DC: Rise of the Kryptonian Tyrant

Gotham.

In Gotham's night sky, there were always leaden clouds brewing overhead, constantly flickering with silvery-white lightning from within, illuminating the dark city below.

Tall, bizarre Gothic buildings loomed over the streets, their multi-colored neon signs flashing. Beneath the surface glitz, filth festered in the dark alleys.

The wind was chilly, swirling through the streets with a fine drizzle.

The dark clouds flashed with thunder, but it remained only a light rain. On one of the Gothic buildings, a signboard on the roof glowed under the lightning, the rain shimmering in the light. It painted a strangely romantic scene, slanting across the air.

There was also a trace of melancholy.

Gotham had always exuded a sense of desolation and dread.

Tap tap...

On the streets, there were office workers clutching briefcases, prostitutes carrying cheap bags, and startled passersby. People began to quicken their pace, splashing through puddles and wet leaves. Dirty water splashed up their pant legs as they dashed to eaves and convenience stores for shelter.

Along the sidewalk, the Gotham Daily, Evening News, and countless tabloids were soaked and plastered to the ground by the drizzle.

A single massive front-page photo displayed a smirking face—Bruce Wayne, the infamous playboy of Wayne Enterprises, featured more prominently than ever.

Oddly enough, it wasn't in Playboy Magazine, but in the most serious newspapers.

"Is Bruce Batman?"

"The Legendary Tale of Gotham: Is the Urban Legend Really the Playboy Bruce of Wayne Enterprises?"

"The Dark Bat That Soars Through the Night—Does He Prefer Gliding in Darkness Over Sleeping With Starlets?"

"The Dark Knight—Bruce Wayne's Alter Ego?"

"The Shocking True Identity of Batman!"

"From This Moment On, Bruce Wayne Becomes a Man of Mystery!"

Crack.

A bolt of lightning flashed in the sky, casting a pale glow over all of Gotham, shrouded in drizzle and gloom.

The entire city seemed steeped in a silent sorrow.

At that moment, a black shadow unfurled its wings in the sky. A tiny black dot glided with open arms above the city. Under the lightning's pale illumination, a bat-like silhouette was briefly reflected as it circled toward the Wayne Enterprises building, disappearing without entering.

It all seemed like an illusion.

"Look! Batman! It's Bruce Wayne!"

A young man, eyes blazing with excitement, pointed at the spot where the black shadow vanished, staring toward the towering Wayne Enterprises building.

However...

When others lifted their heads and looked toward the building, all they saw were grotesque gargoyles facing in all directions from atop Wayne Tower, standing guard over the structure.

No Batman in sight.

"Where's Batman?"

"You must've seen it wrong!"

"Hah! Bruce, that playboy, is Batman?"

"I don't believe those sensationalist headlines."

"To boost sales, these papers will publish anything. You can't even trust a symbol anymore."

"Why... why couldn't Batman be Bruce?"

"You think that rich boy has time for that?"

"Last I saw, he was on the cover of Playboy #58, spending the night with my favorite actress, Jenny."

"That proves nothing."

"Exactly. It doesn't prove Bruce Wayne is Batman."

"But it doesn't disprove it either."

"Every newspaper in the city's saying it."

"In at least four issues, the Gotham Evening News and other outlets listed the Elliott, Kane, and Cobblepot families as potential matches by profile... and then landed on the Wayne family."

"Ha, just right for Gotham's four founding families."

"You...! I believe Bruce Wayne is Batman!"

"Young man, wake up. Rich people aren't that bored."

"In this crap weather, if I were rich, I'd have two actresses in a warm bed."

"Bruce Wayne wouldn't be so bored as to turn into a bat, sneaking through the sewers and gliding through the sky."

"The corruption and luxury of the rich... you couldn't even imagine! Damn it. It's freezing, we're hiding under an awning after work, freezing our balls off, and he's probably under a blanket with a secretary and a movie star, living it up."

"Why... why is life so unfair..."

"I'm so jealous of Bruce Wayne. He was born at the finish line. All that's left is to enjoy capitalism's finest pleasures."

"He's experienced everything life has to offer."

"Maybe it's precisely because he's experienced it all that he became Batman. The Dark Knight. The embodiment of Gotham's pain. Maybe he's determined to protect and purify the city."

"Isn't he part of one of the founding families? Gotham was built by those four families. Maybe he's just protecting his own city."

"That must be it!"

"Batman is protecting his city!"

"He must have a righteous heart. To change Gotham, he became Batman, the Dark Knight, waging war against crime in the shadows."

"Ha ha…"

"Young people are passionate. But once you've got money and all the pleasures that come with it, you'll understand."

"You...!"

Under the eaves, the young man who claimed to have seen Batman now stood red-faced with anger. Around him, women in business suits and flashy clothes scoffed at him, offering no support.

Only a few other young people beside him continued to argue, trading words with the older "working-class folks" nearby.

But in the end, the young ones were dismissed and looked down upon. These "social veterans" shook their heads, sighing as if they had already seen through the corruption of the world, mocking the passion of youth with cynical grins.

The young men looked ready to throw punches at these smug, dismissive people.

Bang bang bang bang…

Suddenly, the sharp clatter of machine gunfire erupted. Muzzle flashes lit up the darkness.

"What are you all bickering about?! Back against the wall, hands up, hand over all your money!"

Several men in black, their faces covered in red hoods, stormed toward them with machine guns.

"Go to hell!"

The young man who had been arguing the loudest pulled a pistol from his waistband and fired at the approaching Red Hood.

In Gotham, who dares walk the streets at night without a gun?

Nearly everyone nearby pulled out firearms. Pistols hidden in briefcases, strapped to thighs under skirts. The supermarket owner ducked behind the counter, grabbing a shotgun and firing without hesitation.

What began as a robbery turned instantly into a violent shootout.

Gunpowder smoke filled the air. In the rain and darkness, the light from the gunfire burned like flares in the night.

(To be continued.)