The Patrol Van jolted across the cracked earth, with the Batmobile leading fifty meters ahead. Eight broad tires rolled over the scorching crust of rock, leaving two charred tracks. The roof-mounted searchlights cut through the eternally dark-red sky, their beams filled with ash drifting endlessly like black snowflakes.
Li Jie sat in the rear of the E-350, watching the scenery through the bulletproof glass. The fragments of lost souls had not dispersed completely. They kept their distance, circling a kilometer beyond the convoy like vultures.
"What are they waiting for?" Wilson asked, gripping the steering wheel, sweat beading on his forehead. The air conditioning was running at full blast, but Hell's heat still seeped inside.
"For us to make a mistake." Constantine lounged in the passenger seat, holding a cigarette he had conjured from somewhere. Its tip flared occasionally in the dim cabin.
"For us to split up, for someone to get hurt, for a vehicle to break down... then they'll swarm us, like scavengers picking apart a corpse."
He blew a smoke ring. It twisted strangely in the air, became a leering face, then dissolved.
"Could you stop smoking in an enclosed space?" Wilson complained.
"This is Hell, mate. Breathing is shortening your life." Constantine scoffed. "Besides, this is my last one. Once it's gone, I'll have to face reality without nicotine. That's the real hell."
Li Jie ignored their bickering. Watching the tower drawing closer across the distant wasteland, he called over the radio, "Everyone, what does that thing look like to you?"
"Wayne Tower," Batman replied. "And it's not just Wayne Tower..."
He stopped there, because everyone had seen it. Buildings were rising from the ground one after another, except they were not constructed from concrete and steel. They were built from layers upon layers of bones