"Batman, I'm going to push the cage. Can you keep your balance?" Superman looked a little worried—no, extremely worried. He kept adjusting the angle, as if trying to find one that would let him push without Batman hitting the bars.
Batman planted his feet apart and stood along the cage's diagonal. He folded his arms and looked at Superman. "Trust my balance."
Superman clearly did not trust it much. When he reached out to touch the bars, he was so focused on watching Batman's reaction that for a moment he did not even feel the current. Only belatedly did the shock make him cry out, but he still refused to let go.
"Clark, Clark!" Batman called his name several times before he finally reacted. Batman said, somewhat helplessly, "Don't do this, Clark. We need to do it in one go."
"How can you ask me to do harm to you in one go? That's inhuman!" Superman was obviously a little angry, though not at Batman, but at the level designer. It was clear this resentment had been building for a long time.
Superman had never lacked courage, and could always bring any evil to justice. But the evil talent required to hurt others was far greater than the talent for justice. Superman did not merely lack that talent; he had an instinctive loathing and rejection of it.
His arms began to tremble, but he clenched his teeth and said nothing. Because he knew Batman was relying on him now, and as someone else's support, he could not be weak—just as Batman had always been.
After repeating countless times in his heart, This is just to clear the level. This isn't what I want. Batman won't be truly hurt, Superman looked as though he had barely convinced himself. "Barely" because the