Chapter 57: What Is He Afraid Of?
[Template Fusion: 36%]
During this time, David's progress in fusing templates had barely fallen behind.
Bruce Wayne found himself thinking about David from time to time, his emotions mostly a mix of confusion, suspicion, and worry…
"From morning till night, he rarely rests."
One of Batman's greatest personality traits was his suspicion. Even towards his friends, if he perceived a threat or a potential loss of control, he would secretly prepare a contingency plan.
However, a commendable aspect of him was his lack of double standards. He treated himself as harshly, or even more harshly, than he treated others.
His plan to prevent himself from losing control was to have someone dig up his parents' graves and attack him when he was enraged and irrational.
"I need to finish dealing with Avery quickly and return to my hometown."
Compared to Batman, David preferred to gain emotional points from Clark, even though Clark was a bit more of a "savior" than Batman.
The information Mary provided was concise: no photos, only handwritten text.
It was understandable that crime bosses like Falcone and Black Mask wouldn't be easily photographed. If a photo could be taken, it meant there was an opportunity for a shooting.
"The Roman, Carmine Falcone, was reportedly injured strangely in the past few days.
He had bandages on his hands and was unusually wearing a scarf around his neck, as if to conceal bruises on his neck."
Upon seeing this message, David narrowed his eyes.
He didn't need to see the rest. Avery must have targeted the Roman.
Bruce Wayne was dining and chatting with others. When others discussed the vigilante who had recently appeared in Gotham, he casually pointed to his head and dismissively commented, "That guy who dresses up as a bat, his brain might be faulty."
"He must not have many enjoyable things in his life, otherwise, he wouldn't have the leisure to compete with the police for their job."
The restaurant manager walked over, sporting a small mustache and an air of arrogance. "Sir, please mind your female companions. The restaurant's pool is for decoration; you cannot swim in it."
A rich playboy, besides driving luxury cars and dating models, understood no manners at all.
Bruce Wayne glanced back. The two models he brought, clad only in their underwear, had jumped into the decorative pool of the restaurant. They frolicked like two mermaids, splashing water at each other as if no one else was around. Their impolite behavior had already drawn the attention of some patrons.
"I will have to ask you to leave."
"My apologies, they are just a bit unrestrained in personality."
Bruce Wayne offered a slight, apologetic smile and pulled out his checkbook to sign.
"Sir, no matter how large a tip you give me, it's the same."
One zero, two zeros… With a flourish, as if doodling, Bruce Wayne drew a string of zeros. He stood up and, without a care, shoved a check with an astronomical figure into the manager's chest, treating it like a piece of scrap paper.
"I want to buy this restaurant."
"New rule: from now on, the pool is open for swimming."
Ignoring the stunned manager and the frozen patrons at their tables, Bruce Wayne winked at them and jumped into the pool, frolicking with the two models as if they were the only ones there.
In the pool, Bruce Wayne, who was deliberately letting loose to cultivate his playboy persona, suddenly spotted a familiar figure. He froze.
But the two models didn't hesitate; they giggled and splashed water onto his face.
Splash!
Soaked, with his hair plastered to his face, Batman wiped his face. The playful smile he was trying to maintain felt a bit stiff.
Batman in such an awkward situation was a rare sight. David, sitting at a table onshore, retracted his amused gaze and got up to leave with Catwoman, who had finished her meal.
"Bruce, you were so cool today.
Shall we go buy a few more restaurants elsewhere!"
In the pool, the two models were still giggling.
He stiffly nodded in response.
...
"Did you find your target?" Selina, dressed in a black dress, asked as they walked out of the restaurant.
David nodded.
As expected, Avery had gone straight for one of Gotham's biggest crime bosses, Carmine Falcone, upon arriving in Gotham.
"Falcone, nicknamed 'The Roman,' is known for his cold and ruthless nature. The criminal organization he runs is called the Roman Empire. He is almost the biggest mob boss in Gotham today, with connections to Gotham's city councilors and high-ranking police officials."
Someone of his status was generally not dared to be attacked. If attacked, the assailant must have been fully prepared to kill, otherwise, they would face brutal retaliation.
But Falcone was injured, and even had the humiliation of bruises on his neck. The fact that the attacker didn't kill him indicated they didn't fear his retaliation at all.
"So, is our deal settled?"
David knew she was actually asking about her Heart-shaped Grass.
"I'll bring it to you next time I visit Gotham."
"Next time?"
Catwoman's eyes widened, unable to believe what she had heard.
"My dear lady, don't you know that flowers and plants have their seasons?"
David smiled, then glanced behind Catwoman with a sudden look of confusion.
"What is that?"
"What?"
Caught off guard, Catwoman turned her head in confusion. When she looked back, the person was gone. The street was empty, and David had vanished.
She immediately understood what had happened. She had been tricked.
Selina felt like she was about to explode, gritting her teeth like a beautiful but furious black cat.
"Don't let me see you again, you…"
Her anger faltered as Catwoman suddenly realized something. From yesterday until now, she didn't even know the man's name.
Ah, she was going crazy.
Seeing her in a beautiful dress with manners that didn't suggest high society, standing in front of one of Gotham's most expensive restaurants, several passersby shook their heads secretly, thinking she was just another poor girl used and discarded by a rich playboy.
"Miss?" someone tried to strike up a conversation.
"Get lost!"
…
The night was dark. Outside Gotham, in an ancient manor, grim-faced mobsters walked back and forth, leading muscular, spirited dogs, constantly patrolling.
This was the headquarters of Gotham's largest mob boss, The Roman.
The security and defenses were so tight, they even surpassed a prison.
David, dressed in a sharp suit, appeared outside the manor.
"Sometimes, even a child's trick can still fool people."
As for the Heart-shaped Grass…
That was in another universe. He really didn't have it on hand.
But Catwoman wasn't at a total loss. At least she got to eat an expensive meal at a restaurant she'd always wanted to visit.
…
Inside the manor.
The luxurious master bedroom, originally belonging to The Roman, had been occupied by someone. Indecent music was playing from within.
He retreated from the bedroom that was rightfully his.
Falcone's face was ashen. This man, a pivotal figure in Gotham's underworld, a godfather-like figure, had neat, sharp, gray-white short hair and a stern face that commanded authority without anger.
Seeing him emerge, someone immediately stepped forward, eager to say something.
He calmly shook his head, stopping the person from speaking.
"Too close."
He walked all the way to another ancient castle.
"Did you find him?"
"Boss.
His name is Avery Regan, a middle school student from Smallville in Metropolis." his subordinate reported.
"A middle school student?"
Upon hearing this, Falcone's face soured as he touched his neck.
A while ago, someone had suddenly broken into his manor, rendered all the firearms useless, appeared before him in an instant, grabbed him by the neck with one hand, lifted him up, and threatened to break his neck if he didn't submit.
"A middle school student nearly choked me to death."
In the face of a death threat, everyone was equal, forcing him to yield in humiliation to survive.
Though it had only been a few days, it had brought him profound humiliation. His syndicate had become a tool for that brat to play and enjoy himself, and he had become a servant the brat ordered around.
"Our men have been stationed near his parents. With just one command from you, we can apprehend them and use them as leverage at any time."
"Wait, it's not time yet."
Falcone shook his head, his eyes filled with apprehension.
That brat's skin could easily withstand assault rifle bullets, and his speed was faster than sound. He was like a monster, not like the ordinary people he usually dealt with. He had to admit, this made him somewhat afraid.
Young brats were often the most unpredictable individuals in the underworld. They were often bold and reckless, as if they knew no fear, acting without restraint, even capable of anything out of a moment of hot-headedness or impulse.
"Threatening him with his parents might not work. It can only be a trump card for now."
Even though he was over fifty, he still didn't want to risk his own life.
"But until when?"
The mob boss's confidant couldn't help but ask.
"What is he afraid of?"
Inside, Falcone frowned and murmured.
"What?" the confidant asked, confused.
"That kid has some serious reservations," Falcone stated with certainty.
"I've probed him in various ways several times. For instance, I suggested he unify Gotham's underworld with his monstrous abilities. But he seemed to be wary of something himself, delaying his agreement. He just told me to raise assets and gather manpower to follow his orders."
"But what could possibly make someone with his abilities so hesitant?" he furrowed his brow.
If they could figure this out, things would truly be stable.
Just as the Gotham mob godfather and his subordinates were puzzling over this inside the room.
Bang!
The window glass exploded outward, shards flying everywhere, and a chilling figure shot through the window like a cannonball!
Added over eight hundred words, seeking your continued support. (￣▽￣)~*
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