Marvel Comics: Starting with the Ability to Replicate Superhuman Talents

“Dididididud~”

The red and blue lights on the roof of the car flickered into the car, reflecting Bruce's uncertain face.

The roaring police car was driving on the circular mountain road, and the two policemen were laughing and discussing which brothel they should go to after get off work to hang out and enjoy themselves.

Bruce's eyes gradually became firm.

He couldn't be taken back to the police station, he couldn't reveal his identity.

"Stop the car and let me out." Bruce said slowly. To be honest, if a normal person had lost so much blood, he might have fallen into a coma. However, the super strong willpower and the scene of two fingers and a gun he saw before Leaving Bruce to miraculously straighten up.

The black police officer sitting in the passenger seat turned his head and warned Bruce with his eyes: "Hey, you'd better sit still!"

but.

The moment the black policeman turned his head, Bruce opened his hands and lunged towards the front seat.

"Bang!"

His hands clasped the steering wheel and twisted suddenly.

The two black policemen were frightened and wanted to stop Bruce: "Oh, damn, you madman!"

As the steering wheel moved to the right, the police car that was going straight veered off the road, staggered off the road like a drunken man, and fell down the slope.

boom!

The overturned police car slowly came to a stop after hitting a big tree.

Bruce kicked the broken window and climbed out of the police car on his hands and knees.

There was a strong smell of gasoline in my nostrils.

Bruce was silent for a moment, but he still dragged his seriously injured body to rescue the two policemen from the car.

boom!

There was another explosion, and the flowing gasoline burned and exploded instantly when it encountered flames, sending black smoke straight into the sky.

Bruce dragged his seriously injured body away and walked away.

He had to leave here and find a way to save himself.

The covered wound was oozing with blood.

Bruce gasped for air.

He took out his cell phone.

result.

The broken screen and fuselage of the mobile phone declared that the mobile phone was scrapped.

The vision in front of me gradually blurred.

"Click, click."

It seemed to be the sound of boots stepping on branches.

Bruce turned his head with difficulty.

In the endless woods, under the cover of the moonlight, he saw the strange figure again.

The other party stood under a towering locust tree, and then, an arm stretched out into the darkness.

The gentle moonlight illuminated the suit and fell on the mysterious man's right hand.

The hand was holding a phone.

Although he couldn't see the person's true face clearly, Bruce could tell that the other person was in a good mood.

He played with the phone and looked at Bruce with a playful look.

then,

He was throwing the mobile phone with the white glove on his right hand like a superior god.

A brand new mobile phone traced a beautiful arc in the moonlight and landed on the empty grass two hundred meters away from Bruce.

It was like a light called "hope" falling not far away from Bruce.

After doing all this, the other party stepped towards the depths of darkness.

"Wait a minute!" Bruce dug his fingers into the soil with both hands. He supported his upper body and roared angrily.

He wanted to find out the true identity of the mysterious man, but that figure gradually disappeared into the moonlight.

The feeling of weakness swept through the whole body again.

Bruce could only put down the idea of ​​exploring the true identity of the mysterious man. He used his hands and legs together, like an anesthetized patient who had just stepped out of the hospital bed.

Pain and fatigue continued to sweep through his body, and the man didn't know how long he had been crawling.

Until I grabbed the brand-new touch-tone mobile phone and pressed the button to dial the number of the housekeeper Afu.

After informing the other party of his location, the tight thread in Bruce's mind finally broke.

He rolled his eyes, his cheeks dug into the wet soil, and became unconscious again.

Wayne Manor.

The ancient castle built of black marble is quiet and majestic. The iron fence of the manor isolates the castle from the outside world, as if someone separates his soul from the world.

When Bruce woke up again, he found that he was covered with a thin quilt.

He looked around, and the familiar layout of the room made a big stone fall in his heart.

He returned to the castle again.

Bruce tried to push himself up to sit up.

"hiss."

Severe pain shot through his legs, tugging at Bruce's nerves.

He opened the quilt and saw his legs wrapped in white gauze like rice dumplings.

Although it hurts, I can barely walk.

Bruce hobbled his legs to the window.

He opened the curtains, and the soft moonlight fell on Bruce.

He was silent for a moment and closed the curtains again.

Bruce sat back on the bed, but his mind was thinking about the scene last night.

Just as I guessed, the crime rate in the city of Gotham is soaring horribly at an unimaginable speed.

"Master Bruce."

There was a slow knock on the door from behind.

An old man in a straight suit walked towards Bruce with a tray in hand.

"Your breakfast."

The steaming breakfast was placed on the table not far from Bruce.

The gray-haired old man stared at Bruce's back silently, his eyes full of distress, but his words were somewhat venomous: "Master Bruce, the aorta of his left leg was cut, and his right calf was penetrated by a bullet."

"Honestly, it's a miracle that you survived this kind of injury."

"I know, Alfred, but I'm fine." Bruce shook his head and stood up. He refused Alfred's support and walked towards his parents' house.

He was going there to think about something.

Go make some resolutions.

Bruce went to his parents' room.

A bust statue was placed in the originally spacious room, and this statue looked like Bruce's dead father.

He threw his body onto the soft sofa. Bruce squinted his eyes and looked at the statue, but he was thinking about everything that happened last night.

Sinful Gotham, a mysterious man wearing a bat mask.

Bruce took a deep breath, his beautiful blue eyes full of fatigue: "I have the richest wealth."

"Have superb martial arts."

“Have great housekeepers.”

He stared at the statue, his eyes full of burning flames:

"I tried to wait."

"I try to be patient."

"But what should I do?"

He seemed to be asking the statue, and also seemed to be asking himself.

"What can I do to make these heinous criminals fear me?"

No one answered.

However, the masked man's raised two fingers and shooting gesture came to mind again.

"bat."

Bruce muttered to himself.

"My fear."

He thought about the time he fell into the Batcave as a child.

Those countless flying bats have been Bruce's fear for many years.

Bruce's eyes flashed, and he seemed to suddenly figure something out, and murmured:

“If you want to make others fearful, then become fearful!”

Bruce took a deep breath and had an idea in his mind, a plan.

He rang the bell at hand, his voice low.

"Afu, contact the technology department for me and ask them to send some materials. I want to build something."

In the next chapter, there is a confrontation between Bruce and the protagonist. I want to think about how to write it with more conflict.