Gotham National Bank.

A gentleman in a neat suit strode to the front desk through the automatic door, and a young lady sitting there politely asked, "Hello, sir, can I help in any way?" ”

Without saying a word, the gentleman handed over a note.

The lady frowned slightly: "You should understand that this is a robbery, is this a joke?" ”

The man pulled out a pistol from the pocket of his suit jacket: "What do you say?" Lady? ”

Within minutes, the Gotham Police Department police car surrounded the bank. Chief Gordon was personally present and his old partner, Detective Bullock, was on the scene to take care of the work.

"Everybody stay in place! Now the criminals are armed and extremely dangerous! Detective Bullock shouted.

Director Gordon walked quickly over to the old friend and said, "Harvey, tell me it's not him. ”

"I know it's unbelievable, Director. Logically speaking, there really is no one thing that makes sense. "The test results will be back soon." ”

"And then?"

"100% can't be him!" Bullock took a puff on his cigar and said, "As far as the probability of Nima seeing a ghost is pretty much true." ”

Gordon "clicked" and pulled open the pistol safe: "What the hell, what's going on inside now?" ”

"He's already killed three of the guards, and there's no news of the hostages yet." "But this time he's here for real, I'll tell you—wait!" He's coming! ”

The man held the purse in one hand and put a gun against a woman in a pink coat in the other, and escorted her out slowly, as if the handbag had been soaked in a pool of blood, and one could not help but fantasize about what kind of massacre had taken place inside.

All the muzzles of the guns were like countless pitch-black eyes, and their eyes were focused on the door of the bank, and the two figures that came out of it. To be precise, they should only be able to see one, because the man's was hidden behind the limp woman walking in front of him.

"That's it, I'm here!" The robber shouted, "And this one, my good friend, is with me!" ”

"I see, this is Jim Gordon! Chief of Gotham Police! Gordon said aloud, "It just so happens that I have a lot of friends with me. I promise you, you won't be able to escape unless my friends like you a little! So why don't we calm down and talk—"

"- Bruce Wayne!"

Yes, the robbery that happened at the Gotham National Bank this morning, no matter which person in their right mind is relayed, their first instinct is to check the calendar to make sure it's April Fool's Day.

Bruce Wayne? That dude with enough bills to wipe his ass? Robbery of a bank?

But now, Mr. Wayne was standing in front of the bank, his gun pointed at the back of the head of a lady who was trembling like a sheep.

"It's a pleasure to see you again, Mr. Director, we haven't seen each other in a while." Bruce said loudly, "May I introduce you to this friend of mine, her name is "

The muzzle of his gun was pushed forward: "Say! ”

The frightened lady hurriedly said, "Martha! My name is Martha! ”

"Look, how coincidental? It happens to be my mother's name. She's pretty, isn't she? Mr. Director? ”

Gordon replied, "Yes, she's very beautiful."

"You're kidding, aren't you?" Bruce raised his voice, "She's a beautiful woman!" Come, tell me about yourself, Martha. Don't be shy, how tall are you? Five-foot-eight? ”

"I'm five feet eight tall and weigh one hundred and twenty pounds." She said with tears in her voice.

"Hey, don't lie to anyone," Bruce smirked into her ear, "you're at least twenty-five pounds heavier than that." ”

"Please, I promise me"

"Oh, don't remind me," he said abruptly, "there's a bit of a misunderstanding between us. You see"

He tore open the buttons of her coat, revealing two rows of explosives on her shirt: "I just counted the more than twenty pounds of bombs you were wearing!" ”

"So, Director Gordon." He swept his gaze over the pile of cops, "And your friends, if you don't want Martha's stats to change dramatically, then I'd suggest you step back." Immediately! ”

Gordon and Bullock looked at each other, then lowered their guns and stepped forward with their hands raised.

"Mr. Wayne Bruce," said Gordon, "it doesn't make sense, first of all you're a billionaire, aren't you?" Why do you need money? ”

"Huh?" Bruce thought about it for a moment and snorted, "You know what? Managing director? Maybe you're right! ”

As soon as the words fell, the money bag in his hand had already been thrown out. Banknotes flew and a thick smoke screen was released from them, instantly obscuring the audience like a smoke screen.

In this moment, Bruce rushed to the motorcycle with a 100-meter sprint, and James Gordon also pulled out a spare pistol from his ankle and aimed it at him.

"You're fast, Wayne, but so am I." Gordon snapped, "Get out of that motorcycle!" ”

"I'm afraid I can't do that, Director." Bruce snorted, unhurriedly pulled out his long-barreled shotgun, and loaded it, "I have so much to do." ”

"Hell, Wayne don't push me"

No other way.

Two gunshots.

Gordon ate the gun from the bulletproof vest on his chest, but he himself was knocked to the ground by the impact. Bruce, on the other hand, acted like he was fine, except that his shirt button was broken by a single shot.

"Tell me, Mr. Wayne, why? You've always been an idol in the hearts of the people of the city, you've always been a hero? ”

When he said the word "hero" at the end, his tone couldn't help but rise with surprise. Because he noticed that the bulletproof equipment that Bruce Wayne was wearing under his shirt that had been torn apart by the gun had a pitch-black bat in the center.

Of course Gordon recognized the suit, a mysterious friend who was supposed to belong to him.

"Okay, let's just say that." Bruce pinched the handlebars of his motorcycle, increased the throttle, and said, "Sometimes being a hero is too old-fashioned." ”

After saying that, the motor's motor let out a high-pitched roar and drove away.

By tomorrow, the case will undoubtedly make the front page of the Gotham Gazette. But how could Bruce Wayne – if this was really him – do such an outrageous and ridiculous act?

It is the prologue to a nightmare, the beginning of a symphony of hell.

And it all started a day ago. (To be continued.) )