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

Chapter 128 Dreams Ruthlessly Destroyed

Soon after.

When Dio and the fake Bruce came to their senses, they were already standing in a narrow alley.

Immediately after being covered in cloth by the claws, his consciousness went blank.

It's like something cut off the middle of my memory, and I jumped directly from the starting point to the end.

"Whatever our arrangements are, the Chief Justice tells me to listen to you."

The fake Bruce looked around curiously, even reaching out to touch the trash can.

Dio remained silent, only glancing at the thing beside him that couldn't even be considered human.

"Is it because the medication hasn't worn off yet?"

The fake Bruce nodded to himself and said considerately with a smile, "I can wait for you for a while."

Wait for me a moment?

Ok.

Anyway, you're going to die soon!

Dio activated Ripple and Spider-Sense to search for any lurking claws nearby.

As for Bruce, he wasn't too worried.

Before leaving, they had warned Alfred that if the three of them did not call in time, the GCPD would raid Arkham.

A few seconds later.

Dio opened his eyes and used his X-vision to survey his surroundings.

There was no surveillance, no claws, and no witnesses.

He withdrew his X-vision, a slight smile playing on his lips. Perfect.

Time is running out; we still need to sneak into the Indian Mountains to steal DNA implantation technology.

So...

An accident is about to happen here.

He cast his gaze upon the defective item, his voice sweet: "Do you have any other wishes? Is there anything you want to accomplish?"

"Um... to be honest, I don't know."

The fake Bruce, unaware of the murderous intent hidden beneath his sweet tone, answered very seriously.

"Oh, I see."

Dio suddenly realized, reached out and placed his hand on his shoulder, and smiled.

The fake Bruce froze.

This malice!

I felt looked down upon, as if I were just an insect that could be crushed at any moment.

Dior wanted to kill me!

At that moment, he finally realized something was wrong and threw a punch forward.

Dior decisively took two steps back.

With a ripping sound, five deep finger marks were left on the fake Bruce's shoulder.

But he seemed not to feel any pain and continued his attack.

"Too weak! Too weak!!"

"You can't even touch the hem of my clothes?!"

Golden flames rose from Dio's body as he easily dodged the opponent's attacks.

This fake Bruce is a better fighter than the real Bruce, and he's not afraid of pain.

But the weak are just weak!

It makes no sense!

"Even if you had the exact same mind as Bruce, you wouldn't be him."

"But the fact that you were able to sense my thoughts is enough to make you proud of yourself."

"But this is also your greatest misfortune!"

"One person who can see through my true nature is enough!"

The moment the words left his mouth, Gold Experience's raised hand cleaver came crashing down!

Click!

A severed arm flew off.

Fake Bruce stared at the bloody, mangled section of his right arm, frozen in place.

It doesn't hurt, it doesn't hurt at all.

I didn't feel any pain at all.

But I felt very panicked.

Am I going to die?

But at this moment, a sense of unwillingness welled up in his heart.

Fake Bruce raised his only remaining left hand and trembled as he touched his face.

That face, exactly like Bruce Wayne's, never belonged to him.

"I don't want to die."

His voice was soft, tinged with a hint of bewilderment.

"I have never truly lived."

Is this a revolving lantern?

Dio raised an eyebrow, stopped attacking, and watched him with interest, arms crossed.

Listening to a clone's dying wails can be a kind of fun.

"I want to live, Dio."

Fake Bruce suddenly raised his head, his eyes filled with resentment. "I have something I want to do! I want to eat Alfred's strawberry ice cream. I've never eaten ice cream before."

"I want to lie on the lawn and watch the sunset, instead of staring at the monitor screen trying to imitate Bruce Wayne!"

"I want to go to school, sit in a classroom and listen to the teacher's lectures, have parties with my classmates, and do extracurricular activities."

He spoke faster and faster, and those suppressed, simple, almost humble desires poured out.

"I want to have my own name, instead of being called Clone 7."

"Let me go. I won't work for the court anymore. I'm leaving Gotham."

"Really, I promise, I will never show my face in front of you again, please."

Dior listened quietly, his smile growing wider, but devoid of any warmth.

Strawberry ice cream? Sunset? Orange cat? Going to school?

"What a ridiculous and pathetic dream."

He reached out and affectionately patted the fake Bruce's cheek, his fingertips stained with blood. "You think these things are something a defective product like you deserves?"

"You don't even have your own name, you don't even know what pain feels like."

Dior stuck out the tip of his tongue and lightly touched the blood on his fingertip, his brow furrowing.

...Even the blood didn't smell like Bruce.

next second.

He spat out a mouthful of saliva stained with blood.

"Pooh!"

"It's disgusting; a cloned defective product will always be a defective product."

"I was planning to rehearse the scene of me killing Bruce on you, but..."

Dior tilted his head back, his face full of disgust.

"A counterfeit is a counterfeit."

"Let me teach you a lesson: in Gotham, only the strong are entitled to have dreams."

"As for the ice cream and the party, you're going to die anyway!!!!"

"Don't worry, I'll kill you in an instant, without you feeling a single pain!!!"

"Gold Eperience!!!"

Pfft!!!

Gold Experience's swift and merciless chop pierced through the fake Bruce's body.

Blood gushed out, splattering onto Dio's expressionless face.

The golden experience has vanished.

"vomit!"

The fake Bruce fell to the ground, clutching his chest, but couldn't stop the blood from gushing out.

He opened his eyes wide and stared at the sky at the alley entrance, which was cut off by tall buildings.

Sunlight streamed through the gaps, falling warmly on my face.

At that moment, he seemed to truly see the sunset, and he saw himself lying on the lawn, holding a strawberry ice cream cone.

Wow, the sun is so beautiful!

So what flavor should ice cream taste like?

The fake Bruce gave a satisfied smile and closed his eyes forever.

"snort."

"Blood splattered on my face."

Dio straightened up and disgustedly wiped the bloodstains splattered on his face.

"Do you have to disgust me before you die?"

After saying that, he turned and left without ever looking back.

Only one corpse remained in the alley.

After stepping out of the alley, Dior continued walking without pausing for a moment.

To him, crushing the dream of a clone was no different from crushing a loaf of bread.

The body in the alley was still warm.

More than ten kilometers away, underground in Indian Mountain, Bruce and Fox were standing in the center of a gas chamber.

"Now, I have a riddle for you, and you have five minutes to answer it. So..."

The riddle-maker, dressed in a hospital gown, pressed his mouth to the microphone and whispered, "Who controls Indian Mountain?"

Wayne Group.

Bruce figured out the answer in a second and replied.

"Bruce, this is too hasty. We need to discuss this further."

Fox knew the answer was probably close to the truth, but he still wanted to be cautious.

"Think about it carefully, wait a minute!"

The riddle-maker froze, instinctively glancing at the black-haired boy in the gas chamber.

"Okay, okay, correct answer. Now, next question."

"Who controls Wayne Enterprises?"

The Riddler stared at Bruce, his fingertips tracing the button.

Bruce didn't speak, he just stared calmly at the one-way glass.

Hugo pushed open the door and patted the riddle-maker on the shoulder.

"That's enough, he's smart enough not to answer."

Because answering the question would mean certain death; anyone who knew the court's secret would die.

The riddle teller gritted his teeth, but still put down the microphone.

Hugo walked to the one-way glass, looked at the black-haired boy inside, and a trace of nostalgia flashed in his eyes.

"Release the hypnotic gas, I want to live."

"But before that..."

He waved, and several staff members walked in through the entrance.

"Let's take Mr. Nigma back first."

"What! You can't do that!"

"You can't treat me like I'm crazy!"

"Hugo!"