bookbashuk Chapter 511 What? Luther is actually a good person?
Chapter 511 What? Luther is actually a good person?
Chapter 511 What? Luther is actually a good person?
We are often plagued by rat infestations, even though rats are not very intelligent.
In the pitch-black shadows, a mouse walked through the dark sewer, then looked up and saw a piece of sweet and delicious cheese on the mousetrap in front of it.
So it walked over, stepped on it, and then...
Snapped!
No one ever thought of inventing a more sophisticated mousetrap, because there was no need for it.
And right now, Night Owl has the same idea.
He felt he had already valued me enough; he thought sending out a bunch of low-level lackeys would be enough to catch all the rats...
But he never imagined...
Sometimes mice grow wings...
Then it turns into a bat!!!
In the sewers of Gotham City, at Night Owl's.
Compared to the other Gotham City, this place is far more orderly, but also far more brutal.
Here, the owl manipulates everyone; this is the owl's lair, the place where his story and dreams begin.
Night Owl knew this place so well that he thought no one would be so foolish as to confront him in Gotham City.
He was wrong, terribly wrong.
As Dave E. Smalley once said, "Survival of the fittest is an eternal law of nature, but the fittest are not always the strongest. The fittest are those creatures that possess exceptional adaptability, that is, those who can accept what is inevitable and adapt to what is unavoidable, thus living in harmony with the present or ever-changing environment."
This passage can be interpreted in two ways: either as groveling and compromising with a life of flattery and sycophancy... or as using wisdom to challenge it.
Luther stepped on the dead rat.
He was wearing a black jacket and holding a flashlight, which he shone on the slightly damp rock face in front of him.
He turned a slightly drier corner and saw a peeling poster that read: Gotham belongs to the Night Owl!
Luther spat at it as he walked past her.
Luther could have surrendered to Night Owl.
Giving up Batman and his own world might be a good way to save his life. Owl has high hopes for himself; perhaps compared to those powerful cosmic overlords, Luthor is easier to control in his eyes.
Luther knew he would be safe if he surrendered. The Night Owl's recruitment of him would prove his worth. Once the world was safe, whatever the outcome of the power struggle between the cosmic overlords and the Night Owl, as a super-powerful researcher, he would receive the victor's treatment. That's the treatment of a super scientist. Sounds good, right?
I am all alone now, how could I possibly sink the Night Owl's ship?
But I'm determined to give it a try.
After several twists and turns, Luther arrived behind an iron gate and then slightly raised his head.
It wasn't just Night Owl who made preparations... He hadn't originally thought he would be forced to use such an imperfect method.
Luther reached out, and the last little blob of mud-faced body tissue crawled out of his sleeve like a slime and then attached itself to Luther's face.
Those mud-faced body parts wriggled and deformed, then transformed Luther into another Latin face, even giving him a full head of hair.
He then climbed over the rather high threshold and went inside. In the darkness, he heard someone ask, "Who's there?"
"It's me, Otis," Luther said. "I'm glad you've been keeping watch here and preventing anyone else from coming in."
A muscular man appeared before Luther, bowing slightly. "Of course, Boss Mark."
Luther looked at him.
The Boss Mark he mentioned once existed, but is now dead.
He is a small-time gang leader in a city controlled by the Night Owls, working for Maloney, the "Big Boss" Maloney.
In Luthor's universe, this third-tier villain and his old nemesis "The Roman" Falcone didn't even last two years of Batman's crime-fighting in Gotham, but here, Maloney is loyal to Night Owl.
Luther killed the gang leader known as Boss Mark and then usurped his identity with Mudface. Even a small-time boss like that would have one or two henchmen who obeyed his orders. Such gatekeepers could help Luther avoid a lot of exposure.
"You're finally here, Boss Mark. Does this mean my mission is over? Good heavens, how long have I been here? I've almost lost track of time. I've always wanted to know what's behind the second iron door, but I've never been inside, I swear."
Of course you've never been inside.
Luther thought to himself.
If the other party dared to go in, they would have been cut into pieces by the laser he left in that room long ago. This would have caused him a lot of unnecessary trouble in his preparations, which is why he was so cautious when selecting personnel.
"Is it weapons? Heroin, or Blue Melancholy?"
That gangster thug named Otis kept rambling on and on.
"Please, can you be quiet?" Luther asked.
"Sorry, Boss Mark, I always feel like talking when I'm nervous. Have you ever been nervous? Oh, that's a really stupid question."
Then Otis said, "Boss Mark, whatever we're planning to sell, this...this goes beyond Mr. Maloney's scope. If he finds out, if...if Night Owl finds out..."
Luther and he walked around a corner and then saw a corpse lying there.
It looked like a woman, possibly a homeless person, and some of her clothes had been removed.
"This woman invaded this place," Otis stammered. "I killed her, and then used her to satisfy my needs."
"Don't tell me that," Luther said after looking at the corpse for a moment. "Let's go."
They finally reached the second iron gate, and then the gangster Otis said, "I know the rules. I'll wait here, Boss Mark."
Luther nodded, and then, just as he was about to go inside, he suddenly stopped.
"No, you come in with me."
The gangster thug, Otis, immediately looked surprised: "Really? Boss Mark?"
Luther forced a smile at him: "Of course, you're one of my confidants."
They walked through the iron gate, but instead of the large quantities of methamphetamine and weapons that Otis had imagined, they found a huge tank covered in a thick layer of dust, with an energy source next to it supplying green energy.
"I shouldn't have used it now," Luther muttered to himself. "I've never used it before; I've always saved it as my last resort. I originally wanted to create a pure Superman."
"Subject B-0?" The gangster Otis read aloud the words. "What's this, Boss Mark?"
Luther wiped the dust off with his hand, and then a figure with its eyes closed was revealed.
"I should have opened this jar five years later."
Otis, a gangster, also saw the person in the jar.
His voice began to tremble: "Wait, what's that?"
Luther ignored him and continued, "I've known about the entire cloning process since I started this project. It takes decades for a single cell extracted from Clark Kent's blood that I collected to develop into a mature individual."
I originally planned to cultivate a purebred Kryptonian, or even an optimized version of Clark, instead of adding parasites or Doomsday cells and all sorts of other random things. I had every reason to suspect that Kryptonian power originated from idealism, because no matter how you look at it, it's absolutely impossible for Superman to generate such powerful energy from a mere star like the sun.
"And after witnessing Superman Supreme, my theory was further confirmed," Luther said. "No matter where I went or how busy I was, I never abandoned him, because I needed to keep an eye on his growth at all times. I wanted to create a perfect Kryptonian, one with full intelligence and limitless potential, a Kryptonian who could rival or even surpass Clark, not a hybrid like Superman Connor Kent."
"And he was also the last card I could play when my life was threatened," Luther said. "He's powerful, very strong, even though it still needs five more years to fully develop."
"Releasing him from the petri dish now will definitely damage his intelligence. This means my idea of creating a perfect Kryptonian with full intelligence has been shattered," Luther said. "But I'm afraid I have no choice but to do it this time."
He pressed a button on the petri dish, and then, with a puff of steam, the petri dish opened, revealing a naked, burly man with bumpy white skin and closed eyes.
"My God!" he exclaimed.
"Calm down, Otis," Luther said.
"Roar." The burly man stepped out of the petri dish and said.
"This is a monster." Gangster thug Otis raised his gun and pointed it at him. "Boss Mark, are you crazy? In Gotham City, you can sell anything and not die, but you can't challenge Night Owl's authority. Nothing can..."
"Can an artificial being understand me? I am Lex Luthor, your creator and designer. You must hear every word I say and execute every command I give you without fail."
The gangster thug suddenly looked at Lex Luthor: "What did you say your name was?"
“Let’s test it out, man-made,” Luther said, then pointed at the gangster Otis: “Kill him.”
"What?"
"Roar roar roar..."
Luther repeated his command: "I said, kill him."
"Huh?" the artifact uttered a question that was difficult to decipher. Then it turned to look at Otis.
"Don't come near me!" The gangsters kept firing at the artificial muscular man, sending sparks flying from his chest.
Then, after a puff of smoke, the artificial being smelled the smoke emanating from its own body.
"Roar roar roar".
There was no reaction; he stood there like a statue, doing nothing but making noise.
"Damn it, listen up, kill him right now!" Luther pointed at the gangster and gave the order again, which resulted in the man pointing a gun at Luther's head: "Go to hell, Mark, you're no longer my boss. What kind of evil thing have you created? Wait, Lex Luther... Damn it, you're not my boss Mark anymore. What did you do to Boss Mark?"
"Roar!" With a loud bang, Luther turned his head and closed his eyes slightly. Blood poured down like rain, soaking him to the bone.
Luther wiped the splattered half of his brain, heart, liver, spleen, kidneys, or some other strange organ off his face, then threw half of his intestines, which was hanging from his waist, onto the ground.
He reached out and removed the mud cells covering his face, restoring it to its original state, leaving his face clean and spotless, without a single drop of blood.
He quickly wiped his hands, which were almost completely soaked with blood, on the back of his pants.
"Very good," he said. "Looks like this will work. Now come with me."
The artificial being was no longer obeying Luther's commands, or rather, it couldn't fully understand what Luther was asking it to do. Luther could only hold its hand, like leading a baby.
The artificial monster became happy, let out a roar, and then happily raised its other hand, making it look like a disobedient kindergarten child.
Luther's face was tense: "I need to hurry... wasting too much time will allow Night Owl to track me down."
He led the artifact out of the iron gate, passing the body of the woman killed by the gangster Otis. Luther initially walked past, but then suddenly stopped.
He went back, took off his coat, which was covered in Otis's blood, and draped it over the woman's corpse. He paused, as if organizing his thoughts, or perhaps unsure what to say, and finally said, "Rest in peace."
Then he turned and left, muttering:
"This is so unlike me... damn Batman."
"Another bit of time wasted."
……
……
……
Why?
Darkseid coughed up blood that looked like flames from his mouth and nose; Batman's backstab had instantly crippled him, leaving him severely wounded by the Anti-Monitor.
"You shouldn't forget that bullet," he heard Batman's voice.
"That bullet that could have slain the new gods, you used it to strike your ally!" Darkseid roared in fury, "You madman!"
He turned his head and saw that Batman had completely synchronized with the Dark Father, and his whole body had become like his: "Do you know that theory? If there's a gun hanging on the wall, it will definitely be activated, and the bullet will definitely go into someone's forehead."
Darkseid thought Batman was completely insane, and that his actions did him no good whatsoever.
Darkseid gritted his teeth: "You think I'm helpless? That bullet didn't kill me, now it's my turn to kill you."
"You think I'll just surrender?"
He said, "I want you dead."
(End of this chapter)