Chapter 57: Gotham’s Evening Bell (Part 2)

In a dark alley, the faint reflection of the armor was entangled with a deeper and thicker fog.

In an instant, the gray fog condensed into a figure and stopped at the end of the alley. The friction of the armor also stopped, and the heavy footsteps, stepping on the puddles on the ground that had not yet dried, made a light sound like a death warrant.

"Death knell?"

"That is indeed your death knell."

As soon as the voice fell, the knife flashed, Schiller disappeared instantly, and appeared behind the figure again.

"Who is your employer?"

"You don't need to know this."

"It seems that you are very confident in your business level."

Schiller dodged two darts again, and then faced the death knell and said:

"You shouldn't kill me."

"I can kill anyone as long as someone can pay the price."

Schiller stretched out his hand, and a cluster of flames ignited in his hand.

"No matter who your employer is, the price he gave you is not right."

The death knell was silent for less than a second, and turned away directly.

"Indeed, goodbye."

"How would you treat an employer who cheated you?"

"It depends."

"Kill him and I'll pay."

"You don't have that much money."

"The world's richest man pays."

"Goodbye."

Schiller looked at the figure in armor, who disappeared at the end of Gotham Street in a few breaths. He thought that his enemy was indeed capable of hiring Deathstroke to kill him.

Several consecutive flashes consumed a lot of Schiller's physical strength. In such a deep alley, no car could drive in, so he planned to walk back slowly, and call a car to pick him up when he returned to the church.

He turned out of an alley and came to the street, then he looked back and found that there seemed to be some movement in the deepest part of the street.

At this time, Batman was standing in an extremely shabby, dark and narrow house.

The environment here is very bad. Batman has never entered such an uncomfortable room in his life.

This is a third floor, the windows are nailed shut, all the outer layers of the walls have fallen off, the room is extremely damp, the floor is slippery stone bricks, all the furniture is not where they should be, and the rest of the place is full of garbage.

The owner of the house saw Batman, the uninvited guest, and he was stunned for a moment, then lowered his head, looked at his feet, muttered something vague, turned around hunched over, picked up a jar of salt, and wanted to hand it to Batman.

Batman took the salt jar, it was empty, there was nothing, and then the man waved his hand, as if he wanted him to leave.

It was a shriveled and hunched old man with dark skin, eyes deeply sunken in his eye sockets, limping, and muttering some curse words.

It seemed that the neighbor downstairs heard the noise and poked his head out from under the stairs and said, "What are you looking for this old guy for? Who are you to him?"

"What's wrong with him?"

"What else can he do? Can't you see? He has Alzheimer's disease and doesn't recognize anyone now. Even if you know him, he doesn't know you."

The neighbor couldn't see Batman from his angle, but could only vaguely see a figure. He said, "This old guy can't pay the rent. Every time the landlord comes, he gives the salt jar to others. Maybe in his era, the salt jar was still valuable, but there is nothing in the salt jar."

"But he is lucky. His landlord seems to have died in the hands of the gang. This attic is not worth much. If he is killed, he will have to collect the body, so he has survived until now."

"No matter who you are, just leave him alone. He can only pick up some garbage thrown down from the upstairs every day. But his upstairs moved out a few days ago. I guess he won't live long."

After that, there was a "bang" from downstairs. It was the neighbor who closed the door.

Batman held the salt shaker. He watched the hunchbacked old man sit on the chair, looking at the table without saying a word, with a little saliva flowing from the corner of his mouth.

He saw Louis' hands, which were very rough hands. Almost all the knuckles were twisted because of years of lifting heavy objects, and the blood vessels on the dry palms were clearly visible.

"Are you Louis?"

There was no answer except Batman's own voice.

"Do you remember Thomas Wayne? Do you remember Martha?"

Batman felt his voice trembling.

An extremely angry emotion rose from Batman's chest, and he squeezed the salt shaker and it creaked.

His enemy didn't remember all the innocent people he had hurt, and he just forgot all his crimes.

This was not a punishment for him, but it allowed him to avoid the blame in his heart, Batman thought.

He asked Louis over and over again:

"Why don't you remember anything?! Do you really not remember the last name Wayne?! What about Edward? What about Falcone?!"

Just when Batman said the last name of Falcone, the old Louis suddenly let out a strange scream, his mouth opened wide, and his jaw, which had not moved for a long time, made a crackling sound.

He fell off the chair trembling all over, kept screaming, and threw everything he could pick up at Batman, with tears, snot and saliva flowing down his face.

Batman saw endless fear on his face.

Batman thought that Falcone did not lie to him. When he killed Leif, he did scare many people.

This included Louis.

Schiller walked to the middle of the alley. He looked up and saw that only a room on the third floor was lit, and there was a dark shadow with pointed ears in the room.

He stood downstairs and waited for a while, and saw Batman coming out. Batman was also a little surprised to see Schiller, but his mind was a little dull now.

Schiller looked at Batman and found that he was not injured and there was no sign of fighting with others.

Then his eyes fell on the salt shaker in Batman's hand.

Schiller didn't know what it was, but it was obvious that Batman, who was in a complicated mood, needed to talk, so before Schiller asked, Batman told the whole story.

They walked while chatting. When they passed by the church, it was almost dawn. Batman pinched the salt shaker and said:

"He doesn't remember all this."

When Batman said this, he was no longer angry. A complex feeling was contained in his tone.

"You said that he still remembers someone."

"Yes, he still remembers Falcone. Why doesn't he remember Wayne, but remembers Falcone..."

Schiller sighed, he looked into the distance, and then said: "Because of fear, because fear is the deepest and most difficult scar engraved in the depths of the human soul."

"He forgot everything, but only remembered fear, right?" Batman said.

At this time, it was the darkest moment before dawn. The thick black almost swallowed everything. All the buildings were shrouded in shadows and their outlines could not be seen clearly.

Soon, what woke Batman from his thoughts was the heavy bells of Gotham Cathedral. The dull bells spread far away, and the sound waves were as pervasive as darkness. Even in the darkest and darkest alleys, one could feel the tremors.

Batman thought, fear, fear.

If he could no longer complete his true revenge on the things and people of that era, if the murderer he tried his best to catch and the object of his revenge had completely forgotten all of this, making his anger and hatred all in vain.

Then he at least reminded Batman of one thing, that is, sometimes, what is more terrible than death is the lingering fear.

In this case, Batman thought, he would become a dark knight who brought endless fear to all the criminals in Gotham.

Many years ago, his parents died with the bats that crossed the sky with heavy shadows. Many years later, he would eventually bring the fear of bats to all the criminals in this city.

Just like the Gotham evening bell that permeated every street and every dark corner.