Bruce’s Helplessness

Bruce Wayne was in a terrible mood.

A very terrible mood.

If anything had really happened to Diana, then he would bear full responsibility for it.

He had contacted Diana and asked her to recruit Beckett.

He had mistakenly identified Beckett as a descendant of Norse gods.

"Wait, Bruce… Bruce Wayne? What happened?"

Barry Allen’s voice trembled even as he hurriedly fastened his seat belt.

Bruce Wayne had stomped on the accelerator so hard that it was downright terrifying.

The supercar’s performance was pushed to its limits on Central City’s wide roads. The engine’s roaring matched Bruce Wayne’s utterly foul mood.

He wanted to roar too, but he could not.

He was Bruce Wayne. He was Batman.

Keeping his emotions in check was the key to Batman never falling, to always soaring above Gotham.

Not every superhero could guarantee that they would not fly into a rage and strike out when facing Gotham’s lunatics, but Bruce Wayne had done exactly that.

Though many people in Gotham scoffed at his actions.

After all, although he had instilled fear in Gotham’s criminals, Arkham Asylum’s smooth-talking talents only seemed to multiply.

"Barry, let me ask you something. Are you familiar with Greek Mythology?"

Without realizing it, Bruce Wayne had slipped into Batman’s distinctive voice.

"Greek Mythology? Of course. Don’t let my appearance fool you, I actually loved reading extracurricular books when I was in school. Things like Captain Jack, Robinson Crusoe, surviving on deserted islands, and so on."

After rattling on like a machine gun, Barry Allen realized that he did not seem to have directly answered Bruce Wayne’s question. He paused for half a second, then forcibly steered the conversation back. "What I mean is, my interests are actually pretty broad."

"Good."

After leaving behind those words that left Barry Allen utterly baffled, Bruce Wayne said nothing more.

The expressionless low-pressure atmosphere made Barry Allen swallow back whatever he had wanted to say several times.

Why would the Son of Titan look into books about Norse Mythology?

What connection did the Titans have with Norse gods?

Without consulting the records, even Bruce Wayne could not immediately think of any connection between the Son of Titan and the Norse gods.

"We’re here. Get out."

With a hard stomp on the brakes, the supercar finally fell silent amid the frantic screech of tires against the ground, its body gleaming under the sunlight.

"Okay, okay."

Still confused throughout the entire journey, Barry Allen nodded, got out of the car, and followed Bruce Wayne onto the private jet that had been waiting there for some time.

"Cool~"

"So where are we going now? Kansas?"

For the first time in his life, Barry Allen had boarded the private jet of one of the world’s wealthiest people, and his eyes were full of excitement.

Though he did not know why Bruce Wayne had asked whether he knew Greek Mythology, he could be certain that this private jet was not heading for Gotham.

"That’s right. We’re going to Kansas to meet another member of our team."

Bruce Wayne looked at the white clouds outside the window and took a sip of wine from his glass.

"Who?"

"Diana, a greek demigoddess."

By the time he finished a glass of wine, Alfred, the butler at the base, had already sent every book and document on Greek Mythology and Norse Mythology that he could gather to Bruce’s laptop.

The sheer volume and vast range of titles gave Bruce Wayne a headache.

Even with memory and reading abilities far beyond those of ordinary people, digesting all that material in a short time was no easy task.

As he came into contact with more of this world’s dark side and experienced more and more battles, Bruce Wayne ultimately had to admit that the lunatic had been right about him.

The more calculating a person was, the more likely they were to fail when faced with the unexpected.

People ultimately had their limits.

To say nothing of the distant past, take the Doomsday incident from not long ago.

Superman and Diana had both been able to trade a few blows with that monster Doomsday, while he alone had seemed utterly powerless.

So powerless that he had been like a mere bystander, his only possible contribution being the Kryptonite spear Superman used to kill Doomsday.

No one had said that about him, but Bruce knew it perfectly well.

As he grew older, his agility and reactions had already begun to decline.

Or rather, every aspect of his physical condition had deteriorated to varying degrees compared with the peak of his youth.

"Do you need my help?"

Barry Allen’s voice interrupted Bruce Wayne’s thoughts.

"I mean, we’re a team now, so it should be normal for team members to help each other, right?"

Bruce Wayne’s gaze was highly oppressive, and Barry Allen hurriedly spread his hands as he explained his point, hoping to avoid any misunderstanding.

"Honestly, I’m pretty good at handling this sort of thing."

"Of course." Bruce Wayne pushed the laptop toward Barry Allen.

Whoosh!

A sharp gust howled past, stirring Bruce Wayne’s hair.

The moment ice cubes dropped into the glass, bubbles rose along with Barry Allen’s confident face. "Done."

"I looked over the sections you marked. You were trying to find possible common ground between them, right?"

Barry Allen spread his hands and pushed the laptop back in front of Bruce Wayne.

"You know, my superpower is speed. And that speed isn’t just how fast I run. It also includes how fast I read, how fast I think, and how fast I get things done."

Under Bruce Wayne’s gaze, Barry Allen spoke with confidence.

"Oh, right. I should probably clarify something. In certain matters, I’m not fast at all. On the contrary, I should last quite a long time. You know, that sort of thing is something I can… can control myself."

Perhaps Bruce Wayne’s stare made the sensitive Barry Allen feel that something was off. To protect his dignity as a man, he explained himself again.

The explanation was plain and easy to understand.

"Wow. That really is… an extremely convenient superpower."

The smooth vintage wine slid down his throat. Bruce Wayne raised an eyebrow, then shifted his gaze from Barry Allen to the computer screen.

He suddenly felt that the wine no longer tasted as good as it used to.

"Thanks." Barry Allen took a small sip of the Lafite in his glass, accepting Bruce Wayne’s praise.

It was his first time drinking red wine that had been aged for so long. As for the taste… it was just okay.

Barry Allen pursed his lips, really wanting to pour half a bottle of Sprite into it.