"Bang!"
A violent crash echoed through the streets, making Jefferson instinctively shrink his neck at the sound.
What he saw was a pickup truck being completely overturned by an unknown vehicle.
The wreckage of the pickup even flew past the police blockade, landing right in front of them—engulfed in flames.
And the gang members inside?
Jefferson didn't even need to think twice—there was almost no chance of survival.
Inside the cockpit, Bruce's expression remained unchanged.
These gang members, spreading like a virus, left him with no reason to hold back anymore.
If he continued handling things the way he had before, it would take an eternity to quell the riots.
That would only lead to more innocent lives being caught in the chaos.
Just as the Batmobile approached the police blockade, it executed a flawless drift, adjusting its trajectory without so much as brushing against the police cars.
Only then did Jefferson and his colleagues dare to poke their heads out and look at the street ahead.
The gang members? Nowhere to be seen.
All that remained in sight were the wrecked and overturned pickup trucks—courtesy of the vehicle now parked right in front of them.
Jefferson opened his mouth, wanting to say something, but Bruce simply restarted the Batmobile. The fiery exhaust from the back made it clear just how much power this beast had.
Just as Jefferson was about to act, his colleague pulled him back.
He turned to look at his partner, ready to speak, but the man just shook his head.
They all understood.
New York City was beyond their ability to save.
This was a job for those masked lunatics.
The Batmobile roared through the streets of New York without restraint.
Perhaps because New Yorkers had long grown accustomed to chaos, most civilians had already made the wise decision to stay indoors.
The only ones left on the streets were police officers still struggling against the gangs and a handful of street-level heroes using their own abilities to fight back.
"Which district is the worst right now?"
Inside the Batmobile, Bruce was in communication with Jessica in the Batcave.
"It's not just a district anymore—Manhattan is on the verge of total collapse," Jessica responded, staring at the screens showing the island bathed in red. Her anxiety was palpable.
"I think I need to get out there and help you."
"No. Stay where you are and protect Aunt May. Leave this to me," Bruce said before cutting the call.
He stepped on the gas.
The Batmobile accelerated, tearing through the streets of New York.
Its powerful engine roared, pushing it to its maximum speed in mere moments.
As Bruce finally entered Manhattan, he was confronted with the full horror of the city's downfall.
The riots had started here.
Everything that had unfolded was beyond belief.
Shops had been looted and vandalized, their windows shattered.
Burning cars lined the streets.
Even the lifeless bodies of innocent civilians lay abandoned on the sidewalks.
Bruce's eyes remained cold as he stared straight ahead.
With a sudden burst of speed, the three-ton Batmobile reared up slightly, the sheer force of acceleration pushing it to the limits.
Nothing in his path could stop him.
Every street he entered was met with ruthless devastation.
"Can someone tell me what the hell is going on?!"
A gang leader, watching the Batmobile rampage through the streets, screamed into his phone in fury.
"Why the hell is there a goddamn tank driving through my turf?!"
"Didn't you say the military was blocked off?"
"Answer me, dammit!"
"Calm down. You have to trust us. We haven't sent any military forces into New York, let alone Manhattan." The voice on the other end of the phone spoke in an unhurried manner.
It was as if, in his eyes, no matter what happened to New York, it had nothing to do with him.
Or, to be more precise, he had no real attachment to this world.
All he wanted to do was reduce everything to ashes.
However, he also understood that, at least for now, he couldn't just brush this matter aside.
New York was still quite important to his plans.
"Don't get worked up. I've already prepared something for you," the voice on the phone continued casually.
"There are a few armored vehicles waiting for you beneath the Empire State Building. They should help you deal with that... thing."
"I hope you're telling the truth." The man on this end of the call said his piece and immediately hung up, showing no interest in continuing the conversation.
Surprisingly, the guy hadn't lied. Beneath the Empire State Building, something quite useful had indeed been prepared for them.
"Whoa! Looks like we're in for some real fun." The gang leader couldn't hide his excitement as he laid eyes on the equipment before him.
In front of them stood active-duty U.S. Army tracked infantry fighting vehicles.
For men like them, these machines might be tricky to operate, but they could figure them out well enough.
"Alright, let's give that bastard a taste of our gift." He signaled his crew to board the vehicles.
Boom!
At that moment, the Batmobile was sweeping through Fifth Avenue in Manhattan.
Everything those thugs had set up in the area had already been reduced to rubble by the Bat.
Bruce wasted no time, swiftly moving on to the next phase of his plan.
But then, the heavy rumbling of tracked infantry fighting vehicles echoed through the streets.
"Hey! Son of a bitch!" The guy manning the machine gun atop one of the vehicles shouted toward the Batmobile.
He pulled the trigger, unleashing a barrage of 7.62mm rounds toward the Batmobile.
But it was obvious the shooter had no real training—his shots were wildly inaccurate. While some bullets struck the Batmobile, most only grazed its armored frame.
And even the ones that hit? They barely left a scratch.
Bruce immediately took control of the Batmobile, executing a sharp drift to face the approaching vehicle head-on.
The 20mm Vulcan cannon mounted on the Batmobile whirred to life.
The enemy's armor, designed to withstand 14.5mm rounds, was no match for the Batmobile's firepower.
The fighting vehicle was shredded to pieces.
"Fuck! Haven't you figured out how to disable that damn autocannon yet?!" The gunner, who had been firing just moments ago, ducked back inside the vehicle.
"If I knew how to handle this thing, I wouldn't be a damn thug!" The guy struggling to operate the weapon cursed back.
But the Batmobile wasn't about to give them another chance.
Its cannon roared once more, tearing their vehicle apart.
Yet, around the Batmobile, more infantry fighting vehicles emerged.
(End of Chapter)
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