In this universe, Batman and Superman had not yet t. They hadn't crossed paths or beco allies.
However, Batman had many files related to Superman, countless records of rescue events, and an ongoing investigation into Superman's weaknesses. He had long been trying to uncover Superman's true identity.
And in front of Bardi now, this reporter from the Daily Planet was none other than Clark Kent—Superman. It wasn't the press badge that gave him away. From the first mont Bardi laid eyes on him, he could see it.
He possessed imnse power. The firm gaze hidden behind those glasses, those blue eyes—bright as the sea—beautiful and kind.
"Mr. Wayne, Batman has caused widespread panic in Gotham. People don't really trust Batman. They're more afraid of him. Are you really Batman?"
Clark's tone was urgent. Behind him, several bodyguards were tugging at his body, trying to pull him back. But he didn't budge. His upper body leaned into the elevator, eyes locked on Bardi, waiting for a response.
"Yes."
Bardi replied calmly, and lightly waved his hand in front of Clark, signaling for him to move away from the elevator and not block the door.
The gesture resembled that of an impatient billionaire brushing off an inconvenience. Helpless and aloof.
Poor people should step aside. Don't stand in the way and use up air ant for the rich.
Bardi had no interest in Clark—Superman.
The body he now inhabited was Batman's. And among Batman's desires, there was no intention of forming bonds with Clark. At most, so tertiary-level wishes included uncovering Superman's identity, learning his weaknesses, and figuring out how to restrain him.
This was similar to other tertiary objectives—identifying the Flash and researching how to counter him. Discovering Green Lantern's true identity and creating contingency plans. Finding out who Shazam really was, and planning counterasures. Heroes and villains alike—Wonder Woman, Constantine, Martian Manhunter, Mada Xanadu—all had notes in Batman's little black book. Every one of them cataloged for future restraint and preparation.
And the mont Bardi took over Batman, he inherited all this knowledge and fulfilled those lesser wishes.
Therefore, seeing Superman now only irritated him.
"Will you still be Batman?" Clark asked again. His upper body leaned further in. More than three muscular bodyguards in suits were trying to pull him back, red-faced with exertion.
But how could they move an alien capable of destroying continents?
Clark stood like a stone pillar, completely unmoving.
"Depends on my mood."
Bardi replied helplessly. He couldn't fight Superman here. Even if he tried, Bruce Wayne's body was no match. Without Kryptonite or red sunlight, defeating Superman was a dream.
So Bardi's tone carried genuine helplessness.
A do-gooder like Superman always tried to impose his ideals on others. He expected others to adopt his values, and if they didn't, he would pressure them with moral righteousness.
That kind of moral policing was the most detestable. Pointing fingers from a moral high ground, just like people who sha others for eating at while calling themselves animal lovers.
"Please stop what you're doing, sir."
"Batman is a symbol of fear. He does no good for Gotham."
Clark's tone was righteous and firm. Before coming to the Wayne Building for the press conference, he had walked through Gotham, conducting his own investigation into the public's perception of Batman.
Most were afraid. So had been beaten by Batman and trembled at the re ntion of him. Arkham Asylum was full of ntally unstable inmates traumatized by Batman. It seed like the entire city was cloaked in the fear that Batman represented.
Of course, Clark struggled to see beyond the surface, to understand people's hearts.
He had mostly interviewed figures from the criminal underworld—half-black, half-white types. As for ordinary citizens? Batman? They had never seen him. They had only heard rumors.
Batman didn't deal with ordinary people.
And in Gotham, anyone involved in cri lived in constant fear of him. Smugglers, kidnappers, organ traffickers—every one of them dreaded the mont Batman would descend. Bones would be broken. Eyes blinded. Lifetis spent in hospitals—owned by Wayne Enterprises.
In Gotham's criminal world, the only ones capable of fighting Batman were the elite. The rest? Terrified.
Now that Bardi had taken over as Batman, he understood this better than anyone. He knew what Batman had sacrificed for Gotham. The plans he had laid, always preparing for the worst.
To question Batman's role in Gotham was to question Bardi himself.
He was Batman. And now, at this mont, he was Batman more than ever.
Even Superman had no right to question his efforts.
Bardi took a step forward. His face was composed, stern, and calm, radiating an aura of suppressed intensity as he looked straight at Clark.
The air turned heavy.
A suffocating pressure settled over the space.
It was as though Bruce's imposing presence bore down like a mountain.
"Clark Kent. Go back to the Daily Planet. You don't get to dictate my actions."
Bardi's tone was cold and unwavering. His expression calm, grave, and sharp.
Superman, in this tiline, had not yet co to fully understand Batman. And Bardi had no interest in being understood. He was never soone others liked.
He only needed to fulfill Batman's last wish. Anything that stood in his way, even understanding, was a burden.
Only by fulfilling that final wish—reforming Gotham and eliminating its darkness—could Bardi fully absorb Batman's personal information. Then his subsystem could fully manifest in this universe, spread, take root, and complete the informational plunder of the entire universe. That was how he would beco stronger.
And Batman's final wish was to create a brighter Gotham. To save Gotham from its sins.
As Batman, that was now his mission.
"You…"
Bardi's words had confird it. He wasn't giving up the identity of Batman. He would continue to use that symbol to strike fear throughout Gotham.
Clark's veins pulsed, his body trembling with barely contained anger. He wanted to beat Batman down. But he knew if he struck, his power might kill him.
So he held back, glaring instead.
Bardi stood tall, eyes cold, returning Clark's gaze without flinching.
It felt as though the very air burned with tension. Sparks of conflict crackled. It was suffocating.
The two locked eyes, seemingly monts away from a battle.
Suddenly, Clark let go.
The bodyguards, still pulling at him, nearly fell from the sudden release.
"I'll find soone who can."
(To be continued.)
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