Gotham started raining again. The rain made the metal armor shine brighter. The clouds were reflected in the puddles, and the puddles were reflected on the leg armor. That streak of blood red flowed along the reflection, like a figure lying on the ground, telling its story in a low voice. Those tragic scenes flowed into the ears of Arkham Batman.
Everything began with a wrong debate.
Luther let all ordinary people decide the life and death of him and Superman. He endowed them with a peculiar energy that allowed them to activate the devices beneath their feet based on their inner decisions. If people believed in Luther more, the device would kill Superman; if they believed in Superman more, the device would kill Luther.
Superman came, Superman died.
These were the two most significant wrong decisions Superman made.
Batman chose to trust the people and wanted to explain to them. He opened the doors of the Justice Hall. This was his most fatal mistake, as the frantic people tore him to pieces directly.
Batman didn't die. It took him a long time to stand up again, defeat Darkseid to obtain the Omega Effect, and use the Anti-Life Equation to dominate the entire Earth, plunging those who betrayed him into chaos and warfare, as if they deserved it.
But one day, a Batman who was laughing maniacally came to him and told him: the evil and madness in the hearts of those people didn't come from nowhere. They were steeped in a dark jar, rotten to the core. The same tragedy played out repeatedly in different universes.
"This is simply not fair..." Arkham Batman heard Omega Batman say.
Arkham Batman's heart was far from as strong as steel as his exterior. He knew little about the past of all the other Batmen, and when he heard about such tragic encounters, he couldn't help but be momentarily dazed.
Suddenly, a red light flashed. The piercing pain spread from his chest, and Arkham Batman was blasted away. When he came back to his senses, the smoke from the armor on his chest was entwined with the rain lines. The smell of scorched flesh wafted over, and when he looked again, there was no longer any trace of Omega Batman on the ground.
"Damn it, I was careless." He muttered to himself, then slowly stood up from the ground. The opponent didn't seem to have much strength left either, as that ray was far weaker than the first one. Nonetheless, it still split open his armor, leaving a deep scar on his chest, visible to the bone.
Arkham Batman took a deep breath, pulled out a cure potion, and injected it into his arm, then slowly walked toward the Batmobile. Even though he hadn't thought it through, he knew he was wavering on the viewpoint of the Primary Universe Batman.
As Batman, he didn't want anyone to suffer such a calamity. Yet because he was smart enough, he understood: time flows like water, irreversible. Some scars, once left, can never be erased. A Batman who has undergone such cruel tribulations finds it exceedingly difficult to transform back into the Dark Knight.
If that's the case, the only thing they might save with all their might is just a body riddled with scars and an even more fragmented soul. Without will and belief, what remains of these Batmen is only pain. Death might not be an unwelcomed release to them.
Sitting back in the Batmobile, Arkham Batman let out a deep sigh. He started the vehicle and drove on, not really knowing who he was looking for.
Suddenly, the crows on the Cathedral were startled into flight. Arkham Batman saw combat erupting there, likely due to a new Dark Batman racing over to aid. And the Batman dressed like a Black Magician seized the opportunity to summon many monsters. The city grew even more chaotic.
As the Batmobile passed by, Arkham Batman suddenly caught a whiff of blood in the damp air. He hit the brake, slowing down just in time to see Shiller walking out of a building, standing under the eaves of the porch, meticulously counting bullets. The blood was flowing down the steps faster than him.
The Batmobile stopped at the entrance, and Arkham Batman saw Shiller glance at him, put the bullets he was counting back into his pocket, put on his hat, and walk to the Batmobile, bending down to say through the car window, "Give me a lift?"
The door opened, and as Shiller got into the passenger seat, the dampness and blood scent of the rain came with him. Before Arkham Batman could say anything, Shiller sniffed, somewhat surprised, and said, "Are you hurt?"
"Why couldn't it be that I dealt with that guy?"
"You have the smell of something scorched on you. If you weren't hit by a laser, would you be giving him a decent funeral with flames in this weather?"
"I wouldn't," Arkham Batman said. "I thought about what you said and found it not without reason."
"I haven't said anything to you," Shiller replied, turning his head back. "To be accurate, I wasn't talking about you. I was merely discussing myself. Surely you're not so arrogant to think that every word I say is a commentary or hint about you?"
Arkham Batman seemed to seriously reflect for a moment, then said, "People who talk to me usually do that."
"I'm usually not that usual. You can discuss this with your old friend."
"Which matter?"
"Matters like to kill or not to kill," Shiller said dismissively, "and whether to save these pitiful Batmen, what happens if you save them, and what happens if you don't."
"You haven't considered these things?"
"I have no necessity to consider them. My task is to save the Batman of this universe and then restore the order of Gotham. Anything beyond that is not within my consideration."
"Even if it might have unfavorable long-term impacts, you would still choose to act before thinking?"
"For me, saving how many Batmen or killing how many Batmen won't have any long-term impact. Perhaps no one has ever told you this because the world quite literally revolves around Batman. But not for me. I don't care at all how you see me or how you treat me."
"Maybe that's normal," Arkham Batman said, "while all other thoughts surrounding me tend to be overly attentive, sometimes trapping us in our own puzzles."
"Got any bullets?" Shiller suddenly asked.
"What caliber?"
"G19."
Arkham Batman raised his eyebrow in slight surprise and said, "I thought it would be M18. Why use the compact model?"
"No safety." Shiller replied.
Arkham Batman was speechless for a moment. That was indeed a very straightforward reason, no wonder the shot towards Mad Laugh was so quick; it didn't require disengaging a safety.
Arkham Batman pressed a button in the car, and the equipment vault beneath the seat opened up. He casually tossed a box of bullets to Shiller; most Glock pistols use 9×19mm Parabellum rounds.
Shiller opened the bullet box, loaded the magazine one bullet at a time, then threw the extra reloaded bullets back into the box.
"You reload your own?" Arkham Batman glanced over while driving and said, "Nice craftsmanship."
"You're too kind." Shiller chambered the pistol before putting it back in his pocket, seemingly not worried about misfire. This model indeed has a long trigger pull, making accidental discharge less likely, well-suited for quick response.
"Were you an agent?"
Shiller nodded.
"The criminals' greatest fear."
"And the fiercest nemesis of the bosses and political rivals."
Arkham Batman was speechless again. The atmosphere in the car grew silent. After a while, Arkham Batman asked, "How do you plan to restore order to Gotham?"
"I'm still considering." Shiller replied, "There are many methods, but none are perfect. I hope to get a decent mission rating, so I'll have to see the situation."
"Alright. I'm planning to find those Dark Batmen who have arrived in the city, where would you like to get off?"
"Right here," Shiller glanced out the window.
Arkham Batman instinctively looked outside too, since he felt Shiller had chosen this spot for a reason, he wanted to know what was here. Just as he focused on the scene outside, he felt a pain in his chest.
Shiller was holding a needle, sticking it near the skin on his chest. The pain started to gradually disappear, his vision suddenly became blurry.
"High concentration morphine." In his haze, Arkham Batman heard Shiller say, "No idea why you thought I would chat with you for so long for no reason. Borrowing the car."
Arkham Batman naturally resisted, but whatever Shiller injected him was disturbingly potent, and the healing potion he had injected himself earlier also had effects of accelerating blood circulation. It was literally a momentary high; his senses immediately blurred and he fell into illusions induced by the drugs.
He felt himself being dragged out of the car, but unable to determine direction, his brain struggled to properly coordinate his limbs, reacting a moment too late. The roar of the Batmobile's engine started just as Arkham Batman managed to get up from the ground.
Swaying slightly in the rain, he wiped away the droplets dripping from his jaw with the back of his hand, watching the Batmobile speeding away. He reached to press the remote button on his gauntlet, but his vision was so terribly distorted he failed to recall the Batmobile.
Arkham Batman felt he had started showing symptoms of respiratory suppression. He had to open the communication channel and said to the Primary Universe Batman, "Do you have any morphine countermeasure?"
"...What happened?" The Primary Universe Batman was stunned as he battled with Mad Laugh, instinctively saying, "Is there a Dark Batman using morphine as a weapon?"
"No, but there's a despicable agent using morphine as a weapon."
The Primary Universe Batman was silent for a few seconds. He heard Arkham Batman was in bad shape, most likely suffering from morphine poisoning. After ending the communication, he told Ke Fu, "You keep them busy, I'm going to rescue."
With that said, Batman fired a grapple shattering the cathedral's stained glass, leaping out and rapidly locating where Arkham Batman was. Upon arrival, he found the latter had already lost consciousness.
Primary Universe Batman took out atropine to inject Arkham Batman. Soon, the latter woke up, slowly rising from the ground.
"I'm just a bit curious," Primary Universe Batman looked at Arkham Batman and said, "Must be a pretty high concentration of morphine to take you down right here."
"I'm more concerned about why he's carrying morphine in such high concentration on him." Arkham Batman replied, "This far exceeds the analgesic dosage."
"That's quite typical." Primary Universe Batman said, "Illusions and pain are his weapons. To him, such drugs that can induce hallucinations and bring near-death pain are much more effective than adrenaline."
"Really crazy." Arkham Batman couldn't help but say.
When they returned together to the cathedral, they saw another Shiller there. Arkham Batman couldn't help but take a step back.
Shiller looked him up and down, then said, "Did he steal your Batmobile?"
Arkham Batman nodded. Shiller sighed and said, "I think it's time to leave."