novelonline Chapter 4085 MU Superbody Major Event (165)
Chapter 4085 MU Superbody Major Event (165)
Chapter 4085 MU: The Superbody Incident (165)
The shouting and cursing came from one of the houses, accompanied by the sound of things breaking, indistinct whispers, and the wailing of a frightened child nearby. An owl, just awakened and searching for food, perched on a nearby telephone pole, seemingly unfazed by the noise, its eyes fixed intently on the distance.
A thin boy was driven out of the house. He looked like he had just been beaten; something had broken his head and blood was flowing down his head. His arm was dislocated, his shoulder was oddly shaped, and he was limping.
The Arkham Batman and his crew stood quietly not far from the house, watching without daring to approach. Only after the boy had walked a little further away did Schiller peek inside the house.
“MDMA,” he said, “has already knocked me out.”
Batman from Arkham, head bowed and body hunched, peered through the narrow doorway at the man lying on the ground, dressed in tattered clothes, almost naked, but with a fairly strong build. The ground around him was covered in his vomit. Some small red pills sat on the table beside him.
The room reeked of vomit, so much so that Constantine couldn't even get in, while Schiller and Arkham Batman ignored it.
"Is there any hope?" Schiller asked, looking at Arkham Batman.
Arkham Batman shook his head and said, "Judging from the vomit, it was projectile vomiting, most likely a brain hemorrhage."
“As expected of him…” Schiller stopped there.
The two came out of the house, and Constantine frowned and asked, "He just went that way, should we go after him?"
“Follow him, but don’t let him spot you,” said Batman Arkham.
They walked in the direction the boy had left, following him at a distance, watching him go around in circles, then somehow acquire a handcart and push it back.
They jumped onto the roof of the low-rise house, thus avoiding being spotted. But just then, three figures appeared beside the alley.
“This is going to be interesting,” Schiller said.
The three people who arrived were Doctor Strange, Eric, and Charles. They quickly noticed the house where the boy was, as the smell of vomit was spreading outwards.
The two walked over and approached the door, where they saw a man lying inside and a boy standing beside him. Although the light was dim, they could still tell that this appeared to be young Jack. Doctor Strange couldn't help but cover his nose and asked, "What's going on?"
“He’s dead,” Little Jack replied.
"I know, are you alright?"
"He beat me up, but I didn't die, which is pretty good."
Is he your father?
"Hmm. Do you need something? If not, move aside. I need to throw his body into the Gotham River. If it starts rotting in the house, I can't live here anymore."
Charles looked at little Jack with some pity. Jack was probably ten years old at this time, but due to long-term malnutrition, he looked only seven or eight years old. He was so thin that he was almost unrecognizable. His eyeballs were sunken deep in their sockets, and his limbs were skin and bones.
The two of them watched as he dragged the car inside with one arm. Doctor Strange couldn't stand it anymore and said, "Is your arm dislocated? I'm a doctor, I can help you put it back in place."
Little Jack glanced at him and said slowly, "What brings someone as important as you here?"
“We’re staff at the orphanage,” Charles said casually.
Little Jack glanced at him inexplicably, then lowered his eyes and slowly walked to Doctor Strange's side. Doctor Strange reached out his hand to him, but the distance between them was too great for him to exert any force. So he took Little Jack's hand, pulled him a little closer, and then bent down to check the condition of his shoulder.
Just as he pressed his upper body close to Little Jack, he suddenly felt a sharp pain in his chest. When he came to his senses, an iron rod had pierced his heart.
He looked up in disbelief, only to see a smile on Little Jack's face that was exactly the same as the Joker's later smile.
“I thought you would prefer someone prettier,” he said with a smile. “Sorry, I’m afraid I might kill those men while I’m serving them. You should find someone else.”
Charles looked at him in shock. He immediately realized that the Joker was an innate antisocial personality, and it was impossible to say that he had gone mad because of someone's persecution. Such a level of madness could not have been without innate factors.
As the principal of Xavier's School for Gifted Youngsters, Charles had seen many children with antisocial personalities, but most of them weren't quite like this... Charles didn't know how to describe it. If madness is a talent, the Joker's talent rivals Batman's.
Anyone would be terrified in the face of such madness, and Charles was no exception. He was glad he hadn't used his ability to access the other's brainwaves, but he didn't want any physical contact with him now either, so he took two steps back and looked warily at the frail child.
Even Eric frowned. He had seen many vicious people in the world, but the Joker was always an exception.
Just then, a group of people appeared behind Little Jack. Little Jack turned around to look, and a gun was pointed at his forehead.
"What do you want?" Little Jack asked.
“Come with us,” Schiller said.
“I’m not much meat on my bones,” Little Jack shook his head and said. “The man inside just died recently, but he was a drug addict, so I doubt you’d take him. If you really want one, I can take you to a healthy one. I’m a local, I know this area well.”
Schiller seemed intrigued. He said, "Do you know what we do?"
“You’re a corrupt cop, this guy must be a big boss, and this one… well, a poor little bastard. It’s a strange combination, but whoever you are, you’re in the slums looking for two things: prostitutes and human flesh. That guy just said he was an orphanage director, so he was probably looking for prostitutes, and you guys are obviously looking for human flesh.”
Charles thought Eric's use of prostitutes and human flesh was some kind of slang, but after Eric whispered a few words in his ear, Charles's face immediately turned ugly, and he even looked like he was about to vomit.
Schiller, of course, knew what he was referring to. Slums everywhere were like this; what else could the upper class be doing here scouting people? Regardless of wealth, anyone could win a genetic lottery like appearance, and organs were even less selective. Densely populated slums were the most stable source of these two things. If they managed to get some good stuff, they'd make a fortune; even if they didn't, they wouldn't lose anything. All the seemingly extraordinary big shots came here for these two things.
“Come with us,” Schiller repeated.
“You have a gun, so I’ll listen to you,” Little Jack said, then walked away with Schiller, seemingly indifferent.
Charles tried to struggle, taking a step forward, but Eric stopped him. Eric shook his head at him, and the two looked together at Doctor Strange's corpse on the ground.
Eric walked over, turned Doctor Strange's body over, pulled aside the clothes covering the wound, and his face darkened.
A first-time killer would never strike the heart with a steel rod; such a swift and precise technique requires dozens, even hundreds, of repetitions. This guy is far too dangerous.
Charles felt a chill run down his spine. He looked at the cabin again and suddenly realized that they might have been fooled from the beginning; the kid hadn't told a single truth.
That man wasn't his father, and this wasn't their home; it was just a location chosen by Jack to commit the crime.
The man lying in the house was over 1.9 meters tall and weighed over 180 pounds. The house was obviously built by himself, but the door was unusually small. Even a 1.8-meter-tall person had to hunch over and duck to walk through. Wouldn't a 1.9-meter-tall person get tired of walking like that every day?
Since the house was built by himself, he could have easily made a bigger door. The doors of the houses next to him are all different sizes, obviously customized according to his own size. Therefore, this could not have been the residence of the dead man.
As for the man not being Jack's father, that was deduced by Arkham Batman. He said, "It's almost impossible for a child to live with his father in the slums. The most stable birth rate here comes from prostitutes. You can't expect clients to raise children; most of the children are raised by prostitutes who are soft-hearted or had unsuccessful abortions. Besides, that guy has a long history of drug abuse. Long-term use of MDMA will significantly reduce sperm motility until he completely loses his fertility. He may have been unable to have children for at least 10 to 15 years, which doesn't match the Joker's age."
“He was able to do drugs for 15 years,” Constantine exclaimed, clearly focusing on something else entirely. “I’ve only been smoking for a little over a decade and I already have lung cancer.”
“The physical condition of Gotham people is incomparable to that of people in other cities. Their drug resistance is much stronger than that of people in other cities. That guy looks more like a retired gangster. Being able to be a gangster when you're young means you have a very good physique, which makes you even more resistant to drugs,” said Batman Arkham.
"So, does that mean I should go to Gotham for a smoke?"
"Once we get to Gotham, it'll be all about smoking you."
Soon everything went dark again, which meant the scene was over. This time the score was 2:1, but it couldn't be considered a lead, because this time it was their dream again, so it was normal for them to have an advantage.
Schiller also analyzed the victory: It was mainly because Charles's side didn't understand Gotham at all. Every seven or eight-year-old kid in Gotham is a tough nut to crack, and this isn't just limited to the slums; it includes the upper class as well. Gotham's upper class is just as dangerous. Didn't you see Bruce Wayne almost get shot?
Putting everything else aside, the drug concentration in Gotham's rainwater alone makes everyone a drug-resistant warrior. Anyone with a weaker constitution or who is intolerant simply won't survive long. And those who do survive will likely go insane due to various effects. If you're looking for innocent and adorable kids, you'll have to go to Metropolis next door; Gotham has none.
Jack, on the other hand, was born and raised in the slums. Apart from being a bit thin, he didn't have any major problems. He even had the strength to kill a retired gangster and kill Doctor Strange with a single blow. His only weakness was that he didn't have wings and couldn't fly.
To put it simply, if Batman and the Joker's feud had started when they were children, the Joker could have beaten Batman so badly he wouldn't recognize his own mother. It's like putting a carefully cultivated bacterium in a lab into a pot of moldy rice—it'll get slapped three times for every step it takes.
Charles should never have said he was the director of an orphanage. For most orphans in the world, meeting an orphanage director would indeed be good news, but only in Gotham, where 90% of orphanages are involved in human trafficking and the rest in organ trafficking, the director of an orphanage is basically someone who has drunk with the King of Hell and played cards with Death. If Gotham had a pantheon, his status would be roughly equivalent to Hades.
However, for Gotham orphans, being sold into slavery is actually good news; it's at least a path to upward mobility. But the Joker isn't an ordinary kid. He's been itching to unleash his rebellious spirit, and the slums aren't his shackles, they're his stage. He might have had a happier childhood there than Bruce Wayne. Of course, he wouldn't be happy if you tried to take him away.
“But why is that a nightmare for you?” Schiller asked.
Jack looked disgusted. "That was the most embarrassing time I've ever been. He vomited a little too early, and I didn't have time to dodge, so I got sprayed all over him. I still feel nauseous just thinking about it..."
As the darkness dissipated, the next dream gradually appeared before everyone's eyes. First, there was an extremely bright light, followed by a loud "bang," and a car spun out of control, slowly emitting black smoke. The figure in the driver's seat was left in an unknown state of mortal danger.
Marvel's advantage is that some people criticize me for nerfing DC.
DC's advantage is being criticized by some who think I'm nerfing Marvel.
Why don't you two have a fight? I'd love to watch.