Bruce's Cross-Dressing Fetish

Bzzzt—!

With a faint hum of energy, the energy staff instantly extended to two meters long. Pale blue arcs of energy flickered across its surface, crackling softly.

At that moment, their fighting spirit was completely ignited!

The instant the words fell, neither of them wasted another breath. Both vanished from where they stood!

Boom!!!

A thunderous explosion erupted in the center of the training ground!

It was the first head-on collision between the energy staff and the Escrima sticks! A visible shockwave blasted outward from the two of them, sending dust on the ground flying!

Deathstroke's attacks were pure martial art for war—killing techniques tempered through countless battles! His body, enhanced by the Super-Soldier Serum, had long surpassed human limits in strength, speed, and reflexes. Under the control of his tactically assisted mind, the energy staff in his hands became streaks of lethal blue lightning!

His thrusts struck like venomous dragons leaving their lairs, aiming straight for Bruce's throat! His sweeps were like mountains being split apart, shrieking through the air as they smashed toward Bruce's ribs! His chops carried the force of thunder, determined to cleave him in two! Every move was simple, efficient, and lethally threatening, without a single unnecessary flourish.

Yet the opponent he faced was the ultimate combatant who had fused the fighting wisdom of Batmen from countless parallel universes and possessed the Tactical Mastermind Mind—the Arkham Knight!

Under Deathstroke's relentless storm of attacks, Bruce moved like an immovable rock and a ghostly phantom all at once! Rather than retreat, he advanced into the lethal blue staff shadows and unleashed a mercury-like counterattack!

Clang! Clang! Clang! Krrang!

The short sticks and long staff collided dozens of times within fractions of a second! Every clash burst with blinding sparks and deafening metallic rings! Bruce's fighting style carried the Arkham Knight's unique aesthetic—a fusion of supreme technique and savage power!

His footwork was the strange Ginga of Capoeira. His body swayed from side to side like a pendulum, evading Deathstroke's heavy attacks with the smallest possible movements. His blocks were the fiercest intercepts of Krav Maga; his short sticks always struck later yet arrived first, precisely hitting the weakest points in the energy staff's force and knocking it aside. His counters were boxing's precise straight punches, combined with Muay Thai elbow strikes and knee blows powerful enough to shatter metal and stone!

The two figures became twin high-speed storms within the massive training ground, constantly tangling, colliding, and separating. They moved too fast for ordinary eyes to follow. All that could be seen were one blue and one black blur, along with the afterimages dragged out by their rapid movements!

"Your reaction speed... exceeds human limits!" After a fierce exchange, Deathstroke was rocked by Bruce's brutal elbow strike until his blood churned. He could not help but growl. His tactical computer was running wildly, analyzing Bruce's every movement, but the conclusion made his heart pound—his opponent's reaction speed was actually several hundredths of a second faster than even him, an enhanced super-soldier!

"You too." Bruce's voice was cold and calm. Seizing Deathstroke's momentary stiffness, his assault became even more violent!

He suddenly slid forward and closed in on Deathstroke. He abandoned the use of his short stick for defense, allowing the arcing energy staff to scrape past his shoulder armor and throw off a spray of sparks. At the same time, the short stick in his left hand shot out like a striking viper, viciously stabbing at Deathstroke's right wrist—the hand gripping the staff! His right hand clenched from an open palm into a fist, then delivered a standard one-inch punch, carrying the full power of his body straight into Deathstroke's face!

It was a style of fighting that traded injury for injury—a beastlike, life-or-death tactic!

A flash of shock crossed Deathstroke's single eye. He had never expected Batman to fight with such disregard for his own life! In that split second, he forcibly twisted his waist and abdomen, abandoned his attack, and swung the energy staff across his chest, barely blocking the deadly one-inch punch!

Bang—!!!

A dull boom, like a battering ram slamming into a city gate!

Deathstroke was blasted off his feet by the unstoppable force, flying several meters backward before crashing heavily into the alloy wall of the training ground with a tremendous impact! The armor on his chest caved inward at the point of contact, leaving a clear fist mark as spiderweb cracks spread around it!

"Cough..." Deathstroke could not help coughing out a breath of stale air. It felt as though his internal organs had been knocked out of place.

But Bruce pressed his advantage and gave him no chance to catch his breath! He launched himself forward like an arrow loosed from a bow, unleashing a barrage of attacks before Deathstroke had fully regained his footing!

Fists, kicks, elbows, knees... every part of his body became a deadly weapon! His attacks came like raging wind and crashing waves, one after another without end!

Deathstroke was driven steadily backward by this seamless, flawless chain of strikes. He could only barely defend himself, completely suppressed. For the first time, his proud tactical mind felt "overloaded" in the face of Bruce's instinctive, calculation-defying assault!

He discovered that every move he predicted from his opponent would be broken by an even simpler, more direct, and more savage response! This Batman's fighting style made no sense at all! He was like a killing machine born solely for battle, refined to the utmost extreme!

"What the hell... are you?!" Deathstroke roared through a gap in his defense.

Bruce did not answer. Instead, he gave him the final answer through his actions.

He seized a tiny gap in Deathstroke's guard, suddenly dropped low, and swept his left leg like a steel whip at Deathstroke's lower body, forcing him to leap away. And at the instant Deathstroke rose into the air, Bruce had already predicted his movement and sprang skyward like a compressed spring!

Midair, Bruce twisted his body at an inconceivable angle. His legs clamped around Slade Wilson's neck like a pair of scissors! Then, using the momentum of his descent and a powerful twist of his waist, he dragged Deathstroke through a terrifying midair rotation!

Rumble—!!!

A perfect Guillotine Choke, combining jiu-jitsu and wrestling techniques!

Deathstroke's burly body was slammed viciously into the hard alloy floor by Bruce! The entire Batcave trembled!

The battle came to an abrupt end.

Only the heavy breathing of the two men remained in the training ground.

Bruce slowly rose from atop Deathstroke. His training suit was also covered in marks from the fight, and several pieces of armor had cracked.

As for Deathstroke, he lay sprawled on the ground. The armor on his chest had completely shattered, exposing the black protective lining beneath. His one-eyed mask had also broken in the impact, revealing a scarred face filled with shock and disbelief.

He had lost.

And he accepted the defeat wholeheartedly.

"An excellent fight." Bruce walked over and extended a hand.

Slade Wilson silently stared at him for several seconds, then took his hand and pulled himself to his feet.

"I take back what I said before." Slade's voice was hoarse, yet filled with sincere respect for a stronger opponent. "You're not a monster... you are Gotham's Dark Knight, worthy of the name."

Then he asked the question that had troubled him for a long time, and one countless people had wanted to ask.

"I've always been curious. Why would a rich man like you... put on a bat cosplay outfit in the middle of the night and go out to fight criminals?"

At that question, Bruce's face beneath the helmet twitched. He found it a little hard to keep himself composed.

Here it came. Official mockery was always the deadliest... He recalled the countless comics and movies from his previous life. It was not only villains like Joker and Riddler; even Justice League teammates like Superman and Wonder Woman had mocked his bizarre fashion sense, openly or otherwise.

Facing Deathstroke's inquisitive single eye, Bruce fell silent for a moment. In the end, he merely uttered four words coldly in Batman's deep, emotionless voice.

"No comment."