Chapter 66 Batman VS Superman

Like a black cannonball shot through the outer wall of Arkham, Batman tumbled and fell into the muddy ground outside Arkham Manor, and the cloak hanging behind the steel armor was covered with mud and sewage. His body dragged a deep trace of ten meters long on the ground, and the heavy armor sank deep into the wet mud.

He had almost forgotten how powerful Clark's fists were, and it had just helped him recall. Despite this expensive armor, Superman's punching power still shook him almost to the point of dislocating his internal organs. Every bone in his body seemed to be protesting on the verge of falling apart, and the soreness swept through his body like a tide.

'Stand up, Bruce.' He gritted his teeth and said to himself, you have more important things to do.

Superman flashed in front of him like teleportation, and the black sewage was pushed aside by the red boots. He looked coldly at Batman, who was stubbornly half-crawling up, and said in a deep voice, "You'd better stay lying down, Bruce, it's for your good."

Batman landed on one knee and looked back through the blue-glowing eyepieces.

"No," he said.

"OK then."

Superman tilted his head, moved his feet, and flew forward again. It's no exaggeration to say that Superman is faster than a bullet, and he can resolve a fight before a human's sluggish nervous system has time to alert the center. Batman's eyes didn't have time to distinguish any picture, and the first shadow was already in front of him.

"Keng!!"

There was a long, brittle sound like a metal clash. Unexpectedly, Batman's open right palm was like an iron rag that firmly caught Superman's fist. The inertia caused his heavy body wrapped in heavy armor to sink into the mud. He moved back a few inches, but he finally resisted Superman's divine power.

Superman was stunned for a moment, feeling a little unbelievable. He subconsciously opened his mouth and asked, "How...", but the sentence was interrupted by Batman's metal fist before it formed half a sentence. The man of steel flew out in the direction from which he came, and four or five walls in Arkham Manor were torn down like building blocks.

It's almost impossible for a normal person to imagine how much money Batman smashed into this armor. The power system in the arm armor that can rival Superman, the missile-grade defensive armor, the built-in computer that can barely keep up with the speed of Superman's blow, these are all results accumulated with money, the purpose is to face Superman. The power of a fight.

Yes, this armor was designed to fight Superman - his best friend in life - and they were still best friends when he developed it.

But despite so many preparations, considering the strength of his opponent, it wasn't enough. Losing the advantage of being caught off guard, he has no chance to face the serious Superman. A few seconds later, Batman has knocked out again, this time only more violently than before. He vaguely heard a crisp sound as the rain from the gust of wind poured on his face, it could be the shell of his armor shattering, it could be the sound of his bones shattering, or both.

The rain was mixed with blood flowing down from the corner of his mouth, Batman struggled to get up, and the light blue fluorescent goggles on his helmet had gone out. His vision blurred, looking at Superman falling in front of him as if through a layer of water mist.

"Give it up, Bruce, I can see you've broken two ribs," said Superman nonchalantly. "Let me do what you should have done."

Bruce couldn't see Superman's face anymore, he could only see the outline vaguely and could hear the familiar and unfamiliar voice that seemed to travel through time and space, leading him into a vortex of memory.

He seemed to be back in the summer of his twelve-year-old, vacationing with Alfred at Kent Farm in Kansas.

He and Clark had known each other for a while by then, and the two kept in touch with each other whenever they could. One summer night, Clark's adoptive father, Jonathan, suddenly found his son missing from his bedroom in the middle of the night. Alarmed, the Kents and Alfred searched around the farm, shouting Clark's name, but the only response to them was the rustling of the cold wind in the cornfields.

"My Healing Game"

Clark was a special kid, and there were so many mysteries about him that his adoptive parents couldn't explain, that it's not surprising that he suddenly disappeared from the house one day. The adults panicked, and they lit the lights and gathered around the room to discuss countermeasures. Little Bruce, who was sleeping in the guest room, was not woken up, but the movement of the adults woke him up. He heard the adults talking quietly behind the open door in the living room and roughly understood what was going on. He went back to his room and put on his coat silently, and slipped out of the window without saying a word.

It wasn't cold that night, but the wind was really loud. The gloomy wind continued to shuttle back and forth in the wheat fields, and the crops were showing their teeth and claws in the bright moonlight, looking rather hideous. The young master wrapped his coat tightly, trying his best not to think about the frightening ghost legends of Gotham, and based on his impression of this farmland in the daytime, he groped to the side of a huge cylindrical building.

This is a barn owned by an old man named Koda. Clark once pointed here and told Bruce that he liked the barn. Sometimes he likes to jump from the barn seven or eight meters above the ground to enjoy the thrill of the high wind brought by the acceleration of gravity, and sometimes he likes to be alone when he is in a bad mood. Hiding in the barn and meditating. In the past, it was a little secret that belonged to him alone, and even the Kents didn't know it until he shared it with Bruce.

Bruce did find Clark here. When Bruce entered, he was sitting on his knees in his pajamas in the moonlight cast by the window, staring blankly at the night sky outside.

Bruce found a space beside him and sat down, wrapping his expensive black coat tightly. Clark didn't say a word like he was obsessed, and he didn't say a word either, just sat there with him.

This delicate and protracted battle of patience finally ended in Clark's admission of defeat. He finally couldn't help turning his head and asked Bruce, "What are you doing here?"

"That's my problem," Bruce said.

Clark stared at the moonlight below him and remained silent for a while. Bruce moved back, leaned back against the barn wall behind him, and said, "If you're bothered by your being different, you can tell me, I've known that."

"How?" Clark turned his head in surprise. Bruce couldn't help laughing at how simple his little friend was, and his subconscious reaction directly revealed the truth of what Bruce said.

Bruce smiled smugly and shrugged: "You are not good at concealing secrets. You are too easy to see through. Tell me, why did you come here in the middle of the night to watch the moon?"

Clark drooped his head, looking like a wounded rabbit: "I'm having a nightmare."

"I have nightmares almost every day," Bruce said.

"I woke up with two holes shot through my eyes in the roof."

"...Well, that doesn't happen often."

"I'm worried," Clark said, head down. "Mom said people would be afraid of me if they knew what I was capable of, and I think they should be. I mean...I don't even know about myself. What the hell is me, maybe one day when I wake up, the whole farm will be burned by me."

"But you didn't," Bruce said.

"Just so far."

Clark looked determined to get to the point, and from what Bruce had briefly known about his new friend, he knew that nothing could change his mind at a time like this. Bruce thought about it and said, "Well, if you have to feel that way, then I promise if you do that one day, I'll kick your ass hard."

Clark glanced at him sideways, chuckled, and shook his head: "No, you can't."

"What? Want to make a bet?"

Clark looked at his confident look and asked suspiciously, "If that happens, can you stop me?"

"Of course." Bruce was confident. He patted Clark on the shoulder, "Let's go, let's go back, they'll be worried after a while."

At this moment, it was raining heavily in Arkham Manor.

Batman was lying on his back on the ground, the thick armor on his chest had been severely twisted and deformed. Superman stepped on his chest, looking straight at him with ice-cold eyes like a glacier, but the red glow of thermal vision shone in it.

Bruce took two heavy breaths, took a deep breath in the humid air mixed with the rainstorm, clenched his fists, and made up his mind.

The moment the dazzling green light lit up from the waist of the bat's heavy armor, the red light in Superman's eyes went out like sparks in the wind. With an "ah" sound, he stepped back in embarrassment, his face covered in drops of water as pale as paper.

Batman struggled to stand up again, while Superman stared at the dazzling green light source around his waist with disbelief, and exclaimed: "You..."

"The krypton generator, Clark, uses kryptonite as a power source." Batman said in a hoarse voice, staring at Superman like a torch, "I promised you, and now, it's time to fulfill that promise. "