Chapter 234 - 117: The Missing Batman, Bruce the Drunkard! (Part 2)

Chapter 234: Chapter 117: The Missing Batman, Bruce the Drunkard! (Part 2)

After quite a while, he finally propped himself against the wall and slowly stood up. Staggering, he wobbled into an adjacent dark alley. A few drops of liquid spilled from his bottle with his movements, emitting the pungent stench of cheap alcohol.

Alex quietly observed all of this, his brows furrowing slightly.

It was hard for him to believe. Could this drunkard really be Bruce Wayne?

Even though he hadn’t been killed by Superman, had he truly been reduced to such a state?

The former richest man in the world, who could once clash head-on with all super-powered beings just by relying on his superpower of "I’m rich"—how could he now be unable to even afford a drink?

Following the strong scent of alcohol, he trailed the staggering figure deep into the alley.

At the end of the alley was a corner piled high with garbage, a place where even the moonlight seemed unwilling to shine.

A blurry figure was curled up in the shadows; it was none other than the drunkard from earlier.

As Alex approached, a sour stench—a mixture of cheap rum, body odor, and mildew—hit his face, almost making him gag.

"Don’t come any closer..."

Sensing the approaching footsteps, the man spoke hoarsely. He tilted his head back and took a large gulp of liquor. The liquid dribbled down the corner of his mouth, soaking the front of his shirt.

"I don’t have anything worth stealing... Take whatever you want, except this bottle."

By the faint glow of distant neon lights, Alex finally saw his face clearly.

His face, once as smooth and flawless as a marble statue, was now covered in thick, unkempt gray stubble, resembling a patch of barren thorns.

His eye sockets were deeply sunken, surrounded by dark, livid bruises, as if he had been repeatedly scorched by despair. Those grayish-blue eyes, which could once pierce through all the darkness in Gotham with the sharpness of a falcon, were now as murky as a stagnant pool. Covered in a web of bloodshot veins, his blank, unfocused gaze fell upon the damp, sticky stone slabs beneath his feet.

He wore a cheap synthetic jacket that was worn to a shine. Its cuffs and collar were frayed, stained with unknown grime and dust.

His body, once upright and powerful from high-intensity training, was now hunched over like an old tree bowed by gale-force winds. His shoulders slumped heavily, as if bearing the weight of the entire world.

One of his arms hung limply by his side, while his other hand clamped in a death grip around the nearly empty glass bottle, his knuckles turning white from the force.

A few empty bottles were scattered near his feet, next to a pile of tattered cardboard that likely served as his bed.

A gust of freezing wind blew in from the entrance of the alley. Bruce Wayne shivered uncontrollably, his teeth chattering like an abandoned child left out on a freezing winter street.

The former Dark Knight of Gotham was now merely a pitiful drunkard, numbing himself with alcohol and eking out a pathetic existence among the trash.

"Bruce Wayne..."

Alex looked at him, momentarily unsure of what to say. Just what exactly had he encountered for the ever-calculating Batman to fall so far?

A complex look flashed through his eyes, but he ultimately got straight to the point. His voice was calm but carried unquestionable power.

"Tell me, where can I get Kryptonite?"

Bruce’s body suddenly went rigid. He slowly raised his head, a brief flash of clarity cutting through his murky eyes. Upon seeing Alex clearly, he abruptly burst into maniacal laughter.

"Haha... another madman who wants to kill Superman? Hahaha!"

He laughed so hard he rocked back and forth, which pulled at his wounds and triggered a violent coughing fit. He hunched over, coughing until he could barely breathe, tears streaming down his face from the strain.

"Let me think. Kryptonite... I once collected the purest Kryptonite there was..."

His voice was hoarse, and a trace of his former paranoia flashed in his eyes, like a spark briefly igniting in the darkness.

"I turned Kryptonite into bullets, into bombs... I even embedded it into Batarangs... I thought I could win..."

..

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