Anti-Hero Lola [Comprehensive Anglo-American]

The fat man was stupid, but he was serious about patrolling. Maybe he sensed the weirdness in the room, so he wandered around for about forty minutes before leaving.

Laura gently fell to the ground from mid-air, and looked back at the fat man sympathetically.

She knew that this guy was a fool, and she knew that he was very stupid, but she really didn't expect him to be so stupid.

The room was indeed different from the time he came last time. There were 25 cultivation chambers in five rows and five columns. Lola quietly moved away one row of cultivation chambers, leaving only twenty in the room. The fat man walked around several times. Circle, unexpectedly did not react.

Why does this laboratory choose a fat man with a questionable IQ to patrol... I can't figure it out.

Maybe it's because people with brain problems are better at keeping secrets?

Laura thought wildly for a while and then stopped thinking about it, and continued to move the training warehouse out.

She quickly got the remaining [-] training bins into the sewers of Gotham City.

Speaking of this, I have to mention that Gotham's sewer system is really well-connected and extremely complicated. It seems to have been repaired and remodeled countless times. It goes around like a spider's web, not to mention, and often encounters dead ends. At first glance, it looks like the kind of unfinished project where the funding chain is broken after half of the repair.

Lola threw all the pods down the sewer and never minded again - there are weird little gangs in the sewers of Gotham too, and they will clean up these things.

For the third time tonight, Fatty walked into the laboratory.

Then he froze: the room was empty, all the big pots were gone.

The jar was gone, and the green light he had to look at was gone.

The thing to do now is report something to the guy in the white coat in the lab.This is his job.

But the fat man didn't do that.

He stood there, thinking for a full 10 minutes with his usual stupid expression, and then walked forward with slow steps. With the memory deep in his mind, he groped for the location of the organ on the wall, He opened it, stopped again, thought hard for a long time, and slowly entered the password.

——He can't count, but his memory is not too bad. As long as he puts his heart into it, he can still remember something.

It's just that few people can feel this.

The fat man entered the password, and the console in front of him began to descend, while another plane began to rise. There was only one red button on this plane, which was used to eliminate the traces of the entire laboratory.

If there is nothing wrong with the whole plan, the things in these culture chambers will mature and be transferred after two months, and this laboratory will be temporarily abandoned.

"We have a complete process," the guy in the white coat once showed off. "Of course it won't be a bomb—that would be too childish and too arrogant. Gotham is a good place, and we won't abandon it easily." Tan's stronghold...do you know what to do?"

Fatty shook his head honestly when he said that.

The white coat will become very happy because of Fatty's cooperation. He is a person who loves to show off and can never control his mouth, which is why he chose Fatty to do trivial things.

If the listener was too wise, the secret was in danger of being revealed.

"It's very simple. We have researched a highly corrosive poisonous gas... It can clean up almost any trace, and it will not harm our stronghold itself! When the time comes, those people upstairs... hahaha, will all When it is decomposed by poisonous gas, the whole process will be completed within 24 hours. When we need to come over next time," the white coat waved his arms triumphantly, "The poisonous gas has evaporated long ago, and this place will be as clean as new. !"

This crazy white coat-whoever he is, obviously, he's overlooked one thing because the fat man is born mentally handicapped.

Mental retardation is not stupid to the end.

They may not be able to add, subtract, and multiply within ten, and they may slur their words in reverse order, but a mentally retarded person who can grow up to adulthood in Gotham, even if it is only a mentally retarded person, will have skills comparable to scientists in survival. IQ.

The fat man couldn't clearly understand what he was doing, he just remembered how to do the actions that the white coat had demonstrated for him countless times.

He put his hand on the red button and pressed it firmly, more firmly than a mother's hand holding a baby.

Then he moved his fat body to the door of the laboratory, turned off all the power; then walked into the elevator and pressed the up button.

He waited quietly until the elevator doors opened.

A bolt of lightning passed inadvertently, illuminating the inverted abyss in the sky.

Immediately above the laboratory is a luxurious hotel.

The elevator that the fat man took was clearly an unobtrusive utility room.

——The dangerous laboratory was built under the most luxurious hotel, and it has not been discovered for many years. Does it really deserve to be Gotham?

At this moment, the hotel is brightly lit.

A charity auction had just been held here, and after the auction, there was a luxurious party that had nothing to do with "charity".

Red lights, green wine, beautiful clothes and shadows, the celebrities of Gotham staged scenes of tragedies and comedies here. Of course, considering that the income of even the most ordinary waiters who are eligible to enter the lobby is definitely in the same place as the whole Gotham. In Tan City's upper class, most of what happened here were comedies.

But today, I am afraid that a tragedy will be staged here.

The fat man walked out of the utility room and glanced at the door not far away.

The dazzling light refracted by the crystal lamp made the hall brighter than the daytime. Under the light, the fat man's stupid face was set off by this luxurious occasion, and this sense of disobedience revealed a creepy cruelty.

Melodious music, chatter and laughter came from the crack of the door, the mixed smell of champagne and perfume, and the looming snow-white **.

The fat man quietly glanced at the crack of the door, turned around and closed the door of the utility room, and left here.

Bruce Wayne is the focus of the audience.

He was lazily leaning on one leg, holding a glass of champagne and standing in the center of the crowd, with the other hand embracing a blond beauty who seemed to be in his early 20s or younger. People surrounded him, complimented him, and were full of envy His eyes fell on him and the blond beauty.

Even more eyes fell on the blond beauty.

He was so rich after all, and most of all, he was so handsome—sometimes people looked at him, not because of how rich he was or how dissolute he was.

People look at him just because he is handsome enough, so handsome that they have to stay around him, wondering why his body is still so tall and straight, and his face is still so smooth even after forty years old Elegant, his steel-blue eyes were still full of love, and even the few wrinkles at the corners of his eyes only added to his charm.

At this moment, the playboy who was surrounded by the crowd at the center cast an understated glance in the direction the fat man left.

"Brucey?" his female companion immediately called sweetly, "what's the matter with you? Have you had too much to drink?"

"Of course not, my lady." Bruce immediately lowered his head, and gently whispered a few jokes in the ears of his female companion who was unwilling to be ignored, making the blonde beauty giggle.

He took her into the dance floor, as if the glance just now was just a random gesture.

The party gradually quieted down.

No one realized what was going on, the partygoers just felt suddenly sleepy.

And a bit of a headache, and tingling all over, and a weird itchy skin — which, of course, makes perfect sense after drinking too much and having too much fun, so people are still partying.

Only a very small number of people who reacted particularly strongly left in a hurry and went back to their rooms to rest.

Some more left.

The party has already been half empty, which is not in line with common sense. Normally, a party like this that brings together celebrities from the entire Gotham City will last until the next morning, but it is probably only after three o'clock in the morning.

Bruce was keenly aware that something was wrong.

The blond beauty was already flushed, leaning in his arms, talking in a daze as if she was drunk.

The scene of the tall man hugging the drunken woman seems very attractive, especially when the man half-drags and half-holds the woman out of the hall and enters the room.

He pulled back her skirt—very rough—and what happened next was not very good, because the young woman had a strange purple color on her chest, and the light and elegant perfume could not hide the radiance from the surface of her skin. Comes out weirdly rancid.

Bruce gently pressed his fingers on her chest with a serious expression, and there was a sweet cry of pain.

"No..." the young woman said vaguely, frowning tightly, trembling, "It hurts, it hurts..."

Bruce took a look at his skin, it didn't look damaged on the surface, he didn't feel much pain, but he was sure he had been hit too, because he could feel the tiredness welling up from deep inside.

There must be something wrong.

He got up abruptly and walked quickly back to the hall without meeting any waiters along the way.

Despite their lack of presence, they are actually everywhere.

The more Bruce walked forward, the more serious his expression became, and he finally couldn't help but turn on the communicator:

"Any abnormalities detected?"

"No," said Red Robin in the Batcave. "Emergency?"

"Emergency." Bruce gasped for breath gradually, but he concealed it well. "There's a problem with the party."

All the wait staff had disappeared, and the party had been put on hold, and he hadn't heard a thing.

It's as if the whole hotel is dying.

Bruce slammed open the door in front of him.

The evening dresses and suits that were crowded in the hall disappeared, and the tuxedos that walked through the crowd disappeared, and all life disappeared——

No, not all gone.

A girl in a mint green knee-length skirt was bending over to study a musical instrument in a corner. She seemed to realize that someone was coming. She straightened up and turned her head to look over.

The blinding light made Bruce stumble backwards.

The author has something to say: Thank you Yiying, Yan Sheng, and Miaoxue for throwing a landmine!

Thank you for referring to Confidante for throwing a bazooka!