There is no Batman in Gotham City comics.

Chapter 72 Trial

Turn the clock hands back ten minutes to when Dave fired the first shot.

Sparks from the shotgun ignited a section of floorboards soaked in liquor. Normally, the flames would extinguish once the alcohol burned out, but whether by accident or the workings of fate, the party banner on the ceiling just happened to fall off.

Tassels hung down, and fire snakes climbed up the banner, quickly igniting the entire ceiling.

"Jason! It's you..."

Dave gritted his teeth, his contorted face shifting several times in just a few seconds.

He couldn't understand how the quiet, bullied boy at school had become like this, what was the deal with the blood-stained hood, and what was the deal with that strange armored vehicle.

Who exactly is this person?!

"Dave, do you know what? In the past two years, you've punched me more times than I've ever been in my entire life."

"Before I put on this red hood, many people died at my hands: corrupt cops, serial killers, human organ trafficking organizations, drug dealers, robbers, and kidnappers."

"These guys were either tall and strong, or ruthless and vicious, but without exception, I killed them all without much effort. Do you know why?"

Jason held his head high, his eyes reflecting the firelight.

He put on red fingerless motorcycle gloves, clenched his fist like a mortar and pestle, and the crackling sound of his knuckles grinding together was like the sound of a pestle grinding Dave's skull.

Dave didn't respond, but Jason continued talking to himself.

"I am the king of the East District, the last defender of this dirty, muddy place."

King of the East District?

If someone had said such nonsense to Dave half an hour ago, he would have laughed at their naivety. But now, the burning villa, the menacing red hood, everything was proving one thing to him.

Jason wasn't joking.

"God, damn it! You're the leader of the Red Hoods?!"

Dave rubbed his temples and shook his head.

He had originally thought he was the one who had overdosed on drugs and lost his mind, but now Jason's level of madness was even greater than his.

Instead of staying in the Lower District, the leader of the Red Hood team got into Gotham University with excellent grades. Dave felt his luck had really hit rock bottom; it was like trying to rob someone but ending up hitting the Avengers—it was just unbelievably bad luck!

But he wasn't prepared to kneel down and repent; no matter how strong Jason was, he was still just a mortal.

Dave licked his lips, his gaze secretly drifting towards the door on the left.

Suddenly he bent down and rushed towards the door.

Jason, of course, noticed Dave's subtle glance and shifted his body to block his path.

But little did anyone know that Dave's purpose was not to escape at all. Just as he was about to crash into Jason's arms, he displayed agility that a fat man should not have. He twisted his body, rolled on the ground, and grabbed the shotgun that he had previously thrown away.

The bullet was already loaded; all that was needed was to pull the trigger, and Jason's body would be riddled with holes more densely than the cheese holes.

Dave, a sinister smile playing on his lips, raised the barrel of his gun...

boom!

A shot rang out, the shotgun fell to the ground, and Dave stared at the mangled base of his fingers, his thoughts a jumbled mess. Three fingers were smashed; now only his thumb and little finger remained on his right hand.

"You don't think I'd come to visit you empty-handed, do you?" Jason pointed his gun directly at Dave.

"Jason...Jason Todd...Ah!" The belated pain gradually became clear. Dave murmured the other's name, clutching the wound and burying his head in his chest.

Having lost all support and with all escape routes blocked, the arrogant fellow finally tasted the bitterness of fear amidst excruciating pain.

"I was wrong...it was my fault...but you...but you can't kill me...an eye for an eye, you can hit me...humiliate me the way I humiliated you...but you have no right to kill me...no right!"

As he recounted Jason's brutality, Dave's shoulders trembled, tears and snot streaming down his face. He was sobbing, but it was hard to tell whether it was from fear or pain.

The fire raged on, engulfing the entire villa in intense heat. The wooden furniture crackled and popped as it was scorched by the flames.

Jason desperately wanted to kill Dave, but Dave's sophistry did indeed strike at his weak spot.

So far, all those who have died at the hands of Jason Red Hood have been heinous criminals. If he wanted to be himself, he would have no reason to harm Dave.

The other party did indeed bully me, but their crime did not warrant death.

Watching Jason's departing figure, Dave peeked out from his chest with a sinister grin on his face.

What would he do? Like most villains, shoot him in the back and then give the merciful protagonist a plausible motive for killing him?

No, no, no, no! That's not like him.

The most urgent task is to escape the burning villa. As long as he can get through this safely, he can settle his score with Jason later.

Background, wealth, and a blood relation to the Elliott family—any one of these factors would be more than enough to deal with a Red Hood.

"King of the East...you're nothing but scum!"

……

Jason saw a floating body in the pool.

His heart tightened, and he quickly jumped into the pool.

But when he saw the gruesome, blooming bloodstains on the tiles, he realized that he was not the culprit behind the killing.

Someone grabbed the poor guy's head and slammed it against the tiles repeatedly.

He turned the body over, and Mar's pale face came into view.

Jason had some recollection of this guy, Dave's sidekick, who was also from the East Side.

Whenever Dave bullied him, Mal would always lower his head and hide at the back.

Perhaps he recognized Jason, or perhaps he was simply cowardly, but this guy never made a move, nor did he try to hype up the crowd like the other henchmen. He would only let out a few dry laughs when Dave gave him a warning look.

He possesses all the qualities of an ordinary person: his evil is not thorough, and his good is not pure.

They are the most cowardly perpetrators and the most pitiful victims in the world.

……

Black dust fell from the ceiling. Dave, leaning on his hunting rifle, dragged his battered body step by step outside.

The gate was getting closer and closer; he was just one step away from escaping.

But just as he was about to succeed, a large hand reached out from outside the door and grabbed his hair.

Dave looked up in alarm, his eyes reflecting Jason's ferocious rage.

"Did you kill Mal?"

"Mar? No, no, no... I didn't kill him!"

Jason's fist landed on Dave's cheek without hesitation, a punishment for a liar.

In slow motion, Dave's face ripples like gel jelly, his eyes bulge, his lips are split, his cheekbones are deformed, and his loose teeth bounce around in his half-open mouth like marbles.

For a moment, Dave thought he had crashed into a speeding truck.

He screamed and flew backward, sliding six or seven feet across the ground.

With difficulty, he opened his swollen eyes and saw Jason in the red hood holding a shotgun barrel as if he were holding a baseball bat.

"What...do you want to do...?"

Dave was terrified, Dave was uneasy, Dave didn't know why Jason had returned.

"You're right, Dave. An eye for an eye. At first, I didn't have the right to kill you, but now you've given me a reason, a reason I can't refuse!"

Jason's eyes blazed with fury as he spat at the guy on the ground.

"To be honest, I don't like him. What do people say about Mal? Dave's lackey, the traitor of the East Side, but that doesn't mean you can do whatever you want with him."

"It really isn't..."

Jason stomped on Dave's face, silencing his mouth full of lies.

"Stop lying! Guess where the flesh and blood under Mar's fingernails came from, and how did those scratches on your chest appear? Now let me guess how you killed him! Grabbing his hair and slamming his head against the wall! Did you really enjoy dying with a fractured skull?!"

Jason roared, swung the barrel of his gun, and slammed it down on Dave's head.

"Dave, you have no right to judge him either!!"

a bit!

Two!

Three times!

Until blood splattered all over the hood, until Dave's fingers stopped twitching.