Days as a Spiritual Mentor in American Comics Chapter 5685 - 4709: Deadly Escape (42)

Greed abruptly regained consciousness, his gaze fixed on that direction with disbelief. "Arrogant?"

He was indeed aware of Arrogant's participation in the competition, yet the sheer improbability of encountering him so swiftly left him stunned.

Arrogant knelt before him, his touch tracing Greed's forehead before moving to the injury. The moment his fingers made contact, Arrogant stiffened.

"Who inflicted this?" Arrogant's voice turned frigid.

"Hiss... who else...?" Greed ground out through clenched teeth. "Of course, it was Batman!"

"Just to clarify, you aren't referring to..."

"Not your prized student, though he too was pursuing me. I struck him, perhaps even fractured his arm..." Greed sounded somewhat sheepish. "You can't fault me; I was fighting for my very life..."

"Lie down first," Arrogant instructed. "Allow me to examine the wound."

Greed slowly reclined, but a wave of intensified dizziness washed over him. He gritted his teeth, determined to stave off unconsciousness, but soon the need to clench them vanished as Arrogant reached into his wound.

"Ugh——!!!" Greed's body jolted upright in excruciating pain.

Arrogant soon withdrew, his expression grim. "Severe internal bleeding. Under normal circumstances, survival would be impossible. Consider this: would you prefer to depart now, or shall I facilitate your exit before you succumb?"

Greed forcefully shut his eyes, silently seething at Batman for what felt like an eternity, hurling mental curses for his perceived deception in not intending to kill.

"Judging by the angle of the wound, he genuinely didn't intend to end your life. Had you remained still, you likely wouldn't have met this fate. But who told you to run and leap, only to descend from such a height? Do you fancy yourself Superman?"

"Then I'd rather fall to my death!" Greed retorted fiercely.

After a few more ragged breaths, he declared, "I shall depart now. You may bring my body to the central energy chamber to rendezvous with the others."

Arrogant nodded. He moved to Greed's head, lifted his upper body, supported his chin with one hand, and grasped his shoulder with the other. With an audible 'crack', the form in his arms ceased to be alive.

Greed's consciousness departed his physical shell, returning to Battleworld. He slammed his desk in anger a few times, utterly dismayed to be the first eliminated from the organizer's side. "Batman bears full responsibility!"

Greed truly hadn't anticipated that mere moments after he fell near the cubicle, Batman would act with such lethal intent. How could anyone possibly react to such a swift assault?

Even as Batman made his move, Greed hadn't perceived any malice. Had he sensed it, he might have evaded the attack. This individual was profoundly dangerous.

He stormed back into the surveillance room, finding the agent lounging with crossed legs, a coffee cup in hand, idly observing the unfolding events.

Greed approached and slammed the desk. "You conniving spy!"

"Doesn't feel good to be outmaneuvered by Batman, does it?" the agent chuckled.

Greed folded his arms, simmering in silent frustration. This was his first direct confrontation with Batman's capabilities, and he now understood: getting too close to this individual was a sure path to ruin.

The agent offered him a cup of coffee, which Greed initially refused. The agent then added encouragingly, "You witnessed Batman's prowess when he was hunting you; the same applies when he targets others. You've exited the game; isn't this the perfect moment to enjoy watching them be pursued?"

Greed paused, momentarily taken aback. The agent's words instantly cooled his anger. He had a point.

When he was the quarry, Batman was a merciless butcher, an unrelenting phantom. But his nature remained unchanged when he was the hunter. Greed was out, while his associates were still in the fray.

Just as he had shown no mercy with his stab, Batman would exhibit no leniency when confronting the others. This spectacle was definitely worth witnessing!

Thus, Greed accepted the coffee, settled beside the agent, blew on the steaming beverage, took a small sip, exhaled deeply, and declared, "Quickly, quickly, let's see how the others are faring."

The others weren't faring particularly well.

Consider the Joker. Typically, his silver tongue and cunning schemes would prove effective against any pursuers. However, alas, Thor remained entirely impervious to his deceptions.

The sole stratagems capable of influencing Thor in this reality were those devised by Loki. Thor's entire existence was a testament to the adage: "One can feign ignorance, but true ineptitude is impossible to fake." Engaging in pranks or traps with his brother was merely sibling camaraderie. Had he been genuinely foolish, could he have waged wars in Asgard for millennia, earning such widespread admiration?

Upon retreating to the initial checkpoint, the Joker leaped down. His initial intention was to utilize the staff passage, but Thor's pursuit was alarmingly swift. The moment the Joker lifted his foot to flee, Thor had already pinned him down.

"Nope, nope, nope!" the Joker shrieked, his voice laced with panic. "I’m innocent! They tricked me into coming here. I swear, I’ll spill everything, just let me go first…"

It was the same old spiel. Anyone else might have been swayed by his plea, which sounded like it belonged in a script. In truth, these *were* the Joker’s lines. According to the original screenplay, he was a ridiculously wealthy millionaire who had been duped. This dialogue primarily served to establish the company’s motive for wanting him silenced.

The core concept was that the millionaire, portrayed by the Joker, felt the current game format lacked sufficient excitement. He desired to orchestrate a grander, more opulent survival game involving a larger number of millionaires who would personally participate. However, the company vehemently opposed this, prompting him to plan a solo venture, bypassing their authorization.

Naturally, the company could not permit this; any major disruption he caused could potentially expose their own clandestine operations. Consequently, they saw their chance, summoned him, and infiltrated his entourage of millionaires with an agent, intending nothing less than his demise.

This action would effectively halt his ambitious plan and serve as a stern warning to future millionaires against casual participation in the game. Spectatorship was acceptable; active involvement, however, led to this grim fate.

The Joker had meticulously rehearsed his lines, but regrettably, Thor operated on a 'dialogue-optional' basis. This stemmed from years of combat, which had exposed him to more captive excuses than there were branches on the World Tree. These tales were often bizarre and improbable, usually fabrications designed to mislead. Over time, he cultivated a habit of dispatching foes first and interrogating them later.

"Bang!" Thor seized the Joker by his collar and delivered a swift blow to his face. Another followed, and then another…

Loki, unable to watch the brutality unfold, nudged Thor. "Tone down the gore, won't you? A quick end is sufficient."

Thor’s initial intention was to pummel the Joker into oblivion, harboring no inclination to spare adversaries. However, complying with Loki’s request, he firmly planted his foot on the Joker’s chest, grasped his head, and with a powerful yank, detached it from his body. The Joker’s entire head was severed.

Thor flashed a grin at Loki, who instinctively took a few steps back, recoiling. "I did tell you, not so much blood. It’s rather unpleasant."

Thor casually tossed the severed head aside. In the viewing chamber, Greed heartily slapped his thigh in approval. Yet, before his triumphant cry could fully escape, the Joker lunged forward, suddenly encircling his neck. Coffee cascaded everywhere as he struggled.

Greed contorted his body, breaking free from the Joker’s grip, and slammed him onto the floor. The two grappled vigorously on the ground.

After an extended struggle, neither had gained a decisive advantage. They rose, their attire somewhat disheveled. The Joker, panting, spat, "Look at this pathetic scenario you’ve concocted! And this shoddy checkpoint you designed!"

"Weren’t you the one who insisted on coming when you heard Batman was going to be here?!" Greed shot back defiantly. "How is it that you managed to slip past Batman’s notice throughout the entire game, only to erupt in fury now?!"

"Well, it’s true. Batman’s focus is entirely on his dear friend Superman; they are inseparable. As for you? He’s never acknowledged any sort of antagonistic relationship with you. You’re nothing more than a self-aggrandizing jester!"

The two adversaries resumed their physical confrontation.

Shortly thereafter, the Scarecrow also met his doom. His fate proved even more unfortunate. He had intended to seek refuge at the subsequent checkpoint, but upon arrival, he found himself disoriented, unable to recall the location of the staff-only passage. This particular checkpoint had been conceptualized only a month or two prior, and as he wasn’t overseeing its development, the precise layout eluded him. This lapse allowed Charles and Erik to apprehend him with ease.

The Scarecrow was significantly less capable of mounting a defense. While Charles and Erik derived their power from formidable mutant abilities, both had experienced the harsh realities of wartime. Erik, in particular, had personally fought in conflicts. The Scarecrow, a university professor by trade, was hardly equipped to contend in direct combat with these hardened individuals. He wouldn't have stood a chance against even a fully mobile Charles, let alone Erik.

Erik delivered a swift and brutal end – he procured an iron rod, positioned it against the Scarecrow’s right eye, and with a sickening "thud," drove it directly through his brain. The scream of agony only resonated once he had returned to the monitoring room.

It was evident that the Scarecrow sided with the Joker. Both harbored the belief that Greed’s checkpoint design was the fundamental flaw. Had he not devised that particular contraption, the lantern would not have been dislodged, preventing their subsequent displacement and subsequent capture in one fell swoop.

Regarding the curious absence of any repercussions for the clandestine mole agent, there were two primary reasons. Firstly, they remained unaware that the agent had tampered with their transit passes. Secondly, what level of expectation could be placed on the police force? They had clearly identified themselves as the FBI, demonstrating an equal aptitude for obstruction as for facilitation. What recourse was there against such an entity?

Greed offered a further clarification: "In reality, even if the lantern had been knocked aside, we shouldn’t have found ourselves in such a compromised position. The primary issue lies in our failure to achieve the objectives in the initial three games."

"The session to clarify the rules is intended to signal to them that a draw is not an option. As long as the game doesn't end in a tie, someone is bound to get hurt once it commences. While perhaps not losing limbs, a considerable amount of blood will certainly be spilled. With injuries and diminished strength, they won't be able to keep pace with us."

"Who could have predicted their sheer luck, avoiding any matches in the initial three rounds? Typically, misfortune strikes, especially with a Shiller and a Batman in the mix. Shouldn't they have run into trouble by now?"

Greed was completely baffled. Yet, lost in his bewilderment, he failed to observe the agent, who was slowly lowering his head while sipping coffee. This wasn't merely good fortune; it was a consequence of someone else shouldering the burden for them.

The agent recognized that Greed's strategy was sound. The initial three games were meant to inflict injuries, causing them to bleed or lose body parts, thereby weakening them. Subsequently, they would present the Joker's mole as a target for pursuit, appearing to allow an outlet for their rage. However, this venting would ultimately be counterproductive, draining their energy and, without the fuel of anger, leading to discouragement.

Consequently, with their bodies aching from wounds and their heads swimming from blood loss, and lacking the persistent rage to push their opponents, their adrenaline would quickly dissipate. The subsequent two rounds would then become significantly more arduous. Perhaps, during the most demanding final stage, they could be apprehended all at once.

The plan was meticulous, but alas, mortal intentions often falter against divine will. The agent took another sip of coffee. What was so wrong with being a police officer? The police exist to uphold celestial justice!

Not long afterward, Mephisto, who had been cornered by Harley and Pamela, also made his appearance. He wasn't overtly furious, merely expressing a touch of resignation with a shrug, "That girl is truly tempestuous. I now have precisely two more holes than Jesus."

To everyone's surprise, Stark, who seemed least likely to succeed, managed to endure until the very end. The entire monitoring room watched in unison, poised to witness his inevitable downfall.