My boyfriend tried to push me into the ground

Gotham.

The clouds once again hung over the city, day after day.

Sunny days in Gotham are few and far between, just as the city's first impression is dreary and depressing.

This is Gotham.

Rain patters buildings, forming black spots or pooling into puddles on uneven ground, with the pungent smell of chemicals mixed in.

The inhabitants of the city had seen it all before, and their faces had not become more animated by the sudden rain, but they were just as dead as ever, as if they were following orders to take out their umbrellas and open them.

The sound of raindrops hitting the waterproof fabric was heard, and then they slid down the arc of the umbrella and splashed onto the ground.

This is Gotham.

Inside the factory, which has not been followed for a long time, the incandescent lamp is covered with a layer of ash, its light is different from the past bright, and the moth is turning impatiently around the lamp, perhaps waiting for a chance to convince itself that it is unnecessary to pash at the heat that is enough to make it disappear.

The truth is, it is always the minority who dare to face death and their own mortality.

"Go home and f*ck yourself, b*st*rd!"

Strong, blue veins burst the arm hit the shabby wooden table, making the table vibrate at the same time with the head of the incandescent lamp was also affected by the shaking, the poor contact of the incandescent lamp flicker a few times lost its role, the original dark room is directly into the darkness.

A faint yellow light appeared in the hands of the young man standing nearby, his black gloves wrapped the handle of the kerosene lamp, and he placed the kerosene lamp in his hands on the middle line of the table, without half a deviation.

The flickering flames in the lampshade could only illuminate the expressions and parts of the bodies of the two people sitting at the table, allowing them to clearly see each other's anger.

"I knew you wanted to f*ck*ng regret it, didn't you?" 'said the man bitterly.

"Regret? Don't you f*ck*ng look what you've done? Aha? How dare you bring this monster here. The angel of judgment?"

"So what? Are you scared? There is no one in Gotham who doesn't know that angels are fair and just."

"But that was twelve years ago, man! The Angel of Judgment hasn't been in Gotham in 12 years! Everyone knows the Angel of Judgment died twelve years ago in a 'big accident,' and you think this unknown guy is the Angel of judgment?" The angry man pointed at the straight-backed young man in the shadows.

"He bears the symbol of the angel of judgment, the staff of the angel of judgment."

"F*ck, God knows if that thing's fake. Wake up and judge that the angel will not be a witness to s*x transactions, he will only wring your neck and mine with a dead face."

"You're the one who should wake up, no one says that every generation of adjudicators has to follow the rules of the last generation of Adjudicators, stop it, since Batman is about to get us clean, at least now the adjudicators are on our side." "The name Astragalea stands for fairness, and he's certainly the most impartial witness to a situation where Batman would just kick our *ss."

"D*mn it, you're crazy."

"Thanks, I'm just more awake than everyone else."

The object of their discussion - the angel of judgment.

The young man was standing at their table, dressed in a gothic black coat with a suit waistcoat and shirt underneath, and a black ribbon tied in a knot at the neck.

The young raven's short black hair fell to his ears, his silvery eyes reflected the dancing flame of a candle, his bloodless face was only slightly bloodied by the thin lips, and he maintained an expression of utter indifference.

The young man did not feel angry or other emotions because the two people treated him as an object and the butcher was not afraid to express their distrust in front of him, but he just stood there quietly.

All the Angel of judgment needs to do is maintain and ensure that the scales are not tilted in either direction.

The so-called 'absolute' neutrality.

The Angel of Judgment, the angel of Judgment born in the darkest days of Gotham before the Dark Knight, he was gifted by God, he was God's apostle, he was sent by God to protect Gotham.

Carrying the glory and gift of God, he is the balance that regulates and measures black and white.

Known as the Dark Age of Gotham with no light or future to speak of, the Angel of Judgment was the only knight in Gotham who dared to judge evil, and countless criminals were killed by him.

Before the Angel of Judgment can drive the Gotham Underworld into a corner, he will suddenly disappear without a trace, leaving a group of terrified criminals behind.

He's allowing the darkness to grow, and when it does, the Angel of Judgment will do another purge of Gotham's evil.

Day after day, year after year.

Until the birth of the Dark Knight Batman.

At the beginning, the young Batman was not strong, he was young and inexperienced, like a tireless beast breaking into the dragon's territory, several times near death, the angel of judgment always appeared suddenly from various places to save Batman.

Up to now, Batman has been able to contend with the darkness on his own, and the true mission of the judge Angel has shown that he stands in the neutral camp, which side is too strong, he will stand in the opposite weak side, until the black and white balance again.

The ruling angel has been maintaining the balance between black and white, he is absolutely fair, absolutely neutral, can not be bought by anyone or forces, no matter which side of the ruling angel temporarily joined the camp, is strong enough to shake the other camp.

Everyone wants the Angel of Judgment, everyone fears the Angel of judgment, everyone admires the Angel of Judgment, everyone fears the Angel of judgment.

God does not give absolute gifts to any one person, God is fair, with the ability to judge the genius of the judgment angels are not listed in the field of life only 35 years.

Usually, they marry and have children in their adult years, raise the next generation of angels, and then go to heaven to become real angels and return to the arms of their families and fathers.

The young angel of judgment will take over the responsibilities of his father and continue to operate as a Libra with the help of his mother's teaching and the gifts etched in his DNA.

Of course, none of this is known to ordinary people.

God is cruel.

In the name of "honor," he deprived Astragalea of the right to choose, forcing them to accept this honor with their heads high, and to accept their fate in the future.

God will reclaim the souls of all the ruling angels and crush them. Heaven doesn't need another ruling angel from earth.

These judgments, which have only a short life span of a few decades, the angels gave everything to the Lord Father, but in the end, they could not even go to heaven or Hell to receive souls, and their existence was truly erased.

The above two words are the thoughts of the angel of this judgment, Thorne Astragalea.

His late father, or grandmother, or great-grandfather, or any of the Asstrirea might not have agreed with him, and it didn't matter, they wouldn't have crawled out of the cemetery to slap him.

It's weird, isn't it?

The revered judge angel wants to be free of glory.

He's the only outlier in his family, and since he's the only one left, he doesn't think his family can crawl out of the graveyard and grab him by the collar and make him admit his mistake and accept his fate with gratitude and pride.

After all, their souls have been wiped out, disappearing in the real sense of the present and the future, only existing in the past.

He's a pawn of the world, a pawn of God.

The funny thing is, he's the only one --

Thorne raised his eyes slightly, sensing something familiar in the air, and a dark shadow flashed across the candlelit wall.

Thorne cast an impassive glance at the two men discussing the deal, who were of little importance to the order of Gotham than the forces they represented.

The Mad Hatter and the Black Mask.

Even if the deal is unfair, the friction between the two sides will not erupt for a while, and then he can intervene again.

Right now.

The two men did not yet perceive the danger that was looming.

Thorne did not want to meet the true guardians of the city for a while, given that they had lived together for a long time and knew each other well.

For his original departure without saying goodbye, Thorne will be embarrassed to meet them again.

So Thorne in the eyes of the two unknown, calmly walked to the window with a steady pace, from behind to take out the weapons of the angels of the past, but also their identity symbol - Estelea.

A black cane about 140 centimeters long, carved with gold lines, the head of the cane is a golden base, on which the statue of Estelea, goddess of justice and stars, stands quietly.

The pale gold goddess shines brightly, wearing a long mat dress and an expensive gold crown. She holds the torch with her hands clasped in front of her chest, her huge wings slightly folded and her feathers folded together.

Thorne tossed the Estelea up, grabbed it by the black end like a baseball bat, swung the stick, and knocked the statue down against the black window.

It looks like the judge angel has no respect for the Stars.

The harsh sound mixed with the broken glass scattered on the ground, and Thorne, in the midst of the Shouting of the two men, one hand supported the windowsill, and his legs jumped over the window bars from the second floor.

Thorne fell lightly to the ground and stood upright, the moment he landed on the ground, the unconcealed breath of the man behind him made Thorne unconsciously slightly skim his head, and the next second familiar voice came from behind him.

Thorne turned slowly, his face deadpan thought, it would be too hypocritical to say not to miss this voice, but this voice more often represents the people Thorne does not want to face for a while the Guardian of Gotham is nearby.

"Good evening, Brother Thorne," the young man's voice sounded soft and magnetic, and the combination of two completely inappropriate voices sounded perfectly compatible with him.

Thorne shook his fingers a little uncomfortably and raised his eyes to look at the young man. He thought Tim's tone and reaction should have been more violent.

The young man was leaning against the wall in his tight red and black uniform, his arms round his chest, his long, straight legs folded together, his slender black hair turned back, the blindfold covering half his face, the lip flap raised at an Angle, the strip of his cloak swaying slightly in the wind.

Thorne's age is similar to the young people with young people's unique vigor and vitality, and Thorne's lifeless feeling is completely different.

The youth's voice was slightly different from the last time Thorne had heard it, the soft, boyish tone that had changed to the crisp tone that it now had.

Thorne looked calmly at the young man, who was much taller than he had been before, with a neat figure and a muscular body that was not exaggerated.

None of this kind of thing stopped telling Thorne that the little boy who once liked to hide behind him by his legs and stick his tongue out at Damian was growing up, and now he was strong enough to fly with all his heart.

"I don't suppose Thorngo has forgotten my name?" When Thorne did not reply to him, the young man raised his eyebrows with a slight teasing question.

Thorne was silent and did not reply to the young man's words. That's right. That's Tim's style.

Thorne did not want to admit that he found something reassuring in this rare familiarity.

Thorne looked around him calmly, guarding his side lest some familiar black figure suddenly appear behind him or descend from the sky.

The roar of the factory, the sound of gunfire coming into Thorne's ears through the concrete walls, let Thorne know that now the person he least wants to meet is dealing with the enemy in the factory and will not have time to find him.

After a moment, Thorne threw back his head and said slowly, "Tim."

When Thorne said his name correctly, Tim smiled and pursed his lips. "I knew Thorngo wouldn't forget 'family.'"

Thorne frowned and looked away a little. He didn't want to hear Tim say anything useless.

'Family'

"Yes." Thorne wrapped himself in a tone of indifference.

"Why? Is the Angel of judgment so busy that there is no time to catch up?" Tim still had the same smile on his face, the same soft tone, and his words seemed to be sarcastic.

Thorne could pick up something in Tim's tone that wasn't friendly, like sarcasm or something. Tim's clearly done pretending to be friendly now.

Thorne cast his eyes unconsciously on the factory.

Tim let out a sneer when he saw what Thorne was worried about.

Tim said, "Don't worry, Damian is inside with the new couple. He won't be out any time soon."

"The new guy is a great kid, Jason Todd, and despite his dark history of robberies, he'll be a great Robin bird, like Damian, like you, like me."

"What do you want to say?" Thorne asked in a steady voice.

He chose not to correct the wrong word in Tim's words here, the one about calling him Robin Bird.

Reason told Thorne that if he pointed out