Serious People, Who is Learning Magic at Marvel?

"Batman!"

"Wake up, Batman!"

The man opened his eyes suddenly, as if returning to the world from death, the alarm clock on the bedside table beside his ear was ticking non-stop. He sat up, rubbed his face, then knocked off the alarm clock, stood up and sighed, and pressed it on his chin again, a flash of fluorescence flashed, and his face changed.

Staring at the sunlight outside the window, he realized that it was a new day.

A new day...  

What to do?

He glanced at a black suitcase under his bed, narrowed his eyes slightly, and then kicked the suitcase back with his heel.

Ten minutes later, he was out the door.

"Good morning, Mr. Samps." The neighbor's daughter greeted timidly when she saw him. It was just a simple greeting that made her blushed. The man called Samps smiled and nodded to her, he was handsome, no doubt about it.

However, when he turned his head again, the smile on his face just now disappeared, leaving only an extremely gloomy face.

He walked up the dirty and smelly stairs of the cheap apartment, and the resident on the first floor was arguing with his wife again, and seemed to be getting started. The sound of slamming dishes continued from the door to the corridor, and Samps glanced at the closed door, then averted his gaze.

Only fists clenched tightly.

Opened the apartment door, and as expected, it was raining again, and the weather in the city never seemed to change, always so... disgusting.

And he especially hates rainy days.

Samps took out a black umbrella from the umbrella bucket at the door and walked around the street. He looked aimless, as if he was simply wandering the streets. But no normal person would be out in the streets on this cold rest day early morning, except the homeless homeless.

He was soon a few blocks away, where the buildings were even more dilapidated than the tenements he rented. There are many buildings that don't even have windows, and their black mouths are wide open, and from time to time someone makes a few cold coughs inside, like the whining of a dying person.

Samps walked into an alley, and at the end of the alley there was an unremarkable warehouse. He looked left and right, and after making sure no one saw him, he put his right hand somewhere on the warehouse door. A slight hum flashed along with the blue light, the door slowly opened, and he walked into the deep darkness, with a gloomy face.

The warehouse door closed behind him with a loud bang, and the overhead lights spontaneously turned on.

The decor and scene here are very different from the shabby outside, and the room is composed of unknown materials in black and white with a high-tech feel. A computer with a huge screen was running slowly in the center of the room, in addition to a table and a chair. There is very little furniture, more research materials and very criminal profiles.

Samps sat in the chair and rubbed his eyebrows wearily. He couldn't help feeling a powerlessness from the bottom of his heart, as if someone who couldn't swim was trying his best to swim in the sea to keep his life alive, but other than that, he couldn't do anything else.

He reached out and typed a few characters on the computer's keyboard. The dormant computer was instantly awakened, and a large headshot appeared on it.

It was a man with green hair. He opened his mouth wide, revealing yellow teeth, and was smiling happily at the camera.

He stared at the photo like that for more than ten minutes, and then slammed the computer screen with a heavy punch, smashing it to pieces, and at the same time, blood flowed from his hand. He hit the screen to the back of the data pile, and a newspaper covered it with a horrific massacre written in bold letters.

"The Joker strikes again! Batman is dead! Can no one stop him anymore?"

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Similar yet different,

like two sides of a leaf. They have the same shape, but their veins are very different. He Shenyan looked up at the cloudy and rainy sky of the city, and smiled faintly. Perhaps only one thing, two Gothams are the same.

The damn weather.

He didn't go to the Bruce he was familiar with, and the reason was simple. He already has a responsibility to take on. If he wants to accept such a transformation, he will go to another world to fight a difficult war. That would be too cruel to him.

Moreover, there is not only one Bruce Wayne.

It's just... am I late?

He Shenyan looked up at the big screen in the square, where a piece of news was playing. The gray-haired host said to the camera with a serious face: "Just yesterday, the felon clown committed another appalling and inhumane crime. He poisoned a family of seven, and even took a photo and shared it on social media. The media, according to him, was just for fun."

"It makes one wonder, with Batman dead, what else can we do to stop him? Who else can stop him? There's nothing the Gotham Police Department can do about it, and our government can't even...  ..."

The more the host talked, the more excited he became, and in the end, he began to scold the inaction of the Gotham government.

The mage shook his head. He was standing on the bustling street of Gotham where people came and went. Most of the people here are in a hurry, with umbrellas or hats. Raindrops slid across the tops of their staggered umbrellas and rolled over the corners of their clothes. Some looked anxious, some looked relaxed. But more people are just dead silent, lifeless like walking dead.

No one noticed his presence, and the crowd spontaneously separated from him and passed by again. Like the Red Sea divided by Moses. The ocean itself does not have its own consciousness, just as the crowd itself cannot realize the existence of He Shenyan. He closed his eyes, his mental tentacles swept across the entire Gotham, and then slowly disappeared in place.

He appeared in a room in a cheap apartment. The upstairs fell, and the voices of the residents came from all over the next door. The sound insulation here is really not good. The floor is worn out, but very clean, to the point of being out of order. The furnishings in the house are not very life-like, and it doesn't look like someone lives here.

He Shenyan came to the refrigerator in the kitchen. He opened the door. As expected, there was no food in it except for the rows of clean mineral water.

"It's really his style." The mage chuckled softly, and then came to the bedroom. It's also extremely clean, so clean that it's even scary - what kind of person can live in such an environment?

Black floors, white ceilings. A table, a chair, a cot. No entertainment facilities at all. The white cup was folded neatly on the bed, the window was open, there were no curtains, and the cold wind came in from the outside. He Shenyan's gaze came to the floor beside the bed.

A black suitcase flew out of thin air and opened in front of him.

What floated out of it wasn't something like Batman's suit, there was only one thing in it - a piece of paper wrapped in a plastic bag.

Gotham's richest man, Bruce Wayne's death certificate.

"Okay, things are starting to get interesting." Putting the death certificate back into the box, he brought the chair and sat on it and waited quietly.

Not long after, about three in the afternoon, the door to the room was opened. He Shenyan heard footsteps coming from the living room outside, neither light nor heavy, and every step was controlled to just the right level. Then, a man opened the door to the bedroom.

"You don't look like Bruce Wayne." He Shenyan said.

The other party glanced at him, then moved his gaze to the black suitcase on the ground, and licked his lips: "...Of course I'm not Bruce Wayne."

"Oh? Really? Who are you then?"

"Cran Samps... Then again, sir, how the hell did you get into my house? Please leave or I'll call the police."

He Shenyan tilted his head and glanced at his right hand shrunk behind him, then pointed at the right hand with a smile: "If it's hard to hold back, don't bear it - come and hit me, how about it?"

The expression of the man who called himself Crane Samps did not change in the slightest: "I don't know what you are talking about, sir, please leave, okay? Otherwise I will call the police immediately."

"The acting is good...at least much better than the one I know. Of course, maybe it's because he no longer needs to hide his relationship." He Shenyan sighed. "I'll be straight to the point. I know who you are, Bruce Wayne. Stop acting, it's pointless."

The small-town look that had always been maintained on the man's face, belonging to Crane Samps, disappeared instantly, and was replaced by a face full of gloom and anger. He stretched out his hand and tapped on his chin, and a familiar but younger face appeared in front of He Shenyan.

"Who are you?"

"It's not who you're thinking of anyway, young man... It looks like you've been through a lot."

"Nothing to do with you."

Young Bruce Wayne said nonchalantly, and closed the door.

A cold light flashed, and he froze in place while maintaining the posture of throwing darts. He Shenyan stood up, took down the dart floating in the air, and looked at it: "The work is good, you made it yourself?"

Bruce Wayne didn't answer, of course, he couldn't answer at all.

He Shenyan shrugged, he was already planning to read his memory. It's not that there are no better options, it's just that the mage is too lazy to wait any longer.

He took a step forward, his hand already on Bruce Wayne's temple.

It was the same dark alley, the fallen couple and the scattered blood-stained pearl necklaces. It seems that no matter the world, being a Bruce Wayne parent is risky. The mage glanced down at the two corpses, then turned to the little boy who was kneeling and weeping among them.

A familiar face.

He Shenyan sighed.

The surrounding scenery changes rapidly, and in the blink of an eye, it will be more than ten years later. Unlike the Batman he knew, this Bruce Wayne was younger and angrier—and, at the same time, lonelier.

No Alfred, no Chief Gordon, nothing. He has only himself, and challenges the darkness of Gotham alone. Compared to the image of Batman standing at the top of human hand-to-hand combat, this young version of him seems to be very immature because of his new debut - he can't even do one dozen ten.

Hit, hit, hit. It's just that he was beaten and broke three ribs.

He was a playboy during the day and went out for a while at night, and then the board of directors who couldn't bear him launched an impeachment. This Bruce Wayne didn't have Lucius' help, and he deservedly was kicked out of Wayne's corporate power hierarchy. Although he still has money that ordinary people can't use up, he can no longer mobilize the scientific research force of Wayne Enterprises.

The clothes he wears on duty don't even have any black technology, just simple bulletproof suits...

You messed up really bad.

The mage shook his head and looked back. Nothing special until the timeline comes to the night of Bruce Wayne's death.

Here's where things really get interesting.

Because Bruce Wayne is really dead.

No bones left.

He died in an explosion, blown to pieces by the Joker, and Batman hasn't been seen since. People began to speculate whether Batman really had some inexplicable relationship with Bruce Wayne, and the two died on the same day or in the same place.

Not that no one suspected it, but there were two... samples at the scene. They were from Bruce Wayne and a man whose identity could not be identified. A half-shattered bat mask was also found at the scene.

"If he's dead... then who are you?"

He Shenyan opened his eyes, stared at the face belonging to Bruce Wayne in front of him, and became curious for the first time.

"Okay, Bruce, what have you done to yourself?"

Re-immersed back into his memory, the mage carefully rummaged through those nodes and found a problem somewhere - this Bruce's age doesn't match that one.

too young.

The one who died was now at least forty years old, and the bone age of the young man in front of him was only in his twenties. The age is not right, but the identity is right, he is indeed Bruce Wayne.

He Shenyan began to rummage through his memory. The Bruce Wayne in his memory was alone. On his thirty-seventh birthday, he made a decision-he made a clone machine and then researched There is a matching machine that can quickly ripen the fetus.

Don't worry about how he made it, and don't ask why he can top so many scientists by himself. He Shenyan didn't know how he did it, but he was successful.

It's fucking outrageous....what more can I say? As expected of you, Batman.

As for what he did with that machine....obvious.

He Shenyan withdrew from his memory, looked at the angry young man in front of him who was standing still and couldn't move, and shook his head sympathetically.

"He's a lunatic, isn't he?"

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"Another universe?"

"Yeah. Want me to prove it?"

"No need." Bruce shook his head, he sat on the chair, his expression and eyes did not fluctuate at all, like a walking corpse.

"You have finished reading the memory... How do you feel?" He pulled the corners of his mouth, as if trying to make a self-deprecating smile. But it didn't work. On the contrary, he made his face very gloomy.

"Sad." The mage said lightly. "But it's very respectable."

"Save your respect to his grave... I'm just a clone." Bruce Wayne smiled. "I'm nobody, nothing. Just a fake person stuffed with memories of being Batman."

"And the lifespan is still very short." He Shenyan smiled slightly, and then said: "The sequelae of that kind of technology should start to show on you, right?"

"Yeah." Bruce Wayne looked calm, as if he was talking about something that had nothing to do with him. "It started half a year ago... hands and feet are starting to get weak and weak. Sometimes I can't even pick up a water glass. I guess I'm going to die soon. But that's okay, the new Batman will be born before I die."

"According to the program... we will be born from the machine generation after generation. Inherit his pain, inherit his past, and finally die for his ideals."

"Don't you have any ideas of your own?"

Bruce Wayne glanced at the mage with annoyance: "I'm just a clone - a shadow of the past, a wreck with a short life. If this is his long-cherished wish, what right do I have to refuse?"

"It's hard to drag a body like this to fight crime, isn't it?"

"I'm not fighting crime...I'm just collecting their data. When the time comes, I'll issue an invitation to all the lunatics in this town in Batman's name and go with a bomb." he said With a gesture of God, he actually laughed: "Then, everyone can watch the fireworks."

"If your plan is successful, that fireworks may be the biggest fireworks in Gotham history." He Shenyan gave him a deep look. He asked again, "What about your successor?"

"Let him enjoy the glory of being Batman."

"glory?"

"Yeah, Glory." Bruce Wayne laughed louder and louder, and that icy laughter echoed through the room. "One fights, one heals... one waits to die. No one will help you, the whole city is your enemy, and the people who slandered you in life will miss you after you die, isn't it? Glory to being Batman?"

"This damn lunatic..." He smiled, and actually burst into tears.

"Cran Samps." He Shenyan said suddenly. "Is that the name you gave yourself?"

He stretched out his right hand, where a blue nebula was spinning, and the storm was gathering in it, and an unspeakable force began to condense in this small room. Cran Samps, a clone of Bruce Wayne, a terminally ill patient with only three years to live, heard the mage speak slowly in his characteristic calm voice.

"Come and be the real Batman."