There is no Batman in Gotham City comics.

Chapter 187, Section 84: Upholding the Final Axiom with Fists

Chapter 187, Section 84: Upholding the Final Axiom with Fists

On the ring, a tall, thin middle-aged man was throwing punches at the air, hissing like a rattlesnake from time to time. When he saw Gordon walk onto the ring, he took a towel handed to him by the sidelines to wipe his sweat.

"Come on, James, I've waited a long time for this day. I'll repay you tenfold for the pain of yesterday!"

As he spoke, the man lifted his vest and pointed to the bullet wound on his waist.

"This is the badge you branded for me; I've always looked forward to reuniting with you!"

Gordon squinted at the man, who had punched him in the face when he first entered prison and overturned his food plate every dinner. He guessed that the man had a grudge against him, but he couldn't remember where he had seen him before.

"Excuse me, who are you?"

Gordon's words struck the tall, thin man like a heavy blow, and he turned deathly pale amidst the laughter of the surrounding prisoners.

"You don't even remember me—you must be—you must be lying to me! Ah! That's right, you want to hurt me, to shake my will, so that you might be able to escape from my clutches!"

"James, you despicable bastard!!"

Just then, the bell rang, and the man roared as he charged toward Gordon.

He exuded confidence, his footwork was agile and ghostly, and based on the two punches he threw before going on stage, Gordon guessed that his opponent might be an underground boxer.

He did raid a black boxing ring when he first joined the GCPD, but the criminals reacted very strongly that day, and he was forced to shoot and wound several of them.

And who is this wounded man?

As Gordon pondered this, he dodged the tall, thin man's rear hook punch, flashed to his side, and aimed at the man's kidney.

boom! !

A swift and decisive blow brought down his opponent without any suspense.

"It's over! That was a beautiful kidney strike!"

"I didn't expect the first round to end so quickly. Our number one fighter didn't even last a single move against James Gordon. It's no exaggeration to say that Mr. Gordon didn't even warm up!!!!"

The audience booed loudly as the commentator gave his enthusiastic narration.

The man was curled up on the ground, trembling in pain, like a maggot burned by a lighter. Seeing this, Gordon gave up the idea of ​​continuing to recall.

"Ah, I think I know why I can't remember you."

The older man muttered to himself, tearing open his vest to reveal a muscular physique. Apart from the happy flab on his belly, his body didn't look like that of a policeman nearing retirement.

Gordon's hand was a little sore from the punch that hit his opponent's hip. With many tough battles to come, he had to protect his only weapon.

Gordon tore his vest into strips and wrapped them around his fists, waving to the angry glares from the crowd.

"Come on, next one!"

The tall, thin man was dragged away by the prison guards, and then a fat man with a brown beard appeared. As soon as he entered the arena, he took off his clothes and assumed a judo stance.

"Hey cop, I'm going to break every bone in your body!"

Gordon vaguely remembered this guy; he had met him at the port about two years ago when he was investigating a smuggling case.

After Brooke took down his henchmen who were putting up a fight with a shotgun, Gordon chased after the fleeing bearded man with a gun, and the two of them ran and fired until they ran out of bullets.

Then came the much-anticipated hand-to-hand combat.

His opponent possessed superb jujitsu skills. Gordon was initially caught off guard by his opponent's moves and pinned to the ground by his shoulder joint. It wasn't until he endured the excruciating pain and dislocated his joint himself that the tide of the battle turned.

Finally, Gordon grabbed his out-of-bullet pistol and knocked his opponent unconscious with a series of blows, bringing this perilous hand-to-hand combat to a close.

"Is the second round going to be high-difficulty?"

Gordon shook his head helplessly and assumed a fighting stance.

As the bell rang, Gordon launched the first attack, quickly closing the distance with a front thrust, a rear hook, and a follow-up sway – a very standard boxing opening.

The bearded man didn't rush to attack; instead, he bent his arm to defend himself, a sinister smile playing on his face hidden behind his arm.

Just as he guessed, Gordon still chose boxing. After all, people always rely on what they are best at in times of crisis, and last time Gordon used boxing and got his lower body caught.

The man observed Gordon's expression while guerrilla-style fighting. The old man's stamina was a major problem, and relentlessly throwing punches would greatly deplete his energy. He believed his opponent wouldn't last long.

When Gordon slows down, he will sound the horn for a counterattack.

The man's plan went smoothly; Gordon's fists quickly became weak and powerless, and the hissing sounds from his mouth were replaced by heavy breathing.

"Now!"

Just as Gordon had created some distance and was catching his breath with his hand on his knee, he suddenly dropped his defenses and lunged at his opponent.

"Go to hell, James Gordon!"

The bearded man laughed wildly, already imagining Gordon's flushed face and labored breathing as he locked Gordon's neck in his hand.

Just as Gordon was about to be restrained by those strong, powerful arms, he suddenly squatted down.

No, not only did he squat down, Gordon even lay down, positioning his legs in the direction the bearded man was lunging at.

What does he want to do?

The bearded man's face turned deathly pale in an instant. Others might not understand Gordon's actions, but he, a judo practitioner, saw through it at a glance.

The ground throw is a takedown technique that uses the opponent's forward momentum to counter them, often proving surprisingly effective against larger opponents. However, its drawbacks are also obvious: it requires the opponent to launch a desperate charge, and the user must land on their back. Once the opponent anticipates the move, the user will be at a significant disadvantage.

Therefore, it is named "Sacrifice Oneself".

The bearded man was right; people always rely on what they are best at when in danger.

But the problem is that the same statement applies to him as well.

He used the same method to throw Gordon to the ground in their previous encounter.

This time, he naively tried to repeat his old tricks.

The two were inches apart. The bearded man tried desperately to stop, but his weight was too great and the distance too close. He could only watch helplessly as Gordon's feet pressed against his soft belly.

In an instant, his body was lifted up.

Gordon used the mirror as a pivot and, taking advantage of the momentum of his opponent's forward charge, suddenly kicked out with both legs.

The bearded man was sent flying high into the air like a cannonball launched from a catapult, before crashing back onto the ring with a whoosh.

The ground trembled, and the steel frame under the ring creaked under the strain. Under such immense force, the bearded man, who landed headfirst, unsurprisingly broke his neck. His buttocks were sticking up high in a "V" shape as he convulsed and spat out blood.

Gordon, who had gotten up, frowned with heartache upon seeing the scene. He would not have used such a dangerous throw if it weren't for saving his life.

The man's body was dragged away, and compared to the first scene filled with boos and insults, some prisoners were now cheering for Gordon.

Jess, watching from the second floor, nodded in satisfaction. He wanted Gordon to die, but he didn't want Gordon to die so soon. Every round Gordon lasted in the ring meant a flood of money flowing into his pocket.

So afterwards he arranged some less powerful opponents for Gordon. Although the opponents were not strong, they were numerous and powerful, and wave after wave of them came like a tidal wave, giving Gordon no time to breathe in the ring.

After several rounds of fighting, the arena was stained with blood, some of which belonged to Gordon, but most of it belonged to those who wanted him dead.

Gordon had just finished his twelfth round and was panting on his knees at the edge of the ring, swaying from side to side like a sapling in a strong wind.

His face was covered in bruises and wounds, and blood kept seeping from his split brow bone into his right eye. He tried to wipe it away, but the strips of cloth wrapped around his hands were already soaked with blood, dripping down and forming a puddle around his feet.

His consciousness was beginning to blur, and the blazing spotlights overhead cast heavy afterimages on his retina. In a daze, he remembered something his albinism roommate had said.

We will all die here; this is a cannibalistic prison.

"Am I really going to die here?"

For the first time, a sense of uncertainty about the future arose in his heart. If it was his love for his daughter that had propelled him to the present moment, then that love could no longer take him any further.

His opponent was already standing in front of him. Gordon couldn't see the other's face clearly, but he knew that the man was exceptionally tall and strong. Perhaps this was the final opponent that Jess had prepared for him.

Strangely, the other party neither attacked nor spoke; he seemed to be waiting for Gordon to fall, waiting for Gordon to kill himself.

"I need—something else, bye! Anything is fine—let me keep fighting—"

""

"James, tell me, hahaha! We all want to hear what you're still struggling for at this point!"

Jesse's swaying laughter drifted from above, sometimes near, sometimes far, lingering in Gordon's ears and taking him back to that gloomy afternoon when he joined the police academy many years ago.

"James Gordon, tell me, what are you still holding on to at this point!"

After botching the live-fire exercise in front of the state sheriff, Gordon answered without hesitation in the face of Instructor Brian's deafening roar.

"To become a police officer, sir!"

"Then tell me! Why did you break away from the group to chase a criminal who posed a great threat to you? The act is over. This sudden robbery is not within our jurisdiction. Just leave it to the state police!"

"But we have hostages, sir! Every second of delay means another second of threat to the hostages!"

This was the first time Gordon had ever contradicted Brian. When he blurted it out without thinking, he was stunned and quickly lowered his head.

Instructor Brian hated unruly troublemakers the most, and he guessed that he was bound to be met with a barrage of insults.

To his surprise, a heavy hand landed on his shoulder.

"James, let me ask you one more time, why are you so determined to become a police officer? I don't want to hear any more nonsense, tell me your true feelings."

"because----"

Gordon looked up, his young eyes filled with confusion and helplessness.

He seemed to have never thought about this question.

"It's okay, feel free to speak. There's no standard answer to this question."

"Bring criminals to justice and let beautiful people no longer live in fear. I was born into a land rife with crime and violence because I have suffered and struggled, so I don't want our descendants to experience the same torment."

"The judiciary is merely a channel for me to seek justice, not my ultimate goal. If all else fails, I will use my fists to uphold the final justice."

Gordon closed his eyes and untied the bandages binding his hands, one by one.

As he uttered these words, the once spirited figure gradually emerged behind him.

-

When he opened his eyes, the two became one.

Compared to when he first stepped into the fighting arena, Gordon's gaze had become sharper, and he breathed heavily to calm his rapid heartbeat.

His steps were still unsteady, every muscle in his body twitching and trembling with soreness, but he had already taken that step.

Gordon no longer hoped to get out of prison; he only wanted to follow the bold words he had uttered in his youth and put the final justice into practice with his fists.

Even in the dirtiest corners of Gotham, he will fight for justice.

On the other side of the ring, the KGB beast let out a short, cold laugh through his teeth.

He gave Gordon plenty of breathing time, all for this moment.

Only a dazzling light has the value of being extinguished.