Despite his disheveled appearance upon first seeing Gwen, he still stiffened his neck and asked, feigning composure, "What are you doing here?"
Though his voice feigned toughness, it still carried a faint tremor.
Gwen saw this scene and said nothing, merely smiling.
All school bullies, these kinds of hooligans, were like this.
He dared to be arrogant because he thought he was ruthless.
If you were more ruthless than him and scared him into submission, he would cower.
Brucey bit her lower lip, her eyes burning with anger, glaring at him intensely without a word.
Her hands were clenched into fists, her nails almost digging into her palms, and her body trembled slightly with fury.
Gwen, however, still wore a faint smile, a smile that, in the boy's eyes, was full of pressure, like a lamb facing a smiling hunter.
She stood there quietly, her gaze calm, yet it made the boy feel even more flustered.
The boy grew increasingly agitated by their silence, his fear gradually transforming into annoyance.
He couldn't help but take a step forward, yelling loudly at the two, "Get lost! Don't just stand there by my door, it's annoying to look at!"
As soon as his words fell, Brucey exploded like a lit powder keg.
All the anger she had accumulated for so many days surged out like a breached flood, and she fiercely threw a punch directly towards the boy's face.
Logically, the boy's physical condition was better than Brucey's, but faced with this sudden attack, he was completely unprepared.
Brucey's fist was wrapped with that string of pearl necklace, which shimmered with a cold light in the sun as her fist rapidly approached.
With a dull thud, the fist landed squarely on the boy's face.
And the string of pearl necklace wrapped around her fist, acting like brass knuckles, made the boy feel dizzy and disoriented.
In that moment, the boy's mind went blank, as if all thought had ceased.
His body uncontrollably reeled backward, falling straight to the ground and kicking up a cloud of dust.
At this moment, Brucey was consumed by anger; looking at the boy on the ground, the fury in her heart did not diminish in the slightest, but burned even more intensely.
Her eyes bloodshot, she looked at the boy on the ground, like an enraged Beast, relentlessly throwing continuous punches at him.
"You! Actually! Insulted! My! Parents!"
Each punch carried endless hatred, fiercely striking the boy's body.
It was not only anger at his actions, but also anger at herself, anger at that guy named Joe Chill, and anger at all of Gotham.
Before her parents died, Gotham was just an ordinary city where she grew up in her eyes.
But after her parents died, the filter shaped by love shattered instantly.
She finally discovered that the warm feeling was only because she was enveloped in warmth.
Parents, sister, Alfred. Under their care, the entire city was like a city full of hope.
But after her parents left, the city only showed her gray, nothing else.
"Bang, bang, bang!"
The boy initially tried to struggle, wildly waving his hands to block Brucey's punches, shouting loudly for her to stop.
As the punches continued to fall, the boy gradually lost strength, only able to emit painful groans, and began to beg for mercy: "Stop hitting me, I was wrong."
But at this time, Brucey couldn't hear what anyone else was saying, and just desperately continued to beat him.
Dull thuds continued to ring out, and the boy's body swayed with each of Brucey's punches.
Gwen stood by, quietly watching it all.
She did not stop Brucey; she knew that Brucey's pain and anger needed an outlet.
But now, the unfortunate child opposite had already fainted, and his face was starting to swell, so she felt it was enough.
Gwen stepped forward, extended her hands, and gently embraced Brucey, softly saying, "Brucey."
Brucey turned her head towards Gwen at the sound, her eyes bloodshot, her right fist trembling slightly, with some bloodstains on the pearl necklace.
And upon seeing that face, which they had watched grow up together since childhood, her body suddenly trembled, and the wildly flailing fist stopped mid-air.
She seemed to awaken from a nightmare, and a trace of clarity gradually returned to her eyes.
She looked down at the boy lying on the ground, his face covered in blood, then at her raised right hand, and suddenly felt all the strength drain from her body.
Brucey lowered her right hand, her legs gave way, and she dropped to her knees on the ground.
Gwen gently pulled her into her embrace and softly said, "If you keep hitting him like this, someone will really die."
"Mm."
"Are you feeling a little better?"
"Mm."
"Shall we go home then?"
"...Mm."
Just then, Gwen's phone rang abruptly, breaking the quiet time between the sisters.
Gwen, still holding Brucey, pulled out her phone from her pocket; the screen displayed an incoming call from Alfred.
Gwen gently swiped the screen, answered the call, and held the phone to her ear.
"Hello, Alfred." Gwen's voice remained steady and calm; the intense scene just now had not affected her in the slightest.
On the other end of the line, Alfred's voice came through: "Miss, someone has arrived at the manor gate."
"It is the target, correct?"
"At least from our conversation, yes." Alfred's tone was unhurried, as he had somewhat anticipated the current situation.
Gwen's trust in Alfred was naturally very high.
Except for not telling him that the Wayne Couple were still alive and about the broken watch, Gwen could tell him everything.
Moreover, if she wanted to implement her plan, it would be much easier if Alfred was aware of it.
"I am just calling to inform you that you should evacuate."
"I know, we are on our way." Gwen, back in the car, looked at her sister beside her and couldn't help but rub the little girl's face, "When the time comes, just use the template I gave you earlier to sign the contract. Just print whatever time the contract is signed."
"Understood." Alfred replied, "I will sign the contract with him once I confirm that you and the young mistress have an alibi. Please rest assured, everything will be handled properly."
"Okay, Alfred, thank you for delaying him." At this point, Gwen's voice became playful, "Oh, by the way, Alfred, I'm planning to take little Brucey out to eat something. Do you have any restaurant or dish recommendations?"
This noticeably lighter and more lively voice left Alfred somewhat taken aback.
He pondered for a moment, just about to make a serious recommendation, when Gwen, as if she had heard what she was about to say to him, started speaking to herself: "Fish and chips? Oh dear, would it be too simple if I treated Brucey to that?"
Alfred on the other end of the phone paused for a second, then realized his young mistress was joking.
To this, he could only sigh softly with a helpless tone and say, "Miss, to think that British cuisine only consists of fish and chips, that is a stereotype."
"Britain has some of Europe's most famous restaurants." Gwen's voice was incredibly light, "But they serve French cuisine."
"Pfft!" Alfred could hear a little girl who couldn't help but laugh.