Chapter 33: Needlepoint.

"Bruce!"

A faint voice pierced through the crackle, barely discernible over the crackling of the flames. At first, Bruce thought it was a hallucination, until Jack called out again.

"Bruce! Are you in there?"

The voice was familiar, tinged with intense anxiety.

Bruce suddenly realized it was Jack calling him.

He tried to respond, but the smoke-proof cloth tied around his mouth and nose had long since dried out. The moment he inhaled, a thick fumes, a mixture of chemicals, instantly swept into his airways, and he began coughing uncontrollably, his throat aching as if it were being torn apart.

"Cough... cough... you... leave first..."

He gasped painfully, pressing his chest, tears streaming down his face, covered in soot.

The lack of oxygen caused tinnitus and dizziness. For a moment, he lost all hearing and consciousness, but he quickly overcame his physical condition, suppressing the discomfort and pain with a strong willpower.

He began to consider whether he could find another exit, but he immediately dismissed that option. The rest of the mall was already engulfed in flames. The obstacles, the collapse, the thick smoke all hindered his search for escape.

Furthermore—

he glanced down at the unconscious Firefly at his feet. He couldn't carry such a heavy metal-encased creature through the smoke and flames to find another exit.

Bruce briefly weighed the pros and cons, and clearing the blockage seemed the only viable option.

He gritted his teeth, used a steel pipe to lift a corner of a hot steel plate, and then pressed down hard, trying to shake off the burning, unknown substance on top.

Just then, through the gap, he saw a dark shadow swaying on the other side. Then, he felt the steel plate in front of him shift slightly.

He suddenly realized someone was helping him—

the next moment, a section of charred steel was lifted with a sharp, grinding sound. He saw a hand, its knuckles tense, the skin on the back reddened by the heat, while the flesh on the palm was exposed, practically burned away, clinging to the rebar.

He froze.

In that moment, all thoughts about the fire's severity, how to escape, how long the oxygen supply would last—all of them vanished from his mind.

He stared at the hand with a gaze he couldn't even comprehend, at the bloodied palm, the broken nails, the digits clinging to the scorching steel—

the hand was a far cry from its former self. Under the blaze, the once pale skin turned red, even charred, yet he pushed, lifted, and grasped.

Jack.

It was him.

"Don't touch... cough... cough,"

he tried to stop, but a cough broke out before he could finish his words.

Flames flickered across the rubble, smoke billowed, and he couldn't see Jack's face, only one arm.

The arm reached in from where the rebar had been moved, pressing firmly against the beam pressing down from above. Bruce instinctively reached out for support, but suddenly realized that from his angle, he couldn't offer any help.

Damn it.

He could only watch helplessly as the battered arm lifted the barrier. Then, another hand reached in, inch by inch, peeling back the scorching, even burning, obstruction that blocked the passage.

The charred mass began to shake, and a gap was broken—

Jack had forged a passage through the broken rebar and burning wood with his bare hands.

The cold wind rushed in from outside, stinging his eyes.

He saw the man's face covered in soot, his hair scorched. He was panting, looking disheveled, but his bright green eyes shone with joy.

They stared at him, as if wanting to make sure he was alright.

Bruce's throat moved, but no words came out.

His body moved faster than his mind. Wasting no time, he quickly bent down, picked up the unconscious Firefly, and walked quickly towards the passage Jack had cleared.

Behind him was a blazing flame, and in front of him was the path Jack was clinging to.

...

He had escaped.

...

Outside was chaos. Bruce dropped Firefly beside the green belt and let him lean against a tree.

A few minutes later, the firefighters and police finally arrived. Bruce and Jack were back in the car. He found the first aid kit, took out alcohol and bandages, and began bandaging Jack.

The wound was severe, and Jack could hear a slight gasp as he disinfected it.

"You saved me."

Bruce moved carefully, taking care not to pull at the wound.

His expression was complex, and no one could tell what he was thinking.

Jack smiled, looking relaxed, leaning lazily against the backrest.

"You saved a lot of people, baby. You subdued that arsonist—and I just moved some stuff."

The bandage was wrapped, and he curiously stretched his fingers up and down, but then he pulled on the wound, and he couldn't help but cry out in pain.

The comical grin on his face miraculously relaxed Bruce, and he quipped,

"How you're able to hold the rebar at that temperature right now is beyond my comprehension."

"Uh..." Jack pondered. "I can't really say. Maybe it's a burst of potential? Or maybe I'm just naturally heat-resistant? That... I'm not sure."

Bruce didn't pursue the topic further.

After calming down and thinking about it, Jack realized that for a normal person like him, being able to hold the rebar at that temperature was unnatural. Even Bruce himself would have difficulty doing it. It was a bit like a reflex, a human instinct to avoid hot objects, let alone exerting sustained force.

As far as he knew, there were only a handful of people who could do it without supernatural powers, and he just happened to know one—...

The Joker.

The Joker's skin had been corroded by acid, and Bruce believed that his overall sensitivity to skin pain was relatively weak, and his tolerance for pain was different from that of ordinary people.

...Forget it.

He didn't want to think about these problems now.

"You have to go to the hospital." Bruce whispered, his voice steady and firm, "I'll take you there now."

Jack opened his mouth and was about to say something, but Bruce's phone suddenly vibrated.

Bruce motioned for Jack to wait, and he picked up the phone. It was Alfred on the other end.

"Master Bruce," Alfred's voice was uneasiness, "We have just tracked down the Penguin's new movements - he is organizing a large-scale arms deal at the port, and Jason has already rushed over."

Bruce's expression changed slightly, and he asked in a deep voice, "Where are the police?"

"Most of the police force has been transferred to Maris Avenue. There was a sudden fire there, and they are currently unable to get away," Alfred spoke quickly, "I found out that there was a serious fire in the mall there, and it is not certain whether it was arson-"

"I already know about this."

Bruce closed his eyes.

The purpose of the Firefly's behavior was found.

It was not just arson behind all this.

The Firefly was like a bait, and the real driving force was someone else.

He speculated that the fire was the chaos deliberately created by the Penguin to cover up the arms deal at the port. He let the Firefly attack this area with a lot of traffic in order to attract the attention of the police and Batman.

Bruce hung up the phone. He now needed to support Robin immediately and stop the transaction at the port.

"What's wrong?"

Jack asked, noticing that his expression was wrong.

Bruce glanced up at him and made no effort to disguise his feelings. "I need to get to the port right now to stop Penguin's arms deal."

Jack nodded understandingly and said optimistically,

"Okay, I think I can get to the hospital myself," pointing to several ambulances outside the car window. "I'll get down there and show them my hand. Maybe I can get a ride?"

Bruce didn't respond. He lowered his head in thought, his eyes shrouded in shadow, his expression unclear.

Jack tried to open the car door, but after two pulls, it wouldn't budge. Thinking it was his hand that was injured, he looked over at Bruce pitifully and said, "

Honey, help me open it."

Bruce unbuckled his seatbelt and leaned over. Just as he leaned over Jack,

the needle of the syringe pierced his skin.

Jack felt something prick his arm. He tried to look down, but Bruce's body blocked his view.

"It seems... something... uh..."

He couldn't finish his words as consciousness suddenly faded.

The last thing he remembered was a pair of blue eyes looking back at him.