DC & Marvel: This Guy Is Crazy

Chapter 161: Crafting Personas for the Midnight Bruisers

A flurry of camera flashes erupted.

The reporters from newspapers and radio stations wouldn't dare miss the perfect opportunity for a front-page photo.

Standing at center stage was Allen, flanked by the Midnight Bruisers on one side and the Comedy Troupe on the other.

The world had gone so mad it felt surreal—once-infamous supervillains now rebranded as superheroes. It was almost too bizarre to believe.

But the facts were undeniable, and they made for jaw-dropping headlines.

"Let me proudly introduce the members of the Midnight Bruisers."

Allen walked over to Russell, who was clad in a raincoat and rubber boots.

The museum had been flooded with holy water, with not even a dry spot to stand. They had to borrow waterproof gear from the police—otherwise, the only option would've been to carry Russell out in his stone coffin.

"This here is a hero with a tragic past. He carries a curse that allows him to transform into a werewolf. His codename is 'Midnight Wolfman.' He serves as the team's tracker. Just look at that rugged face, his heartbreaking backstory, the way love turned him into a wolfman, and how he remains unwavering and regretless—he's clearly a devoted romantic. That reminds me of a song…"

Russell widened his eyes in disbelief at Allen's narration.

When was I ever some tragic romantic?

And how did love turn me into a wolfman?

Russell looked utterly bewildered. Changing his origin story was one thing—but did it have to be this ridiculous?

Allen began to sing with feeling:

"I became a werewolf for you,

Lost my mind for you,

Put on heavy disguise for you,

Changed my heart for you…

Can we meet again?

I prayed to the Lord for thousands of years…"

Honestly, Allen's sudden singing wasn't bad at all—he had decent pitch.

His sorrowful tone even managed to move several female reporters.

Women are emotional creatures—without a touching backstory, how could you create market value?

Russell couldn't compete with Nick or Orm in terms of looks or with Morbius in raw power. Playing the sympathy card was his best bet.

"The second member is the messenger of the god Set, codename: Pharaoh. He's a man chosen by one of the principal deities of ancient Egypt, carrying a divine mission. Uh…"

Allen paused, noting that Nick was still in his mummy form. He whispered a reminder, "Can you drop the transformation? You'll scare the kids."

Nick reluctantly dispelled his transformation and immediately reverted to a handsome, chiseled appearance.

"Wow, he's so hot!"

"I thought he was just bones! He's like a top-tier movie star!"

"Now that I think about it, mummies aren't so scary after all…"

Top Hollywood heartthrob looks—Tom Cruise level. Even Allen had to admit defeat on that front.

Immediately, the women present swarmed with cameras and phones, taking countless pictures and uploading them to their social feeds.

Allen stared at Nick's sharply defined features for a long moment, then finally muttered, "He's got nothing going for him except being handsome."

Then came "Ocean Master" Orm. Allen clicked his tongue. "Great, another pretty boy."

With a sigh, Allen began, "He's another tragic soul. Originally the king of Atlantis, until Aquaman butted in—stole his throne, stole his fiancée, and even locked him up. So I busted him out. A man with a righteous heart shouldn't suffer wrongful imprisonment."

Spicy stuff—now even linked to the Justice League through Aquaman.

Nowadays, Atlantis had already established diplomatic ties with major surface nations, and that wasn't exactly a secret anymore.

Just basic government-level exchanges—same with Themyscira.

Even Wakanda had established its own foreign diplomacy.

People usually believe what they see on the surface. They'd rather accept Orm as a tragic male lead than consider he once tried to start a war with the surface world.

Even if the Justice League publicly listed Orm's crimes, it would likely just be seen as a way to protect Aquaman and maintain the royal status quo.

Orm remained silent. Naturally, he wouldn't deny anything on the spot.

There's no benefit in yelling "all humans must die" in public—he'd be lucky to even make it out of Gotham alive.

The next day, the entire Justice League would show up to drag him back into custody.

"And finally, we have Dr. Midnight."

Allen raised his voice a bit for effect: "Dr. Morbius is a brilliant scientist with a disabled body and an unbreakable will. After a lab accident, he gained incredible powers. He's not just the team's main combat force—he's got a mind I'm envious of…"

With a media-friendly presentation, the Midnight Bruisers were officially packaged as a legitimate superhero team.

There were tons of superhero teams in the world, many supported through commercial avenues to fund their operations.

The public was used to it. What really drew attention were teams with unique quirks—many had their own online rankings.

Some fringe teams even resorted to scandal-baiting just to boost popularity.

Strike while the iron's hot.

Allen immediately formed a company backed financially by the Comedy Troupe.

Of course, Allen didn't care about any of that—he never had much interest in making money.

After overseeing the transfer of criminals to Blackgate Prison and delivering the four judges to Arkham Asylum, he finally went home.

After a long night, collapsing into his hospital bed felt like coming home.

"Nanaue, check this out—I've got something cool!"

Allen proudly pulled out the red bat from his pocket and waved it in front of Nanaue. "This is my new pet. Isn't it cute?"

"Ahh! A rat!!"

Thud!

Nanaue froze for a beat, then panicked and bolted, slamming straight through a wall and leaving a perfect King Shark-shaped hole behind.

"Nanaue's scared of rats!"

Came his frightened voice from a distance.

Indeed, back in World War II, Nanaue had already shown an intense fear of rats.

Allen glanced at his new pet and nodded. "Bats really do look like rats."

"I need to feed them."

He rummaged through his wardrobe and pulled out a banana.

As a man who often roamed outdoors, Allen kept a stock of survival supplies and snacks in his wardrobe. Problem was, he rarely ate them. Nurse Catherine would occasionally tidy up and toss expired items.

"Here, sweetie, eat the banana."

…

Meanwhile, at the vampire stronghold—

Lilith was hiding alone in her room.

Her once-proud chest was now as flat as a board.

With her hair disheveled, she looked utterly disheveled and miserable.

When she'd transformed into a swarm of bats to escape, she never expected that lunatic would manage to snatch that particular bat from her chest area.

"Again?!"

Lilith's bloodshot eyes twitched.

That bat was part of her—she could feel everything it felt in real time.

Just now, waves of tingling sensations had coursed through her body, like being electrocuted over and over again.

Clutching her chest, her body trembling, Lilith gritted her teeth and growled, "What the hell is that maniac doing to my bat?!"

…

The bat refused to eat.

Allen dismantled a lighter and used the igniter to zap the bat with jolts of electricity.

Refused once? Zap. Still refused? Zap again.

After several rounds, the bat finally gave in and began nibbling on the banana.

"I am a pet expert—cured its picky eating problem just like that."

The red bat stared at him with big, watery eyes full of grievance, chewing the banana like it was wax.

A vampire-turned-bat should logically be fed blood.

But Allen wasn't about to feed it his own blood—he'd just give it whatever was on hand.

…

"Mmmngh… it's swelling again…"

Lilith bit her lip, unable to imagine what depraved act the lunatic was committing with her bat.

She was the progenitor of all vampires—her body had remained untouched for centuries, never having any physical contact with the opposite sex.

Even her daily needs were handled by two female queens. She had no concept of the filth that happened between men and women.

"…Now this side is swelling too."

She couldn't even describe the feeling. All she felt was a rising sense of humiliation.

She shouldn't have turned into a whole swarm of bats—just one bat would've sufficed.

The bat swarm strategy had a higher survival rate. As long as one escaped, she could regenerate.

Besides, all her past enemies would just destroy the bats outright. None had ever captured and kept one.

"Your Majesty, it's time for the council."

Her two queen attendants entered, seeing Lilith curled up awkwardly in her coffin.

The moment they noticed her now-flat chest, they understood everything.

"Help me change. Something more formal."

Lilith mustered her strength and gave firm instructions: "No one can find out about this."

"Yes, Your Majesty."

As the Vampire Progenitor, she was supposed to be noble and pure—if word got out that a part of her body was being toyed with, her reputation would be ruined.

They dressed her in loose robes to hide the physical deficiency. Lilith took a deep breath and resumed her usual dignified demeanor.

The vampire council was already assembled and waiting.

"Your Majesty, disaster has struck," one prince began.

"We mobilized our entire force, and the Tribunal used the opportunity to attack. They've wiped out several pureblood enclaves."

"That's right—many of our storage bases were captured. The fate of the slumbering clans inside is uncertain."

"We barely have enough scattered survivors left to wage a proper war…"

Every report was a catastrophe. Lilith was visibly shaken.

Clearly, this had been a coordinated, large-scale purge targeting vampires.

There weren't just monster hunters in the world—many religious organizations also existed.

Among them, the Tribunal was one of the oldest, having clashed with vampires for over a thousand years.

Seated at the head of the table, Lilith appeared stunned, as if overwhelmed by the bad news.

In reality, she was just afraid that if she opened her mouth, she'd accidentally moan.

The vampire nobles waited in silence for their progenitor's decision.

"Her Majesty must be exhausted. Let us reconvene another day."

Seeing the signs, one of the queen attendants quickly stepped in and helped Lilith up. Even through her robes, she could feel her trembling.

…

Back at Arkham Asylum, Allen was happily brushing the bats' teeth with a toothbrush, filling their mouths with foam.

"You gotta brush after every meal. Good habits start young."

He rinsed their mouths and then scratched them both under the chin, making "tickle-tickle" noises.

Any ordinary bat would've been long dead by now in Allen's hands.

But this was the Vampire Progenitor in bat form—her vitality was beyond absurd. As long as she wasn't exposed to sunlight, silver, or holy water, she was practically unkillable.

Allen found a pair of clean socks and wrapped the bat in them.

Satisfied, he lay back in bed and fell into a deep, peaceful sleep.

Moonlight streamed in through the window, casting a shadow across his bed.

"Damn it, the rat stole Nanaue's bed…"

Nanaue glared hatefully at the sock-wrapped bat but didn't dare approach it out of fear.

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