In the empty, abandoned workshop, the tall and robust new Batman stands amidst the ruins.
Deadshot, gun in hand, repeatedly calculated Batman's height using the electronic scope in his right eye; the height reading on the scope jumped to 2.10 meters.
What kind of Batman is this?
Having spent so many years in Gotham, Floyd had dealt with that giant bat no less than ten times and was very familiar with the guy's fighting style.
That was a cunning vigilante skilled at navigating ventilation ducts and sewers, throwing smoke bombs and Batarang, not the living devil in front of him who could crush a load-bearing beam with a physique no different from an armored vehicle.
"Hey, Victor, something doesn't seem right."
Victor, the Mr. Freeze next to him, was also stunned. His hand, which was holding the ice spray gun, froze in mid-air, and his brows, hidden behind his mask, were deeply furrowed.
Even though this person looks exactly like Batman except for his physique, the sense of oppression is completely off.
It no longer looks like a human wearing a bulletproof vest or Batman cosplay; rather, it resembles some ancient Tyrannosaurus Rex with a steel shell stretching its limbs.
Bruce lay by the pillar with his eyes closed and his lips pressed into a straight line.
He had never seen such outrageous counterfeit goods in his entire life.
"I don't care where this freak came from, I'll just burn him to a crisp!"
Mick Rory let out a strange cry, his eyes filled with excitement, and turned the flamethrower valve all the way up, sending a blazing orange column of fire straight up the slope of the ruins.
The high-strength aviation fuel spread out a scorching fire net in mid-air, instantly engulfing the tall, dark figure atop the pile of rubble.
"Hahaha! Watch me roast you, you big rat!"
The laughter from the Heat Wave lasted less than two seconds before the entire sea of fire neatly split in the middle.
A figure in pure black easily tore through the curtain of fire, its fist smashing towards them.
Before Mick could even see what the other person was doing, the special alloy flamethrower in front of him was grabbed by one hand, and the entire steel barrel was twisted into a pretzel like dough.
Chen Mo slapped Relang across Heat Wave face, sending the 200-pound man spinning three times in the air before crashing into the oil drum behind him and shattering it to pieces.
"It's not cooked enough; let's start over."
Chen Mo muttered something in a low voice, then casually threw the flattened flamethrower on the ground with a loud thud.
The Deadshot's expression changed, and he pulled out his rifle and fired a series of bursts. The specially designed armor-piercing rounds traced straight trajectories in the night, with several bullets flying in a line.
Ta-da!
The ear-piercing impacts rang out almost simultaneously as the Negasonic Teenage Warhead crashed one after another into the Blacklight- clad breastplate, turning into copper dust without leaving even a white mark.
Deadshot's eyes narrowed; these were armor-piercing rounds designed for attacking infantry fighting vehicles!!!
"Your bullets seem to be a bit calcium deficient."
Chen Mo stepped down from the pile of rubble, his two-meter-tall frame casting a heavy shadow, each step leaving clear cracks in the concrete.
Victor, the Mr. Freeze in time, then raised his hand and sprayed a jet of cryogenic fluid at Chen Mo's legs. The white mist, carrying a temperature of minus 180 degrees Celsius, swept over them.
A thick layer of solid ice quickly formed on the surface of the floor tiles, spreading all the way up to Chen Mo's knees.
Victor breathed a sigh of relief, but before he could speak, the sight before him silenced him.
Chen Mo simply lifted his leg and took a step forward, and the hard layer of ice crumbled into powder like a thin, crisp biscuit.
"The cooling efficiency is okay, but I want it hot."
Chen Mo raised his hand and gripped Mr. Freeze's hemispherical glass helmet. With a slight exertion of his fingers, the special bulletproof glass was immediately covered with a dense, spiderweb-like network of cracks.
Victor was lifted up by one arm, the heavy power armor as light as a plastic toy in Chen Mo's hands.
" Mr. Fries, I heard your wife is still lying in the freezer waiting for medical bills?"
Mr. Freeze hovered in mid-air, his hands gripping the iron-like arm, struggling to squeeze out a voice through clenched teeth, "You... how do you know Nora?"
"Because I am Batman, there is no secret in Gotham that I don't know."
Chen Mo casually swung his hand, throwing Mr. Freeze like a bowling ball. Mr. Freeze landed right on Heat Wave, who had just gotten up from the ground, and the two of them rolled around unconscious.
Only Deadshot remained standing in the workshop.
Floyd Lawton glanced at his two teammates lying motionless on the ground, then looked down at the flattened bullets on the floor.
He deftly raised his hands, unfastened the gun's pin, and kicked it to his feet.
I surrender.
Deadshot took a half-step back expressionlessly. "Even with extra money, this order wouldn't be enough to buy me a coffin. Young Master Wayne is right under this pillar; you can take him back yourself."
Chen Mo didn't make things difficult for this pragmatic colleague. He bent down and picked up the still-flashing encrypted communication device from Mr. Freeze's belt.
At this moment, the mysterious employer on the other end of the communicator had obviously heard the whole commotion, and his rough, synthesized voice carried a hint of doubt and seriousness.
" Lawton Fries? What happened in the workshop? Did you guys take care of Batman?"
Chen Mo brought the communicator to his mask, cleared his throat, and adopted a deep, hoarse voice that sounded like someone who had been smoking cigars for forty years.
"Unfortunately, they couldn't solve my problem."
There was a brief three-second pause on the other end of the communication.
" Batman?" The employer's voice was hesitant and tentative.
"It's me."
Chen Mo stepped onto a nearby concrete post, his tone arrogant, " Gotham's Dark Knights, the embodiment of justice, the nemesis of evil, the guardian of Bruce Wayne, I admire... Batman!"
Bruce, lying by the pillar, nearly choked on his own saliva when he heard this long list of titles.
"..."
The communicator crackled with the sounds of a keyboard and bellows; the employer seemed to be checking some kind of database, then his tone became strangely peculiar.
"No, although the sound frequency is similar, and the armor type matches..."
"But my intuition and soul tell me that you are definitely not Batman!"
Chen Mo raised an eyebrow and retorted into the microphone, "Why do you say I'm not? The bat logo, the pointed ears, the black cape—aren't they all officially licensed?"
The employer sneered, his tone as certain as if he were exposing a street performer's shoddy magic trick.
"That's the difference between you and the real Batman, you imposter! When Batman introduces himself, he adds a double trill to the end of the 'Man' sound, but you! You imposter, you didn't even do that!"
Now Bruce Wayne has even more sweat.
Where did this lunatic come from? Although there are indeed many fans of Batman, this is the first time he's heard of something so twisted.
Chen Mo nodded, looking as if he had just realized something, and even pulled out a small notebook from behind his back.
"I see, I see. I've got it. I'll definitely use it next time."