Showdown on the Rooftop

Bruce's appearance was like a massive boulder dropped into a tranquil lake, stirring towering waves within Jason's heart.

Jason stared at Bruce before him, the shock in his eyes swiftly replaced by overwhelming fury. The madness born of the Lazarus Pit and the hatred he had long suppressed erupted completely in that instant like a volcano!

"Bruce?!" He let out a beastlike growl, the knuckles around his gun turning white from the force of his grip. "What are you doing here?! Are you here to stop me?! To lecture me and tell me I was wrong?!!"

His voice grew louder and louder, filled with the pain of betrayal and the despair of being abandoned by the world.

"Where were you when that lunatic was breaking my bones one by one with a crowbar?! Where were you when I was blown to pieces?!" He stepped toward Bruce, pressing the muzzle hard against Bruce's forehead, nearly imprinting the cold metal into his skin. "Now, I've crawled back from hell! I'm going to kill him! And you show up like some damn ghost! What, are you still going to cling to that ridiculous, bullshit 'no-killing rule'?!!"

Bruce watched him silently, watching the pain nearly spilling from Jason's eyes, pain fierce enough to burn everything away. An indescribable ache and profound guilt rose within him.

"It was me... My incompetence back then was what made you suffer all of this. Your anger is justified."

Bruce neither explained nor retreated. Not even his gaze wavered. He merely raised his hand slowly and, with two fingers, gently yet unwaveringly pushed aside the gun pressed to his forehead.

"You..." Bruce's action stunned Jason. He had imagined every possible reaction from Bruce—lectures, being subdued, even a cold turn of the back—but he had never expected such terrifyingly calm acceptance.

"I'm not here to stop you, Jason." Bruce's voice was calm and low, each word like a heavy stone crashing into Jason's heart. "I'm here... to help you."

"Help me?" Jason looked as though he had heard the most absurd joke in the world. He pulled back his gun and swung a fist containing all his rage and strength toward Bruce's cheek! "This is how you help me?! With your high-and-mighty pity?!"

That punch carried all his fury and the strength he had brought back from hell. It was fast and vicious, enough to shatter an ordinary person's jaw!

But Bruce merely tilted his head slightly, his body shifting by the smallest margin, and easily evaded the powerful blow. The wind from the punch grazed his cheek and stirred the black hair over his forehead.

"Do you think I'm still that little brat who followed you around?! Bruce!" Jason missed, and his assault became even more savage! He blended every fighting technique he had learned from Bruce into the deadliest, most direct killing moves—kicks, elbow strikes, throat grabs—every strike aimed at Bruce's vital points!

He was fast, powerful, and filled with the beastlike savagery he had brought back from the Lazarus Pit.

But before the Bruce of today, he was still far too slow.

Bruce did not strike back. He merely kept evading, blocking, and redirecting force within a hair's breadth. His movements flowed like water, carrying the beauty and efficiency of a grandmaster. Every attack Jason launched vanished like a clay ox sinking into the sea, effortlessly dissolved by Bruce's exquisite technique. Their figures crossed rapidly across the cramped rooftop, whipping up gusts that tore through the air.

The Lazarus Pit has significantly enhanced his strength and speed, but his technique is full of openings born from rage. His heart is in turmoil.

After exchanging more than a dozen moves, Bruce caught a fleeting opening Jason exposed in his haste to win.

He stopped evading and suddenly stepped forward, closing in. His right hand shot out like lightning, striking Jason's gun-wielding wrist joint with flawless precision.

"Smack!"

A crisp crack sounded. Jason felt a sharp pain shoot through his wrist, and his arm went numb instantly. The gun flew from his hand uncontrollably, arcing through the air before landing near the edge of the rooftop.

Immediately afterward, Bruce's left hand became a blade, chopping lightly yet with absolute precision into the nerve cluster at the back of Jason's neck from an angle Jason could neither anticipate nor defend against. The force had been calculated countless times—enough to render someone unconscious instantly, yet without causing any real injury.

"Ugh..."

Jason's eyes flew wide open, his pupils scattering in an instant. All the strength in his body vanished as if the air had been sucked out of him, and he fell stiffly backward.

Bruce reached out and caught his still-warm body before he hit the ground.

Looking at the face that remained tightly furrowed even in unconsciousness, filled with resentment and pain, Bruce let out a soft sigh.

"Sleep for a while, Jason. When you wake up, everything will be different."

Bruce slung him over his shoulder, his movements steady as though he were carrying nothing more than a sack of cotton. He descended from the rooftop, placed Jason in the backseat of the Bentley, then sped all the way back to the secret underground kingdom beneath Wayne Manor.

When Jason opened his eyes again, the first thing he saw was the familiar Batcave ceiling, formed by countless cold stalactites, and the massive Batcomputer, pulsing with endless data like a heart.

He abruptly sat up and discovered that he was lying on a medical bed. His wounds had been carefully treated, and he had been changed into clean, comfortable black athletic clothes.

"You're awake, Master Jason."

A familiar, gentle voice that made his nose sting reached him. Jason turned and saw Alfred approaching with a cup of hot milk and a freshly made sandwich. A trace of barely perceptible relief rested on the old butler's face.

"Alfred?" Jason's eyes were filled with wariness and deep confusion. "Where's Bruce? Did he bring me back to lock me up like one of those lunatics?"

"I believe you may have some... profound misunderstandings regarding Master Bruce's current way of doing things." Alfred placed the food on the bedside table and spoke calmly, as though recounting someone else's story. "After you... met with your accident, Master Bruce went through a great deal. Bane broke his spine, yet he miraculously recovered through extraordinary willpower. Then, in the bloodiest and most direct manner possible, he executed Bane and all his followers, thoroughly purging Gotham's underworld."

Alfred's words exploded in Jason's mind like one heavy bomb after another, swiftly transforming the expression on his face from confusion into disbelieving shock.

"He... he killed Bane?" Jason's voice trembled.

"Yes, by beheading him. At the top of Wayne Tower, in front of everyone." Alfred's tone did not waver in the slightest, as though he were simply stating a fact. "He also traveled to Nanda Parbat, took control of the League of Assassins, and became the new Demon's Head. Master Bruce is no longer the man you remember. But his concern for his family has never changed."

Just then, Bruce emerged from the shadows deep within the Batcave. He had changed into black knight armor, though he was not wearing his helmet.

"Alfred is right." Bruce looked at the dumbstruck Jason and spoke without preamble. "I no longer follow that ridiculous rule. Our goals are the same, Jason."

He walked over to the Batcomputer, and a real-time surveillance video immediately appeared on the enormous screen.

"The only difference is that my plan is more thorough than yours."

An image lit up on the screen. It showed an abandoned "seaside amusement park" covered in Joker graffiti. Countless cameras monitored every movement there from all kinds of tricky angles.

"This is..." Jason's pupils abruptly contracted. That place was his eternal nightmare! It was where he had been beaten to death!

"He's made his move." Bruce's voice was cold enough to pierce bone. "He took Gordon, right where you died. He's announcing his return to me, to all of Gotham. He thinks the game will be just like it was before."

Bruce turned, his deep gaze locking onto Jason. Then he extended a hand toward him. That hand, clad in a black tactical glove, carried an irresistible strength.

"Now, are you willing to hear my plan? Together, we'll kill him. In the name of family."