Days as a Spiritual Mentor in American Comics

The pale knight clambered over the courtyard wall, slipping through the shattered glass that Bruce had broken and picking up the lamp that was nearby to strike the barely alive Deep Diver.

The woman lying next to the fireplace, not yet dead, let out a piercing scream. The pale knight gestured to her to be silent, then picked up a large gun from the ground, smeared with blood. On closer inspection, it turned out to be a Springfield Rifle.

It seemed like war surplus, careworn but with much more power than the old shotguns commonly found in the village. Most importantly, its scope was intact, a rarity indeed.

Most of the village's shotguns were old weapons handed down from the previous generation, and the models sold in stores were also quite outdated, crucially lacking sniper scopes, which severely limited their accuracy.

Though the Springfield was also a relic of World War II, its intact scope allowed for effective precision shooting up to 700–800 meters, which was more than sufficient for a small village.

"Save me, save me!" the woman wailed. Her shins had been battered by a trident, completely shattering her leg bones, now rendering her immobile.

The pale knight sighed, first glancing at the male corpse beside her. Impaled through the chest by the trident, he was clearly beyond saving. The other had some breath left, but with a long gash in his stomach and his intestines spilling out, there was no hope of rescue under these conditions—he too was doomed.

The one who looked like she might still be saved was the woman by the fireplace. Gun in one hand, the pale knight lifted the woman by the waist with considerable effort and moved her to the second floor.

"Do you have anyone else? If so, maybe I can…"

He was cut off by the high-pitched whine of a siren coming from down the street, growing rapidly louder.

Rushing to the window with his gun, he immediately spotted a black sedan speeding down the street. It drifted to a competent stop right at the door.

Through the windshield, the pale knight saw Bruce's grinning face.

He looked back at the woman, knowing now was no time for hesitation. He took the gun and leapt from the second story. After rolling upon landing, he burst out the door, pulled open the passenger-side car door, and hopped in.

A cacophony of roars and screams trailed behind.

The pale knight glanced in the rear-view mirror, seeing the eyes of the monsters densely reflected. Several large creatures emitted a terrifying malevolence.

He was about to ask a question, but Bruce floored the accelerator, slamming the pale knight back against the seat, eliciting a cry of pain.

"Ugh!"

In a daze, he felt something blood-stained tossed onto his lap, he looked down to find a pack of cigarettes.

"Want one?" Bruce asked, his tone casual.

The pale knight stared at him, bewildered.

"Relax, buddy," Bruce said, steering with the heel of his hand while holding a cigarette. He glanced in the rear-view mirror. "Learn to appreciate the convenience of the Industrial Revolution. Two legs can't catch up with four tires."

"You..."

"You think I can't outrun them?" Bruce scoffed before adding, "When I raced with James's Four Heavenly Kings around Gotham's ring road, they were still in their mother's wombs."

The pale knight opened his mouth to respond, but a flash in the rear-view mirror interrupted him. Bruce jerked the wheel hard to the left.

Screeeech!

The screeching of tires against pavement accompanied an acrid burning scent, as a trident embedded itself in their intended path. Bruce counter-steered into a beautiful drift, cutting into a narrow alley, then swiftly made a right turn onto another road.

The smaller Deep Divers could chase through the alleys, but the larger ones couldn't make it through. However, they were smart and rushed towards the direction Bruce was driving, hoping to block him at the front.

As a big guy blocked the road ahead, the pale knight grew anxious, wanting to say something, but Bruce simply snorted.

He gunned the engine, racing forward, then, just short of collision, he swerved hard, the front of the car tilting up as the right tires climbed the wall of a neighboring shop. At a 45-degree tilt amidst a shower of sparks, they sped through an impossibly narrow gap.

Then, with another sharp turn, the car spun around, using friction to slow down and adjust its trajectory before shooting off again like an arrow loosed from its bow.

The pale knight felt dizzy from the turmoil.

Back on a straight road, he finally caught a glimpse of the scene ahead—they were driving away from the Lighthouse, seemingly distancing themselves from the village.

He abruptly turned to Bruce and asked, "Your driving style looks a bit…"

"What about it?"

The pale knight hesitated and said nothing—after all, he was in the car.

He had wanted to say that Bruce's driving didn't quite resemble that of a good samaritan.

In the pale knight's cosmos, there was also a Batman. Though not the strongest, he was passably tough, and he had seen Batman engage in high-speed car chases while apprehending criminals in Gotham City.

The problem, however, is that police don't really chase criminals by driving on roads; they coordinate with helicopters, and Batman does the same. When he and the Gotham Police Department catch criminals, they usually do so with ground-to-air cooperation, besieging the target from multiple directions. As long as there are enough police cars, they can always block the other side.

But Bruce's driving style didn't seem like he was the one doing the chasing; it seemed like he was the one running away.

Mostly, only those criminals who try to shake off police pursuit through crafty driving maneuvers have such tricky escape tactics—nimble drifting, hairpin turns into alleys, u-turns on flowerbeds, three-second carjackings, and hiding from helicopter sight...

To evade the police cars converging from all sides, the good citizens of Gotham have honed these skills to perfection, causing great trouble for Batman and the Gotham Police Department each time.

Some might say that cars will eventually run out of gas and people need to stop for supplies, so they will be caught sooner or later, why bother?

This brings us to the particular situation in America; each state's judicial system is relatively independent, and police systems are independent too. It's already good if they don't trip each other up, let alone expect them to cooperate.

Therefore, some criminals who haven't committed very serious offenses but don't want to go to jail choose to race against the police. As long as they can successfully enter another state, it's then very difficult for the police to catch them.

Gotham isn't very large; it's easy to drive out of the city, and New Jersey State isn't particularly far from Canada. Just head north and cross the border line, and even Batman can't chase after them—jail can be avoided.

Even if they can't make it to Canada, just fleeing to a few neighboring states gives a high chance of escaping pursuit. Gotham's police force is already understaffed, and Batman can't be everywhere at once. Usually, unless it's a particularly violent case, they won't pursue doggedly.

The pale knight just needs to hear the sound of a helicopter's rotors to know that some speedster is hitting the road again.

Saving Gotham as the pale knight isn't just about using harsh measures during chaotic times; he actually tolerates petty crimes, such as reducing the sentencing for less serious offenses that don't harm people, to lower their chances of becoming desperate.

Gothamites give face too, so in the later stages of the pale knight's governance, good citizens rarely raced cars anymore. After all, a small theft could just result in community service, and if the stolen goods could be returned and the offender educated, there was no need to gamble with their own life.

Still, there were some diehards who didn't race because they had committed a crime but committed a crime for the thrill of racing.

The pale knight thought Bruce was that kind of person.

"Do you realize how high you look right now?" the pale knight asked Bruce, turning his head.

"Don't just sit there idle," Bruce glanced at the shotgun he was holding and said, "This car's performance isn't up to snuff; we'd better switch to a larger vehicle. I've got a good target in mind. Take out the two that are chasing us the closest, and we'll go swap cars."

The pale knight took a look in the rearview mirror as well. Right now, a new batch of deep divers was chasing them; the previous batch had clearly been left behind and returned to the sea to catch their breath.

What Bruce said was actually very sensible. Two legs can't outrun four wheels; even if a monster like Godzilla enters the city, as long as you drive fast enough, you can surely get away. Even in 2012, you could still race against a flood. The advantage of the human race when using tools is invincible.

Moreover, this kid was too damn skilled.

The pale knight didn't even want to think what he had done in Gotham—how many police cars and helicopters must he have dodged to be this comfortable?

Whose fine Batman could have developed such driving skills?!

In his mind, the pale knight asked the Transcendent, "Doesn't he need to pass a check to race like this? You're just letting him have fun?"

"He selected the skill," the Transcendent said with resignation. "In theory, mastery of driving at Level 1 shouldn't produce this effect, but since he already knows how, I can't do anything about it."

"Doesn't that exceed roleplaying?"

"His Wisdom is only 5; let him have this one."

While observing the situation behind them, the pale knight remembered what Bruce had just said. Did the Four Heavenly Kings under James go back and forth with him in pursuits? He'd have to look into that when they got back; such talent shouldn't be wasted.

Seeing the right moment, the pale knight pointed the gun muzzle out the car window.

Bang!

A single shot took out the leading deep diver. Because it was so sudden, the bodies behind, unable to dodge in time, stumbled over the fallen one, tumbling one after another, even the big guy got tripped up.

Seizing this opportunity, Bruce took another smooth turn and perfectly maneuvered into a parking spot. The two of them jumped out of the car from each side, and in no time at all, Bruce had opened the door of the adjacent vehicle.

Only when he got into the car did the pale knight realize it was an ambulance!

"Check the back to see if there's any spare fuel and look for any first aid equipment; remember to secure it," Bruce called out.

It was only when the pale knight got to the back that he understood Bruce's intention. Special vehicles like ambulances always carry gasoline; otherwise, running out of fuel mid-route could result in a loss of life.

And the fuel tank of such vehicles is usually large; one fill-up can last a long time. The pale knight estimated they could drive around Gotham three times without issues, and it was unlikely they'd run out of gas even if they drove until the end of time in this small village.

More importantly, there was first aid equipment in the back of the ambulance. Some of it was fixed and couldn't be taken, but common items like bandages, safety harnesses, scalpels, and even defibrillators could be taken, along with a good number of painkillers.

Game rules state that if you have the key items, you don't need skills or checks. The presence of these first aid supplies could possibly eliminate the need for crucial First Aid Skill and prevent dilemmas like last time.

So the pale knight didn't say another word and began looting.