"You've got some strength. I'd love to cut you open and see what kind of powerful heart keeps you running."
Deathstroke held his fists up, blocking front and back as he moved with quick, light butterfly steps. He also kept some of his attention on Qin Wei on the fourth floor, guarding against a surprise attack that could come at any moment.
In fact, Qin Wei did want to launch a surprise attack, but without realizing it, his attention had been drawn to the fight.
Unlike Talia's one-on-one lessons, this was a rare fight to the death between top-tier experts. But how could a spectacular fight alone make him forget what he was supposed to do?
In fact, as their stances, punches, and kicks registered on his retinas, an invisible hand seemed to flip a switch in his memories.
Fragmented images broke through the blockade and flooded his mind.
He dimly saw a blurred figure holding his hands, taking him through one sequence of movements after another as though manipulating a puppet.
Blocks, kicks, hooks. Every time the other person let go, he repeated the moves he had just performed. Images like these, frame after frame, seemed to cover the entire sea of his memories like photographs.
"Young master, today's training is complete."
"Young master, can you hear me?"
"Young master-can you... still wake up?"
When Qin Wei came back to himself, tears were streaming down his face.
"Alfred-why!"
He frantically wiped away his tears, but the emotions surging inside him were as impossible to contain as a breached dam.
I'm... Bruce? Then... who... is Qin Wei?
"Understand me, become me, surpass me. Save Gotham. Save its poor people!"
Those familiar words rang in his ears once again, but unlike the earlier murmurs, they had become a deafening cry.
Through