Marvel's Dark Knight

"So, do you like baked lobster?" Aunt Mei smiled.

Jessica nodded, at least the baked lobster was much better than the red date bread made by Aunt May.

I don't know why, Aunt Mei's other things are pretty good, even at the upper-middle level, but she always ends up overturning on the red date bread.

Something is clearly not quite right.

Bruce, who returned to his research laboratory, ate all the red date bread he had taken away in the shortest possible time.

He needs time and more means.

All the events that have been experienced now make Bruce feel a little out of control.

None of this had ever appeared in his memory.

He came to this world, this universe.

Obviously not any world he knew.

Bruce manipulated the equipment in front of him, trying to figure everything out.

But it was clear that he had trouble doing everything.

Bruce looked at the equipment in front of him and frowned.

He seemed to be dazzled when looking at them.

This feeling was the first time for Bruce.

After he put on this battle suit, this was the first time he had this situation.

Maybe this happened because he hadn't had a good rest for a long time, but he had never felt it before.

Bruce wanted to straighten the equipment in front of him, but what he saw became increasingly blurry, and even double images appeared.

He held his own, but it was obvious that he couldn't do it now.

"Whoa!"

The things on the table were swept to the floor by Bruce's hands.

But now Bruce no longer has much energy to deal with these things, and he has now fallen into his own deep sleep.

When he closed his eyes, all he could think of was that the fear gas he made might react with Mysterio's hallucinogen.

An entirely different delayed-onset toxin is produced.

But strictly speaking, this assumption does not hold.

Because when he played against Mysterio for the first time, Bruce had already conducted a comprehensive physical examination of himself.

The result at that time was absolutely no problem.

This time, Mysterio didn't even have time to attack.

It is even more impossible for this to happen.

When he opened his eyes again, what he saw was the scene that happened when he took the fear gas.

The two worlds are slowly separating.

There is no sense of overlap as before, but it has gradually become two complete portals.

A luxurious door, but full of darkness, but it is marked with the unique mark of bats.

The bat with its wings spread made Bruce very clear that this was the memory of a bat.

But another one?

If the door of Batman's memory is a classical and luxurious door, then the other is an ordinary wooden door.

Generally, you can see the existence of this door anywhere in the world.

Bruce didn't hesitate much, he chose to walk directly to the ordinary wooden door.

His gut told him that the world behind that wooden door would tell him all he wanted to know.

When the wooden door was pushed open, one could even hear the sound of the old wooden door.

But all this was nothing to Bruce, all he saw was a small room.

A child holds the reading material in his hand and looks at the picture with great interest.

He is still young and cannot understand many of the dialogues above.

Bruce slowly walked up to the child, but he did not interfere with any of the child's movements.

The child was still sitting there quietly looking at the reading material in his hand.

But everything recorded on it, in Bruce's eyes, is what he remembers.

That alley, that location, that unforgettable person, and the familiar shooting.

Everything is clearly drawn on that reading material.

It's just that after the child finished reading that book, he didn't have other books in the same series. He just turned the book to the first page again and started reading the second and third pages.

Bruce just watched the child quietly doing his own thing.

He didn't look impatient at all when he looked at the child. There was even a look on his face that made it obvious that it was joy from the bottom of his heart.

Bruce also stayed quietly by the child's side, reading that book over and over as he loved it.

Until finally Bruce was able to clearly imprint all the words in his mind.

But the children took the trouble to read the comics.

He seems to have found his favorite thing in it.

The boy began to try to draw the little man on it himself.

He is indeed gifted, with quite extraordinary talent.

Although it is just a copy, it can already depict the characters above accurately.

He showed off his paintings to his parents.

That day was perhaps the happiest day for this child.

His paintings were praised by his parents, who said he was the best little painter in the world.

But life never goes the way anyone envisions.

He started going to school and started getting into more comics.

That friendly red-and-blue New York neighbor appeared in his world, a figure that shone like sunlight into his world.

The idea in my heart to describe what those characters should have experienced became more and more prosperous.

Until he told his parents that he wanted to study art.

There's another chapter at eight

86. Chapter 85 The wooden door of the heart: Part [-]

That was the first time he saw his parents so irritable and angry.

It seems that studying art is not a good thing.

From then on, the boy found that it seemed that only when he got the best grades in the exam would the smiles on his parents' faces appear when they praised him.

He can only see the smiling faces of his parents if he studies hard, finishes his studies hard, and puts all his energy on his studies.

From that time on, he no longer had time to figure out all the comic stories.

The pictures I saw when I was a child also began to fade away from my mind.

Even later, I could only recall everything I saw at that time through movies.

Bruce tried to comfort him, but his hands were on the boy's body, just across the boy's shoulders.

Bruce couldn't do anything.

He almost forgot that this place was an unknown world.

The boy began to learn, but still occasionally picked up a paintbrush and repainted his favorite things.

Until one day his paintings were discovered by his father.

That was the first time he saw such an angry father. He punched and kicked him without even letting him explain.

Because, in the eyes of my parents, it was just a rather boring thing with no money.

All he has to do is be obedient, study hard, and become what his parents want him to be.

Almost everything from college to work has been arranged by parents.

All he can do is to draw the thoughts in his heart in his spare time.

Because only at that time was he free.

Although he feels that he is in a cage all the time.

This sentiment is clearly reflected in his paintings.

The heroes who once yearned for sunshine, freedom, and friendship have long since disappeared.

He didn't want that friendly neighbor in New York to appear on his drawing paper.

Some are just one after another bats in jet-black battle suits.

He arranged a cage for each bat.

Just like himself, he also arranged a cage for himself.

There, too, he was at bat.

It's just that this picture is destined not to be seen by everyone.

That Bruce watched the child grow up slowly, and on the way to work, he rescued a child carrying a drawing board.

It was like saving him when he was young.

But the boy closed his eyes.