The modified truck rolled over the bumpy, muddy road and turned into an old, abandoned chemical plant in the suburbs of Gotham.
The screeching sound of brakes echoed through the empty, dilapidated factory, startling a few birds that were resting on the beams and pillars.
The heavy rear door was kicked open, and Deadshot, carrying the feigning unconscious Bruce with one hand, threw the rich man onto the rusty and waterlogged floor like a sack of potatoes.
Bruce rolled half a circle, his back pressed against the cold concrete pillar, his breathing shallow and even.
He half-closed his eyes, suppressed his breathing, and secretly surveyed the distribution of cover around him.
Victor, the Mr. Freeze Victor, strode into the factory, his armor emitting wisps of cold mist, his heavy boots creaking against the broken glass.
" Floyd, the man has arrived. Quickly settle the remaining payment."
Mr. Freeze tapped the faintly glowing energy bar on his chest, his voice urgent, " Nora's life support won't last until tomorrow, I need the money immediately!"
For him, nothing else mattered.
His wife, lying in the cryogenic hibernation pod, was the only reason he remained in this world.
"What's the rush, Fries? According to the rules, the money will be transferred to your account after the employer inspects the goods. Just wait."
The Deadshot pulled an encrypted satellite communicator from his tactical vest and began typing code on the buttons without looking up.
Heat Wave, leaning against a discarded oil drum, looked utterly bored, his thumb idly fiddling with the trigger of his flamethrower.
Pfft, pfft.
Clusters of orange flames danced in the damp, chilly air, dispelling the slight musty smell in the surroundings.
"I'm telling you, Floyd, is Gotham really as sinister as they say?"
Mick Rory spat out a mouthful of ash-covered spittle, tilted his head, and complained, "Before we left, you blew that winged black rat into all sorts of amazing shapes and sizes, and I even filled it with the highest octane aviation fuel."
"And then what happened?"
"We swaggered into the city hall, dragged their richest tycoon off the banquet, and didn't even encounter a decent roadblock along the way."
"This job was easier than robbing a convenience store in Central City. If I'd known that giant bat was a coward, I should have set the whole hall on fire."
Bruce, lying on the ground, twitched his eyelids slightly.
These idiots from out of town clearly have no idea how many times they've been on the verge of death.
If I hadn't restrained Chen Mo in the city hall earlier, these three people would probably be reduced to ashes by now.
Beep--
A series of green data waveforms appeared on the communicator screen, and the communication, encrypted through multiple jumpers, was finally established.
A harsh, low, and cold voice, clearly distorted by a synthesizer, came from the speaker.
"Oh? You got the person?"
Deadshot pressed his earpiece, his gaze sweeping over Bruce on the ground. "Yes, he's right at my feet, unharmed. The real Bruce Wayne."
There was a brief two-second pause on the other end of the call, followed by a dull thud as if tapping on a table.
"Very good. The agreed-upon deposit and final payment of 30 million have been transferred to the Switzerland encrypted account. You've done a clean and efficient job."
Upon hearing this, Mr. Freeze's tense shoulders visibly relaxed a bit, and he glanced down at the account balance notification on his wristwatch.
The Deadshot holstered his weapon, preparing to say goodbye.
However, the mysterious employer on the other end of the communicator did not hang up; instead, he continued to offer new bargaining chips.
"Wait a moment, everyone, I have another deal to make."
Deadshot raised an eyebrow. "What kind of deal?"
" The Wayne Enterprises ' heir has been kidnapped. Gotham's self-proclaimed vigilante will not stand idly by; he will track him down here very soon."
The employer chuckled sinisterly, his tone resolute, "I'll add another fifty million. I want you all to stay in that factory, lie in wait for Batman, and completely resolve this problem."
Bruce, lying on the ground:...?
Bruce Wayne is lying right here, where am I supposed to find Batman to take a beating?
Deadshot glanced at his two accomplices beside him, a glint of greed in his eyes.
"Fifty million, half as deposit upfront, and we'll take the order."
Upon hearing that a fight was possible, Mick Rory grinned and pulled the flamethrower valve directly to the red line.
"Did you hear that? Tonight's going to be fun! I'm going to roast that big black rat's wings until they're crispy!"
However, none of the three villains, each with their own agendas, noticed that a shadow had been crouching on the steel beams of the factory roof, a full twenty meters above the ground, watching the show unfold.
Chen Mo stood with one foot on the rusty I-beam, his eyes full of mockery.
He truly didn't expect that this clichéd kidnapping plot could take such an outrageous turn.
The employer paid to capture Batman, and then spent even more money to hire kidnappers to ambush Batman.
Is there any stage play in the world more interesting than this?
Since the audience and actors have gone to such lengths to put on this show, it would be a shame not to go up and support them, as I'd have come all this way to Gotham on a free flight.
A strange smile tugged at the corner of Chen Mo's mouth.
The next moment, a dark red and black liquid gushed out from his skin.
The cellular structure of the Blacklight Virus underwent morphological restructuring and hardening simulation in an instant, completely covering and engulfing the originally fitted custom suit, rapidly constructing a set of extremely sharp-lined heavy armor.
A giant bat with outstretched wings was branded in the center of the thick, sturdy breastplate, with sharp barbs extending from the shoulders, and a tattered Cloak as pure as the night behind.
Even the full-face mask on his head with two tall, pointed ears was made to look even more ferocious than the original.
"Since everyone wants to see Batman, then I'll grant your wish."
Chen Mo chuckled softly and exerted slight force with the sole of his right foot.
Boom!
With a deafening crash, the dilapidated corrugated iron roof and half of a concrete beam above were violently crushed.
Large shards of rubble and twisted steel bars rained down like a storm, sending up clouds of dust and blasts several meters high, shaking the entire abandoned workshop violently.
The three supervillains below paled instantly. Mr. Freeze raised his gun to block the falling rocks, Heat Wave instinctively rolled backward, and Deadshot drew his gun in a flash.
Thick smoke and dust slowly dissipated.
A pale white flash of lightning suddenly streaked across the window, tearing through the darkness of the rainy night.
Illuminated by the lightning, a towering figure, over two meters tall, stood atop the pile of rubble.
The jet-black Cloak billowed violently in the raging air currents, its menacing, demonic pointed ears jutting upwards, and its entire body exuded a suffocating, predatory aura.
Bruce, who was lying next to the concrete pillar pretending to be unconscious, quietly opened his eyes halfway and froze on the spot.
The design, the streamlined shape, and even the wear and tear on the bat emblem on the chest of that suit of armor were almost identical to the bat armor he kept in the Batcave.
Bruce's eyes twitched violently, and he almost couldn't catch his breath.
The imposter standing atop the ruins slowly raised his chin, and a strange, extremely hoarse voice rumbled through his throat, echoing throughout the hall.
"I admire you, Batman!"
Deadshot stared in Shocker at the cement floor he had trampled.
"Fuck you, there's no such Batman!"