The Richest Man in the DC World

Bruce is not a superhero in the popular sense.

He has an extremely deep understanding of society, politics, war, and human nature, so he was not surprised when he learned from Andrew about the secret transaction between the Assassin League and the top officials of the United States.

The truth of the world is not only black and white, in many cases, gray is the main color.

Andrew couldn't stand the torture. Bruce said whatever he asked. When it came to power armor, his eyes were a little erratic, and he finally said a name.

"Dern Albert?"

Bruce frowned, feeling something out of the ordinary. "Which Dern Albert?"

"There is only one Dern Abbott in the White House."

He didn't say the person's position, Bruce already knew it, CIA Deputy Director Dern Abbott, the absolute top of the US power establishment.

"He gave you the core technology?"

"Yes."

"Why did he give such an important technology to the Assassin League?"

"I...I'm just the middleman."

"Where did the technology in his hands come from?"

"It seems to be Tesla. It is rumored that they provided it. I don't know how."

Bruce's expression changed, realizing that this matter was far more complicated than he imagined. The CIA provided the killer organization with such an important technology as power armor. What do they want to do, cooperate? Or start a war?

And what role does Tesla play in that?

Andrew hissed, "I've said everything I need to say, please, let me go, I... I'm just a contact person, and I haven't done anything bad."

Bruce punched him, shut him up, and continued,

"Last question, how did the armor get to the market, and where is the secret port?"

Half an hour later, Bruce took off his night clothes, put on a suit, and appeared at the banquet of the upper class. Alfred came to him with a glass of wine,

"As a retired agent, I wholeheartedly advise you not to investigate further."

Bruce shook his head silently, rejecting the butler's kindness.

Alfred said helplessly,

"The deputy director of the CIA is not an ordinary person, and the consequences of punishing him are unpredictable."

"I'll find the evidence first."

Bruce picked up his glass and walked to the two scantily clad sexy girls. Tonight, he is not Batman, just the rich and young of the Wayne family.

...

On the west coast, in a somewhat remote port.

The time has reached the early morning, the port is still operating, a cruise ship full of containers is docked in the deep water, and more than a dozen heavily armed soldiers appear on the deck. There are epaulets, positions, ranks, numbers, like real soldiers, but once you get close, you will see that they speak Arabic.

The crane transported the container to the wharf, and the person in charge of the response opened the container. After seeing the power armor inside, he rubbed his hands in excitement. With his greeting, the port immediately became lively.

The staff moved the power armor to the truck, and the person in charge went to connect with the cruise ship owner.

The sea breeze roared, and the busy people did not notice that there was another person on the roof. That person was like a ghost, blending with the darkness, or in other words, he was the darkness himself.

Bruce took out the sound collector to eavesdrop on the conversation on the cruise. This was not the first time the two sides had traded. Similar smuggling activities have been carried out dozens of times. In addition to the power armor, there is also a special metal called kryptonite on the cruise.

"Kryptonite?"

Bruce raised his brows slightly. He was completely unfamiliar with this term. From the conversation between the two, it was not difficult to judge that this metal was far more important than power armor.

"Is there a special purpose?"

Many questions emerged in his mind, and after thinking for a moment, Bruce decided to change the original plan and set the target on kryptonite. He wanted to know what this metal was used for.

After the conversation, the person in charge left the deck with the silver box. At the same time, the transportation work was coming to an end. There were a total of 500 sets of imitation power armor, 300 sets of light, 200 sets of heavy, and supporting weapons.

Although it is far inferior to Tesla's products in terms of performance, safety and stability, it is enough for the gang that has been in the underground world all the year round.

The purpose of their purchase of power armor is not to show off, but to protect themselves, confront the police, and confront the FBI.

As Bruce once said, once the magic box is opened, there will be endless troubles.

The police used power armor to destroy one underworld gang after another. On the contrary, the gang members would also respond. They could not buy it through formal channels, but had to go through the back door.

When there is demand, there is market.

That's how pirates come in.

Seven large trucks loaded with power armor started in sequence and left the port in batches. Black cars were behind each truck to escort them, and the person in charge was the last to leave.

Not long after they left, a cool black off-road sports car rushed out of the woods and sped away in the direction the truck had left.

The sports car was extremely fast, and it only took a few minutes to catch up to the target.

Bruce was not polite. When we met, there were two missiles. The car's butt was hit by the missiles and flew straight into the sky. After a 270-degree forward somersault, it hit the road heavily.

The large truck was even more miserable. The cargo box rolled over, slid on the ground, rushed out of the road, and plunged into the ditch next to it.

Bruce walked towards the car that was lying on the side of the road, ignoring the two scoundrels, and pointed at the person in charge who was carrying the silver box. His left hand was tied to the box. Even if he was confused, he was still holding on to the handle.

Bruce dragged him out, stuffed him into the trunk of the sports car, turned the wheels on, and disappeared into the night.

A few minutes later, somewhere on a sparsely populated cliff.

The person in charge who regained consciousness looked ugly at the tall figure in front of him,

"Batman?"

"Asshole, do you know what you're doing?"

Bruce ignored him, opened the metal box, and five uneven ores appeared in front of him. The ores flashed green light from time to time, looking very strange.

"What is kryptonite used for?"

The person in charge grinned and was about to ridicule when a fist suddenly appeared in front of him,

boom!

The bridge of the nose made a clear cracking sound, and blood spurted out, accompanied by ups and downs, tears of pain would flow out.

Bruce pinned him to the ground and beat him, then kicked him off the cliff.

The person in charge cried out in horror,

"I said, I said, don't kill me, I'll tell you all."

Bruce grabbed his clothes and didn't let him fall,

"Who are you?"

"Larry Edward."

"What is the identity?"

The person in charge was a little hesitant, Bruce let go of his right hand, the clothes fell down, and the person in charge suddenly panicked,

"I'm an arms dealer, responsible for reselling imitation power armor."

Bruce said coldly, "What I want is my real identity, not a middleman."

Edward's face changed suddenly, and his eyes kept flickering. Seeing that Bruce was about to let go, he could only smile bitterly,

"I work for the CIA."