The days of being a spiritual mentor in Meiman.

Chapter 1191 The Cry of the Lamb ([-])
The cold storm in Batman's blue eyes never stopped. When Angela left the Wayne Building office, only Bruce was left standing in front of the huge French windows, overlooking the whole city alone. Tan no matter what time, looks amazingly prosperous.

This is not a sin city at all. It is the largest, most prosperous, and most charming city on the east coast of the United States. It is a psychedelic city that countless people dream of, and an indispensable part of human urban civilization.

This is the cancer of the earth, the scourge of mankind, and the hometown of Batman.

Standing in front of the window, Bruce, who was gazing at the city, heard a slight sound coming from behind him. He turned around gently and saw a figure sitting on the sofa against the light. It was another himself.

Bruce didn't feel any surprise or vigilance, as if it was normal for him to appear there?
In other words, after that night in Crime Alley, this figure has been with him like a shadow and never left.

Bruce walked over and sat on the opposite side of the sofa. Two identical figures sat in front of the huge floor-to-ceiling windows. The lights of thousands of houses made up of layers of high-rise buildings reflected them into two silhouettes. They were not alone, but equally Lonely.

"I wasn't born today." Bruce, who was sitting on the right, raised his head. There were no pupils in his eye sockets, but there were no whites either. There was a flowing black tide between his eyelids, but it wasn't scary. On the contrary, it has a strange beauty.

"The female policeman said that she understood the group of criminals and found another herself in the process of continuously investigating the murder. She felt afraid and chose to retreat, but you know, she is not suffering from mental illness or appearing What hallucinations, what she said is true, and she is not an exception."

Bruce, who was sitting across from him, also had no pupils, only the whites of his eyes, paler than any snow in Gotham.

"We should talk about that night first," the dark-eyed Bruce said. "The night you never talked about with anyone."

Bruce with white eyes closed his eyes slowly, his hands on the armrests gradually tightened, his chest began to rise and fall continuously, and countless fragmented scenes flashed before his eyes.

But not alleys, rainy nights, pearl necklaces.

He saw his hands raised, saw the sights of the pistol, saw the bullets flying from the muzzle, saw his parents fall.

"Every strong detective must be a good criminal." The black-eyed Bruce's voice sounded, he turned his head to look at the bustling city, and then said.

"You didn't become a detective because of that night. You have always been a criminal genius. You have a natural resonance with murderers."

"Too many people's parents have died in this world. The case is tragic and the way of death is tragic. There are too many children who have witnessed the death of their parents and feel sad and hopeless. But in this world, there is only one Batman."

"You didn't go on this road because of the death of your parents. Your wisdom, cleverness, excessive rationality, and genius creativity are gifts from God, just like those born killers."

The white-eyed Bruce slowly let go of the armrest, while the black-eyed Bruce stared at him and said:

"I wasn't born that night, when you first saw Thomas's face, when you first remembered Martha's smile, when the Wayne family was happy to spend their normal days , I never left."

"I was born with you. I am a part of you. It is the pathology that you have been escaping from, but you will never be able to get rid of."

When the sick Bruce fell silent, Bruce stared at him with slightly slack eyes and said:

"I have seen you many times, under the bed of the crib, behind the door of the kindergarten, and even in the castle made of toy blocks."

"I wanted to make Thomas and Martha feel sorry for my disappearance by hiding under the bed, I wanted to slam the door open and scare the kindergarten teachers, I wanted to knock down the block castle and scare all my classmates Crying loudly, at these times, I have seen you."

"But at that time, what we sent out was just ordinary malice. Every child would have the idea of ​​mischief. Therefore, I didn't realize that I was different from others until that night..."

"The moment I saw the muzzle of the gun." Bruce's arm began to tremble again, and he said in the same trembling tone: "I had two perspectives, and I saw the blood blooming behind Martha, and also See, through the pistol sights, the scarlet blood pouring from Thomas' chest."

"In every nightmare since then, I couldn't tell where I was standing, whether I was behind them or in front of them, and I couldn't tell what I was holding, whether it was the movie ticket stub or the trigger of the pistol."

"There has never been a clear dividing line between detectives and criminals." Sick Bruce said: "For more than ten years, what has caused you so much pain is the fact that you realized that night. The triggerman is the same kind of person, or you are more suitable to be a criminal than him."

Bruce took a deep breath until his entire shoulders shrugged, and then sighed out slowly. Sick Bruce looked at him and asked:
"Why do you never take the life of others?"

Bruce stared into his eyes, but Sick Bruce didn't need to answer, he asked himself and answered:

"Because of your kindness? No, it's because you dare not, because you dare not see me, dare not admit my existence, and you think that being a saint can wash away the fact that you have the unique criminal talent in this world .”

Bruce closed his eyes slowly, his lips trembled, and then he looked up at sick Bruce again and said:
"And today, I will see you here because Schiller made me understand the fact that you exist, you are inseparable, you can never be destroyed, and even... guide and guide me of."

"Actually, you have thought about it a long time ago." Sick Bruce said: "What is it that guides human actions? What makes human progress? Is it love? Is it kindness?"

Bruce shook his head, his movements were light, but he seemed to be struggling to push a boulder off a cliff.

"It's you." Bruce replied.

"In the past ten years, what has urged me to keep learning, improving myself, and building equipment is not my love and kindness to others, but hatred, anger, jealousy, fear, and the inherent evil of human beings, and my sick."

"Before that, I always had unrealistic fantasies about expelling you. I thought that as long as I was strong and determined enough, one day you would leave. On that day, I would get rid of the nightmares of the past, forever No need to be afraid that I'm going to be a criminal."

"But Schiller let you understand that I will never leave, and I don't have to leave. I am not your burden, not your shackles, but a sharp knife and the key to open the door to another world." Morbid Bruce spoke up.

"Only by meeting me, acknowledging me, and using me can you go to a world that ordinary people will never be able to reach. In that world, there is the most terrifying group of people in the world. They are called 'natural born killers'."

Bruce seemed to have lost all his strength, and leaned on the back of the chair weakly, and then said sickly Bruce:

"Before, the reason why I could keep avoiding and not acknowledging your existence was because I didn't realize the danger of this group of people."

"And the appearance of the sick Schiller made me understand that if I don't face you, if I don't use the other power I have, if I don't really go into the hearts of the lunatics, I will never be able to defeat them."

"You need to know me."

"I want to know you."

The two Bruce said in unison.

"You have to accept me."

"I want to accept you."

"You have to love me."

"I want to love you."

"because……"

"Those who can deal with criminals..."

"...only criminals."

"How do you beat them?" Bruce asked.

"I don't need to beat them," Sick Bruce replied, looking Bruce in the eyes and saying, "Schiller's not only teaching you, he's teaching me, you have a professor, and I have one."

"What Sick Schiller has done has shown me that I don't need to defeat the lunatics because I am stronger than them. I don't need to hurt them because they are precious lambs."

"Be not someone's son, but be a father to all."

"When they offer sacrifices to please you, say to them, 'If you do well, will you not be accepted, but if you do not, sin lies at the door, and it will desire you, You have to subdue it. (If you do well, why wouldn’t your Lord happily accept the sacrifice? If you do not do well, sin will entangle you, but you have to make it bow) (Creation 4:7 NIV)'."

The light passing through the window gradually dimmed, leaving only gorgeous and dreamy neon light shadows, and Bruce's voice was like a whispered prayer, gradually sounding out of the silence.

"Use your talents."

"Use my talents."

"Stand high in the clouds."

"Stand high in the clouds."

"Preach to them."

"Preach to them."

"Let them listen."

"Let them pay tribute."

"Love them like a weak lamb."

"Understand them, comfort them."

"Flog them, admonish them."

"Let them walk on the earth."

"As in my country."

"Become a father."

"Become...father."

When the batarang's cold light reflected in Batman's blue eyes, it was like a bird glimpsed on the skyline in a polar storm.

The sharp blade pierced through the frozen atmosphere in the sheriff's office, and with its icy wake, it pierced the artery on the side of Jonathan Klein's neck.

In an instant, life burst out from the bright red, and then began to flow irretrievably.

Gordon rushed over in shock, and hugged Jonathan who was slowly falling. He stared at Batman who threw the bat dart, and shouted:
"Batman, are you crazy?!!!!"

Jonathan, who was lying on the ground, tried his best to push away Gordon, who wanted to help him stop the bleeding. He covered his bloody neck with his hands weakly, and said in an intermittent breath.

"Go away!... let me hear... what he's saying..."

Batman's lips moved.

At this moment, a bright flash of lightning flashed outside the window of the Gotham Police Station, followed by rumbling thunder, just like every night when Batman falls from the roof.

Batman's voice is very soft, but it overwhelms the deafening thunder, and those things that he failed to utter in countless nights, all weave into a cry with this soft and soft tone.

Jonathan listened intently before he heard the words from Batman's mouth.

"...The case of missing persons in the Mawson block."

(End of this chapter)