Chapter 1427: Research on Manipulation (Part 10)

Accompanied by a series of clashing metallic noises, the prisoners in the cell block stood up one after another, walked to the door, and lined up, waiting for the prison guards to open the gates and take them out for yard time.

There were only three people in Bruce's cell. He deliberately waited a moment, letting Bane stand first while he and Tan Da stood behind. Bane was the first to bend down and pass through the narrow cell door. Bruce, trailing behind, paused for a moment and said to Tan Da in a mocking tone, "With Big Dog gone, who are you going to look for later?"

Tan Da swallowed hard, appearing somewhat lost. Without Bruce needing to remind him, he had already realized that he was now the easiest person to bully in this cell, just like Jimmy had been before.

But unlike Jimmy, he hadn't officially joined any gang; he only had Big Dog as his backer. Now that Big Dog was dead, he didn't even have a way to join a gang, and his two cellmates clearly didn't intend to protect him. Tan Da was terrified.

Not to mention the Bandaged Murderer—though he appeared a bit cold, he hadn't shown any aggressive behavior yet. But the new cellmate, Bane, looked like a violent maniac no matter how you sliced it, and he was much stronger than Big Dog. If Bane bullied him the way Big Dog had bullied Jimmy, he would almost certainly not survive the first round.

Seeing the expression on Tan Da's face gradually turn to panic, Bruce silently turned his head back and walked outward under the guidance of the prison guards.

After arriving at the yard, Bruce didn't stop. He walked toward the group of the prison's most senior serial killers and sat down in an inconspicuous corner. Although he didn't communicate with anyone, he had already made his identity clear to the other gangs.

Few people in the prison were willing to provoke this group of serial killers. Other criminals, in the end, were only acting for profit, but these serial killers took pleasure in murder. Most of them suffered from pathological mental illnesses. Conflicts of interest between gangs usually stopped at a certain point, but a crazy person having an episode would absolutely go for the kill.

Moreover, this group of lunatics had no intention of getting involved in the trade of drugs or cigarettes. Most didn't smoke, drink, or use drugs; they were physically strong and had good living habits. Their only hobbies were reading books or newspapers, which meant there were no conflicts of interest with other gangs, so naturally, they lived in peace.

"Do you have a newspaper?" Bruce raised his eyes to look at a thin, scholar-like man and asked.

"You can't all rely on me." The scholar-like man frowned and complained. From time to time, he would grin to one side and then shrug that same shoulder, looking like he had the aftereffects of polio.

"Next week, I'll find a way to get two journals in." Bruce sat on the ground, hands resting on his knees. Clearly, the people around him were attracted by these words and turned their heads to look at him one after another. Bruce then added, "But don't expect the latest versions; they can't figure out that pile of complex serial numbers."

But the others still gathered around, shifting the topic to the latest academic achievements they had seen before being imprisoned. Bruce chatted with them half-heartedly, but his gaze remained fixed on Bane at the edge of the yard.

This incredibly strong, hulking man naturally attracted the attention of every gang. Prison gangs were most in need of two types of people: one was the completely unremarkable little guy who never provoked the guards and looked like he wouldn't cause trouble—such people could help them transport contraband. The other was the hulking man who constantly looked for trouble, flaunting his violent nature and making people fearful—this could help them protect their contraband.

Bane clearly belonged to the latter. His physique was the strongest in the entire prison. Even without looking at the tubes behind his head, one could tell he was a modified human just by looking at his muscle mass. This kind of criminal who wore his violence on his face could effectively deter opponents who wanted to start a fight, so naturally, he was most welcomed by the gangs.

The Border Gang and the Neo-Nazis both sent people to tentatively approach that side. The Black gang remained temporarily unmoved, but it was clear they were also somewhat interested. The eyes of the remaining people were also focused there, wanting to see who would end up with this strong beast.

The Border Gang was the first to send a Latino toward where Bane was. Bane remained sitting on the ground; seeing the person approach, he didn't even move, only watching the other party with his eyes under the mask.

Bruce was very clear about how much pressure Bane's gaze could exert. The Latino clearly slowed his pace when approaching Bane, seemingly forgetting the prepared speech, and just stood two meters away from Bane, foolishly stunned.

Suddenly, Bane stood up. The Latino was instinctively scared into taking two steps back. A burst of snickering came from the surrounding crowd. They didn't understand how much pressure one would encounter when shrouded in the shadow of Bane's massive body; they only felt that the Border Gang were all cowards—they hadn't even really started fighting yet, and they were already scared.

A leader in the Border Gang couldn't sit still. He had to regain his standing and pay for his subordinate's terrible performance. So, he called two lackeys, swung his arms as he walked over, lifted his chin at Bane, and said in English with a Spanish accent, "Hey, big guy, why didn't you greet my companion?"

"I didn't see that he wanted to greet me," Bane said in a muffled voice. He tightened the muscles in his arms, pushed aside the Latino standing in front of him with a very rude motion, walked to the front of the white leader, and then hammered his chest with his hand, saying, "You should know, before the ankle monitor shocks me, I can twist your head off."

The leader let out a cold laugh and said, "Then you'll be locked in a solitary confinement cell where you won't see the light of day. Don't think about making a move, big dummy, unless you want to be tortured for the rest of your life by the special confinement measures formulated by that crazy woman, Amanda."

Bane exhaled through his nostrils, staring blankly at the leader, and said, "What exactly do you want?"

"We just wanted to come over and say hello."

"Now that the greeting is done, get lost."

"Something is wrong." The red-eyed Bruce turned his head to look at the other self beside him and said, "Bane's behavior just now was different from when I first met him. He acted like a brainless brute."

"Perhaps he is exactly trying to disguise himself as a brute." The blue-eyed Bruce narrowed his eyes, focusing on Bane's movements, and said, "Tensing his muscles can better display his arm circumference and highlight his strong physique. Standing with his center of gravity shifted back and thrusting his hips forward is to emphasize masculine traits. His hands aren't guarding his front but are placed at his sides, showing a fearless momentum."

"He is constantly reinforcing his physical performance, while using short language and straightforward words to blur his way of speaking, making people think he is just a big dummy with developed limbs and a simple mind. Look, didn't the people from the Border Gang fall for it?"

"Why would he do that?" the red-eyed Bruce asked.

"If it were me, when facing an unfamiliar environment surrounded by enemies, I would hide my most important weapon as a trump card."

"Even though he already possesses such a strong body, he still thinks his intelligence is more important?"

"Perhaps his intelligence is even stronger than his body." The blue-eyed Bruce stared at the tubes behind Bane's head and said, "From the sloppy technique of the doctor who connected the tubes to him, it can be seen that as an experimental subject, he isn't precious; he is highly likely an early model used for drug testing."

"This type of model won't be kept for too long." The red-eyed Bruce continued his own line of reasoning: "Those laboratories conducting illegal human experiments will regularly destroy these consumables, yet he wasn't destroyed; he even escaped the laboratory with these broken tubes and even managed to get on Amanda's line."

"I have no doubt that Bane used Amanda. He made Amanda think he was just a reckless hulking man, an easy-to-manipulate tool for murder, which is why he ended up in a regular cell."

"If his goal is to break out of prison, then he could have left long ago. Amanda was fooled by him and didn't use those harsh special confinement measures to deal with him, and the security of a regular cell is non-existent to him. Judging by the muscle mass in his legs, he could even jump over the electric fence directly. So why hasn't he left?" The blue-eyed Bruce frowned, his tone slightly puzzled.

"Bane deliberately staying here must have a special goal. We have to figure out what he wants to do first, and only then will there be a possibility of proceeding with the next step of the plan."

As the words fell, the blue-eyed Bruce disappeared. He stood up from the ground and said to the bespectacled scholar standing opposite him, "I'm going to the infirmary tonight to change the dressing on the wound on my face. Any suggestions?"

"The nurse... there are old newspapers in the cabinet against the wall on the right side of the nurse's station," the scholar said intermittently. "They are the packaging used by that group of drug-addicted idiots to transport drugs, but we really need them. Can you get them?"

Bruce nodded, and another quite strong criminal who looked like a farmer stepped forward and said, "Most of what they use are last month's newspapers. If you can get them for us, then whoever's deeds are written in the newspaper, that person will help you do things. I guess it's highly likely to be mine, so what do you want done?"

"I need a list of prisoners."

"Deal."

On the way back to the cell, Tan Da tried to speak to Bruce several times. Bruce saw through this intention, so he walked faster and faster, leaving him far behind, not giving him any chance to communicate.

The timing wasn't ripe yet. Bruce lowered his head, looking at the luster on the handcuffs, thinking that the fragrance brought by the component of fear wasn't strong enough; the fermentation process hadn't started yet. Such wine was too sour and astringent to be palatable.

Listening to the crisp sound of the shackles rubbing against the ground, Bruce began to recall when he had started to come up with such cruel jokes as comparing fear to the fragrance of wine. Why was he socializing with a group of serial killers just now, yet felt no anger at all for their crimes, only a contemptuous impatience, and even started to miss his drinking buddies and card-playing friends?

He had personally manipulated Jimmy into killing Big Dog, planned to use fear to force Tan Da, and was chatting happily with serial killers who had over a dozen lives on their hands, but Bruce didn't even spend a minute searching his soul for any potential pangs of conscience. He only mocked to himself that Gotham's news was always more exciting than the deeds they spoke of, and Joker's jokes were funnier than theirs.

In the narrow, dark corridor of the prison, the young man walked forward with a calm face, walked back to the cell with steady steps, and sat back on the bed with a stable posture, as composed as if he had returned home—and Bruce had indeed started to miss home a little. ===== CHAPTER 1428 =====