Chapter 245: Batman Vs. Superman And The Magic Pill Kid
“Splash, splash~”
Cold rainwater mercilessly washed over the muddy ground of the abandoned industrial zone.
Nightfall dyed everything in gray tones.
Metropolis and Gotham City were separated by only a bay, but tonight, this abandoned industrial zone dividing the two cities had become the battlefield where a deity and a mortal were about to clash.
“Over there!”
Jordan Kent’s super hearing, like an out-of-control precision instrument, focused all attention on the battlefield several blocks away the instant the explosion sounded.
Chaotic screams, crumbling gravel, roaring flames… these sounds mixed together, yet none could drown out those two core voices. One was the familiar voice of his father—Clark Kent, or rather, Superman— a muffled grunt filled with pain and confusion.
The other was like sandpaper scraping rusted steel, low and hoarse, filled with undisguised hostility and a nearly paranoid cruelty and ruthlessness.
It was Batman.
Both men were much younger than the faces Jordan knew. The distant scene stabbed into Jordan’s mind like icicles, making his blood surge in reverse instantly.
“What happened!” Through layers of rain curtains and building obstructions, Jordan saw exactly what had occurred at the site of the explosion, sound, and questioning.
In fact.
The time point of their arrival was not some random event. The Weeping Angels had already selected the time most likely to trigger timeline changes for “nutrients.”
And this time.
Was the time of Batman and Superman’s first direct confrontation.
Right as the DC trio fell into this era.
In the distance.
Rainwater continuously poured over rusted steel and cracked concrete.
The ground was muddy and impassable, the air filled with the stench of rust, dust, and rainwater. Empty warehouses and factories stood like huge black tombstones in the dim night.
Bruce Wayne, transformed into Batman, had already set up a dragnet in that place. He was not blindly challenging a deity, but had formulated a detailed god-slaying plan based on analysis of Kryptonian power and profound fear of “if Superman turns evil, humanity has no chance of winning.”
Kryptonite was his only overt and fatal trump card.
Clark Kent arrived here with confusion and anger. Superman crashed down like a meteor, the powerful impact shaking the ground’s puddles and sending water splashing everywhere.
Mud splattered outward like bullets.
“Batman! It’s time! Your scare tactics are over.”
“Hand over your detainees to the police. And take off your mask… then surrender. Think about your family… your friends. Don’t let me see you on the streets at night again.” He was enraged by Batman’s vigilante justice methods, especially the bat brand burned onto criminals.
In Superman’s view, it was absolutely a symbol of barbarism and danger.
Both men were in their youth now.
They disliked each other, distrusted, and did not recognize each other’s justice.
Cold rainwater pounded rusted steel and muddy ground. Superman stood tall in the rain curtain with his soaked red cape, his sharp eyes scanning Batman in the shadows.
“Heh.”
Facing Superman’s warning, Batman did not respond, merely continuing his steady advance, each step splashing heavily in the puddles.
“Boom~”
The bomb ambushing Superman exploded.
However.
Superman was unscathed, just annoyed.
“I won’t warn you a third time.”
Superman’s tone grew heavier, carrying the weight of an ultimatum.
Just as the two were extremely close.
Batman stopped.
His heavy, angular armor made him look even bulkier and more oppressive than usual.
The King of Gotham’s gaze under the mask locked onto Superman, his mechanically synthesized voice carrying cold mockery and resolute challenge, breaking the silence of the rainy night.
Rainwater flowed along his helmet’s pointed ears and the contours of his shoulder armor.
Facing Superman’s questioning, he showed no retreat, instead stepping forward, his mechanically synthesized voice transmitting through the mask, full of mockery and resolve.
“Tell me… do you bleed?”
This sentence was like the horn of war.
It was not just a question, but a declaration—a mortal’s challenge to a deity about power, fear, and the right to survival.
Superman was clearly thoroughly enraged by this blatant provocation. Without further words, his body launched like a cannonball, with a sonic boom tearing through the air.
One fist smashed toward Batman!
“Bang!!!”
A heavy thud.
The punch solidly hit Batman’s crossed blocking arms. The armor’s defense system overloaded instantly, sparking electrical fireworks.
“Boom!” Batman was sent sliding back over ten meters by this unmatched force, his feet plowing two deep furrows in the mud.
If not for the armor absorbing most of the impact, this punch would have shattered his bones. But this was part of Batman’s plan. Using the armor’s buffering and the muddy ground, he barely dissipated some force, while sensors hidden throughout the armor frantically collected data on Superman’s speed and strength.
“You just don’t know when to quit, do you.”
Superman did not pause.
He closed in again.
At a speed too fast for the naked eye.
“Bang bang bang!” The invincible Kryptonian grabbed Batman like a puppet, easily lifting him and smashing him viciously into the steel frame of a nearby abandoned factory!
“Boom! Crack!”
Steel beams twisted, bricks collapsed. Batman was buried under a pile of rubble.
At this moment, Superman hovered in mid-air, rain hitting his face, coldly watching the ruins, perhaps thinking the fight was over.
Even for Batman.
Superman would not kill him.
However, he spoke again, his voice carrying the weight of a deity’s judgment: “Next time I see you, know what it means to yield and endure.”
It was clear young Clark was still sharp-edged and domineering, but his response was a cold laugh from the ruins’ shadows.
And a sudden blinding flash!
“You think you’ve won?”
Batman looked battered, but had a look of confidence.
“Ugh!”
Superman’s vision was disrupted by the sudden flash.
He instinctively turned his head.
In that instant’s opening, Batman moved!
He burst from shadows on the other side, now holding a strangely shaped large firearm—a sonic cannon!
“Buzz—!!!”
High-frequency sound waves hit like an invisible hammer.
This attack was not physical but targeted senses and balance. Superman let out a pained grunt, clutching his ears in agony.
His body swayed in the air, temporarily losing control. This was the first major loss Superman suffered at Batman’s hands, due to not yet knowing him well.
“Arrogance is your original sin!”
Batman seized the chance, throwing several batarangs with his other hand. These darts were not ordinary metal; as they neared Superman, they burst, releasing thick white smoke—lead powder! The lead powder perfectly blocked Superman’s X-ray vision, stripping his ability to scan the battlefield and find enemies.
In an instant.
Superman went from lofty deity.
To a “mortal” lost in smoke, senses restricted.
“Where!?”
His ears became Superman’s only reliable sense.
He had not yet unlocked idealism mode.
In the smoke, Superman staggered to the ground, trying to dispel the surrounding lead powder, but his vision and senses were severely disrupted. Batman moved like a true ghost, using grapple gun to zip high-speed between steel frames under lead powder cover, harassing and attacking with sonic cannon, tasers, and small explosives.
“Damn it! Come out!” Superman swung fists in fury, heat vision firing wildly, hitting nothing or scorching walls and steel.
He was like a lion trapped in a cage, full of power but nowhere to unleash it. Batman’s tactics were clear: wear down, disrupt, enrage, force errors.
Finally, Batman got his awaited chance. In an instant when Superman stiffened from sonic attack, Batman swung down from above, using falling momentum to lasso Superman’s neck with special alloy rope, yanking him to the ground!
“Urgh!”
Superman was slammed hard into the muddy water.
Batman followed down.
Mounting Superman, knee pinning his chest to hinder breathing and exertion. He drew his meticulously crafted weapon.
The kryptonite spear tip glowing eerie green!
His earlier close restraint of Superman also relied on kryptonite! Though this alien stuff was extremely expensive, he was a rich man without a son yet.
“You… are not a god.”
Batman’s voice was ice-cold and cruel, declaring victory.
He raised the kryptonite spear, poised to stab! The green glow irradiated Superman up close, bringing cellular breakdown and indescribable agony.
“Hiss~”
Superman let out a desperate, pained hiss, blood on his face blurring under rain, struggling but strength ebbing like a tide. The kryptonite glow was like the most vicious curse, pulling him from the altar to mortality, experiencing ultimate weakness and near-death fear.
And at this critical moment.
An important historical node in the DC universe was about to occur.
The famous Martha Incident was about to happen.
“No!!!”
Distant Jordan, witnessing his father’s humiliation and life threat, had rage shatter his reason—how could it not? His god-like father was being repeatedly smashed in the face by a burly Batman!
The metal-wrapped fists thudding on flesh terrified him more than any thunder, stimulating his already severe manic disorder.
Ian might not be mentally ill in the conventional sense.
But Jordan really… had proof from over thirty hospitals.
Witnessing his father’s humiliation and near-death contrasted cruelly with the omnipotent, hope-bringing, safe image in his memory.
Anger, fear, protectiveness… all emotions surged, breaching his rational dam.
“Let him go!!!”
Jordan appeared instantly in the fight area, eyes turning crimson in a flash, two hot heat vision beams like uncontrolled volcanic lava.
“Boom!”
Terrifying power burst unpredictably from his eyes, slicing the rainy night with destructive energy, precisely striking Batman’s chest armor.
“Boom—!!!”
The massive impact was terrifying.
Jordan’s appearance also caught Batman off guard.
He was hit like by a high-speed train, his heavy armor emitting teeth-grinding metal twisting sounds!
“Bang! Bang! Bang!”
Batman was blasted airborne backward.
Like a boulder hurled by a trebuchet.
He smashed through several abandoned factory walls, finally buried in building rubble amid collapsing bricks and roaring dust.
“Jordan! You’re intervening in the past! How could you be so impulsive!”
Jonathan, arriving right after, exclaimed. His speed was not slow either, even carrying Damian—he was just one step late, after all, the DC universe’s first Armor Hero.
“He’s fine… we’re just witnessing history.”
The Kent family’s eldest brother first warily glanced at Batman’s flight direction, then quickly crouched to check the weakened, unconscious Superman on the ground.
Confirming his young father was just temporarily exhausted and unconscious with no life threat, Jonathan sighed in relief, then turned to Jordan, whose chest heaved violently, red glow not fully faded from his eyes.
“I remember Father told us all about this past event; it won’t have much impact, but your actions just now clearly affect normal historical development.”
Jonathan’s tone held a hint of reproach and helplessness.
He clearly knew a great deal about such matters.
No one knew why.
“I just regret not smashing that guy’s head!”
Jordan was still grinding his teeth.
“Hit the head? Got it! Got it, I know best how to hit heads!” Damian Wayne’s face glowed with excitement and “filial piety.”
He nimbly jumped over scattered bricks, precisely finding Batman who had struggled up from the rubble, armor badly damaged, somewhat dazed.
“Behold my signature move!”
Then, under Jonathan and Jordan’s stunned gazes, Damian did something chilling—he ran up, jumped, and with full force, stomped his tactical boot precisely into Batman’s crotch!
That is, his so-called “little head down there”!
Hitting which head isn’t hitting a head?
The force looked seriously damaging!
Batman in armor truly hadn’t considered Superman kicking his crotch!
“Aaaah!”
His pain turned to howling.
Don’t even mention experiencing it.
Just seeing his reaction hurt.
“Holy shit!” Jordan and Jonathan said in unison, a chill rushing from tailbone to scalp. That kick was ruthless, absolute!
Even with soft armor protection, Batman was careless, didn’t dodge; his just-risen body curled again, face under the mask surely marvelous.
“Enough, enough!” Seeing Superman’s breathing steady, Jordan’s anger subsided mostly; seeing Damian poised for more, he quickly stopped him. Even he thought Damian too filial, couldn’t bear watching, imagining years of pent-up power in that kick.
After all, that was Batman, who gave Jonathan and Jordan red envelopes as kids.
“Mm.”
Damian finally stopped reluctantly, even clapping his hands like he’d done something great. He justified: “See, I avenged you guys, actually saved him… definitely not because I learned from idol’s Twitter paid course.”
“On how to ensure you’re Wayne Enterprises’ sole heir.” Damian even felt like a good son, though the excuse was a bit too cover-up.
“Oh, right, had I been born yet at this time?” Damian even tilted his head pondering this philosophical question. His performance showed such “filial” depth that even Satan as a kid would binge-watch and learn “father kind, son filial.”
“…”
Jonathan ignored Damian’s nonsense, gravely watching unconscious Superman and distant immobilized Batman, recalling: “I remember Old Man said he and Batman fought badly when they first met… is this it?”
The three youths were temporarily immersed in “saving” Father but anxious about possibly changing history; however, this time they were too careless.
When did Batman ever talk martial honor?
He was just playing dead.
Opportunity spotted.
As the three relaxed vigilance, sudden change!
“Whoosh—!”
Several small bat drones emerged silently from shadows like ghosts, instantly firing special alloy ropes that swiftly bound Jonathan.
His Shiva armor flashed, resisting, but the ropes seemed to have energy suppression, temporarily quelling the armor’s activity.
This was gear against Wonder Woman’s divine power.
It worked on Shiva’s power too.
Similarly effective.
“Let go of me!” The drones’ strong pull yanked Jonathan off the ground toward the gloomy sky; he struggled but couldn’t break free immediately.
Almost simultaneously, a crossbow bolt whistled toward Jordan! Jordan instinctively tried heat vision to intercept, but as it neared, it burst.
A massive green kryptonite powder cloud enveloped him like a smoke bomb!
“Urgh—!” Jordan cried out in agony, kryptonite powder inhaled into his lungs, indescribable weakness and pain overwhelming him; legs buckled, he knelt in mud, trembling, unable even to stand. For Damian, who struck hardest and most directly, Batman’s “return gift” was heaviest.
“Zzz~”
A high-strength composite net with high-voltage current dropped from above, precisely covering Damian. Blue arcs crackled; before he could react more, he was electrocuted numb, like hyperactive disorder—Yang Yongxing Lai’d see this treatment and call it pro.
Not just feeling ascension from shock, Damian was tightly bound by the net into a solid dumpling, unable to struggle—everything happened in a flash. The three youths who just had the “upper hand” were instantly wiped out.
Bang… bang… bang…
Heavy footsteps sounded in the rain, carrying suffocating pressure. The black figure slowly rose from smoke, dust, and rain curtain.
His armor was damaged in many places, chest bat emblem cracked, gait stiff and pained, but he stood.
Like a vengeful soul returned from hell.
“Another Kryptonian, and a divine power wielder.” Batman ignored airborne Jonathan, barely glanced at writhing Jordan, his cold mask gaze like swords piercing Damian, the only one still barely conscious and meeting his eyes, bound like a dumpling.
“Tap tap tap~” Batman approached step by step, each matching Damian’s heartbeat, the intangible pressure thickening the air.
Finally, he stopped before Damian, looming over the youth who had just inflicted serious physical and mental trauma on him.
“Who… are you?”
Batman’s voice through the mask was more piercing than the cold rain, no longer just battle fury but added deep judgment.
“Don’t… don’t.” Damian looked up at this seemingly stranger Batman full of destructive aura, heart pounding wildly.
He had never felt such direct terror from Bruce Wayne, the predator-stared, life-out-of-control sensation making him first feel subtle, indescribable empathy for Gotham villains chased and beaten by Batman.
But this was just the start.
Batman raised his foot, the heavy, mud-and-battle-stained battle boot, in Damian’s terrified gaze, viciously, insultingly stomping his face!
“Urgh!”
Massive force twisted Damian’s cheek instantly, teeth scraping mouth walls, bloody taste spreading. Rain and mud mixed.
Smearing one eye.
“Tell me, or I don’t mind digging out your brain for the information.” The ice-cold, cruel voice like final judgment came from above.
This was Damian’s utterly unfamiliar father.
The facial pressure and twisting pain were nothing compared to Damian’s inner shock. Pinned in mud, that battle boot seemed not on his face but shattering his past decade-plus understanding of “father.”
“No! No! Stop!”
Seeing Batman like he’d twist off his skull any moment, Damian trembled, the devil-child youth gone.
“I! I’m a Wayne too! My dad is Bruce Wayne!”
Good grief.
Martha Incident might be gone.
But… Wayne Incident’s emergence still made Batman halt.
“??????”
Perhaps the shock of “my mom is also Martha” was less than “my dad is Bruce Wayne,” evident from Batman’s frozen stiffness and wildly contracting pupils.
The downpour continued.
