Cat and Bat (Part 2)

When Schiller saw that Bruce's face was etched with gloom and frustration, radiating dark energy, he knew their talk with Catwoman hadn't gone well.

"Did you two get into another fight?"

Bruce replied, "Worse."

"Alright, so which room is she in now?" Schiller asked.

"I mean, Gotham is worse than I imagined."

"There's a group of bad guys here you can't really blame, because in this environment, they're already doing pretty well," Bruce said.

"I think you're starting to realize that being Batman isn't all that simple, aren't you?" Schiller said.

"Indeed," Bruce replied. "I thought I had tough armor, a bulletproof helmet, sharp batarangs, guns, and ammo. With these, what gang couldn't I handle?"

"Guns are indeed very useful," Schiller said.

"At least they guarantee someone will listen to what you say."

"I can't tell Selina 'you're wrong'," Bruce said, covering his eyes. "Actually, she's already doing well enough."

"Jonathan probably doesn't think so. If I told you now that Jonathan also grew up in this kind of environment, and that his crimes were actually because no one taught him, what would you think?"

Bruce opened his mouth. He realized that while he initially thought he was righteous, he later learned that nothing was absolutely righteous. But he thought he was at least just. Now, however, he found he wasn't just enough.

He had to admit, he was biased towards Selina. Many of the gangsters he apprehended were like Catwoman, Selina, they were just not as lucky as her.

Their families and pasts were a mess. They went to work for gangs not because they were heinous villains or born evil, but simply to make a living.

Breaking free from the shackles of one's original class was much harder than imagined, especially in Gotham.

This fact made Bruce feel a sense of despair. He finally understood why Schiller said he didn't understand Gotham.

Because anyone who truly wanted to save Gotham didn't understand Gotham.

Everyone here was bad, yet no one here was bad.

Among this group of walking dead, you couldn't find anyone who deserved to be saved, nor anyone who was born to be eliminated.

There was no main culprit; everyone here was the main culprit.

This path of heroic advancement was vastly different from what Bruce had imagined. He thought that by simply capturing enough criminals, extracting information from them, and then following the leads to find the few tumors that had been affecting Gotham all along, and finally bringing them to justice, Gotham would get better and better.

But now he realized it was a bottomless pit. When he caught one tumor, another would appear. When he punished one culprit, another would always emerge.

No one could withstand such attrition, and this wasn't about wealth or physical strength. Harvey believed that victory wasn't just for those who reached the end, but Batman, he didn't even have an end.

Bruce now realized that his struggle with Gotham would inevitably consume his entire life.

It was then that he understood that wealth, equipment, and combat skills couldn't truly make him Batman, because his greatest enemy wasn't the criminals, but giving up.

The biggest problem he faced wasn't how cunning his opponents were, but whether he was firm enough, firm enough to dedicate his entire life to an endless struggle with a city that couldn't be saved.

It was like ordinary people trying their whole lives to make the sun rise from the west.

Batman stood on the rooftop of the Gotham Central Building. The wind was strong here, whistling past his ears. Below him, countless mediocre villains were like a colony of nesting ants. From here, he could clearly see everything in Gotham.

Batman had once thought Gotham had no order, only chaos. But now he realized that not only did it have order, but it was more solid than anywhere else. If there was only chaos, he could rebuild order. But now, he couldn't even break Gotham's existing order.

After a while, Batman heard footsteps behind him. Catwoman walked over, hands behind her back.

Seeing Batman turn, she smiled. She brought out a gem from behind her back and playfully handed it to Batman, saying, "I picked out a pretty little treasure from my collection. Of course, I wouldn't give you the biggest one, but I think this one is nice too."

Before Bruce could speak, Catwoman said, "I was talking to Maggie yesterday, and she said I should apologize to you. Because no matter what, I shouldn't have cut you with a dagger."

"I've never apologized to anyone before. If those people wanted to beat me, I'd beat them back. But I think you've been very good to me, even taking me for a ride on the tall buildings. And I stabbed you. That really wasn't right."

She blinked her beautiful big eyes, her brown eyes sparkling in the Gotham-like night. "I can see you're very troubled. I hope this gem can make you feel a little better."

Batman looked down at the gem in his hand. It was a triangular ruby, somewhat like his ears. It was cut exquisitely and had a captivating luster even in the dim light.

For the first time, he felt that this wasn't just a mineral that was pretty but meaningless to humans.

Batman asked, "Do you want to hear my story?"

Meanwhile, Schiller was on the phone, saying, "Medical parole? How did he get the approval? While I don't want to blame you, the Gotham Police Department is really too childish..."

He thought for a moment. Fine, the Gotham Police Department really had no lower limit to break.

Then he said to Gordon on the other end, "I hope he stays in the hospital and doesn't come back to cause trouble. You know, I'm not like Batman."

Gordon hung up the phone and sighed. He knew it wouldn't be that simple. Although Jonathan had finally been sent to the asylum through various efforts, Victor had disappeared, and Lantolos was dead.

However, the old principal of Gotham University, under the guise of medical parole, had avoided prison. He had been in Gotham for so many years and still had some connections, and he had finally succeeded.

Schiller never hesitated to think the worst of a Gotham citizen. He knew the old principal wouldn't give up so easily.

As expected, the next day, just as Schiller was about to leave work, a girl rushed into his office in a panic. This was the same girl who had complained to the school when Christine had gone missing before. She was Christine's good friend.

"Christine is missing again?" Schiller asked.

"Worse than that," the girl said anxiously. "After that incident, Christine gave me a safety number. She told me that if this number called my phone, it meant she might be in danger!"

Schiller sped up his packing. "When did this happen?"

"Just three minutes ago! The call connected, but there was no sound from the other end!"

Schiller calmed the girl down and then called Bruce. He said, "Bad news, Christine is in trouble again. I don't know if Gordon told you? The old principal avoided prison under the guise of medical parole. If he wants revenge, the first person he'll target is the one who testified against him..."

Bruce immediately returned to Wayne Manor and put on all of Batman's gear. He had persuaded Christine to testify against the Principal, so he had to save the girl.

Unfortunately, this time the old Principal had gotten smarter. He didn't use any low-level thugs but hired professional kidnappers who left no trace. The old Principal seemed to simply want revenge, not to use her to threaten others.

But this precisely indicated that Christine was likely in an extremely dangerous situation.

After a while, Batman received a call from Schiller. Schiller said, "The street where the East District Red Crow Gang used to be, that drug den you destroyed..."

Before Bruce could ask why, Schiller hung up. Batman sped off, racing through the Gotham night.

But he didn't have the Batmobile yet, and a regular sports car wasn't fast enough. It would take some time to get from Wayne Manor to the East District, and Christine could be harmed at any moment. Although he didn't like Christine, he didn't want to see an innocent person tragically killed.

Batman slammed his fist on the steering wheel, deeply feeling the need for better transportation.

Suddenly, an unexpected number called. Catwoman's voice came from the other end. She said, "Hey, I think I saw your little girlfriend who waits for you on the street every day. What's going on? Why are they heading to Maple Street? It's dangerous there..."

"She's been kidnapped, hurry and find a way to save her! No... I mean, can you keep an eye on them? ... Watch them from a distance, and then call me... Never mind, no, no, no, don't follow them, just tell me where they're going."

"You sound like you need help," Catwoman said.

Batman sounded a bit impatient. He said, "This is none of your business. Just don't go out and cause trouble for me tonight."

With that, he hung up and drove towards Maple Street.

A while later, Batman appeared at the end of Maple Street. This was indeed the former Red Crow Gang territory, where he had busted a poppy cultivation and production den. Batman had a good memory. He walked along the right side of the street, then turned into two alleys.

As soon as he reached the end of the alley, he heard intense fighting and gunshots. Batman quickly found the back door and pried the lock open. When he entered, he saw a group of low-level thugs lying on the ground, groaning in pain, seemingly having their joints attacked.

Passing through the gatehouse into the living room, he saw seven or eight masked kidnappers also lying on the ground. A whip whistled through the air, narrowly missing Batman.

Catwoman turned around and said, "Thank God, this young lady is alright."

Batman shifted his gaze to Christine on the sofa. Her clothes were slightly disheveled. If Catwoman hadn't arrived in time, something terrible might have happened.

Then, Catwoman sniffed and frowned. "Wait, why do I smell oil? Is your car leaking? No, this is bad! It might be Molotov cocktails, hurry, get out of here..."

Before she could finish, the glass on the front door shattered, and countless Molotov cocktails wrapped in cloth were thrown in.

Flames "whooshed" up. The abandoned den contained many fabric sofas, curtains, and other flammable materials.

Before long, the fire was raging fiercely. Bruce, carrying the unconscious Christine, had just reached the back door when they discovered it had been blocked from the outside by a heavy object.

Clearly, this was a premeditated trap.

Batman's suit was fire-resistant, but if the fire continued to burn like this, Christine and Catwoman would be in danger. Moreover, being fire-resistant didn't mean he wouldn't choke. The fire grew larger, and the thick black smoke made it almost impossible to see anything in the house. All three of them coughed repeatedly.

Suddenly, a crisp "clang" came from the right, as if something had fallen. Catwoman reacted quickly, whipping her whip towards it. But when she dragged it back, she found it was a fire extinguisher!

Without questioning how the fire extinguisher got there, Catwoman shook it vigorously. Batman said, "Go through where they threw the Molotov cocktails. There should be a vacuum zone there!"

Batman led the way with the fire extinguisher, while Catwoman supported Christine from behind.

Indeed, the person who threw the Molotov cocktails had used great force, causing them to land in the center of the hall, not near the door. Apart from a small rug, there were no flammable materials near the door. Batman used the fire extinguisher to put out the approaching flames, and the two pushed forward.

Reaching the door, Batman first shot the lock to break it, then began to ram the iron door with all his might.

The person who threw the Molotov cocktails had clearly left in a hurry, and the front door was not as securely blocked as the back door. After a few hits, Batman created a gap.

But this also meant that air began to circulate, and the fire intensified. Catwoman was almost suffocating, and Batman could feel the hand resting on his shoulder starting to slide down. If she lost consciousness, she and Christine would surely die.

With all his strength, Batman gave one final shove, and with a "bang!", the door burst open. The three of them escaped. Catwoman gasped for air. By now, both Batman and Catwoman were covered in soot.

After returning Christine, Batman, while driving, asked Catwoman, who was sitting in the passenger seat, "Why did you rush in to save Christine? That was very dangerous, wasn't it?"

Catwoman was excitedly examining the interior decoration of the luxury car, clearly having never been in such an expensive car before.

She cleared her throat, calming her excitement. After a moment, she said, "Actually, I thought of many reasons for you to praise me just now, like I planned to learn from you to be a good person, or that I'm actually a righteous heroine at heart, or that I couldn't stand those kidnappers hurting the innocent..."

Then Catwoman looked at him, and under his brown gaze, Batman felt his heart race again.

"You don't want me to do bad things, but I really love those jewels. So, I can do one bad thing and then one good thing, wouldn't that be enough?"

"...Alright, actually, I just wanted to make you happy," Catwoman shrugged.

"I know, I can't be some great hero. I just love stealing; it's a habit I've had since I was little. I don't preach either. Perhaps that girl who always waits for you on the street is much better than me. After all, she's well-educated, beautiful, charming, and innocent and ignorant, having never done anything wrong."

"But this is just me. I never think about those things, I just do what I want. You can see me as a criminal, or think I'm a hopeless bad person, but I am who I am, this is me, a cat."

Batman's grip on the steering wheel loosened slightly. He didn't know if this was the answer he wanted.

But he knew that Catwoman's romanticism, liveliness, and sincerity were not the fundamental reasons he fell in love with her.

A bat falling in love with a cat – he was simply envious of her freedom, the freedom he, as a Dark Knight, could never attain.

He had already resolved to fight this irredeemable city to the bitter end.

Watching the luxury car slowly stop at the intersection, Schiller, on the rooftop, said to the symbiote in his mind, "...No, we can't go down. What happens next is not something children should see."

The symbiote let out a series of dissatisfied grumbles.

"Yes, I know you did a great job just now, throwing the fire extinguisher from the coffee shop across the street. You threw it very accurately!"

"But what's happening in the car is just the meaningless reproductive process of humans. Your symbiotes don't need this process; you just need to shed."

The symbiote fell silent. Schiller didn't know if it understood.

Schiller shifted his gaze from the luxury car to the dimly lit Gotham night.

Perhaps this was an irredeemable city, perhaps Batman was also an ordinary person who felt despair and confusion, he thought.

But Batman was not alone, never alone.

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