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

In the darkness, a pair of green eyes silently opened.

Dior clenched his fists and stretched his muscles.

At this point, his face became expressionless—no excitement, no mockery, no sarcasm.

There is only one kind of focus left, like the focus of a college entrance exam candidate when facing the most challenging question in the last five minutes!

Spider-Sense spreads out a radar network, gathering all surrounding signals into its mind.

The Ripple Breathing Technique also helped him perceive life energy, allowing him to clearly see the location of everyone in the corridor.

There was silence all around.

"Damn it, I can't take it anymore!"

In the darkness, someone shakily pulled out a lighter.

Click.

A flame shot up, its tiny light barely illuminating the terrified face.

"Get out here!"

He was flashing a lighter around wildly, his eyes darting around in a panic, and there was even a strong smell of urine in the air.

However, the entire police station had long since become a dark forest.

And light is the target.

"Put out the fire!!!"

Jerome's frantic face was filled with disbelief.

He may have a mental illness, but his intelligence is definitely not lacking.

In this darkness, wouldn't you become a target if you tried to light a fire?

Before the words were finished, a whooshing sound exploded from the corner.

A throwing knife tore through the air and struck the lighter with pinpoint accuracy.

A spark flashed, and the lighter flew out of his hand.

Before the man could react, a hand grabbed his throat from behind, while another fist slammed into his side ribs.

"Ughh ...

Dior released his grip, and the man slumped to the ground.

Without stopping, he turned and pounced on his next target.

At the end of the corridor, someone touched the backup power switch.

"I found it! Here----"

Upon hearing this, Dior immediately looked over.

Before he could finish speaking, the grappling hook's rope pierced through the air, the metal grappling hook biting his wrist and pulling hard.

He was thrown off his feet, his head slamming against the wall, and his pig-like screams rang out again.

"ah!!!"

"Shoot! Shoot now! Whoever it is, shoot!"

Bang bang bang!

Gunshots rang out, bullets flew wildly in the darkness, and sparks flew from the walls and ceiling.

A stray bullet grazed Dio's cheek, leaving a thin trail of blood.

He frowned slightly, wiped away the blood with his fingertips, and remained expressionless.

In the darkness, the cannibal Robert fired wildly with his pistol, frantically reloading after the magazine was empty.

A hand reached out from the darkness, grasped the gun barrel, and gently twisted it, pointing the muzzle at the ceiling.

Before Robert could react, he was punched hard in the stomach, and stomach acid gushed from the corner of his mouth.

He knelt on the ground, his screams mixed with dry heaving, gradually eroding the will to resist of the others.

"The devil... He's the devil! A devil sent by Satan!!!" someone began to cry out.

Footsteps echoed in the darkness, unhurried and deliberate, as if deliberately made.

Each time it approached, there was a scream, followed by a dull thud as a heavy object fell to the ground.

Jerome stood on the platform, tilting his head, his eyes growing brighter and brighter.

"Interesting, very interesting..."

His men fell one by one until the last scream rang out.

The police station was completely silent, save for heavy breathing and suppressed sobs.

Dio emerged from the darkness and stood before Jerome, his face expressionless.

Jerome looked up and grinned. "Hey, golden...you're so handsome, hahaha."

Dio ignored his ravings, disabling his mobility with a few punches, and grabbed his hair to force him to look up.

"Who told you to write me the invitation? Who's behind it all?"

Jerome blinked and smiled inappropriately.

"Hehehe... You asked that? Nobody asked me to write it, I wanted to write it myself! Because you're funny! You're so funny! I wanted to see if you'd come."

He tilted his head.

"Oh, right, you were an abandoned child too, weren't you? I can smell it, you won't kill me, haha!"

"I hope you'll stay this stubborn in a moment."

Dior narrowed his eyes slightly, released his grip, and took a step back.

Once he left, he had plenty of ways to get Jerome to talk instead of listening to this stupid, maniacal laughter.

At that moment, he suddenly remembered the gangster record he had drawn last time, and an idea came to him.

"Sir, have we met somewhere before?"

Tied to a chair, the police inspector Essen, whose skin blended seamlessly with the darkness, tentatively asked.

I almost forgot about you, you damn black police inspector.

Dior glanced at her displeasedly and said only indifferently:

"Chariot".

"What?" Essen frowned.

A flash of silver light appeared.

The silver chariot appeared out of thin air behind Essen, and the hilt of the rapier slammed into the back of her neck.

"Uh! You------"

Essen's eyes widened suddenly, then everything went black, and he fainted.

After Dio tied Jerome up with a rope, he took out his phone and dialed Peter's number.

"Come to the police station, bring two people with you, there's a lunatic we need to deal with."

A few minutes later, Peter arrived with his men.

The sound of police sirens grew closer in the distance.

Dio glanced at Jerome, who showed no intention of running away, a hint of disgust flashing in his eyes:

"Take him to the market and wait for me."

Peter exchanged a glance with his two underlings, then hoisted the bound Jerome onto his shoulders.

"Boss, be careful."

Don't worry.

-----------------

In the distance, the rooftops of tall buildings offer a wide view.

"As expected, they failed. These useless bunch."

Tabitha lay prone on the edge, her sniper rifle's crosshairs steadily aimed at Jerome's temple.

She was ordered to silence him; this madman knew too much, and she couldn't let him speak.

"Dio Brando?"

Tabitha's aim unconsciously shifted, landing on that alluring face.

She licked her lips.

"I didn't expect you to be so different."

Suddenly, the blond boy in the mirror paused in his speech, then looked up and stared intently at her.

"What?"

Tabitha's breath caught in her throat, and a chill ran down her spine.

Did he see me?

How is that possible?

Perhaps it was a coincidence?

She swallowed hard, lay back down, and was shocked to discover something.

He's staring at me! What kind of monster is this?!

She gritted her teeth, moved the crosshair back to Jerome, and pulled the trigger.

"I don't believe you can stop a bullet!"

Bang! The bullet pierced the air.

Prior to this, the spider-sense had already begun to issue warnings.

In Dio's eyes, that sniper bullet was as slow as a tortoise crawling.

"Muda mata! Chariot!"

A flash of silver light.

A silver chariot appeared out of thin air, its rapier raised high, slashing at the bullet.

Clang! The bullet was instantly deflected.

Tabitha's pupils contracted sharply, and she uttered an incredulous whisper:

".....What the hell is that?"

She didn't have time to think much; she quickly disassembled the sniper rifle, put it in her backpack, and rushed towards the stairs.

Downstairs, a motorcycle was already in place.

She straddled the accelerator, twisted the throttle, and the tires kicked up a puff of white smoke as she sped out of the city.

Before the roar of the engine had faded, a deeper, more steady growl came from behind.

hum!

In the rearview mirror, a black Kawasaki Ninja 400 was emerging from the thin mist, gradually getting closer.

The rider crouched low, strands of hair peeking out from the edge of his helmet, his gold jacket fluttering in the wind.

"Damn it!!!"

Tabitha gripped the handlebars tightly, twisted the throttle to the floor, and her face was filled with panic.

"Just who is this guy?!"