Reading settings
Chapter 364: A Dog's Bark in the Silence
Gotham City was becoming more and more chaotic. Many high-ranking or special individuals could sense this.
Bruce shook off the assassins from the League of Shadows and returned to Wayne Tower.
He didn't change his route repeatedly to shake off his pursuers before returning to Wayne Tower, as he usually would. The League of Shadows already knew his true identity; there was no point in hiding it.
Another thorny issue had been added to the pile. Batman had to simultaneously deal with a pincer attack from the Joker and the League of Shadows, not to mention a group of secretive individuals who were likely sorcerers, and some bounty hunters who had come to Gotham City to take advantage of the chaos.
“Alfred, send me the files on those people.”
The moment Bruce stepped into the Batcave, he removed his cowl and booted up the complex, massive computer. He spoke to the screen.
But the only response he received was a meaningless jumble of static and crackling sounds.
Bruce froze for a moment, then, as if nothing was wrong, began tapping his fingers on the keyboard. He repeated his question, “Alfred? Are you there?”
“Of course, I'm always here, my Young Master.” The voice of his loyal old butler, Alfred, came through, as kind and benevolent as ever.
Bruce let out a slight sigh of relief. The person he trusted most in this world was Alfred. He truly didn't know what he would do if Alfred were also attacked by his enemies.
“What happened just now? A communication failure?”
“No, our communication equipment was being jammed.”
“Can you determine the cause?” Bruce asked, simultaneously tapping out a rhythm on the desk.
There was a moment of silence on the other end before the reply came: “I'm investigating. It would be difficult to affect our communication equipment with technological means, seeing as you personally participated in its development.”
A series of faint taps came in response, and Bruce relaxed his guard.
It was the all-clear signal. Everything was normal.
“Are you suggesting it was caused by non-technological means? Psionics, or magic?” Bruce asked the screen.
“It might be something like a superpower. A sudden interference appeared and then quickly vanished, causing a small-scale disturbance in the magnetic field. It could be related to those strange individuals who have snuck into Gotham City.” Alfred pushed up his glasses and rubbed his eyes. His age no longer permitted him to maintain such a high level of energy.
Bruce sat before the screen in the Batcave. In the vast, empty underground chamber, the only light came from the large monitor; the rest was shrouded in darkness.
Bruce concealed his body in the darkness as much as possible. It helped him think more rationally and provided a more suitable environment for contemplation.
From the other end of the screen, on Alfred's side, came the sound of dogs barking. As usual, Bruce's beloved dog, Ace, was getting along well with a little white dog of unknown origin.
He had also investigated the white dog and found that it belonged to Tony. This put Bruce in a foul mood, as he always felt like he was being watched by Tony.
Even a dog could run over to his place to frolic?
And it was a super-dog, one that even he couldn't defeat.
Over time, Bruce had come to let his beloved dog play with the little white one. He was a very pragmatic person. Until he found a way to deal with the white dog, he would tolerate it, as long as it didn't cross his bottom line.
The screen slowly powered down, plunging the massive Batcave into complete darkness. Bruce was immersed in the gloom, only his eyes remaining calm, emitting a terrifying chill in the dark.
“Constantine, since you're here, you might as well come out,” Bruce said suddenly. In his hand, a Batarang was already prepared, and all the various mechanisms in the Batcave were on standby.
A disheveled and world-weary Constantine emerged from the darkness, tugging at his wrinkled trench coat. He asked helplessly, “How did you know it was me?”
“Ska Cigarettes. The production of this rare brand is extremely limited, destined for only a select few. Besides, the taste of Ska is very harsh, so it’s not popular. Right now, in all of Gotham, you're the only one who smokes them in such quantities, leaving a strong scent on you.”
Bruce stood up, took the thermos, poured a glass of water, and handed it to Constantine.
Constantine didn't stand on ceremony. He took the glass, drank it in one go, and slammed it down on the table. His eyes were bloodshot, as if he hadn't slept for days.
Before Bruce could ask, Constantine beat him to it. “Batman, if it were you, how would you handle an enemy you can't resist? A situation where you can't even run away?”
Bruce calmly looked at the dissipated man before him, the infamous Hell Detective. Unflustered, he said coolly, “Find his weakness, and then take him down.”
“What if there is no weakness?”
“That just means you haven't analyzed the enemy thoroughly enough.” Bruce's reply was concise, his eyes watching Constantine with a cold indifference.
No host would be pleased with an uninvited guest.
Constantine scratched his head in frustration. Just thinking of that name filled him with a sense of despair. He even had the urge to just flee to Hell.
Constantine knew quite a few demons. He could definitely use some tricks to get those guys to take him to Hell.
It's just that the outcome wouldn't be very pleasant. He'd probably be torn to shreds by the very demons who helped him the moment he arrived in Hell...
In his depressed state, he had rashly come to find Batman, hoping this rational and calm man could offer him some small comfort. Instead, it only brought him more helplessness and despair. He felt he had been a fool. Following his intuition to rashly seek out an ordinary human with no superpowers? His intuition was usually spot-on, having saved his life many times, but this time, it might have failed him, leading him straight to the wrong person.
Seeing Constantine's utterly dejected state, Bruce's eyes flickered, and he took the initiative to ask, “What kind of enemy would make you, the Hell Detective, so... defeated?”
Bruce raised his hands, as if trying to describe something with a gesture.
“A demon. A demon that has crossed the universe, Bruce. A demon of that level could destroy the Earth with a single breath, wipe out a universe with a wave of its hand—I know you think I'm crazy, and I know you're already prepared to take me down for showing up uninvited, but I have to warn you, your preparations are useless against me. In the face of an enemy like this, you and I are as small as ants. There's no difference.”
Constantine was not in a good state. Although the man was always disheveled and slovenly, always appearing this way whether dealing with humans, demons, or those detestable angels, this time, he truly didn't know what to do.
What was there to do? Pray? Pray that after the demon gets Raven, it will be kind enough to spare this universe? Don't be ridiculous. The monster Trigon is the most special of them all, even among demons.
(end of chapter)
Gotham City was becoming more and more chaotic. Many high-ranking or special individuals could sense this.
Bruce shook off the assassins from the League of Shadows and returned to Wayne Tower.
He didn't change his route repeatedly to shake off his pursuers before returning to Wayne Tower, as he usually would. The League of Shadows already knew his true identity; there was no point in hiding it.
Another thorny issue had been added to the pile. Batman had to simultaneously deal with a pincer attack from the Joker and the League of Shadows, not to mention a group of secretive individuals who were likely sorcerers, and some bounty hunters who had come to Gotham City to take advantage of the chaos.
“Alfred, send me the files on those people.”
The moment Bruce stepped into the Batcave, he removed his cowl and booted up the complex, massive computer. He spoke to the screen.
But the only response he received was a meaningless jumble of static and crackling sounds.
Bruce froze for a moment, then, as if nothing was wrong, began tapping his fingers on the keyboard. He repeated his question, “Alfred? Are you there?”
“Of course, I'm always here, my Young Master.” The voice of his loyal old butler, Alfred, came through, as kind and benevolent as ever.
Bruce let out a slight sigh of relief. The person he trusted most in this world was Alfred. He truly didn't know what he would do if Alfred were also attacked by his enemies.
“What happened just now? A communication failure?”
“No, our communication equipment was being jammed.”
“Can you determine the cause?” Bruce asked, simultaneously tapping out a rhythm on the desk.
There was a moment of silence on the other end before the reply came: “I'm investigating. It would be difficult to affect our communication equipment with technological means, seeing as you personally participated in its development.”
A series of faint taps came in response, and Bruce relaxed his guard.
It was the all-clear signal. Everything was normal.
“Are you suggesting it was caused by non-technological means? Psionics, or magic?” Bruce asked the screen.
“It might be something like a superpower. A sudden interference appeared and then quickly vanished, causing a small-scale disturbance in the magnetic field. It could be related to those strange individuals who have snuck into Gotham City.” Alfred pushed up his glasses and rubbed his eyes. His age no longer permitted him to maintain such a high level of energy.
Bruce sat before the screen in the Batcave. In the vast, empty underground chamber, the only light came from the large monitor; the rest was shrouded in darkness.
Bruce concealed his body in the darkness as much as possible. It helped him think more rationally and provided a more suitable environment for contemplation.
From the other end of the screen, on Alfred's side, came the sound of dogs barking. As usual, Bruce's beloved dog, Ace, was getting along well with a little white dog of unknown origin.
He had also investigated the white dog and found that it belonged to Tony. This put Bruce in a foul mood, as he always felt like he was being watched by Tony.
Even a dog could run over to his place to frolic?
And it was a super-dog, one that even he couldn't defeat.
Over time, Bruce had come to let his beloved dog play with the little white one. He was a very pragmatic person. Until he found a way to deal with the white dog, he would tolerate it, as long as it didn't cross his bottom line.
The screen slowly powered down, plunging the massive Batcave into complete darkness. Bruce was immersed in the gloom, only his eyes remaining calm, emitting a terrifying chill in the dark.
“Constantine, since you're here, you might as well come out,” Bruce said suddenly. In his hand, a Batarang was already prepared, and all the various mechanisms in the Batcave were on standby.
A disheveled and world-weary Constantine emerged from the darkness, tugging at his wrinkled trench coat. He asked helplessly, “How did you know it was me?”
“Ska Cigarettes. The production of this rare brand is extremely limited, destined for only a select few. Besides, the taste of Ska is very harsh, so it’s not popular. Right now, in all of Gotham, you're the only one who smokes them in such quantities, leaving a strong scent on you.”
Bruce stood up, took the thermos, poured a glass of water, and handed it to Constantine.
Constantine didn't stand on ceremony. He took the glass, drank it in one go, and slammed it down on the table. His eyes were bloodshot, as if he hadn't slept for days.
Before Bruce could ask, Constantine beat him to it. “Batman, if it were you, how would you handle an enemy you can't resist? A situation where you can't even run away?”
Bruce calmly looked at the dissipated man before him, the infamous Hell Detective. Unflustered, he said coolly, “Find his weakness, and then take him down.”
“What if there is no weakness?”
“That just means you haven't analyzed the enemy thoroughly enough.” Bruce's reply was concise, his eyes watching Constantine with a cold indifference.
No host would be pleased with an uninvited guest.
Constantine scratched his head in frustration. Just thinking of that name filled him with a sense of despair. He even had the urge to just flee to Hell.
Constantine knew quite a few demons. He could definitely use some tricks to get those guys to take him to Hell.
It's just that the outcome wouldn't be very pleasant. He'd probably be torn to shreds by the very demons who helped him the moment he arrived in Hell...
In his depressed state, he had rashly come to find Batman, hoping this rational and calm man could offer him some small comfort. Instead, it only brought him more helplessness and despair. He felt he had been a fool. Following his intuition to rashly seek out an ordinary human with no superpowers? His intuition was usually spot-on, having saved his life many times, but this time, it might have failed him, leading him straight to the wrong person.
Seeing Constantine's utterly dejected state, Bruce's eyes flickered, and he took the initiative to ask, “What kind of enemy would make you, the Hell Detective, so... defeated?”
Bruce raised his hands, as if trying to describe something with a gesture.
“A demon. A demon that has crossed the universe, Bruce. A demon of that level could destroy the Earth with a single breath, wipe out a universe with a wave of its hand—I know you think I'm crazy, and I know you're already prepared to take me down for showing up uninvited, but I have to warn you, your preparations are useless against me. In the face of an enemy like this, you and I are as small as ants. There's no difference.”
Constantine was not in a good state. Although the man was always disheveled and slovenly, always appearing this way whether dealing with humans, demons, or those detestable angels, this time, he truly didn't know what to do.
What was there to do? Pray? Pray that after the demon gets Raven, it will be kind enough to spare this universe? Don't be ridiculous. The monster Trigon is the most special of them all, even among demons.
(end of chapter)
