The aliens who were picked up by Superman at the beginning

Chapter 260 Chase in the Rain

The rain in Gotham continues tonight with no sign of stopping.

The icy rain felt like countless fine needles, pricking Wilson Morgan's face and body, mixing with the cold sweat on his forehead and dripping down his chin.

He limped and ran wildly through the narrow, damp alley, his heavy shoes splashing onto the waterlogged stone pavement, the dirty water wetting his trouser legs and sticking stickily to his calves.

Every step he took aggravated his muscle soreness, and the dull pain from his wound made it extremely difficult for him to maintain his balance.

His eyes were bloodshot and bulging, his face was filled with extreme panic, and his lips trembled, but he dared not utter a single sound.

It seemed that she was afraid her cries for help would attract the evil spirit wearing the red mask.

The middle-aged man's chest heaved violently, his lungs felt like they were about to explode, and his breath gradually took on a dry, rusty smell.

Fortunately, scattered raindrops kept sliding down his fat face to his mouth, which Wilson consciously licked into his mouth with his tongue.

Once again, the rain soothed his burning throat slightly. The middle-aged man couldn't help but look back. The alley was pitch black, with only the faint light of the streetlights in the distance casting long shadows in the rain. He couldn't see if the terrifying figure was behind him.

But he didn't stop abruptly. After a brief hesitation, he lowered himself slightly, clutching his leg as he continued to crawl forward.

After running for an unknown amount of time, he finally broke out of the crisscrossing narrow alleys and came to a wide but deathly quiet street.

Because two powerful figures (the infected Superman and Batman) had a showdown in this royal city during the previous virus incident, the surrounding infrastructure and many houses appear somewhat dilapidated.

Recently, the construction team that was responsible for maintenance here during the day cut off the power supply to the surrounding area for safety reasons, plunging the entire street into complete darkness.

Only the warning lights on the construction fence in the distance flickered faintly red in the rainy night, appearing somewhat eerie in this dilapidated yet tranquil atmosphere.

Wilson didn't care about anything else. He grabbed at the straw and stumbled to the green belt piled with rubble by the roadside. Ignoring the sharp branches of the bushes, he suddenly squeezed in.

The branches tore at his shirt and skin, causing a burning pain, but he was oblivious, only trying his best to crawl forward. The small branches got tangled in his hair and clothes, leaving scratches.

He didn't dare to stop until the dense bushes completely concealed his figure.

He huddled deep in the bushes, elbows propped on the muddy ground, panting heavily, trying to calm his lungs, which felt like they were about to explode after his frantic run.

The cold rain dripped down the branches and leaves of the bushes onto his head, making him shiver involuntarily.

But this brief respite did not last long.

A muffled buzzing sound suddenly came from the once quiet street.

The specially treated silenced engine that used to belong to Batman was stolen by the red-helmeted killer after Batman disappeared.

Now, the sound that required very careful listening to be heard was like a death knell to Wilson.

He covered his mouth tightly, afraid of making the slightest sound, even though the slightest movement was actually relatively far away from him.

A while later.

Through the gaps in the bushes, Wilson cautiously peered out and saw a dark figure slowly riding a similarly dark motorcycle in the middle of the street.

The engine speed was kept very low, and the wheels made little noise as they rolled over the puddle. Even the humming sound disappeared.

The red mask that terrified Wilson looked around, one hand gripping the handlebars, the other holding a matte black pistol with the muzzle slightly lowered.

Red Hood patiently and meticulously surveyed every possible hiding place, as if ready to pull the trigger at any moment.

A hoarse voice came from under the red helmet.

"I know you're around here, Wilson—"

The masked man paused, then the motorcycle moved forward another ten meters or so, with the engine speed reduced even further.

"I can smell the blood on you, as strong as rotting garbage."

"Do you think hiding will work?"

"Our relationship is like that of a cat and a mouse. You know, a cat always likes to let the mouse run around for a while, then corner it, play with it and torment it for a while, and finally, tear it apart piece by piece and eat it."

His voice wasn't loud, but it carried a chillingly perverse pleasure, as if he were admiring a perfect work of art.

"I'm not in a hurry. After all, you're the only one left. I have plenty of time to spend with you."

"When I find you, I'll first break your legs so you can't run anymore, then slowly crush your fingers while I hear your heart-wrenching screams. Finally, I'll hold a gun to your heart and see if you die of fright first, or if I kill you with a bullet?"

Wilson's eyes were wide open, filled with despair. Tears and snot streamed down his face uncontrollably, mingling with rainwater and mud, making him look utterly disheveled.

He tried desperately to suppress the trembling of his muscles, but his teeth couldn't stop clenching and making a grinding sound.

Helplessly huddled in the bushes, watching the red-masked man slowly riding his motorcycle get closer and closer, the invisible pressure made the fat on his face tremble slightly.

Just as the man in the red mask was riding his motorcycle and about to pass through the bushes where he was, a pair of huge lights suddenly appeared at the end of the street.

A blinding white light instantly pierced the dark rain curtain, illuminating the entire street.

Immediately following, a deafening truck horn blared, shattering the deathly silence of the rainy night.

The man in the red mask instinctively released the handlebars, raised his hand to shield his eyes from the blinding white light, and turned his body slightly to one side.

Being backlit, Wilson made the most correct judgment almost instinctively.

Taking advantage of the loud noise from the truck horn and the moment when the red-masked man's vision was obstructed, he suddenly rolled out of the bushes and crashed heavily onto the lawn next to him.

Ignoring the pain in his body, he crawled awkwardly on the muddy lawn, using both his hands and feet, looking like a stray dog.

Clearly, he didn't care; as long as he could survive, he probably didn't care about anything else.

The man in the red mask quickly noticed the movement in the bushes. He shielded his eyes with one hand and turned his gun with the other, aiming it at...

The direction of the bushes.

But before he could pull the trigger, the honking truck had already started, and a man inside, whose face was obscured, slammed on the gas pedal, aiming at the man in the red mask.

The truck engine roared as it hurtled toward the red-masked man's motorcycle.

"Damn it!"

The man in the red mask cursed under his breath, quickly turned his gun towards the windshield of the truck, and pulled the trigger repeatedly.

"Bang! Bang! Bang!"

Around the third shot, the car window shattered, and the man inside collapsed onto his seat, completely still.

Even though the driver was dead, his foot was still firmly on the accelerator, and the truck showed no signs of slowing down, continuing to hurtle towards the motorcycle.

Left with no other choice, the man in the red mask jumped off the motorcycle and rolled along the street to avoid being hit by the truck.

"Boom!"

With a loud crash, the truck slammed into the motorcycle.

Meanwhile, having lost control of its direction, the truck sped off and crashed into the roadside guardrail, twisting and deforming it, and kicking up a lot of iron bars and soil.

Finally, the truck crashed into a roadside fire hydrant, and water gushed out with a muffled thud.

The entire vehicle lost its balance and overturned on the side of the road, emitting bursts of sparks.

The man in the red mask slowly got up from the ground. He looked up at the lawn and scanned his surroundings with sharp eyes, but Wilson had disappeared in the blink of an eye.

Only a string of messy muddy footprints remained on the lawn, which were quickly washed away by the cold rain.