Thomas Wayne.
Bruce Wayne's father, Martha Wayne's husband.
He was the former patriarch of the Wayne Family, a powerful family in Gotham City, the former CEO of Wayne Enterprises, and a former field medic. He was the unfortunate King of Gotham who was murdered along with his wife in Crime Alley when Bruce was eight years old.
When Bruce was eight years old, his family went to see a Zorro movie. After leaving the theater, he met an ordinary-looking hoodlum named Joe Cher in Crime Alley.
Thus began a spur-of-the-moment robbery.
Two bullets.
The deaths of Thomas and his wife, who ended the reign of Wayne in Gotham, led their son Bruce Wayne down the path of the Dark Knight.
Become the Batman of Gotham City.
This is a relatively constant event in the DC Universe, so much so that in most parallel universes, Thomas...
Wayne must die. Of course, there are also special universes where Thomas Wayne doesn't die. In the Flashpoint World and other universes where Bruce Wayne died, he took on the responsibility of Gotham's vigilante and became Batman.
Therefore, it's accurate to say that he's the true Old Bat. Compared to Bruce, Thomas is more violent and extreme, preferring to use a pistol and showing no concern for the lives of criminals. Of course, he's not the Great Darkness Knight like his son, but rather a vengeful knight filled with rage and hatred.
This can be seen from the fact that Old Wayne was able to fight his way to become the King of Hell in this Hell with his mortal body; his methods are even more unscrupulous than Bruce Wayne's.
" Thomas! Thomas Wayne!"
Ian could certainly recognize the King of Hell in front of him at a glance; after all, all students visit History Museum in elementary school.
The story of Batman's father's murder, which led to a change of regime in Gotham, has even appeared in high school history textbooks, with clear photos and the textbook writers praising this capitalist to the extreme.
He's clearly the kind of guy who's taken a lot of money from Wayne —any educated America knows Batman's father, but who would have thought the master of this city would be Thomas Wayne?
At least Ian hadn't expected it.
Thomas Wayne's appearance surprised Ian.
The former head of the Wayne Family, who should have been lying in his grave, now sat on the throne in the tower, watching Ian, who had descended from the human world into Hell, with a smile on his face.
He seemed to have anticipated Ian's arrival.
"It's me, perhaps you should call me—"
Thomas Wayne was about to say something.
"Brother Thomas! I've talked to Sister Martha about you!" Ian interrupted, managing to elevate his seniority slightly through his own efforts.
That's real strength.
That's the truth.
Why didn't Ian get to see his sister Martha in Heaven?
He's seen it before!
By this time, Ian had finished processing the information about meeting Batman's father in Hell.
It's not surprising that a capitalist like Old Wayne would appear in Hell, since this is almost always where capitalists end Homecoming.
certainly.
This doesn't mean that Thomas Wayne was a completely bad person.
He's not a particularly bad person.
He also possesses many good qualities.
Thomas Wayne was very familiar with Ian's kind of behavior; he had seen countless people trying to curry favor with him both in life and after death, but this was the first time he had ever met someone with such a pure motive.
The other party wasn't after his money, nor his power in Hell —it was clear that Thomas Wayne was clever enough to see that Ian simply wanted to take advantage of young Master Wayne. This desire was pure and burning, evident in his yearning eyes.
The little boy will turn fifteen in a few days.
He genuinely wants Batman to call him "uncle"!
"Brother Thomas! It's so nice to see you!" Ian felt that his little scheme wasn't excessive, but rather quite reasonable.
After all, he'd been calling Batman" uncle" for fourteen years and a few hundred days longer.
Now, of course, it's time for Batman to call him "Uncle" for fourteen years! Ian was a little surprised to see Thomas before, but now Ian feels that it might be reasonable.
It's all because God wants Batman to call him "uncle"! Otherwise, why would Ian be here? Since this is God's will, Ian certainly wouldn't dare to disobey!
Thomas Wayne sensed Ian's emotions.
He fell silent again.
"This city is so beautiful!"
Ian had learned to change the subject himself. He walked to the railing, looked down, and saw Jobs still hawking the transparent Apple 22 with lots and lots of screens.
That phone can be opened like a fan.
22 folds.
They look great, and Ian wanted to take one with him when he left.
"It took me many years of hard work to build it, and with that I gained power comparable to many Demons lords." Thomas Wayne also liked his new Gotham.
A Hell where people live in peace and prosperity.
This is what Thomas Wayne once wanted to make Gotham into.
During his tenure, he provided substantial assistance to many of Gotham's poor, not just for show, but genuinely helped the people without needing to inquire why they were so poor.
The poverty of the people is at most 30% related to the capitalist king; the remaining 70% is largely related to Gotham's special status in the DC Universe.
At least Thomas Wayne helped the poor not just to get tax breaks, Bruce inherited many of his policies to help the poor. However, neither father nor son could eradicate the deep-seated decadence in the city. The DC Universe needs a chaotic Gotham, an absolute situation that no one can influence.
Many people only know Bruce Wayne, thus overlooking Thomas Wayne's abilities. He was also a very capable and exceptionally intelligent individual. If we were to consider who had the ability and the inclination to build such a magnificent and harmonious city in Hell, then Thomas Wayne, as "King," would definitely be a reasonable candidate.
Ian gradually processed this information.
"It seems you're similar to Crowley, both of you with mortal souls who became Demons later in life." Ian could also sense that this city was the source of Thomas's power.
"A Demons? I have something to discuss with you, something about not wanting to be the King of Hell —sit here." After giving Ian a deep look, Thomas led Ian to the luxurious office behind the tower. He gestured to the leather sofa opposite him, his tone as gentle as if he were entertaining an old friend.
Ian made sure he remembered this, especially the feeling of being with an "old friend," and needed to highlight it directly. This would give him the confidence to speak the truth when communicating with Bruce Wayne in the future.
"Your sofas here even have heated seats?" Ian asked curiously, as if he were visiting a grand garden. He plopped down on the sofa and felt a comfort unlike any he had ever experienced on a human sofa.
"Yes, with a sofa like this, you could just put a Imp inside, and it would even give you a massage inside the sofa." Thomas Wayne wasn't sure if he was joking.
He turned and walked towards the wine cabinet, which was even more extravagant than the one in Obadiah's office in Marvel. At that moment, Ian truly felt something massaging him from under the sofa.
"Not bad."
Ian's gaze fell on the liquor cabinet, which contained liquors that could only be found in the human world. It was clearly smuggled goods. He wondered if Commissioner Crowley had played a key role in this.
"What would you like to drink?" Thomas poured himself a drink. The wine cabinet contained Romanee-Conti, Tang San the God King's favorite wine, but most of it was still a hellish, blood-red Hell.
"Wine, fine wine."
Ian answered without hesitation.
Thomas Wayne glanced back at him.
"Children shouldn't drink alcohol." Thomas Wayne hadn't expected that after spending so long in Hell, he still retained some humanity and adhered to the rules that human elders should follow.
This made Ian somewhat uncomfortable.
"Are you telling Hell joke? I'm already in Hell, so of course I have to be a bad boy who secretly drinks, otherwise people will think I'm not worthy of wandering around Hell."
Ian knew his mother couldn't catch up to him in Hell to smell if he had alcohol in his Barry, and his father's nose hadn't yet evolved to the point where he could smell him drinking across dimensions.
This was a rare opportunity to taste the forbidden, so Ian didn't want to miss it.
"You actually think of yourself as just a bad boy?" Thomas paused for a moment, then finally raised his hand slightly in acknowledgment.
The Hell Duke immediately brought over a glass of Peach Fruit Wine.
He was like the new butler that old Wayne had found. With just a glance from old Wayne, the Hell Duke knew what to do. And the wine that the Hell Duke gave Ian was very low in alcohol.
Ian took the glass, pulled a straw from his ever-present pocket, wiped it on his clothes with a "germaphobe" attitude, and then put the straw into the glass.
"Coo coo coo"
Ian took a gentle sip through the straw, his cheeks puffing out and then falling back down, as if he were sipping fruit wine like he was drinking juice. The pink liquid swirled slightly in the crystal glass.
Continuously decreasing.
It exuded a sweet, cloying aroma. Ian's cheeks puffed out rhythmically, like a hamster stealing juice, as he visibly emptied the entire glass.
"Another one, please!"
Ian slammed his empty glass down on the table with a flourish. While Sun Wukong stole peaches in the sky, Ian stole peach wine in Hell.
Ian felt that he was, in a way, a great saint.
"She's quite greedy."
Thomas raised an eyebrow, gesturing for the Hell Duke to pour more wine. However, Ian snatched the bottle, inserted the straw, and began to gulp it down again.
"Forehead"
The Hell Duke was of good character, so he didn't sigh helplessly until he left the office, his voice so soft that Ian's Super Hearing couldn't detect it.
He continued to wait outside, ready to respond to old Wayne at any time.
"It tastes good." Ian quite liked the taste of this wine; who doesn't love peaches? From peaches that cost one dollar each to peaches that cost ten thousand dollars a night.
Everyone loves it.
The atmosphere in the office was harmonious. In the quiet tower, the only sounds were Ian slurping his wine and Thomas gently swirling his wine glass.
"I'm very interested in the Indulgence you've been proclaiming everywhere," Thomas finally spoke, his voice deep and magnetic; he clearly had his own informants in the upper levels of Hell.
"Really?"
Ian had a straw in his mouth.
He gave a vague reply.
"I'd give you everything I've built in Hell for your indulgences." Thomas stared directly at Ian, his eyes deep, his tone more sincere than ever before.
He didn't want to be the King of Hell Hell.
"This place is too far from the human world, so I definitely won't come here often. What I really want is the Wayne Family's assets in the human world, which is just a tiny bit of the Wayne Enterprises's shares."
"I've never been greedy since I was a child, so I really only need a tiny bit, to sit back and collect the money, and then use that money to support my business so that it can develop faster and better."
Ian was telling the truth.
The dirty and hard work should still be done by the big capitalists.
He just needs to play the innocent, quietly profit-sharing role.
Having grown up several days earlier, Ian had long since stopped coveting the Wayne family's wealth; his only focus was on building his own Ian's Greatest Technology Group.
This is America, this is Earth, this is the solar system, this is the future of the entire DC Universe!
"I'm sorry, I can't make any decisions for Bruce. He is now the owner of Wayne Enterprises." Thomas pondered for a moment, then slowly shook his head in refusal.
However, Ian did not understand this rejection.
"I understand, I understand."
Ian nodded, his eyes gleaming slyly. Unlike most highly intelligent people, Ian could always pick up on the unspoken meaning behind others' words, even anticipating their intended message before they could even react. Before Thomas could even grasp the nature of his attitude, Ian had already pulled out a whip and a candle from his Extra Dimension.
"??????"
Thomas Wayne looked more bewildered than ever before.
"What are you up to?"
He swallowed hard.
He wore a bewildered expression, trying to appear calm.
"Let's test Young Master Wayne's filial piety. Let's create a fake news story with the headline: <Shocking! Wayne Enterprises Founder Imprisoned and Exploited by the Queen of Hell Hell! >"
Ian eagerly brandished the whip. With his intelligence enhanced, his thought process became active again, so this idea was quickly replaced by another.
"No! I'd have to write other sections of the Hell newspaper for fake news; I don't have time to learn about daily life in Hell."
So let's just shoot a video!
"Western style, island style, Korean style - all are fine!" Ian became more and more excited as he spoke. It was easy to see from the short videos he posted online that he had the ambition to be a director in all three fields.
"????? Hell!!!!" Thomas Wayne, upon hearing Ian's choice of words, fell into a long silence.
He finally realized a problem: the very role that allowed his son to prepare more than 80,000 response documents in a short period of time did indeed have its unique and dangerous aspects.
"Let's make a film! Trust me! I've filmed Justice League: Assemble and the Death of Superman, I have a lot of filming experience."
The boy enthusiastically reiterated his proposal to Thomas, the King of Hell, demonstrating his Super Intelligence. He firmly believed that Bruce Wayne must be a filial son.
Please allow me to refuse!
Thomas Wayne's expression changed repeatedly, but in the end, his reason prevailed over his desire to escape Hell, and he maintained his aristocratic composure when he spoke.
This response was very decisive.
However.
Cold, shivering.
Thomas Wayne got up from the ground, his head throbbing. His suit was covered in dust, his tie was loosely hanging around his neck, and his shoes were stained with some kind of sticky black liquid.
Before I was fully conscious, my body was already enveloped by some invisible chill.
"Where am I? I remember being murdered." Thomas Wayne rubbed his eyes. Before him stretched a gray wasteland, the sky hanging low like a curtain that never cleared. The air was thick with the stench of Sulfur and decay.
In the distance came the wails of souls and the dragging sound of chains.
He looked down at himself.
His suit was still neat, but the fabric had become thin and light, like some kind of the Spectre gauze. The hands of the former king of Gotham began to tremble slightly.
It wasn't because of fear.
Rather, it's because they lost the control over their lives that came with power.
I felt a sense of powerlessness I had never experienced before.
"You—among this batch of souls coming to Hell, you have the best quality and the best buttocks." A hoarse voice came from the darkness, carrying a strange laugh that didn't belong to humans.
Who's there?
Thomas looked around warily.
In a corner, on a chair that no one knew why had inexplicably sprung up in the wilderness, he saw a hunched-over Hell Imp polishing a Desert Eagle pistol. Its skin was like charred tree bark, and its eyes were two burning embers.
His mouth stretched from ear to ear, revealing jagged, sharp teeth.
Where am I?
Thomas asked in a low voice, his voice steady, but his knuckles were already slightly white.
"You're in Hell." The Imp grinned maliciously, casually tossing the pistol aside. It's unclear why it had been cleaning the pistol, which seemed utterly useless.
"This is the end of the lives of all capitalists; you will be punished here for eternity." The Imp licked his lips, seemingly enjoying watching others panic.
Thomas's frenulum contracted slightly.
"Impossible-"
He muttered to himself, his voice filled with despair and an unwillingness to believe the truth, "I still have children, a wife, and a city to take care of—" Thomas paused slightly, then, as if realizing something, a look of panic crossed his face.
Am I really dead?
Thomas Wayne started anxiously spinning in circles.
But my son is still so young!
His tone was very worried.
"Heh!" The Imp let out a piercing laugh, flung out a jet-black metal bracelet, and roughly fastened it around Thomas's neck, causing Thomas Wayne's face to flush red instantly.
There were bruises on her neck from being tightly strangled.
"Wear this, and everything in this world will be irrelevant to you."
The Imp grinned and mocked Thomas Wayne, "You're no longer some earthly tycoon; you're just a sinful soul who could trample a whole bunch of people to death with a few steps in Hell."
The Imp's words.
Thomas Wayne was forced to kneel on the ground, unwilling to accept it. The shackles around his neck looked cold and heavy, as if they were constantly draining his will.
"Now, follow me."
The Hell Imp dragged it away viciously.
Thomas Wayne was dragged along, the chains tightening around him, making it hard to breathe. He tried to break free, but the chains seemed to be bound to his soul, and every struggle felt like tearing his life apart.
All these subtle psychological states can be seen on Thomas Wayne's face. His expressions are truly rich, like the world's best master of facial expression management.
Where are you taking me?
Thomas asked through gritted teeth, his throat aching from being constricted.
"Your soul has been sold to the most evil, terrifying, and sinister Trigon by a mysterious person who is supreme, Infinity great, and possesses ninety thousand layers of light, but who has not yet thought of anyone in Hell who might be his enemy. Lord Trigon wants you to participate in his cycle of reincarnation."
"He wants to extract energy from your suffering." With that, the Hell Imp led Thomas to a massive volcano surrounded by many "battery-like" crystals.
It contains countless tormented souls.
Their souls are being drained.
Then, it was transported through pipes to the distant city "Brightened by Soul Fire". Huge pools of lava churned, and Heat Wave rushed towards you, yet they carried an eerie vitality.
On the road to the volcano.
Countless souls were being dragged forward; some screamed, some begged for mercy, and some were numb, led by chains like walking corpses.
"The air is thick with the smell of Sulfur and despair," the Hell Imp muttered to itself, looking around. Thomas Wayne also glanced at his fellow Hell Imps and non-Hell Imps around him.
Countless Imp were leading countless pitiful souls toward the volcano's crater. Each of these Hell Imp had a ferocious expression on its face, and even those Imp without faces had the word "ferocious" etched on their faces.
It includes all eighteen mainstream writing systems.
Is this a true display of grotesque ferocity, or merely the grotesqueness of different countries? They laugh maniacally, brandishing whips and candles, relentlessly lashing and torturing one soul after another with wax.
"Hurry up! Not having legs is no excuse! Even a cripple has to move faster!"
"You're all dead, you've all become ghosts, you've all come to Hell. Don't even think about trying to cheat or shirk your duties, because the tricks you're playing are things we've already done before!"
"Your Highness? Your King? Your father is an African chieftain who can conjure up an army of 100,000 to avenge you with a single command? That's hilarious!"
The powerful and wealthy of this world are nothing in this Hell!
The Imp furiously reprimanded the unruly souls, especially the one who boasted that his father was an African chief. The soul, tormented by whips and candles, became much thinner.
The wailing continued.
"Hurry up!"
The Hell Imp escorting Thomas Wayne were also whipping Thomas, Wayne the old Gotham king looked utterly miserable, crawling frantically on the ground trying to escape the lashes.
He ultimately had no choice but to give in and follow the long queue, countless souls forming long dragons as they climbed to the top of the volcano.
It was cast into a crystal that resembled a battery.
These ghosts had different identities and personalities in life. Some shook their heads and sighed, while others wailed and cried. However, there were still some stubborn people who were bewildered and confused.
"My father is Darkseid! Even though I'm a bastard, how dare you hit me?"
"Stop hitting! Stop hitting!"
"Oh my!"
When these second-generation ghosts first entered Hell, many of them thought they could return to the human world. As soon as they were whipped by the Imp, they would immediately become angry, shout, and make threats.
but.
A major treatment.
These second-generation ghosts quickly realized their predicament. They were awakened by the beating and knew that they were dead. No matter how glorious they were in life, they had now become commodities.
soon.
Thomas Wayne was also taken to the crater, where lava surged and churned, appearing as if countless faces were breaking apart.
One soul after another is forged into Pain Battery within it.
What are those?
Thomas Wayne watched as the souls were continuously pulled up and added to the "Battery Mountain" next to him. He trembled, and soon he collapsed to the ground as if he were having an epileptic seizure.
"Playing the fool won't work."
The Imp from Hell chuckled as he spoke.
"If you don't stun my ass, I don't think I'll pretend to be crazy." Thomas Wayne collapsed to the ground.
However, he still tried his best to maintain his professional demeanor.
"Sorry, that's not actually a stun gun." The Hell Imp said hesitantly, a response that made Thomas Wayne's expression change drastically, a chilling realization dawning on him.
However, before Thomas Wayne could even ask a question, Hell's Imp kicked him.
It's very light.
I feel very nervous.
But Thomas Wayne still seemed to have suffered a tremendous force, spinning more than 5,000 times in the air, a full 360 degrees.
Then it fell into the volcanic lava.
"Welcome to ' Hell Paradise,' where you will begin your first round of the game." The words had barely left his lips when Thomas's face was engulfed in lava.
His outstretched hand was quickly swallowed up as well.
"I thought I was going to die, but I didn't." A voice, seemingly appearing out of nowhere, spoke of Thomas...
The fact that they had fallen into a bizarre space [ Hell Paradise ].
This is a place of Infinity loops, supposedly created by the Trigon himself. Every soul that enters it will experience various Rules of Horror, death games, and psychological torment until it breaks down.
" Hell Paradise, a game of reincarnation, this is the stage where gods and demons toy with all living beings!" Thomas suddenly opened his eyes and found himself standing in the top-floor office of Wayne Tower.
Outside the window, Gotham's night view unfolds, ablaze with lights.
"Is this... an illusion?"
Welcome to the Rules of Horror.
A cold voice echoed in his mind.
[Rule 1: You must complete today's board meeting.]
[Rule 2: All directors are Demons, but they won't admit it.]
[Rule 3: If someone offers you coffee, you must drink it.]
[Rule 4: Don't look in the mirror.]
Thomas took a deep breath and pushed open the office door.
In the boardroom, twelve people in suits turned to look at him in unison. Their smiles were exactly the same, and their eyes gleamed with a red light.
Thomas, we've been waiting for you for a long time.
One of the directors stood up and handed him a steaming cup of coffee. Thomas stared at the cup; inside wasn't coffee—but wriggling maggots and blood.
But he has to drink.
He took the cup and drank it all in one gulp.
His throat felt like it was being burned by sulfuric acid, and his stomach was churning. But he remained expressionless, simply wiping the corner of his mouth.
"Alright, let's begin the meeting."
The meeting lasted for "ten hours".
During those ten hours, the numbers on the financial statements would writhe and crawl like living creatures, and the directors' faces would occasionally peel off, revealing the rotting flesh beneath.
Whenever Thomas looked at his reflection in the glass window, he would see a charred version of himself staring intently at him, but he knew he couldn't show fear.
Because rule 5 is hidden under the table.
[If you scream, the game is over.] And "game over" here means that the real torment has just begun, and no Reincarnator dares to challenge it.
game over.
This means being dismembered while fully conscious and then used to assemble a sex doll, where each part of the body is violated by a different Demons and simultaneously experiences the horrific ordeal.
Thomas knew he couldn't gamble. His inner monologue kept replaying in his mind, eventually settling on "Fortunately, I've seen enough dangerous situations to be able to tolerate this monologue."
finally.
The meeting is "over".
Thomas stood up and walked towards the elevator.
The instant the elevator doors closed.
"Welcome back to Hell, sir."
The elevator plummeted, crashing into the next round of the game. In yet another loop, Thomas found himself on a speeding train, its carriages filled with special "passengers."
It was all him.
Young Thomas, middle-aged Thomas, Thomas on his deathbed—countless " Thomas " turned their heads in unison.
He looked at her with empty eyes.
[Rule for this round: Find your "one true" self, or the train will keep moving forever.]
Thomas calmly observed each of his "selves".
Suddenly, the train's announcement came on.
"Welcome aboard the Hell's Last Train. This train is heading to the stations of 'Fear,' 'Despair,' and 'Madness.' Passengers, please do not disembark, or you will be forever trapped in the ' Blank Space.'"
"Next stop - Crime Alley." The train began to accelerate.
The scenery outside the window changed rapidly. Upon hearing this, Thomas's breath hitched, and painful memories of the past flooded his mind.
He saw Bruce, standing on the street with his face covered in blood and his eyes vacant. He saw Martha, lying in a pool of blood, still clutching a necklace in her hand.
He saw Gotham engulfed in flames, the city wailing in agony; every frame was like a knife piercing his heart.
And for some reason, it just appeared on his cheeks.
at last.
In the eerie scene.
The train stopped.
The car door opened.
Outside was nothingness.
He was pushed out.
"Daddy! Daddy! I want to drink Grandma's milk outside."
Bruce, who wasn't exactly young, opened his gaping maw.
What else can Thomas do?
Offering oneself to the demon is nothing more than this.
Thomas dies and is resurrected time and time again. He struggles to survive in the " Rules of Horror," suffers the torment of memories in the " Death Train," is surrounded by whispers in the " Silent Library," and is forced to reenact his own death in the " Blood Theater." After each cycle, his appearance becomes more and more tragic.
After countless cycles of reincarnation, Thomas finally collapsed to the ground, unable to rise again. His soul was shattered, and his will was on the verge of collapse.
But he still didn't give up. He thought of Bruce, he thought of Gotham, he thought of the gunshots that night, and he spoke his thoughts aloud.
In the distance, a pair of eyes silently watched him. It was the Trigon, who sat on his high throne, observing coldly, and then laughed loudly with a cacophony of crocodile cries.
"Torture this man severely, make his suffering even greater." The Trigon sat on his throne, carved from countless souls, looking down at the projected image of Hell Paradise. In the image, Thomas Wayne was chained to a rack made of flesh and blood, his limbs stretched to their limits.
Every breath felt like it was tearing his soul apart.
But his gaze remained resolute.
"He has endured every punishment in Hell," the Hell Duke whispered. "Burning flames, soul-tearing, repeated memories, the cycle of death—he survived them all."
"Really? What an interesting mortal."
A cruel smile crept across Trigon's lips. Not cruel enough, he manually tugged at the corners of his mouth, making them widen considerably and appear somewhat sinister.
"This mortal has successfully piqued my interest; he has thirty-six abs! Intriguing. Let him come see me." Finally, Trigon decided to meet Thomas Wayne in person.
The chains rattled as Thomas was dragged onto the hall floor; his body was riddled with wounds, his soul shattered.
But his back remained straight, and his eyes were still full of determination.
A cold, burning rage settled in his grey-blue eyes.
"Don't like me? Come and hit me! That's how vicious I, the Trigon, am!"
The Trigon sat on his throne, his six arms embracing several alluring Demons. Like a fallen king, he looked down upon this mortal soul with his arms around her.
"I can't beat you, but my son can."
Thomas's voice was hoarse, but his tone was firm.
"Little Bruce Wayne, laughable, laughable! He's like an insect. I could scare him to death with just a glare. If he's so capable, let him come right up to me and face my power!"
The Trigon laughed loudly, their tone full of disdain, their laughter shaking the hall and causing dust to fall.
"My son doesn't need to lift a finger. He just needs to live well. The one you need to worry about is me. One day, I will..."
"And will also have the power to defeat you."
Thomas Wayne announced loudly.
"Tell me, you ant, what makes you so hard to swallow, like a moldy biscuit?" Trigon asked, leaning down in a very distinctive translator's tone.
The lava-infused liquor dripped onto Thomas's feet, scorching them and leaving black marks.
"It's family, it's kinship." Thomas Wayne's eyes flickered, a rare hint of sincerity in them. "If I endure all the suffering, my children won't suffer in the future. When I have the power to control all of Hell, if my son unfortunately falls there, he'll feel a familiar warmth."
These words were spoken.
The Trigon clapped simultaneously with all six of their arms, as if enjoying a good show.
"Excellent! I admire that quality in you!" He slammed his hand on the table. "Therefore, I've decided to reward you—I'm going to marry you off to the Batman Who Laughs."
"That God of Darkness from the Multiverse is someone I should try to win over. Xiao Qian, no, I mean Tomos, Thor, damn it, this mouth of yours is really hard to use. Anyway, Trigon, I've been working myself to the bone for you, you should thank me properly."
Trigon spoke earnestly.
Who are you talking about?
Thomas's expression changed drastically.
"That's my strategic partner. With him, you'll have endless good fortune, and I can use this alliance to conquer Heaven."
"Drag Gabriel and Michael to clean toilets."
"Yes, that's how powerful I, Trigon, am." Trigon rubbed his hands excitedly and started talking to Thomas, but Thomas gritted his teeth.
"But I'm just a man!"
Thomas covered his face, but still managed to say those words.
"It's alright. The Batman Who Laughs likes men. Only with you can it evolve into the Batman Who Laughs," Trigon chuckled.
They seemed to be discussing something very ordinary.
"Oh, don't act like some naive Puritan! The Batman Who Laughs love your... uh... well-traveled old-fashioned gentleman" Trigon said with a forced, affected tone.
"No!"
Thomas finally lost control, and the chains rattled as he struggled against them.
You might as well kill me!
He was roaring, howling.
Trigon suddenly turned cold and grabbed his chin.
"Think of your child, Thomas. If you refuse—" Chi's nails dug into the other's skin, "I'll drag Bruce to Hell and make him marry the Batman Who Laughs in your place."
Upon hearing this...
Thomas's pupils contracted violently again.
The next second.
This most elegant capitalist in Gotham unleashed the most vulgar insult of his life.
"Go to hell! You disgusting, rotten, son of a bitch, lying worm, the lowest maggot in Hell!! You piece of rotten flesh that even the dogs of Hell wouldn't want to bite!"
"You'll be torn to shreds by the Emperor of Ten Thousand Laws! I swear to God, I'll kick your ass so hard, I'll shove my wife's high heels up your ass!"
Thomas didn't know how he could have roared out such words.
The veins on his neck were clearly visible, a testament to his genuine feelings.
The entire hall fell into a deathly silence.
Trigon's wine glass froze in mid-air, and the Succubus collectively gasped in shock.
"Are you done talking?"
The demon narrowed its eyes dangerously.
Aren't you angry?
Thomas Wayne inquired.
"How could I not be angry? I am the giant baby of Hell!" The Trigon suddenly sprang up, his six arms smashing the throne at the same time, and magma gushed out from the crack in the ground like champagne.
"Drag this champagne-spitting bastard to the dressing room!" The demon roared, jumping and leaping around like Joker. "I want to see him in a diamond-studded wedding dress!"
Anyway, their image looks pretty bad.
All the Demons trembled in fear.
"I will not agree! Absolutely not! I love my wife! I will not marry a man!" Thomas Wayne's neck veins were bulging.
His whole body was covered in bulging veins.
"Go and bring Bruce Wayne to me!"
The Trigon was furious.
Six arms slammed onto the table simultaneously, once again sending dust scattering across the hall. His scarlet elf, burning with furious flames, barked orders at the Hell Duke beside him.
"OK."
The Hell Duke bowed slightly and turned to leave.
"Etc!!"
Thomas looked up abruptly, his voice hoarse and utterly dejected.
"I'll marry him!! I'll marry him!"
His fingers gripped the chain so tightly that his knuckles turned white, as if he wanted to crush even this last vestige of dignity in his palms.
A brief silence fell over the hall.
Trigon slowly narrowed his eyes, crossed his six arms in front of his chest, and looked at the former King of Gotham with great interest.
"For your child?"
"Yes."
Thomas's voice was deep and hoarse, as if it had been scorched a thousand times by the flames of Hell. His eyes were red, and a single tear slid down silently, evaporating into mist on the scorching ground.
"Very good."
Trigon smiled with satisfaction and gestured for the Hell Duke to step down.
"Make up our bride! I, the Trigon, will personally escort her to her wedding!" He waved his hand, and Little Demon stepped forward and led Thomas Wayne directly into the dressing room.
" God! Is this damn corset trying to murder me?" Thomas was pinned down in front of the dressing table, where the Demons tailor was measuring his waist with a barbed tape measure.
"Bear with it, sir," the tailor sighed. "Master the Batman Who Laughs specifically instructed that it should have a wasp waist design... Master Trigon suggests stuffing countless needles into your wedding dress to prick your buttocks."
Feminization occurred in one place.
In the mirror, Thomas Wayne, forced to wear a lace veil, displays a series of changing expressions, revealing an even more desperate look than when he fell into Hell.
It started very early.
Thomas Wayne, on the other hand, was very sincere.
Just as he was wondering how long this kind of story would continue...
"Click"
A sudden human voice rang out. From the shadows of the hall, a floating Black Box slowly descended and landed steadily in the hands of the Trigon on the throne.
The next second, a shocking scene unfolded: the enormous demonic body of Sangu Ma suddenly shrank, its six arms disappeared, and its hideous face slowly faded away.
Instead, a handsome little boy appeared.
His golden eyes were filled with excitement.
Pinduoduo has put on quite a show.
"The show's over. Don't get so close to me. You can't afford to take advantage of me." He disdainfully pushed away two Succubus who were still trying to get close to him.
Then he pulled a bottle of holy water from his pocket and vigorously wiped the areas touched by the Succubus. After cleaning, the boy pulled up the footage he had just recorded and began to examine the finished product with great interest.
"Hmm - the emotions were right, the lines were good, but the tear at the end felt a bit forced -" The boy stroked his chin, like a director picking out a different one.
It turns out it was all just filming.
The Great Hall of Hell remained eerie, but the atmosphere had completely changed. The air was thick with the stench of Sulfur and decay.
But today, this temple, a symbol of fear and torment, is hosting an unprecedented "ceremony." Another classic masterpiece by director Ian McKellen is being filmed here.
Ian believes this place will definitely become a popular spot for taking photos in the future.
"Thank you for your hard work, everyone."
When Thomas Wayne returned to the hall, all the Demons in the hall looked at him. The great Demons bowed in unison, and the jailer who had dragged him with chains and tortured him with instruments of torture was now prostrate on the ground, his forehead pressed to the ground, apologizing in a trembling voice, clearly terrified.
"Your Majesty! I wasn't paying attention! I disturbed you, please forgive me!" The Little Demon trembled with fear at his oversight.
He had already found a place to cut his stun gun.
Thomas glanced at him.
Then.
He simply waved his hand dismissively.
"Go collect your pay."
Thomas's words were also directed at the other Demons. The next moment, the Demons as if they had been granted a pardon and scrambled away, unable to believe that they had just participated in torturing the King of Hell.
"The next part is about you finally getting your revenge and becoming the Dragon King." Ian was clearly not truly satisfied; he already had the outline for the second part in his mind.
This is the imagination and talent possessed by a renowned writer.
It's more than you can use up; it's simply impossible to use it all.
Thomas Wayne's gaze shifted to the boy in the corner who was engrossed in editing. Ian sat cross-legged on the floor, a straw from a fruit wine bottle dangling from his mouth, his fingers flying across the floating screen, occasionally letting out eerie "hehehe" laughs. He seemed genuinely focused and absorbed.
To be honest, Thomas didn't want to agree to Ian's so-called "big smart" plan. Well, the boy's exact words were "big, big, big smart," which he thought was ridiculous. But Ian had shown him the picture of Martha and old Kent having afternoon tea together.
A son's wealth and a loving wife.
Which is more important?
Thomas only had a capitalist's scale in his mind.
" Bruce isn't someone who's easily fooled." Thomas took a deep breath, sat down beside him, and took a silk handkerchief from his suit pocket to wipe away the remaining "scar makeup" from his face.
He said in a low voice.
There was a hint of helplessness in his tone.
"I'll add billions in special effects, you have to believe me. I can even fool ghosts and gods, so a little Batman will be a piece of cake." Ian continued operating without looking up.
"The emotions are spot-on, the pacing is tight, and the special effects could use an extra billion more blood and gore—mountains of corpses and seas of blood!"
He traced a dazzling light trail with his finger on the screen, his tone as relaxed as if discussing tomorrow's breakfast, brimming with confidence—and with a kind of Super Intelligence confidence.
It's not unfounded self-confidence.
"You underestimate Bruce's intelligence." Thomas Wayne recalled his previous filming experience and felt that it could definitely be called his embarrassing moment.
He didn't think such an absurd story could fool his son.
In response to this...
Ian grinned crookedly, his demeanor becoming increasingly practiced.
"Even if Uncle Bruce sees through my plan, it doesn't matter. He'll just think you're in my hands, and he'll be more alarmed than if he thought this movie was a documentary."
Do you know what word-of-mouth is?
"I'm all about reputation! No matter what, it's a win-win situation for both of us." Ian talked about his Winning Philosophy; he never cared who would lose because he always won.
"Before I even got close to Damian, Uncle Bruce put the whole city on lockdown. He has a deep misunderstanding about me, but that misunderstanding is exactly what we can use."
It must be said that Ian does have some self-awareness, but not much. His words still reveal that he thinks Batman is making a mountain out of a molehill.
Thomas opened his mouth.
He found it difficult to refute Ian's logic. However, as a grandfather, he still felt that Bruce Wayne hadn't done enough in preventing Ian from getting close to Damian.
Damian should be sent to an alien school in the Centaurus system to study. That way, we can ensure that Damian isn't led astray by this boy who has already started down the right path.
"When are you going back to Earth?" Thomas Wayne realized that Ian could always find impeccable logic, so he wisely refrained from commenting on Ian's resentment.
Old Wayne changed the subject.
This tactic has always worked well against Ian.
"I came here to see a therapist, but now my car and Trash Can are gone, and my workload has tripled." Ian sighed helplessly.
His mouth never stopped; he kept drinking fruit wine. His superhuman physique gave him unparalleled metabolic capabilities.
Even if he secretly added some whiskey to his fruit wine, he wouldn't get drunk.
"I can help you find someone." Thomas Wayne straightened his suit cuffs and took a silk handkerchief from his inner pocket.
He slowly and deliberately wiped away the remaining "scar makeup" from his neck. The carefully designed bruises and bloodstains gradually faded under the holy water-soaked handkerchief, revealing the Gotham King's signature cold and aloof face.
"You have that skill?"
Ian, who was squatting on the throne editing a video, suddenly looked up, his tone surprised. He had thought Thomas Wayne was just a small, isolated, Hell prince.
I didn't expect there to be so many henchmen outside?
Otherwise, how would you find someone in Hell?
Just as Ian was speculating, Thomas Wayne proved him right. A capitalist's smile appeared on Thomas's lips.
He pulled a gold-embossed business card from the inside pocket of his suit jacket.
The business card gleamed faintly in the Sulfur mist, bearing three lines of text printed in Gothic script.
Hell Human Resources Co., Ltd..
CE0: Thomas Wayne.
Let every soul realize its full potential.
"Where do you think I found those souls in those ' Pain Battery '?" He tapped the ground lightly with the tip of his leather shoe, and the floor tiles of the entire hall suddenly turned transparent.
Below.
Countless networks crisscross the internet, transmitting intelligence and even souls.
"I have a dedicated personnel department that goes to those little houses inhabited by souls to screen for targets, and many other powerful lords from Hell also send me commissions."
"And I always manage to find the kind of corrupted souls they need." As expected of the old king of Gotham, he once again displayed his Divine Power, transforming the surrounding space into a warehouse.
Countless neatly arranged crystal cages gathered all around.
The Soul Warehouse.
The souls here are not for "generating electricity".
It's a transaction of souls.
In the end, old Wayne was still in Hell, doing the old business his ancestors had built up overseas. Ian never expected that Thomas would take advantage of those prison cells before he did.
Sure enough, capitalists all think in the same way.
"Great minds think alike." Ian gave old Wayne a slight hand as he stepped forward to examine the place, where he saw all sorts of souls in tens of thousands of small cages.
They are the worst of the worst. These souls, dressed in costumes from different eras, are repeating the sins of their past lives. There is a Victorian miser counting an endless pile of gold coins, Wall Street stockbroker screaming at a screen that keeps dropping, and even a few figures dressed in superhero costumes pounding on the walls in a cubicle.
They are a bunch of con artists who used superhero costumes to seduce women, resulting in 20,000 people in an island nation contracting HIV. However, Ian thinks they probably shouldn't be in Hell.
"Wow! You even categorized them?" The Soul Matrix warehouse was reflected in Ian's peephole; it seemed old Wayne had even acquired the technology for those Hell cubicles.
It's unclear whether he bribed Commissioner Crowley or curried favor with Lucifer.
"Certainly."
Thomas snapped his fingers, and a holographic interface appeared on the ground. "They're divided into zones according to the Seven Deadly Sins. Souls from the Gluttony zone are best suited for driving kitchen equipment, those from the Greed zone are responsible for financial calculations, and the souls from the Pride zone are the most expensive, the ones other demons in Hell love to buy to kill Prey Lucifer."
"I'm a businessman, and I don't usually ask them why they do such things," Thomas Wayne said eloquently, fully demonstrating the wisdom of a capitalist.
He's doing really well in Hell.
"I dare ask, I dare ask, tell me which great demons bought the Soul of Pride?" Ian's gossip instincts were second only to Madison's, so his eyes shone brightly.
"Sorry, the client's information is absolutely confidential. Even if Lucifer came—I'd usually be beaten for ten minutes before I could speak." Thomas Wayne was, after all, a respectable man.
He didn't boast too much, just made a small boast.
"I don't believe you unless you let me watch you get beaten next time." Ian could sense the presence of his own kind, so he felt that old Wayne's words contained at least three minutes of lies.
Thomas reluctantly untied his fingers from the tie, trying to get some breathing space. There were no tie pins in Hell, but the Demons ' fingers were actually quite useful.
"Your room is ready."
He changed the subject again.
"Okay, sure."
Ian reached into his hand and looked at his Crayon Watch, which was connected to the most accurate time on Earth, so even in Hell Ian knew exactly when he should go to sleep.
Are you really planning to sleep in Hell?
Thomas Wayne looked at Ian with a strange expression. He remembered his first time entering Hell. Although it wasn't as exaggerated as depicted in the "big movie," it was still an environment that any normal person would find difficult to endure. Let alone sleeping, even breathing was painful.
"A good routine will help me grow taller." It's time to travel through time again, Ian doesn't mind taking a nap anywhere, but having a bed would be great.
Seeing this scene.
Thomas Wayne didn't offer any further advice.
He summoned the Duke's butler and had him take Ian to the guest room.
All I saw was...
Two Hell Duke carried a floating chair over. Ian jumped on with a surprised look, and the chair immediately extended eight Spider Leg, carrying him towards the palace.
"I also have Spider Leg, but they're cooler than these."
Faced with Ian's boasting.
The Hell Duke quickly offered their flattery. Soon, they escorted Ian to a large hotel in the city.
The moment the door opened automatically, a strange scent mixed with Sulfur and lavender wafted out.
Ian whistled.
"Cool!"
The whole room felt like a fairytale scene crammed into Hell.
The walls, which seemed to breathe, were covered with eyeball-shaped wall lamps that blinked in unison whenever Ian passed by; tentacles hanging from the ceiling automatically wove together to form a hammock; and the most amazing thing was the " Living Massage Bed," which was composed of 365 Demons arms, each with its nails polished smooth and rounded, and painted with different colors of nail polish.
Those are clearly a woman's hands.
"Dear guest..."
The headless hotel butler speaks using his abdominal cavity.
"These massage therapists have all undergone professional training."
He hadn't finished speaking.
Ian leaped onto the bed. Hundreds of hands immediately sprang into action, some massaging his shoulders, others rubbing his legs, while three particularly nimble hands brought him tea and water.
The hotel butler, being quite tactful, quickly took his leave.
"It even has a sleep massage function... not bad."
Ian is enjoying himself.
He squinted his eyes contentedly, like a cat having its chin stroked.
but.
When the massage reaches below the waist.
Ian seemed to realize something, and suddenly sprang up as if he had been electrocuted, hanging upside down from the ceiling.
"Get away! I don't need a massage down there!"
He let out a panicked sound, truly resembling a cat with its fur standing on end. Ian's mind raced; he realized why the Demon Butler had given him a knowing look when he left.
Damn Hell-Imported Massage Bed!
They also offer indecent massages!
Seeing Ian's anger, the arms immediately withdrew, as if they were frightened.
"Luckily I reacted quickly, otherwise I would have been thoroughly 'taken care of' by the Hand of Hell tonight." Ian lay back down, issuing a stern warning to the hands.
He wasn't a saint, but he didn't want his first time to be ruined in interspecies interaction. Looking at the time again, Ian realized the hands had already pointed to that special moment.
"As the bells rang throughout the Marvel universe, Ian was being lifted up by twenty-seven Demons hands and made to do challenging Pilates."
Suddenly, his eyes turned completely white, and he instantly entered a dormant state like a machine that had been unplugged, but his body remained suspended in mid-air in a "flying" yoga pose.
This massage chair is pretty good when things are going well.
As for his less serious moments, well, Ian doesn't like them, but he believes he may have found the most suitable birthday gift for his older Jordan.