Worthy of Batman

Chu Men's gaze fell on Clark's tightly shut eyes.

[Spiritual Imprint ready.]

The roar of an engine tore through the night sky.

A jet, black from nose to tail, sliced through the heavy clouds and plunged straight down.

It was the Batwing.

Bruce sat in the cockpit.

He gripped the controls with both hands as dense streams of data flashed across his goggles.

"Sir, we're three thousand meters from the target," Alfred said over the comms.

"Lock on." Bruce pressed a red button.

The armor on the underside of the jet slid open.

A dark-blue missile launched straight toward Chu Men below.

Chu Men stood where he was, watching it approach with interest.

The missile detonated ten meters above his head.

A warped, dark-blue force field burst outward, engulfing everything within a fifty-meter radius.

The air around him suddenly grew heavy.

The ground of the abandoned dock caved in without warning.

Several surviving reinforced-concrete pillars cracked with a shriek and were crushed to powder.

Seawater rushed into the field, but no spray rose. An invisible force pressed the surface flat, forming a depression dozens of meters deep.

This was the most extreme weapon in the Wayne Enterprises arsenal—the Miniature Gravity Field Generator.

It could crush a skyscraper.

Chu Men stood at the very center of the gravity field.

He rolled his shoulders. His bones cracked twice.

"That's it?"

The weight pressing down on him was not even enough to make him bend over.

The Batwing did not slow. Bruce yanked back on the controls.

"Fire."

Three reinforced cables shot out. Metal claws at their tips sprang open in midair and caught Clark around the waist, both arms, and his torn cape.

The jet's engines flared, and its nose pitched sharply upward.

The pull traveled down the cables.

Chu Men still held Clark by the hair. If he wanted to, he could crush the cables.

He looked up at the man in the cockpit and saw the resolve in Bruce's eyes.

"That's Batman for you."

Chu Men suddenly changed his mind. Branding Superman's mind right now would certainly be satisfying.

But clearing the game just like that would be dull.

Watching them search the world for allies, rally the superheroes hiding in the shadows, and stand before him full of hope because they thought they had found a way to beat him—

Then crushing that hope they were so proud of, along with their heads, with his own hands.

Now that would be a real treat. He could do as he pleased. The fun was in the journey.

Chu Men smiled and opened his hand.

Freed from Chu Men's grip, Clark was hauled rapidly into the sky by the cables.

Inside the Batwing, Bruce watched the load reading on the instrument panel shoot up. His heart pounded.

"It worked." Bruce looked stunned. He had not expected it to work either, but he immediately realized the man below had let it happen.

He pushed the engines to their limit.

"Sir, he let us take him," Alfred said, his voice strained as he watched the surveillance feed.

Bruce knew.

On the screen, the man on the ground waved at him.

That man could easily have kept Superman there, yet he had let go.

Chu Men raised his right hand and closed it gently. The dark-blue force field collapsed.

Freed from the pressure, the seawater surged back up. A wave over ten meters high rose and crashed toward him.

Chu Men stood amid the wave as his own field pushed all the water aside.

He watched the Batwing shrink to a black speck, then dusted off his hands.

"Run, run! Rats always huddle together."

"Go find more people. The game's only just begun. Clearing it right away would be no fun."

The Batwing flew into the clouds and vanished.

Chu Men looked away and turned around.

Media helicopters were still circling overhead.

A searchlight fell on him.

Lois leaned out of a helicopter doorway. After seeing Clark rescued, she covered her face and collapsed onto the cabin floor, gasping for breath.

Jimmy, the cameraman, held his camera steady, its lens trained on Chu Men below.

Chu Men looked up at the lens and slowly raised his middle finger.

Aboard the helicopter.

Jimmy swallowed. He felt as if his heart might stop.

"Climb! Climb now!" The pilot snapped out of it and hauled desperately on the controls.

The helicopter rocked violently, turned in a crooked arc, and fled the waters as fast as it could.

Metropolis, Times Square.

Tens of thousands of people had gathered there.

On the giant screen, the image of Chu Men raising his middle finger was frozen.

No one spoke. No one screamed or whispered.

The invincible Superman had had his breastbone crushed underfoot.

The hero who had saved them countless times had been dragged away.

And the man who had done it had given the whole world the middle finger.

A girl covered her mouth as tears streamed down her face.

Panic began to spread through the crowd.

Gotham, on the roof of the Police Department.

Gordon lowered his binoculars.

Rain ran down his weathered cheeks.

He turned to the tactical officers behind him.

Dozens of fully armed officers stood in the rain. Their hands trembled around their guns.

"Commissioner..." A young officer's voice was hoarse. "Gotham... is finished."

Gordon did not argue.

He took out a rain-soaked cigarette and put it between his lips, but he could not get his lighter to catch.

He knew Gotham was not the only thing that was finished.