Starting from scratch, Batman crushed my dream of getting rich

Chapter 181 The Kite That Fell to the Ground

Where does the wind come from?
At this moment, the same doubt flashed through Batman and Chuck's minds.

But they were in no mood to think about it, because in the next second, the strong wind quickly swept over their bodies and made them fly backwards.

Batman grabbed Chuck and retracted his hook gun. The force of the wind was so terrifying that he estimated he couldn't hold two people with his hook gun, so he simply opened his cloak.

In the strong airflow from bottom to top, a pitch-black bat spread its wings and flew, carrying Chuck up with the wind. The two of them continued to accelerate upwards, flying higher and higher, passing over the top of the tower and flying into the night sky of Gotham.

Chuck was held by Batman's collar, staring blankly at the city at night. He liked kites very much, but had never flown in the air in this way. Here, he could clearly see every block and every light in the city, as well as the stars and the bright moon above his head.

He couldn't help but open his arms, like a bird spreading its wings, feeling the air current lifting the two of them soaring in the sky, something he hadn't felt in the past thirty years.

At this moment, he thought of many things. He thought of the oversized kite he had always wanted to make that could carry him flying in the air; he thought of the jet pack he had put aside for a long time; he thought of his past life with his family.

Batman didn't pay attention to Chuck's situation at the moment. He carefully recalled where the inexplicable gust of wind came from when he was about to land, but he couldn't think of an answer.

The next day, Chuck didn't go to the bar.

He opened the warehouse in his home, where he used to store blueprints, make kites, and do design work; but since his divorce, he rarely opened it, and since he was fired, it had been completely forgotten.

He walked over the kite cloths piled on the ground and came to the iron frame, which was filled with various kites and rolls of mechanical design drawings.

The shelf, along with the blueprints and the colorful kites on it, was covered in dust and looked lifeless.

He pulled out a few rolls from the dusty drawings and shook off the dust on the entire shelf. After most of the dust had settled, the kites revealed their colorful colors.

He took the drawings back to the room and spread them out on the table. On them were complex mechanical structures and various parameters written down. These were the jet pack and large kite designs that he had abandoned halfway.

Colleagues dismissed the idea of large kites as unsafe. If they were to carry people, they would likely crash in a quiet environment, and even with wind, they wouldn't be able to fully control their flight direction.

The jet backpack didn't seem very innovative because there were already products on the market. The main reason was that Chuck was not in the mood at the time and did not have the money to continue designing this hobby. When he became depressed, he completely gave up the idea.

Maybe I should do something, Chuck thought, staring at the blueprint. Even if it can't help me get my job back or save my relationship, this is what I want to do.

This is something I enjoy, it doesn’t have to have a deeper meaning, as long as it means something to me.

So he picked up a pen and started writing and drawing on a blank piece of paper. He had some new ideas for the two designs he had once abandoned.

At this moment, today's news report began on TV - it started with a real shot, which was a scene of Mr. Freeze and Scarecrow fighting against Deadshot.

"This city is finished!" The loud-mouthed black news anchor couldn't help but be the first to make a desperate protest.

"Frank, this is outrageous." The white host next to him shook his head.

"No, no, pretending nothing happened is outrageous!" The black host was still emotional: "This group of criminals are turning Gotham into their own small war zone." "Yes, I agree, it's obvious. The current situation is indeed bad, but it's not over yet."

"Hmm, let me guess. Is it because of Batman—Bill, do you think Batman can set things right?"

"I'm not saying he can completely fix it, but at least he's an option."

"Bill, please—Batman? You might as well pray to the air or the wind."

Chuck couldn't help but look at the TV while drawing. At this moment, he was also thinking about this question - this was something he had only thought about after the changes he experienced last night: Can Batman really save everything? Or, can people really put all their hopes on Batman and then lie flat on the ground with their hands spread out?

The war between the Joker and the Riddler has dragged in countless super criminals, all of whom Batman had to fight hard to bring back to Arkham in the past. Now, they're all out at the same time. How can this violent vigilante, with only a year of experience, handle it all with ease and keep everyone safe?

Jingle Bell--

The phone suddenly rang, interrupting Chuck's thoughts. He put down his pen, picked up the phone beside him, and called out to the other end, "Hello? Who's calling?"

However, immediately afterwards, an unexpected voice sounded in the microphone.

That was the Riddler's voice.

"Guess the riddle."

"I love to dance, spin, and leap. When I set off, I shake my tail. I will ride the wind and fly higher and higher - so, what am I?"

After Chuck listened to the microphone for two minutes, his mind went blank, his hands trembled weakly, and the microphone slipped from his hands to the ground.

Of course he knew the answer was a kite, which was his favorite thing. What shocked him was what the Riddler said next.

Night on the rooftops of Gotham City.

"I want to see my son, oh my god."

Chuck Brown grabbed Batman's shoulders, overcome with emotion. "He said it, he said he knew I would betray him before he found me, and that all this was some kind of joke, or riddle, or something he left for you! He poisoned my son's kite string—that damn kite string!"

Batman clenched his fists stiffly. He originally thought that the boy just had a fever, but he didn't expect that the Riddler had long wanted to use the child's life to play a puzzle game with him.

He saw the man opposite him almost collapsed, pleading desperately to himself.

"I want to see my son!"

(End of this chapter)