Declaration of War

In the Wayne family's countryside estate, Bruce sat silently on the sofa without a word.

The loyal old butler brought coffee along with the corresponding sugar and salt, set them down, and smiled at the young master he had served for over twenty years. "What's wrong, Master? Weren't you out on a date with Miss Natasha? Why have you come back alone and dejected? Did your charm and status fail to work this time? Did Miss Natasha turn you down?"

Others might not know, but how could Alfred, who had served the Wayne family his entire life, be unaware that the outwardly playboy, arrogant young master was secretly the underground ruler of Gotham City, a dark hero determined to eradicate all crime and punish all lawbreakers? That's right—Bruce Wayne, billionaire, playboy, was none other than the Criminal's Nemesis, the vigilante Batman, who had been the talk of Gotham City lately.

Ever since Wayne Enterprises announced that the last member of the Wayne family had been traveling the world since age fifteen, this favored son of heaven had vanished from public view for a full decade. Ten years later, having returned from his studies, brimming with ambition and eager to make his mark, he suddenly discovered that ordinary criminals were no longer the mainstream of the world. They had been replaced by high-tech crime, international terrorists. Street brawls and drug deals were nothing compared to the likes of grenade launchers, rocket-propelled grenades, and suicide bombings. So after beating Gotham's traditional underworld forces into hiding, Bruce found himself lost, unsure whether 'Batman' was still worth doing.

Add to that what the lead dancer of the Ballet Troupe had said tonight—if it was true that a nation relied on an individual, an unofficial cop, to maintain public safety and protect people's lives and property, then did such a country even deserve to exist?

When had the Great American Federation sunk so low that not a single person could be found among the government, police, judges, and other state institutions to take charge, eliminate crime, fight corruption, and revive the economy? Where was the passion and inspiration from World War II, when the whole nation eagerly enlisted to liberate all mankind (as the USA saw it)? In just a few short decades, the once beacon of democracy and land of freedom had degenerated into a place the world mocked as hypocritical, ineffective, and a den of darkness.

Whose fault was all this? How could I save this country... Bruce sank deep into self-doubt, caught in the conflicting demons of his worldview. One moment it was the suffering and training of the past ten years, the next it was his mentor's devilish whispers: this world must be purified, Shadow Warrior... Then, he was back to the time when his parents were shot and he was powerless to cry—the feeling was indescribable.

Regret, helplessness, anger—all kinds of negative emotions flooded Batman's heart, finally breaking the young superhero. He screamed and swept the hot coffee the loyal old butler had poured for him off the table.

"I've had enough! Shut up, all of you, shut up!"

"Master, what's wrong with you?" Alfred was startled.

He had only thought the sole heir of the Wayne family, now his master, was troubled by being rejected by a lady. But seeing him drenched in sweat, the old man knew he had guessed wrong. He asked anxiously, "Should I call a doctor?"

Bruce came to his senses a little, panting heavily, and forced a smile. "No, Alfred, I'm just... just a bit tired, you know, haven't been sleeping well lately..."

Alfred looked at his young master, who was stubbornly refusing to show weakness, and said helplessly, "Then, how about I prepare a bath, and you rest? There shouldn't be anything at the company that needs your attention today—not a single thing."

"You promise?"

"I promise."

"..." Bruce Wayne finally smiled in satisfaction. "Then I'll go lie down for a bit."

"Yes, sir. What you need now is rest."

Standing up and walking to the door, Bruce Wayne paused and turned back. "Thank you, Alfred."

"You're welcome, my master." The old man finally smiled.

...,...

But the next day, during the ceremony where the mayor awarded Detective Jim Gordon—who had tirelessly fought crime for decades and was the people's true protector—the position of Police Commissioner, a group of criminals and terrorists attacked Wayne Plaza in Gotham City.

"Congratulations, Director Gordon! Wahahaha~" In front of thousands of ordinary citizens, a police officer with a scarred face opened fire on the mayor.

Jim Gordon was stunned, but quick-wittedly stepped in to block the bullet.

"Detective Gordon!" The mayor and Harvey, who was attending the ceremony, rushed forward to check his injuries. But it was too late...

Meanwhile, the hideous-faced, deranged fake cop laughed, "Scream, chaos! This is the real hell!"

"Bang!" Finally, a police officer who had reacted fired his gun.

"Don't shoot! Don't shoot! There are too many civilians here..."

In response, the terrorists, unafraid of death, didn't run but instead exchanged fire with hundreds of police officers on the spot.

"Damn it, I'm hit! I'm hit!"

"Help, someone come quick! Someone's injured here!"

The scene was utter chaos. And the culprit, with perfect composure, slipped away in the confusion.

"Woo~" Sirens blared across Gotham City.

"Gaga, this is just the beginning, Batman~" The scarred man lurking in the shadows grinned as he watched a black armored vehicle arrive on the scene.

...,...

At noon, the TV station aired a VCR from the terrorists.

"Hi! I mean, uh, good afternoon. I'm sending this message just to say—yes, the shooting at Wayne Plaza this morning was my doing! Stir up a little chaos, disrupt the existing order, and then everything falls into disarray~" In the video, the Joker laughed maniacally, then eerily calmed down in an instant. "And I am the representative of chaos. You know what's good about chaos? It brings fairness."

With a martyr-like, sacred expression, the criminal's image became even more striking. "And fairness—that's exactly what this country is missing!" He chuckled. But the next second, his face twisted into a snarl. "Batman, I'm not saying this for anyone else—I'm saying it for you. What do you think? The stupidity and madness of the world are innate. Just give them a little push, and this civilized society is as fragile as a child's glass marble. Pop! It shatters into pieces!"

"And don't go on about morality and justice. You're not one of them. No matter what you do, you'll never fit in. To them, you're just a freak like me. They need you now. When they don't, they'll turn on you. Look at their moral code, their laws and regulations—just a bad joke. They show their true colors when danger comes. They can only get along in times of peace. I'll prove to you that in a crisis, these so-called civilized people will tear each other apart."

"Now, I declare: as long as Batman doesn't take off that ridiculous mask, I'll kill one person a day! Maybe two? Hmm, how about ten? Yeah, ten!"

This attitude of utter disregard for life was even more terrifying, because you never knew what he would do next.

"Hey, darling, as long as you don't show your hypocritical face to the public, I'll kill ten people a day—until you give in! Wahaha..."

"Beep."