Chapter 337: I, Allen, God of the Bottle
"Ah… slow down, I'm scared."
Casey clung to Allen's neck, eyes tightly shut in fear.
"Alright—let's go even faster!"
Allen grinned wildly with excitement, his hands moving faster and faster, the wheelchair rattling as if it might fall apart.
By now, they'd long left the battlefield, heading straight toward the city.
Meanwhile, Director Ellie was more concerned with Mr. Glass and the others. After all, they were a criminal gang. She was confident she could easily recapture Allen—he didn't exactly seem like the brightest.
Bang!
As expected, they crashed without a hitch.
The wheelchair veered straight into a ditch by the roadside.
As it tipped, Allen decisively scooped up Kevin and abandoned the chair to save the girl.
"Can you please put me down?"
Kevin was a little embarrassed, avoiding eye contact.
It had been a wild day—kidnapped by criminals, then inexplicably rescued by a lunatic. Even her dreams weren't this absurd.
"This time, I won't let go again." Allen gazed at her with intense emotion.
"But... I don't even know you."
Kevin suspected he had the wrong person. She was just a high school girl and had never even interacted with boys before.
Splash!
"Ahh…"
Without hesitation, Allen tossed her into the ditch, his voice mournful and melancholy: "Just as I thought. You really are a cold and heartless woman."
He turned to leave.
Sitting in the ditch, Kevin called out, "What's your name?"
"Two lost souls adrift in this world—why bother learning each other's names? Just think of me as a forgotten lunatic no one cares about… sob sob sob…"
Covering his face as he cried, Allen bolted toward the city.
Watching his retreating figure, Kevin's heart trembled slightly, as though something important had just slipped away.
A lingering melancholy settled in her chest, hard to shake off.
Following the highway, it took less than half an hour to reach the city.
Allen looked around, feeling both unfamiliar and familiar at the same time.
Unfamiliar, because he'd never been here before; familiar, because all skyscrapers looked more or less the same.
"Bat-boy?"
Suddenly, three figures struggling in a scuffle turned into a nearby alley.
Allen squinted. He wasn't mistaken—that was this universe's version of Bruce Wayne. Only, he seemed to be a teenager.
"Bruce, you stay in the car and be ready to pick us up," said a middle-aged man, handing car keys to the young Bruce.
Bruce, wearing a leather jacket, looked rebellious and uncooperative. "Why do we have to rob banks? I think we should get a real job."
Smack!
His mother, Martha, slapped him hard, her tone exasperated as she scolded him: "The Wayne family has been robbers for generations. Robbing banks is our pride. How can we let the family tradition die?"
"Bruce, recite the family motto," Thomas ordered gravely.
Clutching his stinging cheek, Bruce looked at his father's stern expression, then reluctantly and bitterly recited, "Wayne family heirs would rather starve than beg. Prison is the final destination of every Wayne."
"Don't disappoint me," Thomas nodded in approval, then walked out of the alley with Martha.
Bruce was left behind, gripping the car keys tightly, his face filled with frustration and helplessness.
Before long, the whole family had gone.
Hidden in the shadows, Allen had witnessed the entire scene.
"What a tragedy."
He sighed. "In this world, Batman's parents are alive… and they're criminals."
"But since Bat-boy still has a conscience, I'll give him a hand."
He glanced at a bottle by the trash can. An idea began to form.
At that moment, Bruce was driving the family's only valuable car, heading slowly toward the target bank.
His only role was to wait outside—not to take part in the robbery.
He'd made it clear many times that he didn't want to be involved, so Thomas and Martha didn't force him—just made him the getaway driver.
Of course, Bruce had a talent for driving and had often helped them escape the police.
Wee-woo wee-woo wee-woo…
As police sirens blared past, Bruce's pupils shrank. Something was wrong.
A moment later, he calmed himself and deliberately slowed the car.
"I'm sorry… I can't keep watching you go down this path."
At that moment, Bruce made a major decision—he wouldn't pick up his parents. He hoped that some time in prison might set them straight.
Sure enough, the police stopped at First Republic Bank.
Armed officers surrounded the place to arrest the robbers.
Bruce idled nearby, pretending to be just another onlooker.
Within fifteen minutes, the operation was complete—a middle-aged couple was escorted into a police cruiser.
Watching his parents get arrested, Bruce felt a complex mix of emotions.
He felt guilty for betraying them, but more than that, an overwhelming sense of relief.
He didn't linger. He got back in the car and drove away, looking forward to a new life.
Little did he know—he was no longer alone in the car. In the back seat, a wine bottle had mysteriously appeared.
Without pause, he drove west toward another city.
Bruce had decided to start fresh somewhere new.
"Huh? Why is there a bottle back there?"
Driving along the empty highway, Bruce noticed the bottle in the corner of the back seat.
He pulled over to get rid of it.
If a patrol officer saw it, they might think he was drinking and driving—then he'd be detained, questioned, and maybe even matched to a wanted list. That'd land him in jail young.
He casually tossed the bottle into the grass.
"What the…?!"
Just as he turned back to the car, he saw the bottle was suddenly back at his feet. A chill ran down his spine.
He'd just seen it land in the grass. How could it be right here again?
In truth, it was simple: Allen, still invisible, had quietly put it back.
Picking it up and confirming it was the same brand, Bruce looked around warily. Was someone playing a prank?
But the empty wilderness around him only emphasized the eerie silence.
"Did I see a ghost?"
Bruce's shoulders tensed as unease spread through him.
Huff…
He took a deep breath and tried to comfort himself. "I'm a man of science—there are no such things as ghosts."
Then he looked down at the bottle, his gaze resolute. "It's just a stupid bottle. No way it's scaring me."
Crash!
With that, he smashed it to pieces.
"Human… thank you for releasing me."
A stranger's voice suddenly rang out behind him. Bruce, who'd just calmed down, tensed again. His neck turned stiffly toward the sound—only to see a man in a hospital gown, arms folded, rising and falling on his tiptoes like he was pretending to float.
"W-Who are you?!"
Bruce felt like his heart was about to leap out of his chest.
There was no one around a second ago. Where had this guy come from? It made no sense at all.
"I am the Bottle God who was trapped inside that vessel."
Allen spoke with utmost seriousness. "As your reward for releasing me, you must now fulfill three of my wishes."
"..."
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