Chapter 200: We Have a Traitor

Solomon Islands.

Pennsylvania City.

In a basement in the slums.

The basement was fairly large, illuminated by yellow lights, and crowded with six people.

Barry, Bruce, Constantine, Hal, Victor, and an Indonesian Javanese man over fifty years old, with graying temples and deep wrinkles on his face—Jacopo.

He was the one helping them with his solid medical knowledge.

Previously, while fleeing from Barmulodi's pursuit, Bruce brought Jacopo and a few others to test Bardi, to gauge how much Bardi knew about the future, how much he knew about the Justice League, and how many heroes existed in this future world.

Bruce believed that Bardi possessed knowledge of a certain future. From the way he preemptively set up his plans, he seemed to know about heroes and villains in advance, dealing with them first by drawing them in, killing them, or manipulating them into his control.

However, he only seemed to know the general outlines of most heroes and villains.

Over the years, Bruce had collected much information about Bardi through clues, speculation, and tests.

The future that Bardi knew clearly wasn't as detailed and meticulous as the future Bruce had access to through his own memories.

Otherwise, there was no way they could still hide across the globe under Bardi's surveillance.

After all, in the comics, Bruce never did something like urinating for realism, nor were there any depictions of a "real" Bruce helping out morally ambiguous characters.

That realization woke Bruce up—Barmulodi didn't truly know the future, only the stories of the characters.

Those background-like characters who never appeared in the comics became Bruce's safe harbor and source of help.

Jacopo was one of them. In the future, Batman had passed through Indonesia and helped Jacopo rescue his granddaughter from human traffickers, earning his deep gratitude.

Now the roles were reversed. Bruce and the others had helped him deal with gang threats and, in turn, received his gratitude and temporary shelter.

At that moment—

A bright yellow light filled the entire basement.

Bruce was wrapped in bandages from head to toe. His eyes were red, swollen, and already blind. He lay on a wooden bed that reeked of decay. He was unconscious, his brow tightly furrowed, occasionally groaning in pain through clenched teeth.

On the other side, Constantine was also unconscious, though his injuries weren't nearly as severe. Strictly speaking, his understanding of magic made him far stronger than an ordinary person, but right now he was tied up with hemp rope like a dumpling.

"His spinal nerves were severely compressed. The trauma traveled up to the point where his brain connected with the nerves in his lower body. His internal organs are also badly damaged. Honestly, his will to survive is incredible. He should wake up soon, but... his lower body might not move again. In the worst case, he could end up paralyzed or even become vegetative."

Jacopo gently shook his head, the dark wrinkles on his face tightening as he spoke.

For a moment, the stuffy basement was filled with a suffocating, unbearable silence.

Barry remained silent, staring at Bruce on the bed. His heart ached. Bruce had taken all the pain to protect him.

"Damn it!"

Hal punched the wall in fury. With a loud bang, the lights flickered, his knuckles turned red, and dust trickled from the cracks in the wall.

"We should've used the exoskeleton armor on Bruce! We couldn't locate Aquaman and barely escaped being tracked by that damned 'dog nose.'"

Hal's eyes blazed with anger as he gritted his teeth.

They had acted separately from Bruce and Bardi, but their mission hadn't gone well. The emergence of Atlantis and Themyscira had drawn too much attention. Opportunities were scarce, and they had nearly been caught by Bardi's men.

With Bardi's tight net of pursuit, they had been struggling, humiliated. Now Bruce was in this condition, and Hal's anger exploded.

"Calm down! Bruce will be fine!"

Victor's face darkened. He placed a large hand on Hal's shoulder.

Bruce's condition weighed heavily on everyone. Though they had prepared to face darkness, the reality still hit hard.

"Damn it!!"

Hal angrily shook off Victor's hand.

His eyes then shifted toward the one lying not far from Bruce—the supposed culprit. Furious, Hal took two quick steps and punched Constantine in the leg, causing the swelling to intensify.

"OW!!"

The pain jolted Constantine awake. His eyes widened, his face twisted as he sucked in sharp breaths. His bound body arched involuntarily. His body had only just begun to magically repair itself, but Hal's blow caused his bones to creak as if about to snap, sending waves of pain through him.

"He's not the same John anymore. Hitting him won't help."

Barry's face was somber, grieving both for the former hero and for Bruce's condition.

"I don't care!!"

Hal ignored him and roared, unable to hold in his anguish. He raised his fist again and struck Constantine in the stomach.

Bang!

With a thud, Constantine, tied to the bed, bent like a shrimp. His stomach twitched. He had been healing with magic, but the blow only intensified the pain and worsened the injury.

Barry and Victor didn't interfere. They had all been under immense pressure for a long time. With Bruce lying like that, their emotions were on edge. Even they wanted to beat up Constantine to vent.

So, apart from Jacopo widening his eyes in shock as Hal lashed out, no one else moved. They all knew Hal wouldn't kill him.

"No... I'm still your beloved John!"

Constantine finally couldn't take it anymore. All sense of decorum vanished. His stomach spasmed, and he vomited up a mouthful of yellow bile.

He dry-heaved, disgusted and nauseous, curling up even tighter.

As Hal raised his fist for another blow, his face angrier than before, Constantine's expression suddenly turned serious.

"I actually admire you rebels," he said firmly.

"Why does Barmulodi have thirty-one top-tier secretaries, all kinds of black lace, white lace, and girls in uniforms seductively flirting? It's outrageous, absolutely enviable. Secretaries, man!"

"Why is he Time Magazine's 'Most Outstanding Man'? The guy women want to spend the night with the most? Number one?! I'm just as handsome. Are they blind?"

"He has everything—beauty, wealth, money, power, status, looks. A man who possesses the entire world is the natural enemy of all men."

"It's infuriating. I've always had a problem with him!"

"I completely understand your fragile, jealous male pride."

"I've decided to join your resistance!"

Constantine declared righteously, bile still at the corners of his mouth, glaring seriously as he spoke with stern conviction.

Sure enough, after those words—

Hal's raised fist froze midair, his angry expression stiffened.

He turned to look at Barry, eyes clearly asking, Are you serious? Is this really that damned John???

"Oh, is that so? We're in need of people like you."

A low voice came from Bruce.

He had just regained consciousness. Sensing the joy and surprise of his companions around him, Bruce added, "Don't worry. I'm fine. I just can't move my lower body, and I'm blind. My internal organs are displaced, and a few bones are broken."

(To be continued.)

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