Chapter-57 | Gotham's Evening Bell...

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In a dark alley, the faint reflection of the movement of the armor and the fog entwined.

In an instant, the gray fog condensed into a figure that stopped at the end of the alley, and the scuffling of armor stopped, and heavy footsteps, treading on the still-dry puddles made a soft sound like a proverbial death knell.

　　"Death knell?"

　　"That is indeed your death knell."

　　As soon as the words fell, the blade flashed, and Schiller instantly disappeared in place and reappeared behind the figure.

　　"Who is your employer?"

　　"That you don't need to know."

　　"It seems you are very confident in your business."

Schiller dodged two more darts with a flash, then faced the Deathstroke as he said.

　　"You're not supposed to kill me."

　　"I can kill anyone, as long as someone pays the price."

　　Schiller held out his hand, a flame igniting in his hand.

　　"Whoever your employer is, he's not paying you the right price."

　　Deathstroke was silent for less than a second and simply turned to leave.

　　"Indeed, goodbye."

　　"How would you treat an employer who cheats you?"

　　"Depends on the situation."

　　"Kill him and I'll pay."

　　"You don't have that much money."

　　"The richest man in the world settles the bill."

　　"Goodbye."

　　Schiller watched the figure in armor disappear in a few breaths at the end of Gotham's streets, thinking that his enemies were indeed somewhat capable of hiring Deathstroke to kill him.

A few consecutive flashes took a lot of Schiller's strength, and no car would drive in such a deep alley, so he planned to walk back slowly, and then call a car to pick him up when he got back to the church.

　　He turned out of an alley and came to the street, then he turned back and found that there seemed to be some movement in the deepest part of the street.

　　At that moment, Batman was standing in an unbelievably dilapidated, dark and narrow house.

The environment here was very bad, Batman had never been in such an unpleasant environment in his life.

It was the third floor, the windows were nailed shut, all the outer layers of the walls were peeling off, the house was incredibly damp, the floor was slippery stone tiles, all the furniture was not where they should be, and the rest of the place, all kinds of junk was strewn over.

The owner of the house saw Batman the unexpected guest, he froze for a moment, then lowered his head, looked at the surface of his feet, muttered a vague words, hunched over and turned around, picked up a shaker of salt and wanted to hand it to Batman.

Batman took the salt shaker, which was empty, there was nothing in it, and then the man waved his hand, as if expecting him to leave.

　　It was a dry, hunched old man with dark skin, eyes deeply sunken in their sockets, walking with a limp, and muttering some curse words under his breath.

　　It seems that the neighbor downstairs heard a commotion, poked his head out from the bottom of the stairs and said, "What do you want with this old guy? Who are you to him?"

　　"What's wrong with him?"

　　"What else could be wrong? Can't you see? He has Alzheimer's and now he doesn't know anyone at all, and even if you know him, he doesn't know you."

That neighbor, who couldn't see Batman's appearance from his angle and could only vaguely see a silhouette, said, "This old guy can't pay the rent, and every time the landlord comes, he gives the salt shaker to others. Maybe in his time, the salt shaker was still worth a lot of money, but there is nothing left in that salt shaker long ago."

"But it's lucky for him, his landlord seems to have died in the hands of the mob, this loft is not worth anything, killing him and collecting the corpse, so he survived until now."

"No matter who you are, you should leave him alone, he can only pick up a little garbage thrown downstairs to eat every day, however his upstairs moved out a few days ago, it is probable he will not live long."

After saying that, from downstairs came a "bang".

　　Batman held the salt shaker, he watched the hunched old man sat down in a chair, not saying a word, looking at the table, a little saliva from the corner of his mouth down.

　　He saw Louis's hands, they were very rough hands, almost all the knuckles were a little twisted from years of lifting heavy things, and the veins were clearly visible protruding from the dry palms.

　　"Are you Louis?"

　　There was no answer, except for Batman's own voice.

　　"Do you remember Thomas Wayne? Do you remember Martha?"

　　Batman felt his voice trembling.

　　An extreme anger rose from Batman's chest, and he squeezed that salt shaker with a creak.

　　His enemy did not remember all the innocent people he had hurt, and he just forgot all his crimes.

This is not a punishment for him, which precisely allows him to escape the reproach of his heart, Batman thought.

　　He asked Louis over and over again.

　　"Why don't you remember anything? You really do not remember the surname Wayne?! What about Edward? What about Falcone?"

　　Just as Batman said the surname Falcone, the aging Louis suddenly let out an odd scream, his mouth wide open, the long inactive jaws emitting a click-click-click sound.

He was trembling and fell off the chair, and kept screaming, throwing all the things he could grab at Batman, tears snot and saliva running down his face.

　　Batman saw the endless fear on his face.

　　Batman thought, Falcone did not lie to him, when he killed Leif, indeed scared a lot of people.

　　This included Louis.

Schiller walked to the end of the alley. He looked up where was a room on the third floor. The house had a dark figure with pointed ears.

He stood at the bottom of the building and waited for a while and saw Batman come out. Batman was a little surprised to see Schiller, but his mind was a tad sluggish right now.

Schiller looked at Batman, found that he was not injured, and there was little sign of a struggle with someone else.

　　Then his eyes fell on the salt shaker in Batman's hand.

　　Schiller did not know what it was, but it was clear that the Batman was in need of a confession, so before Schiller could ask, Batman told the whole story.

　　As they talked and walked, it was almost dawn when they passed by the church door, and Batman squeezed the salt shaker and said.

　　"He doesn't remember any of this."

　　Batman said this sentence, he was no longer angry but his tone had complex emotion contained.

　　"You said, he still remembers a person."

　　"Yes, he still remembers Falcone, why he does not remember Wayne, but remembers Falcone ..."

Schiller sighed as he looked away, then said, "Because of fear, because fear is the deepest and most ineradicable wound engraved in the human soul."

　　"He forgot everything but remembered fear, right?" Batman said.

At this time, it was the darkest hour before dawn, the kind of thick darkness that engulfed almost everything, and all the buildings were shrouded in shadow.

　　What soon jolted Batman out of his thoughts was the heavy chimes of Gotham Cathedral, the dull bells carried far, the sound waves as pervasive as the darkness, the tremors that could be felt even in the most gloomy and dark alleyways.

　　Fear, fear, Batman thought.

If he no longer can go to that era of events, that era to complete his true revenge, if the murderer he gave his all to catch, the object of his desire for vengeance, has completely forgotten all about it, leaving his heart full of anger and hatred all in vain.

Then he at least reminded Batman of one thing, that is, sometimes, more terrible than the death, is the lingering fear.

　　In that case, Batman thought, he would become a dark knight to all criminals in Gotham to bring endless fear.

　　Years ago, along with the death of his parents, is the shadow of the bat across the sky, years later, he will eventually bring the fear of bats, to all the criminals in the city.

Like this it infiltrates every street, every dark corner, the Gotham Church's evening bell.

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