"For example?"
The bunker door opened, and Bruce Wayne walked deeper, dusting himself off, conversing with his Master, Alfred.
"For example, I didn't consider that among the masked robbers who held up the Gotham National Bank today, number five was actually a left-hander who loved to kill.
My attempt to infiltrate them and investigate the activities of the gang behind them failed."
In fact, the danger was far greater than that; his hesitation to shoot made him suspicious, and the gang leader pressed a cold, hard pistol to his head.
He was nearly riddled with bullets by the gang and the arriving Police, who were unaware of the situation, only escaping by scrambling into a street sewer.
Batman, who instilled fear in the night, almost fell during a daytime robbery.
"So stupid, Bruce," he muttered to himself in his heart as he walked through the bunker corridor, listening to his own muffled footsteps.
This was a lesson that had to be remembered.
From now on, no matter what he did, he needed to prepare and research more.
The current Bruce Wayne, who had only recently returned to Gotham to fight crime, was not yet the Batman of later years—the one who was impeccable in his actions, liked to think three steps ahead, and always had a backup plan.
However, he was learning and adapting quickly, evolving in that direction.
"You never know which comes first, tomorrow or an accident."
The door opened, and seeing his disheveled Master, Alfred, in his butler's uniform, his kind eyes tinged with worry, stepped forward to thoughtfully offer a hot towel and advised,
"Master, perhaps you should rest and take a vacation."
With a life-and-death struggle every day, an irreversible accident might truly happen someday.
"A vacation?
The alley forty feet from the bunker entrance is where my parents died."
His motion to wipe his face paused, and a surge of irritable anger welled up in Bruce Wayne's heart at the thought of that childhood nightmare.
"Alfred, I feel only urgency working here, not the slightest desire to rest."
He had the most advanced weapons, the most sophisticated equipment, and the pinnacle of human combat techniques, but he was not yet strong enough, not seasoned enough, far from being able to handle any cunning and vicious criminals with ease and control.
How could he, in his current state, ever change this city, which was filled with darkness and violence everywhere?
"I must remind you, Master.
Bruce Wayne has not appeared for a long time."
Alfred looked at his Master, who had been madly engaged in fighting crime day and night since his return.
"To be precise, since you returned to Gotham, you haven't appeared in public as Bruce Wayne."
His Master always wore the Batman suit, moving through the city by night, fighting crime, and recently, he hadn't even let go of the daytime, as if he were possessed.
"Bruce Wayne is no longer important, Alfred.
He is just a mask."
Bruce Wayne said with a slightly gloomy expression, his voice low.
"The person I am now is the person I truly want to be!"
Mysterious and powerful, making everyone fear him, cleansing the evil of this terrible city.
Speaking of which, the darkness of this city seemed impossible to eradicate; he had once thought that solving the problem of Jensen, the Vulture, the King of Gotham's underworld, would make Gotham better.
But after Jensen was inexplicably imprisoned and disappeared, the old underground boss Falcone made a comeback.
After a difficult struggle, Falcone was sent to prison, and then a fellow wearing a top hat, a tuxedo, an 80s monocle, pretending to be high society but actually a villain, calling himself Penguin, took to the stage of Gotham's underworld.
One after another.
"Not to mention the gangs, big and small, which, like the moss that sprouts in Gotham's alleys after every rain, are endless."
Bruce Wayne gritted his teeth, a coldness appearing in his eyes; sometimes he thought about acting recklessly, taking care of one or two guys, making those scum fear him more, making them consider the consequences before embarking on a life of crime.
But he couldn't do that; if he did it once, the second time would become easier.
He knew how terrifying the darkness and ruthlessness in his heart were, no less than any ruthless, cruel, and unscrupulous King of the Underworld.
Releasing the beast in his heart was easy, but putting it back was not so simple.
"Master, with all due respect…"
Looking at his Master, who was almost going mad, Alfred was stunned for a long time before speaking, finally sighing.
"You are just impulsively venting your emotions.
In terms of making this city better, your parents were smarter than you.
They used the immense influence of the Wayne Family to change this city."
"I want to sleep for a while, Alfred."
Bruce Wayne frowned at the mention of his parents.
"Before your short and pitiful rest, there is one thing I must tell you." The Master remembered something, his expression not looking good.
"Since your return, you haven't inquired about Wayne Group affairs.
Do you know who is in charge of Wayne Group now?"
"My uncle, one of my few remaining relatives, Philip Kane."
"Yes."
Alfred nodded, then hesitated before saying,
"But the company your parents left you, under your uncle's control, may be operating outside the law and regulations."
"What do you mean?"
Bruce Wayne suddenly turned his head, his gaze sharp.
If someone else had said that his few remaining relatives were doing bad things, using Wayne Group to participate in Gotham's crimes, he wouldn't have believed it much.
But if it was Alfred, the Master who had served their family for decades and had raised him alone after his parents died, then it was a different matter.
"Wayne Group has many dealings with the Military; every year, the Military orders a large number of supplies from Wayne Group, and there is some discrepancy between the amount of arms produced and the numbers in the warehouses."
One of Wayne Group's main businesses was Military defense; Batman's high-precision equipment actually came from Wayne Group.
"Alfred, you… you mean my uncle is using Wayne Group to smuggle weapons?"
He, who had always been obsessed with fighting crime to the point of madness, felt a deep anger of betrayal.
There was a Woodworms within his family.
"I don't know, perhaps Master needs to investigate."
Alfred shook his head slightly.
"You're right, Alfred.
I think I really should appear as Bruce Wayne."
A coldness emanated from Bruce Wayne's eyes.
…
Gotham.
Nighttime was when criminals celebrated; murder, robbery, and various crimes were enacted throughout the city.
However, some people weren't that bad; at most, they just wanted to steal some things they liked.
Late at night, a lavishly decorated private mansion welcomed its second uninvited guest that day.
A woman's figure, agile like an elegant black cat, silently crossed the garden to the base of the building and fired a grappling hook towards the third floor.
"As a woman, isn't it perfectly reasonable to want some beautiful jewelry to adorn one's beauty?"
Opening the window, the beautiful thief, wearing a black eye mask and red lipstick, silently entered the mansion owner's study on the third floor, easily found the hidden safe beneath a painting, and pressed her ear to it, beginning to crack it.
In the silent night, the entire operation was swift and noiseless.
But unfortunately, it still alerted someone.
In a dimly lit room on the second floor, in front of a fireplace with a burning bonfire, a figure in pajamas was flipping through newspapers and news.
He slowly looked up at the third floor.
"It seems this mansion has welcomed another guest."
An uninvited cat burglar…