Chapter 29: The Villain Was Killed by His Own Stupidity

Victor and the president of Gotham University were pondering how to deal with Bruce, but Batman was equally intent on figuring out how to deal with them.

After days of refinement, Batman had come to many realizations—for every question Schiller had asked him, he now had an answer.

He now admitted that he was not like the police; he was no embodiment of absolute justice. In truth, he was no different from the criminals—he broke the law too. Batman had resolved to uphold only his own justice, regardless of judicial justice.

Thus, his methods in investigating Christine’s disappearance became less awkward and reckless.

Once Batman made up his mind, no one could match his intellect or execution.

He began with the president of Gotham University. Compared to Victor, a veteran cop with decades in the force, the president was cautious but had never attended police academy, received no professional counter-investigation training, and was merely an ordinary man in physical ability—he was far easier to handle.

One night, Batman broke into the president’s home. Though he found no trace of Christine’s kidnapping location, he noticed several inconspicuous call logs on the president’s landline.

He guessed the president hadn’t personally kidnapped Christine—he must have had accomplices or subordinates, and using the landline to contact them was safest, since few possessed the means to decode landline call records; ordinary people couldn’t check which numbers an old landline had dialed.

Bruce resumed his student identity and deliberately visited the president’s office. His excuse was legitimate—he had completed his assignment, yet Schiller had still deducted points from it, and he intended to file a complaint.

During his conversation with the president, Batman used professional equipment to collect a voice sample, then used a voice modulator to dial the unknown number.

Batman’s phrasing was masterful—he asked nothing outright, only uttered a vague line: “How’s the person doing now?”

The person on the other end wasn’t particularly cautious—he answered without hesitation: “Sir, we haven’t touched her as you requested, but such a beautiful girl… my men are having trouble controlling themselves…”

“If anything happens to her, you’re finished,” Batman said.

“Of course, of course. I’ll keep them in line.”

The moment the man spoke, Batman knew—he was just a gangster. All Gotham gangs were the same; Batman knew them all too well.

Right after the call ended, Batman pinpointed the gang’s location. Though his gear wasn’t fully upgraded, the Wayne family had dozens of satellites orbiting Earth—tracking a cellphone signal was hardly a challenge.

Once located, Christine was in no real danger—the president hadn’t kidnapped her to threaten Wayne; he wanted her to become an informant, so harming her would ruin his chance to date Bruce.

Batman rescued Christine. Though unharmed physically, she was deeply traumatized. After taking her to the hospital, she agreed to testify in court against the president for her kidnapping.

Meanwhile, Victor was having trouble too. Against a veteran like Victor, Gordon—a stubborn idealist who only sought justice—was the hardest opponent. Victor couldn’t scream in the police station that Gordon’s pursuit of justice was wrong; he had to pretend righteousness.

Gordon knew Victor’s true nature but still played along, buying time to prevent Victor from helping Jonathan destroy evidence or tamper with files.

Gordon guarded every detail connected to Jonathan too tightly. He’d solved the case himself. Victor couldn’t be sure that after destroying evidence in the precinct, Gordon hadn’t kept a backup. This rookie was reckless and difficult, but he had real skill.

Maroni was even worse off. To raise Maroni’s sunk costs, Schiller kept sabotaging the chemical plant—nothing major, just removing a few parts from machines one day, clogging a drainpipe the next. These minor incidents looked like accidental mishaps, but they caused constant delays.

Some machine parts could only be purchased from the original manufacturer. Maroni had to spend enormous effort acquiring them; when the manufacturer refused to supply, he paid even higher prices to buy from others.

Back and forth, nearly a million dollars vanished—without a single result.

Maroni blamed the delay in Jonathan’s bail. He claimed the workers were unprofessional and only Jonathan could fix things, so he pressured Victor.

Victor panicked and went back to the president—but the president discovered Christine was gone. His entire plan had died before it even began.

Desperate, Victor rushed to pressure the president. When the police chief and the president realized their key player had vanished, under immense pressure, they chose to take a desperate risk—they would kidnap Bruce directly.

On the day Schiller accepted Bruce’s invitation to dinner at Wayne Manor, Bruce finished class and went straight to Schiller. They got into a car together, heading directly to Wayne Manor.

Gotham University was still some distance from Wayne Manor—not as far as the East District, but at least a half-hour drive.

Gotham’s only advantage? It wasn’t as congested as New York. The roads were straight and wide—drivers could accelerate without restraint.

To show sincerity, Bruce didn’t have his driver pick them up—he drove himself.

With a subtle sense of pride, he didn’t choose a heavy, safe vehicle, but a sleek Lamborghini—bright blue, unmistakably flashy.

Just as Bruce pushed the speed to 140 mph, masked men burst from a corner, guns pointed at the car. Bruce’s first instinct was to yank the steering wheel.

He wasn’t afraid—but the professor in the passenger seat hadn’t been trained. He shouted: “Professor, get down!!”

Schiller remained calm: “I’m certain your butler ordered this car with bulletproof glass and tires.”

Then he added: “If you want to identify who’s behind this, now’s your chance. Pretend the car lost control and knock yourself out—you might get some clues.”

Bruce realized these men were targeting him for kidnapping—otherwise, why were all the bullets aimed at the car’s lower half?

Bruce hesitated. If he were alone, he’d do it immediately. But he saw Schiller as an ordinary man. If he were kidnapped, the kidnappers wouldn’t kill him—but Schiller? Not guaranteed.

Schiller said: “You don’t need to worry about me. I don’t gamble with my life.”

Bruce finally stopped the car. He yanked the wheel hard, spinning the vehicle several times until the rear slammed into a streetlamp—as if the brakes had failed. Then he slumped over the steering wheel. Schiller feigned unconsciousness.

The kidnappers had some honor—they saw Bruce wasn’t alone and didn’t kill outright. They dragged both men into another car, carefully hooding and handcuffing them.

After driving a while, they reached a slum. Bruce and Schiller were dragged out and taken into a room.

Their hoods were removed. Both pretended shock—but Schiller was genuinely stunned: the president himself walked out.

He never expected the mastermind would dare appear so brazenly—no mask, wearing his work suit. Schiller was speechless.

Even if you didn’t know Bruce was Batman, you’d covered ninety-nine steps of your crime—why fumble the last one?

If you shook Bruce right now, you wouldn’t find two pounds of micro-cameras falling off him—you’d be letting your guard down!

Of course, as in every movie, the portly president began monologuing his evil plan.

He claimed he had long prepared a Bruce Wayne lookalike; once kidnapped, he would immediately replace him. Originally, he had planned to use Christine’s kidnapping to lure Bruce—but he didn’t expect Bruce to be so weak; just a few gunmen were enough.

In his boasting, he confessed every crime.

After committing every cliché villain mistake imaginable, Schiller lost patience. He said directly: “Bruce, move.”

Bruce leapt up instantly—the handcuffs barely slowed him. The president stood too close; in under two seconds, Bruce pinned him, snapping the cuffs onto the president’s own wrists.

The gunmen waiting outside rushed in—they were swiftly subdued. When Gordon arrived, the president tried to rely on Victor for protection—but Gordon said: “Sorry, but the chief was arrested last night for illegally entering the archives to destroy evidence. The cameras were damaged, but Harvey, under the guise of tidying up, installed a hidden camera. The evidence is solid, partner.”

Bruce said: “They’re out of tricks. We still have one more to deal with.”

Schiller pulled a file from his briefcase: “As we planned, I obtained the detailed layout and personnel roster of the chemical plant. I think a certain spandex-clad individual can begin his operation.”