Not Junk, but the Marks of Time

As soon as Alfred finished speaking, the signal on Bruce's channel in the earpiece froze.

Batman had wanted to show off his Money Power and take a jab at Russell for being poor, but he had accidentally mocked all of Gotham—no, the entire world.

One could imagine tomorrow's front-page headline: Batman's black-and-white silhouette, paired with a huge, bold line—"I Have Money."

Offending the whole world was no big deal. The key was that his cool, aloof persona had collapsed. Russell figured Batman probably wanted to die.

Serves you right, idiot!

They were just a few lousy bucks, yet he flaunted them all day long. Let's see if he still dared to act so smug next time!

Russell secretly reveled in Batman's failed attempt at showing off. It was truly delightful. Besides, this time it really was not his fault. Six billion people around the world could testify for him—at most, he had turned on the loudspeaker by accident.

The Batplane in the sky fell silent for a moment. Perhaps even the pilot had been stunned by Batman's sheer wealth. In any case, it took more than ten seconds before they remembered to aim and fire.

Bang! Bang! Bang! Bang—

The six-barreled Vulcan Cannon beneath the fuselage spun rapidly, spewing a deadly metal storm that carved crimson trails through the night sky. The miniature tracking missiles mounted beneath both wings launched simultaneously. In an instant, killing intent descended, raining down a barrage of fire.

The Batplane was completely black and exceptionally sturdy. Its entire body was coated in a special black material with visual stealth capabilities.

Its design concept was broadly similar to the Vertical Takeoff Glider beneath Russell's feet. It could take off and land vertically, hover in midair, and maintain balance.

Put simply, the Batplane was an enlarged Vertical