"Boom!"
Another security guard fell to the ground, the pain in his back causing him to groan.
"You… you can't do this!"
The middle-aged security guard, a man with a large belly, struggled to raise his hand, trying to stop the masked figure in red and blue.
The figure was currently standing beneath the bank counter, the marble floor of the lobby littered with shattered glass.
Just minutes before, this person had suddenly appeared in the bank lobby, smashing through the bulletproof glass with terrifying force and demanding that the tellers fill the burlap sack he carried with American currency.
The security guards who arrived quickly tried to stop him.
But when someone saw that bullets only sparked weakly upon impact, their fighting spirit crumbled. Then, as if vanishing into thin air, the man reappeared, and all the security guards were knocked unconscious.
"Can't do this?"
A cold snort echoed from within the mask. Clark, while stuffing handfuls of cash from the counter's cash register into a sack, flipped off the security guard. The large ruby on his chest flashed under the lights. Clark sneered, "I do what I want!"
Only after filling all the sacks with money did Clark pick them up. He vanished like a gust of wind in the face of the guard's despair, leaving behind only the chaos in the hall.
"Thank you, now, friends, I ask you to invest with me, invest in the future of Gotham City. I promise you, if we join hands, if we work together, then..."
"A more beautiful, a brighter Gotham is only a dream away!"
Bruce concluded his speech and stepped off the stage.
The ensuing chatter never ceased. People eagerly sought to speak with Bruce Wayne, to discuss the future Gotham he had mentioned in his speech.
After another round of discussions, Alfred the butler walked to Bruce's side, toward the back, and praised him, "Well done, Master Bruce. Inspiring. However..."
"Thank you, Alfred."
Bruce smiled.
"However, you didn't mention you were planning to build a large number of Bat-bunkers all over the city?" Alfred asked, tilting his head playfully.
Bruce smiled in response: "Definitely next time, Alfred, definitely next time."
"So, you're here, Bruce."
A woman's voice interrupted their conversation.
Vicki Vale, a woman with long blonde hair, was wearing a light blue dress and looked at Bruce with a smile: "The speech was so impressive, Bruce."
"If I hadn't already given the title of Son of Tomorrow, exclusive to Gotham, to Lincoln, then it would definitely belong to you."
"Let me introduce you."
The woman gestured towards the man behind her, a tall, dark-haired, middle-aged man in a suit.
She said, "Lincoln March, Bruce Wayne."
"Hello," Lincoln said, extending his hand with a smile.
Bruce reached out and shook his hand in greeting. Bruce smiled and said, "Mr. March is running for mayor. I've heard of you, and that your March V.C. funds a clinic branch in the East End, is that right?"
"Wow, Mr. Wayne knows so much. I'm honored."
Lincoln looked surprised, then his smile grew even wider.
But soon, Lincoln also asked Bruce about Gotham City's Future City plan, showing great interest.
After all, this was Bruce Wayne, and no one could stop the richest man in Gotham from doing what he set his mind to.
Bruce was about to chat with Lincoln some more, but he noticed that Commissioner Gordon in the corner had picked up his phone, and his originally relaxed brow was furrowed.
It was no surprise; something major had definitely happened in Gotham again, something the police department's idiots couldn't handle, forcing them to call Gordon.
Bruce watched Gordon's lips, and his experience traveling the world had taught him to read lips.
He watched Gordon's lips move, and in his mind, he translated the same words.
"What? Wayne Bank was robbed?" Gordon's expression was grim: "Dozens of security guards were taken down by one person?!"
The middle-aged man took a deep breath to calm himself: "Bullets can't hurt him either? Is this true?"
"My God, this is insane. If Jesus resurrected one day, I wouldn't be surprised."
"I'll be right there."
After saying this, Gordon stood up and left the banquet.
A glint flashed in Bruce's eyes. Ignoring bullets and possessing incredible fighting skills, everything brought a figure to mind.
That mysterious masked man who stood in the alley and pointed a finger at him, the masked man who lured him into the maze to torture him.
"Sorry, Lincoln, I have something to do now. We can talk about the topic of 'Tomorrow's Gotham' another day."
Bruce didn't intend to waste any more time.
For Bruce, or rather for Batman, building Gotham was far less appealing than exploring the mysteries of Gotham.
"Alright, I won't bother you." Lincoln smiled understandingly.
Bruce stepped away, and at the same time, he used his earpiece to call his old butler and loyal assistant: "Alfred, help me activate the Batcave located beneath this hall."
The biting wind whipped at Gordon's brown trench coat, making it rustle.
"Hoo."
Gordon exhaled a puff of smoke.
He was currently standing outside Gotham City Bank. The revolving glass doors were shattered, looking like a drunk driver had plowed a car right through them. A disaster.
Police cars already surrounded the damaged bank.
Many officers were busy pulling up the crime scene tape, while others were questioning the only conscious security guard to take his statement.
"Tsk."
Gordon flicked away his cigarette butt and waved his hand, giving an order: "Everyone stay here. I'll go in and take a look."
He worried the robbery was the work of a gang. He'd been at the Gotham City Police Department for three or four months now. Gordon knew there were plenty of corrupt officials in Gotham.
Gordon stepped past the police tape and walked into the hall.
Glass shards littered the floor, and the bank counters were damaged.
Then there were the fist marks indented on the wall. All of this made Gordon feel a headache coming on.
He didn't understand why he always encountered these troublesome things since he took office.
But complaining wouldn't solve the problem. Gordon was about to call in the professionals to remove the indented palm print, which was the only clue here, when a low, raspy voice sounded behind him: "Give me a minute before your people ruin the scene."
"Who's there?!"
Gordon's heart clenched. He drew his gun and turned around, and then he saw the mysterious figure hidden in a dark cloak, wearing a bat mask, with only a "butt" chin visible.
Gordon pursed his lips slightly, his tone complex. "It's you again, Batman."
In the past few months in Gotham City, Gordon had developed a tacit understanding with this mysterious figure. The figure always seemed to appear at crime scenes before him, offering assistance in investigations.
Initially, Gordon refused. Me, a police officer, needing help from a vigilante?
But soon, the Gotham Police Department's abysmal capabilities left Gordon with no choice. He was forced to trust the mysterious figure and work with him to fight crime.
Gordon put away his sidearm and asked Batman, "Batman, what do you make of this?"
-----------------------
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