Bane was dead?
Just like that?
The result was beyond everyone's expectations. Bane—who had broken Batman's back, occupied Gotham City, and cowed the Department of Defense into guarding his territory—was dead?
Just like that?
"I'm here to kill Bane, do you believe me?"
Many recalled what Jack Kadere had said earlier. At the time, everyone assumed he was joking. But it turned out to be true.
In the stunned silence, Jack walked toward one of the thugs. The man saw him approaching and started trembling, wanting to run but unable to make his legs move. Jack stopped in front of him and smiled. "I remember you were the one who said anyone who believed me was an idiot, right?"
"R-right... I'm sorry," the man stammered.
Jack gently patted his shoulder. "Don't be afraid. I just want to ask—do you believe what I said now?"
"I believe you, I believe you, I believe everything you say. I'm sorry, I'm just an idiot." The thug nodded frantically.
"Then if I said I'd punch your head off, would you believe me?" Jack's eyes narrowed as he smiled.
The man froze.
Say no? It sounded like a provocation.
Say yes? That was basically asking Jack to do exactly what he'd done to Bane.
Cold sweat ran down his face. He was close to tears. Believe or don't believe—which answer kept him alive?
His legs shook uncontrollably. A sharp ammonia smell filled the air.
Jack looked at him, dumbfounded. "I just asked a question. There's no need to piss yourself. Forget it—since you're this scared, I'll just..."
"Let me go?" the man asked hopefully.
"Kill you."
With twenty times normal strength—the same force that had shattered every bone in Bane's body—Jack's fist connected with the man's head. The thug fell backward with a wet crunch, his features caved in and twisted together.
"Sometimes, if you don't try hard, you won't know what despair is."
Jack sighed, lowered his fist, and glanced at the stunned crowd on both sides. "What are you standing around for? Get on with it."
His words snapped everyone back to reality. The thugs who had been so confident of victory moments ago turned and ran. James Gordon, displaying the sharp reflexes of a career cop, raised his arm and shouted, leading the charge against the fleeing enemy.
What's a reversal?
This was a goddamn reversal.
In the chaos, Barbara Gordon picked her handcuffs and pulled the still-shocked Talia al Ghul toward Jack. Her eyes were bright with excitement. "Is this what you meant by 'easily meeting Bane'? Pretending to betray us to lure him out? Why didn't you tell us beforehand? I actually thought you were going to sell us out! Oh, and how did you even come up with that? I never would have thought of it."
Looking at the eager, excited Barbara—who seemed to have forgotten that he'd punched her earlier—Jack smiled slightly and spoke with exaggerated seriousness. "Pay attention to details. Start with the small things. Because... you can't handle the big ones anyway."
Barbara's expression froze.
She had been ready to listen carefully, expecting some genuine insight about details and small things, but—he was mocking her? This bastard really couldn't go five minutes without pissing someone off.
"Things aren't over yet," Jack said. "Are you just going to stand here staring at me?"
Talia's expression changed instantly. Was he going to expose her? He was so strong—even Bane had failed! Her plan to destroy Gotham had collapsed because of this one man.
"The nuclear reactor!" Barbara suddenly remembered. That was the key to saving Gotham. She grabbed Talia's arm and started toward city hall. Talia, being dragged along, instinctively moved to retaliate—but then heard Jack call out casually behind them.
"Good luck."
What did he mean? He wasn't going to expose her?
Talia's eyes widened as she looked back at Jack, but he only smiled and turned to leave.
What was the point of exposing her? It would be far more entertaining to let her hide her identity and keep working to destroy Gotham. After all, when Batman returned—healed and ready—only to find Bane already dead, he'd need an opponent to continue being the Dark Knight. Justice was born from evil. Would a peaceful Gotham even be Gotham anymore?
In the chaos, Jack slipped away from the crowd and left city hall. Soon after, a roar echoed in the distance as the Batmobile switched to flight mode and lifted into the sky.
Time passed. The chaos gradually subsided. The noise faded to silence.
On the road in front of city hall, the car Jack had been driving sat alone in the middle of the street.
The vehicle began to rock and vibrate. Banging sounds came from inside—and then the trunk lid flew open with a loud thunk. Harley Quinn emerged, hair a mess, clothes disheveled, long legs awkwardly climbing out of the cramped space.
She looked around at the silent, debris-strewn street.
Harley stared blankly at the aftermath.
She had snuck into the trunk early that morning, planning to leave with Jack whenever he drove off. She never expected to fail quite like this.
Indeed—if you don't try hard, you won't know what despair is.