenly unleashed actually silenced Killer Croc.

The large green-scaled man turned away and grumbled, "I know you've always been an arms dealer, but I thought arms generally meant grenades, submachine guns, and rocket launchers, not tanks, helicopters, jet fighters, and nuclear weapons."

The big green man continued to complain:

"I thought the business of selling tanks and fighter jets was already the most outrageous arms deal in the world."

"The merchandise came from the country when it fell apart," Penguin explained. "It was a one-time thing, not a regular supply. It happened a long time ago. I wasn't as powerful then, and I only got two."

"What the f***! Wait, you got two?"

Killer Croc suddenly perked up.

"It's okay, only one was stolen."

"Oh, I see. What about the other one?"

"I sold it."

"But you said it wasn't for sale."

Killer Croc whispered, "Although I know I shouldn't ask this, I'm still curious – how much did you sell it for?"

The Penguin thought for a moment and held up five fingers.

"50 million?"

"500 million."

Adam mentally calculated that the cost of the Justice League Watchtower was about 500 billion, and this nuclear bomb was sold for about 1/1000 of that.

A Batplane cost about 5 billion, and this nuclear bomb was sold for 1/10 of that.

You sold such a dangerous thing for such a small amount of money?

Adam felt weary.

"Everyone I had stationed at the warehouse was killed. They didn't even know what they were guarding."

The Penguin continued, "One slash to the throat killed each of them. It was a professional hit – they were dead before they could react. It's impossible to determine who did it from the scene. Victor Zsasz? Or an assassin from the League of Assassins? Or some master swordsman?"

He said, "I have no idea, Batman. This is beyond my capabilities. I'm a criminal, but not a psychopath. I bought the nuclear bomb only to sell it."

He said, "Whether it's the Joker, Bane, Scarecrow, or Riddler, that's not the most important thing now."

He said, "If we can't find the nuclear bomb, and it detonates in Gotham--"

He finished, "Then it's all over, Bats."