American comic book: Transmigrated into Dior and adopted by the Wayne family

Chapter 109 Dio-Babayaga-Wick

"Oh! Shit!"

Alfred gripped the microphone, a sudden pang of anxiety gripping him.

The laughter was so eerie that it reminded him of someone, a madman.

But shouldn't that madman be locked up in Arkham? How did he get out again?

Why were they released again?

"Is that Jerome?"

Dior strode to the window, drew back the curtains, and looked down.

The security system at Wayne Manor failed completely due to the power outage, and the gate was pushed open by someone, leaving the ground covered with messy footprints.

"Alfred, go find Bruce."

Dio pulled a pistol from under the table and quickly made a plan.

Alfred nodded, walked slowly towards the door, then turned back and said, "Young Master Dior, now that things have come to this, I won't mention anything about not killing anyone."

"Please be careful, okay?"

Don't worry.

Dio stuffed a handful of nuts into his pocket and summoned his Stand, Sexy Pistol.

In this dark and cramped environment, with bullets everywhere and spider-sense unable to dodge them, it's the perfect place for the little guys to kick the bullets.

"It's a nut!"

"Look, it's a nut!"

Six little yellow men pounced into the pocket and wolfed it down.

Dior unleashed ripples and activated his new X-Vision ability without hesitation.

In an instant, all the walls became semi-transparent, revealing the location of everyone around.

From this moment on, the hunt began.

There is an old Chinese saying that goes:

When you are the only one who can see everything in complete darkness, the battle is unequal from the start—Saint Dio.

boom! !

The bullet pierced the wooden door and went into the brain of one of the clown gang members, splattering blood everywhere.

After Dio fired the shot, he quickly crouched down.

Bang bang bang bang bang bang! ! !

Bullets kept whizzing overhead!

boom!

Another bullet was fired from the Glock's barrel!

Behind the door, another member of the Joker gang, holding an automatic rifle, had his head explode into a cloud of blood mist.

More rapid footsteps sounded ahead!

Dio had just stood up when a barrage of gunfire erupted.

Within the field of vision of dynamic vision, countless bullets are slowly flying towards us!

After quickly identifying six bullets that could be dodged by the sexy pistol, Dior shattered the wooden door beside him with an elbow strike!

Before the wood chips even hit the ground, they were swept up by the ripples and floated in front of them, forming a shield that blocked the subsequent barrage of bullets.

Ding ding ding ding ding ding ding ding.

When the flattened bullet landed on the ground, the Joker gang member on the other side was completely dumbfounded.

"Wardfa!!!!"

next second.

Bang bang—bang!

Dio aimed at the opponent's chest and fired two shots, the last one hitting the head!

A corpse fell heavily to the ground.

downstairs.

"Mr. J! Our people are being slaughtered rapidly!"

"Looks like it's time to put an end to this show. I'm going to take down this little Bruce, hahahahaha!"

"Hahahahahahahahahaha!!!"

The people around them burst into laughter!

"Are you sure you want to kill me here?"

Bruce remained calm and showed no sign of panic.

He concluded that the other person had a performative personality, and needed a stage and a spotlight.

So he gave a reason that was impossible to refuse.

"It's a bit disappointing; there's hardly any audience here."

Jerome stopped wielding his knife, his eyes filled with madness, yet also with deep conflict.

"Disappointing??? You're saying I'm disappointing?"

Bruce's eyes began to flicker, and just when he thought he was about to die, Jerome let out a desperate howl.

"oh!!!"

"Damn it, you think I don't know you're trying to stall for time?"

"But you're right, I really need a unique and stylish stage to perform on!"

"Hahaha."

Jerome put down his knife, listening to the incessant gunfire upstairs, and shouted maniacally, "Guys, are you all ready? We're going to put on this good show!!"

"YES!!!!"

"Then let's leave here!!"

Happy Halloween!

Jerome got into the convertible pickup truck he'd stolen from the garage and fired a shot defiantly into the air!

"Hahahaha! Goodbye! Dior Brando!!!"

"Just watch as I take down Bruce Wayne!"

The pickup truck began to accelerate.

Dio takes care of the last Joker gang member who sneaks into the corridor.

The roar of engines could be heard outside the window.

"Damn it!"

He rushed out of the side door.

Glock aimed his crosshairs at Jerome, but did not pull the trigger.

This distance was beyond the range of the sexy pistol, and he wasn't sure if he could hit it.

Jerome turned around abruptly, grabbed Bruce by the collar, and pulled him in front of him as a shield.

Bruce's face turned pale, but his eyes did not waver.

He merely turned his head slightly, glanced at Dio, his eyes offering no plea for help, only silence.

He felt that Dio wouldn't come to save him, because once he died, Dio could rightfully inherit everything.

Wayne Group, various funds, countless dollars, everything.

The premise is that he dies.

The pickup truck screeched as it kicked up a cloud of black smoke and sped down the slope of Wayne Manor.

Alfred rushed out from behind the door, ran to Dio's side, and clenched his fists as he watched the taillights recede into the distance.

"Young Master Dior, why don't you shoot? You could at least shoot the tire!"

"It's too far away."

Dio lowered the muzzle of his gun, his expression as indifferent as ever. "The effective range of the pistol is too short."

"What should we do then? Young Master Bruce, he..."

Alfred's voice was strained, and he clutched his chest with one hand. "It's all my fault. I didn't keep a close eye on him. I should have stayed by his side every step of the way..."

'

"calm."

Dior pulled a macadamia nut from his pocket and slowly peeled it. "Do you think I'm the kind of person who would just stand here eating nuts while Bruce gets arrested?"

Alfred paused for a moment.

The crunching sound of chewing filled my ears.

He really didn't know what to say.

Dior popped a nut into his mouth, chewed it twice, and his gaze darkened.

Two options.

First, Bruce is dead.

The Wayne Group, the Wayne Foundation, and all its assets would naturally be inherited by him.

From then on, no one was there to restrain him anymore; the messes of the Court of Owls, St. Duma, and Gotham were all his own responsibility.

Second, Bruce is alive.

He owes himself a favor.

He'll become Batman in the future, taking care of all the dirty and tiring work that Gotham never seems to end, while also getting points and achievements off him.

There's no need to even consider that.

Option one is utterly boring—Dio wants to defeat Bruce head-on.

Moreover, although he is Dio, he is not the kind of despicable person who would push someone's dog into a furnace just because he can't beat them.

He has basic morals, though not many.

Moreover.

In this godforsaken place of Gotham, Bruce is the only interesting one.

If he dies, this city will be even less interesting.

"Alfred, go call Gordon. Tell him Jerome has escaped again, and his target might be Arkham or some abandoned amusement park. Have them check the surveillance footage and find out where that pickup truck went."

"And what about you, Master Dior?"

"I'm going to find someone to talk to."

Dior took out his phone to make a call.

"Looking for someone? To talk to?"

Alfred frowned. "Excuse my bluntness, Master Dior, shouldn't we be in the same boat right now? This isn't the time for idle chatter."

"I meant let's talk."

Dio casually removed the Glock's magazine to check the bullets, then pushed it back in. "Let's talk about the kind with the shovel in the trunk."

Alfred's expression changed.

He looked into Dio's eyes, remained silent for two seconds, and took a deep breath.

"Young Master Dior, I know you are very powerful, and I also know you never like to be burdened by anyone."

"But while Master Bruce may suspect you, spy on you, and even test you with underhanded tactics, he has never treated you as an outsider."

Dior's eyes flickered slightly.

Alfred met Dio's gaze and said, word by word, "You are his family, Master Dio. He is your family too. Family members can argue, scheme, and even fight—but they will never truly abandon each other."

"So, please... let's go save him together, okay?"

Dior remained silent for a few seconds.

Consider it repaying a favor.

Uh-huh.

"Let me make this clear first, I don't want to save him, but if he dies, I won't be able to escape responsibility either."

Dior turned his head away and emphasized:

;

...Go get the car.

Alfred's eyes lit up.

"Yes, Master Dior!"