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

No one spoke, Superman just stood there without sadness or joy, standing there was like a point of origin, Bruce thought he could understand Superman.

Superman believes that no one is beyond salvation.

Dick hung his head and said nothing, the room was silent, Bruce could even hear his own short and rapid breathing, he asked, "Why are you still here?"

"You invited me in," Superman replied stiffly.

Bruce laughed, "Then shall I ask you out?"

Superman didn't leave wisely, but took a few steps towards Bruce, his steps were extremely slow, but extremely powerful.

"You're killing yourself, Bruce." He looked down into the dark green glasses, and Superman could see that they were collapsing silently.

"Me? Stop joking." Bruce had an absurd look on his face, "Bruce Wayne has always wanted to live." As he spoke, he showed a tiny smile.

"I have a lot of money to squander, a family that loves me, tons of friends... oh, and I have a hot little boyfriend."

Bruce was a little puzzled. For some reason, his nominal boyfriend was ignored by him. Clark turned out to be like a person who never existed in his life. After experiencing the chaos, this was the first time he thought of Clark.

"I heard you have a good relationship with Clark?" Bruce smiled.

"That's right." Superman tightened his jaw.

"Then can you inform him that he was unilaterally broken up?"

"You'll have to tell him the news yourself," Superman said softly.

Dick looked at the two people in a tense atmosphere, wanted to say something, and then closed his mouth silently. He was a little puzzled. When Superman appeared in front of Bruce in his true colors, he was not treated as well as that ordinary reporter.

Bruce looked at the god of the world calmly. His appearance seemed to be a joke to human beings. His existence was a work that God could show off, and Narcissus would feel sad in front of him.

Why do humans need Superman?

Do they need an omniscient and omnipotent god?

Or do you need someone who can ask for anything?

Bruce suddenly felt extremely lonely, not for himself, but for the guy in front of him.

"You should go," Bruce said again.

"But not so long ago, you wished to see me."

Superman frowned, "You just wanted me to tell Clark that you broke up with him? You jumped off the roof of Wayne Building for that?"

"No." Bruce replied.

"Clark is incidental, then I just want to meet you."

Superman was frightened by the unusually frank Bruce and floated upwards. He floated so much that he smiled. From the naked eye, he didn't move at all.

But Superman himself knows.

Bruce continued, "Now that I see you, I'm content, so please go away."

Superman stared at the young man on the bed. In the dark room, the young man on the bed exuded the same decaying atmosphere as this mansion. His face was pale, and his rose-like lips had lost their color, but the hair on his cheeks was as black as Ebony, like a beautifully crafted doll, he looks tired and lifeless, but his dark green eyes are burning, and a kind of calm madness is slightly rippling from the bottom of his eyes, the light seems to burn Bruce's whole body. life.

Suddenly, Superman realized, Bruce had been burning and never stopped.

Superman was silent for a while, then floated up without a sound, and left along the way he came.

"You go out too, Dick." Bruce sighed.

"Leave me alone for a while."

"Let me stay here, Bruce," Dick begged softly.

"I need you."

The young man in front of him was as pale as a ghost, as if in the blink of an eye, he disappeared like a mirror image.

"Do not."

Bruce said firmly, "Get out of here."

Dick looked down, gave Bruce a deep look, and left.

"You're right." Bruce said to the laughing bat.

"Mortals die forever." The laughing man opened his arms.

"Even Oedipus, he's human in the end." Bruce sighs.

Oedipus, the hero who killed his father and married his mother, was predicted to plan his way before he was born, and his fate was already doomed.

"Am I Oedipus?"

"If fate can be changed, is it still called fate?" the man who laughed wildly asked Bruce.

"I tried my best." Bruce looked up at the intricate carvings on the top of the bedroom, and he closed his eyes calmly.

"People cannot change their own destiny, but they still have to be responsible for their actions."

"But I can't escape my destined fate, so how can I resist fate, and why should I be responsible for my actions?"

"Is it my fault?" He opened his eyes blankly.

"I do not know."

"What did you do?" Bruce asked.

"No, tell me, what did I do?"

He didn't wait for any answer.

Time passed slowly, and Bruce lay motionless on the bed with dark green eyes open, like a puppet.

Suddenly he sat up, his movements revealed an indescribable weirdness, his limbs were stiff, as if every muscle and every nerve was being manipulated by someone.

He just pushed open the door stiffly, ignoring the fact that his wound was bursting and bleeding. The route he walked was twisted and twisted, and there was an indescribable distortion.

If Dick saw Bruce, he must have realized that Bruce was hiding from the ubiquitous cameras.

He walked to a carved door and gently pushed it open with his hand. Opposite the door were two slightly smaller windows. This room is the oldest in Wayne Manor, and it still retains the old times. The aesthetics and characteristics of the house are exquisite and fragile. The moonlight shines in through the two exquisite windows, but is cut into pieces by the tall bushes, and then thrown into the house piece by piece. Curled copper tracery.

The fine dust dances lightly in the bright white beam of light.

Bruce walked in here slowly, and he fit the scene very well, as if he was a part of this dusty history.

He walked into the darkness, and an old portrait hung on the wall, staring at him quietly.

He lightly tapped the ring on the portrait's left middle finger.

…………

After a while.

"What are these things?" Batman, who lost all his equipment and didn't even have a body covering, was still struggling to fight against the things in the water.

"Luckily I still have a rag and a blunt sword."

He looked at the blunt sword in his hand with a wry smile, and cut off one arm and foot neatly.

"Too bad." Batman felt a sticky tentacle wrapped around his calf, and the thick tentacle was trying to pull him into the slimy sea.

"Where is this?"

Even Batman couldn't help cursing Darkseid in his heart, he was worried about whether his unreliable teammates had already held a funeral for him.

"I don't want to picture a Boy Scout in a coffin doing sit-ups in a coffin," Batman thought grimly, venting his anger and worry on those wriggling tentacles.

"What are these things?" Batman wanted to find a way through the obstacles, those slimy things just wanted to bind themselves into a ball and drag them to the lair.

"It's so unscientific." Batman thought bitterly, "What have I been through all these years?"

Yes, when Batman was Bruce Wayne Jr., the world was scientific. Even the Zorro movie was just some magical little tricks. When he was Batman, Gotham was just some tricky things. gangster.

——When did the world become like this?

alien?magic?mutant?

Batman rolls his eyes in the back of his mind when all these bells and whistles seem to have popped up overnight... oh, and his uniform.

The uniform was originally sewn out by myself, and there are traces of leather threading on the hood... The current uniform...

A couple of Justice League buddies built themselves a Hellbat suit.

He can still remember the teasing expression of Green Lantern at that time: "Put this on, and you can go and beat Darkseid to the ground."

Diana shook her head: "I don't want you to have the chance to wear it."

Batman smiled, he felt a warm current flow from the bottom of his heart, "I really need this thing now."

He didn't know what was going on with him. One second he was in Apocalypse's laboratory, and the concentration of technological magic around him almost reached the extreme of human imagination, and the next second he was hit, and he woke up lying on a bed. Beside the fire.

"Did you die again?" Hearing the sound of crackling firewood, Batman looked at the sky speechlessly.

"No." He was shocked, "These people? Performance art?"

He was about to swear a word, and he found that he was surrounded by burly men with rough tanned furs, waving stone spears in their hands, and a woman not far away was wearing grass, picking something from a tree.

Batman couldn't understand what they were yelling, although he had spent countless days and nights mastering the Kryptonian language just in case... But the original world?

Even Batman wouldn't bother to learn the simple meaning of the primordial roar.

"I have to go back, I have to leave something behind." Batman turned his head, and he found his yellow universal belt hanging from a tree branch.

Batman doesn’t want to mention the later things, after all, it will involve how he sewed a wolf skin into a bat head, and how he scares the hostile tribe with the equipment in the universal belt wearing that thing the sheikh...

He decided to rot it in his stomach forever, but he didn't know that in the distant future, the administrator of Vanishing Point would put him in these things in a kind of...

HD!Uncoded!The live broadcast on the big screen was given to his partners who went to rescue him!

After all, at the vanishing point of the universe, time is meaningless.