Everyone thought that Bruce would go black [Comprehensive British and American]

"Bruce... Bruce!"

At the carnival dinner hosted by the organizer after the show.

Clark grabbed the dude who drank champagne like water, "Bruce, you drink too much."

Bruce pursed his mouth, opened his blank eyes, thinking about why his wine glass disappeared in an instant.

"Where's my wine glass?"

"God... why is your body so hard?" The beautiful idiot head shook.

"I must have drunk too much, how could the muscle feel like this?"

Clark reluctantly let go of his body.

Bruce stretched out his hands and scratched indiscriminately. His feet were weak, his whole body was sore and sore, his body was trembling constantly, and his breathing was a little short, so he could only lean on Clark limply.

"Huh?" His petal-like bright red lips parted slightly, and his squinted eyes suddenly opened, looking chubby, as if he saw something unexplainable, showing a childlike and innocent expression.

"You lean up like my favorite sofa." Bruce called happily, he pulled on Clark, reached out and knocked on Clark, the touch was so comfortable, so he found a chin for his own Support, sighed comfortably, and yawned again, feeling a little sleepy, the thing I was leaning on was soft, exuding a fascinating heat, warm...

It's like... just like the warm sun at noon in summer, but it's not too hot, but it looks very warm.

He moved his head in a daze, and a strand of hair stayed mischievously on Bruce's face and refused to leave, so he shook his body, trying to reach out and grab the strand of hair——

——His hand slashed down a few centimeters.

Then he felt something in his hand, and then he felt Clark's body stiffen - it made him feel uncomfortable.

Something soft stirred in the palm of my hand.

"Wow." He curled his fingers slightly. "There's a butterfly in my hand."

"Lao..."

Clark relaxed, relying on being comfortable for Bruce.

He tried to hold down the disobedient black cat.

But his body was very stiff, and Bruce was almost drunk on him, which meant that all the strength supporting Bruce's standing came from Clark's help--if he moved a little, this beautiful baby worth billions of dollars might hit the ground and fall Broke his delicate nose.

Clark felt terribly embarrassed, his dark and tongue-tied co-worker squirming over him like a slippery fish, even though the whole of America knew that baby Bruce was soaking in wine tanks all day long.

But Clark knew that in the past, Bruce had only ginger ale in his hand.

That's not really alcohol.

"Maybe today's the first time Bruce has had a drink." He's amused by the thought, and it's a really magically realistic guess.

He glanced at Bruce worriedly, "What happened to him?"

Clarke feels heartbroken, the all-conquering Batman gone, leaving only a cracked Bruce Wayne, he doesn't know what happened to his buddy during this time, but he feels bad about it.

He was helpless in Bruce's most difficult time, and he didn't even know what happened.

The hot breath of a drunkard hit his neck, the beautiful and fragile young man buried his head on his shoulder, Bruce...Mr. Superman sincerely hoped that Bruce would not remember anything when he woke up—

Otherwise he will be killed by the big vengeful bat.

Clark thought of Batman's disapproving eyes, and suddenly felt calm.

But the breeze will wrinkle a lake of spring water.

He could hear his heartbeat suddenly stop, and then it started to beat again.

Bruce stretched out his hand to cover his eyes. Kryptonians have super vision that can see the other side of the earth, and even go deep into the universe. They have eyes that can see through, and can even send out heat vision that destroys everything from the eyes——

But it was dark before his eyes.

Bruce's palms were smooth and tender, once the traces of the years were gone, he became what he should have been.

His glasses are pushed aside—

With a slightly damp hand, gently covering his eyes——

Clark blinked.

He could feel his eyelashes twitching in Bruce's hand.

The latter giggled and withdrew his hand as if ticklish.

"Did you see my glass?" Bruce looked up, looking into blue eyes that were shaded badly.

"Lao..."

Clark once again begged desperately to the Kryptonian gods.

"Why is it that a man who is almost 30 years old can speak naturally...have you seen my little bear? Such a tone."

Clark was pulling the hair that didn't exist in his mind. Yes, Bruce is very young, and he has only been Batman for seven years, but they have really experienced too many things, and too many things have lengthened the time. The feeling of...it goes very slowly.

Bruce, on the other hand, became serious after Jason's death and looked much older overnight.

Who would have thought that Batman is a young man who is not yet 30 years old?

"Sorry...Bruce, you really can't drink any more." Clark firmly held the goblet with his fingers, hiding it out of Bruce's sight.

"Who are you?" Bruce patted Clark on the shoulder drunkenly.

"You've worked out really well," he complimented.

Bruce reaches out to stroke Clark's hair again.

"Don't touch my curls!" he yelled inwardly.

Clark blushed, looked at the soft white hand, and grabbed Bruce's wrist.

"You scratched me." Bruce's eyes looked bright, showing an innocent look of grievance, which made Clark shrug his shoulders in fear.

"I'm sorry." Clark let go of his fingers reflexively, as if he had touched a freshly baked chestnut.

Although he can take a bath in the magma.

Bruce rubbed his wrist, glanced sideways at Clark, and repeated reluctantly, "You scratched me."

"Lao..." Mr. Chairman once again prayed to the gods of Krypton.

"I hope my good friend returns to normal." He solemnly made a wish.

Clark looked more like a golden retriever, and his frightened expression was like being slapped on the face with a cushion by a black cat who had been dismissing him. Although it didn't hurt, it was enough to upset him.

"I won't allow you to waste your beautiful face." Bruce patted Clark's flushed cheek brutally.

"Seriously... why are you wearing such rags?"

He grabbed the corner of Clark's shirt in disgust, "Look at this stupid plaid shirt."

Bruce let go, "My secretary's grandma wouldn't wear this."

As he spoke, he stood on tiptoe, trying to take off Clark's glasses.

Clark frantically closed his glasses.

"I don't like your eyes..." Bruce muttered.

"???"

Clark's super brain seemed to be rusted, and he blurted out, "But they're blue."

After finishing speaking, the big reporter who won the Pulitzer realized how irrational he had said, and blinked distractedly.

What he didn't expect was that Bruce, who was drunk, answered his words.

"Yes...you have eyes as clear as water...like a blue sky covering me...I saw my dead inside..."

Bruce murmured frantically.

"What did you say?" Clark asked.

Bruce stopped talking, and he gave a small laugh.

Clark supported Bruce with difficulty, and wanted to ask something, but his attention was attracted by the roar of the explosion.

The luxurious and grand dinner was suddenly stopped.

The crowd froze for a moment.

puff-

Clark heard the muffled thud of the mug on the carpet.

The sound was like a switch, and the chaos of the entire venue was turned on with one click.

He heard cries outside the house, the cries of the wounded in grief.

He heard the rumble of boats on the docks—

He heard the crackling of wood in the firelight.

Clark sighed slightly: ——Ah...Gotham. "

He began to look around.

Suddenly the door was kicked open, and a team of heavily armed policemen, wearing explosion-proof suits and holding shields, rushed in.

"FBI!"

Headed by a handsome, chocolate-skinned man named Morgan from BAU.

Morgan mourned his lost vacation. Although Gotham is the city with the highest crime rate in the United States, Gotham's tourism industry is very developed. Even Bruce Wayne even made a tourism promotional video for this, and boldly said in it Mentioned the unspeakable of their Gotham - Batman.In addition, they have also come to GCPD many times to help Director Gordon deal with some difficult serial murderers.

"It would be great if I could meet Batman once." Morgan raised his gun, with a glimmer of hope in his heart.

You must know that although he has been to Gotham many times, he has never seen a light with a civilian logo projected in the night sky.

Morgan methodically scoured the venue.

"Ladies! Gentlemen! Please calm down!" shouted the policeman behind him, holding up a loudspeaker.

"We received a report that at least [-] kilograms of drugs were installed in this venue." The police paused.

"The switch is recognized by voice and pressure, that is to say, as long as one person leaves the venue within a radius of two kilometers, all of us will be blown to the sky."

Hearing what the police said, Clark let out a silent sigh. Taking advantage of no one's attention, he turned on his x-sight and scanned the entire venue.

Got nothing.

Clark was relieved, but saw Bruce staring at him with interest.

"What... what's wrong?" Clark stammered.

"It's okay." Bruce withdrew his gaze and stared at the trembling crowd.

"Do you think they...do they look like lambs being herded by God?" Bruce asked Clark meaningfully.

"Uh... Bruce, are you okay..." Clark was about to give Bruce a full body check.

"I'm fine...why do you all think I'm fine?"

"Why does everyone ask me if I'm okay?"

Bruce feels terrible, in fact he's not good at all, he's got a lot of clowns in his head, he sees the whole arena full of clowns, an endless sea of ​​clowns rolling over him...

Endless laughter tormented his eardrums...

He has an urge to kill everything.

In the darkness, frightened bats flapped their wings, flew up from the dark cave, and swarmed into the sky. They flapped their wings and made a sharp cry, forming a winding black ocean in the air.

Bruce straightened up.

In the darkest night, the pale light of death descends, hope dies, and despair blooms.