novelraw Chapter 106-03: Surprise or Shock?
Chapter 106-03: Surprise or Shock?
Chapter 106-03: Surprise or Shock?
"Boss, Mr. Pennyworth has arrived."
The bodyguard's words interrupted Falcone's rambling.
"You must be tired of listening to the old man's nonsense by now. The person you want to see has arrived. This room is now yours."
Falcone closed the door behind him.
Qin Wei treated it as a formal meeting, but his heart was racing, as if he were about to reunite with a long-lost relative. He straightened his back and adjusted his blood-stained shirt collar several times.
Boom boom boom!
A knock came from behind me.
"Please come in!"
Qin Wei shifted uncomfortably, placing his hands squarely on his thighs. He closed his eyes, telling himself that all of this was the work of memories from another part of his body that didn't belong to him.
I just want to know who this body belongs to, and I just want to know where those strange memories came from, that's all.
"I've fantasized countless times that he would appear in front of me like this."
Like an ice cube falling into bubbly champagne, a ripple spread through Qin Wei's heart. His lips began to tremble, subtly resonating with the deep voice behind him.
"Over the decades, I have pushed him around every corner of the world, searching for even the smallest possibilities."
He bit his lip, and his warm hand rested on his shoulder.
"I know you are not him, but I beg you to stand up, to stand up so I can see you one more time."
He opened his eyes.
The elderly man with graying temples had red eyes and a slightly tired smile on his lips.
The moment their eyes met, a strange and indescribable feeling welled up in his mind.
The autumn wind sweeps across the Pampas, the first snowflake falls on the roof of the world, an isolated island in the ocean rises and falls amidst raging waves, and the rising sun shines with dazzling rays of light through the gap between two mountains.
In the sudden surge of unfamiliar and fragmented memories, he seemed to see traces left by two figures as they traversed mountains and valleys.
"That kid has some skills, but that's about it."
In the drafty hut on Naihe Island, a man in a purple jacket slammed a thick stack of brown paper bags onto the table. He plopped down in a chair and placed a pair of muddy shoes heavily on the table.
"It's hard to believe you were tricked twice by someone like this, and your face is even scratched." He dug his blood-stained fingers into his messy, dark green curly hair, peeling off a large scab.
"Honey! Stop touching your wound. Hair has stopped growing there. I don't want to share the name JOKER with a bald guy."
The chandelier swayed in the cold wind, and Joseph's pale face appeared and disappeared in the interplay of light and shadow.
He crossed his arms and stared intently at the other clown in front of him, a clown who was filthy and hideous.
His face was pockmarked, as if it had been corroded by sulfuric acid, with a conspicuous huge scar running from the corner of his mouth all the way to his ear. This guy had cut his face open simply because he was too lazy to put on makeup.
In his own words, what paint could be more striking than blood and exposed wounds?
"Joseph, what are you planning to do next? How about we print a million copies of this, scatter them all over Gotham's streets in airships, and then slash the necks of everyone who finds an odd number of copies?"
JOKER sat up excitedly, seemingly quite pleased with this crazy idea.
But Joseph poured cold water on him.
"Hahahaha—I really want to laugh along, but this joke is just too hard to laugh at! If every clown were like you, we'd all have our necks snapped by that guy in less than a week."
"Oh, and by the way! Put away the gun you're aiming at me from under the table. When are you going to stop this insane game?!"
"Oh! Joseph!! How did you find out again!"
JOKER shook his head, rolled his eyes, and complained as he pulled the revolver out from under the table and put it in his mouth.
Click.
One shot was fired but no bullet was fired.
JOKER slumped his head in despair. For a whole year, he had been loading a bullet into the cylinder every day and pulling the trigger on Joseph. If the target was spotted in advance, he would switch targets with himself.
Joseph sometimes finds it, and sometimes he doesn't.
But to this day, both of them are still alive and kicking.
JOKER stood up:
"I've had enough of being cooped up in this shabby house all day. I need to find a soft mattress soaked in blood to sleep on!"
"Darling, aren't two corpses enough to satisfy your appetite?" Joseph didn't stop him.
"Hehehe! Before I destroy myself, why not enjoy every second?"
Joseph watched the other man's figure disappear into the night, then buried his head in the shadows and violently heaved his shoulders: "Go, go! Your existence will cause him pain, your death will make him perfect! Haha ...
The clock hands struck twelve, and a gun barrel, protruding through the half-open door, was aimed at Joseph, who was laughing maniacally.
Click!
Another blank shot.
"Hehehehe, this is really interesting! There must be something wrong with the probability in this world." JOKER's faint murmur echoed from outside the door.
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"So the young master ultimately chose the solution provided by Hugo Strange: to create a clone and use a mind transmitter to copy his entire consciousness into the clone."
Alfred sat next to Qin Wei, his deep gaze never leaving Qin Wei's face. He sat upright with his legs crossed, his hands resting on his lap, his demeanor as elegant and graceful as a classical aristocrat in an 18th-century portrait.
"Thought transmitters, do such things really exist?" Qin Wei frowned, expressing his doubt.
"It turned out to be a failed and cruel invention. In order to keep the brain active, Hugo brutally cut open the young master's—"
Alfred lowered his gaze, unable to speak of the cruel scene.
"He—I mean Mr. Wayne—it's hard to imagine him choosing this path."
"Over the years, he has been immersed in pain and unable to extricate himself. His sanity is tormented day and night by the memories of his parents' tragic deaths, and his obsession with revenge is imprisoned in his body. Death may be a relief for him."
Alfred's words reminded Qin Wei of the words he had heard many times before—to save Gotham, to save the poor people.
Is Bruce Wayne really a person driven to near madness by revenge?
Qin Wei's body trembled slightly.
He felt a sense of unease.
"I don't expect you to become him." Alfred's loving gaze was fixed on that face. "You have his appearance, but you are not him. You have the right to choose your own life."
"In fact, I don't want the young master to be consumed by revenge either. He's like my child. If he were still alive, I would want to see him live a peaceful and joyful life, and to see children circling around his knees." Alfred gently wiped away the tears from the corners of his eyes.
"It may be a bit presumptuous, but Mr. Wei, could you tell me your plans for the future—after all, you and the young master—please tell me the truth. Whether you inherit the young master's will or live out your own life, I will not interfere. Consider it fulfilling an old man's wish."
"I won't follow in Mr. Bruce's footsteps. As you said, I have my own life, and with this money, I can do many things, maybe even leave Gotham. Who knows?"
Qin Wei shrugged.
After exchanging phone numbers, Qin Wei got into Harvey's car under Alfred's watchful eye.
"What did you and Alberto talk about?" Qin Wei asked first, his face tense and looking somewhat nervous.
"Seeking asylum! It's laughable, isn't it? To prevent Maroni's revenge, government officials have actually cooperated with the gangs. We promise to completely crush all of Maroni's influence, while the Romans will provide asylum."
Harvey let out a long breath, only then noticing that Qin Wei beside him didn't look well.
"What's wrong? Didn't you see the person you wanted to see?"
"I saw him."
Qin Wei took out his phone and typed a few words in the notes app. He then handed the screen to Harvey.
The words on the blue fluorescent screen were chilling. Although there was no evidence, I felt that the guy might not be Alfred. Gotham's waters run deeper than you and I imagine.