"Yes." Batman looked at the green dot on the GPS representing Theodore: "I'll go find Dwarf Falcon." Although Penguin and Black Mask had been captured, there were still many remaining stragglers on the streets.
And many Gotham thugs, taking advantage of the chaos, were out on the streets trying to profit from tonight's disorder. On such a turbulent night, Batman couldn't let Theodore wander the streets; it wasn't safe.
Oh, got it.
Tim drew out his words, very considerately taking on the remaining work. "No problem, leave it to , B, there won't be any oversights—Dwarf Falcon seems to have so misunderstanding, you should talk to him properly.
And, although I know it's unlikely, an excited Robin always has to hold onto hope— "Can I borrow the batmobile?"
Batman firmly replied, "No." "…Sigh, well, I knew it."
The batmobile, following the GPS, stopped steadily at the entrance of an alley.
Upon seeing the surroundings of the alley, both Theodore, who was about to set off on his motorcycle, and Batman, who had smoothly braked, fell silent.
Batman imdiately recognized where this was.
And Theodore—he only just now realized that this alley, into which the green-haired thug had casually pushed him, was actually very familiar.
That's right, it was the very alley where Theodore first went to find Lena to "buy spring" and was later caught by Batman!
This was already the third ti, how could such a coincidence happen in the world!
In that mont of mutual staring, the expression Theodore showed gave Batman a strange hallucination, as if he saw a stubborn rabbit repeatedly hitting a tree.
His aning was, it's already the third ti, does Theodore absolutely have to be in this alley? What if Theodore just moved his feet, walked fifty steps west, and chose an adjacent alley?
Under Batman's cowl, Bruce even couldn't help but glance around the alley's environnt, pondering what exactly about this place attracted Theodore.
Otherwise, tomorrow Wayne Group would just buy this alley outright. But from beneath Batman's impenetrable Kevlar mask, besides his firm resolve, you couldn't see anything else.
The batmobile's headlights flashed, illuminating the gloomy, damp alley.
Two human legs in the trash can were still moving, alive.
The green-haired man lying on the ground—Barbara had confird he wasn't a Joker gang mber, just a Gotham citizen with peculiar taste—his chest rising and falling, also alive.
With a quick glance, Batman retracted his gaze, fixing his eyes on Theodore's hand.
Theodore was holding a modified large-caliber pistol in a clearly amateurish grip.
"This is dangerous, you don't know how to use a gun, it's very easy for it to misfire." Batman asked, though he already knew the answer, "Who gave you this gun?"
The answer to this question was simply obvious. After all, at the end of the gun grip, there was a very iconic small red bat printed on it.
Batman was rely using it to start a conversation, nothing more.
But even Batman didn't expect Theodore to give such a… well, there's no way to describe it, an answer.
Theodore looked at the two white patches on Batman's mask that represented his eyes, and with an incredibly sincere tone, swore to the heavens. "The gun fell from the sky, it might be a self-service phenonon unique to Gotham.
Batman: "…"
Feeling that Batman didn't seem to believe him, Theodore quickly added, "I originally wanted to return it to its owner. But when I caught up, I only saw a red bucket floating over the rooftop…"
Batman: "…"
In the shared communication channel, upon hearing this description, Robin and Oracle were already laughing their heads off.
Batman's brain started to throb from their noise, and he raised a hand to turn off his end of the sharing.
For so reason, Theodore actually detected a hint of sternness in his tone. "If he gave you the gun, he should at least teach you how to use it."
Batman turned sideways, the moonlight shining on his cape, stretching a lonely shadow behind him, cast bleakly onto a pile of old discarded paper at the alley entrance.
He gestured to Theodore: "Get in the car."
It wasn't Theodore's first ti riding in the batmobile.
Last ti, Batman drove it, taking Theodore on a thirty-kiloter night drive to the east of the city to buy the popular Bat-burger combo.
But seeing its sleek lines, distinct technological and design sense, and the engine roaring like a giant beast, Theodore couldn't help but look at it a few more tis.
And when he got into the car, he pretended to "accidentally" or "inadvertently" touch its exterior.
Batman also pretended not to notice Theodore's small actions.
The batmobile smoothly reversed and turned, speeding onto Gotham's roads.
Amidst the accelerating roar of the engine, Batman, as if looking straight ahead, spoke in a flat voice. "At this ti, you should be at Wayne Manor."
Observing the disdain revealed in Theodore's micro-expressions, Batman seed to ask casually: "You don't like Bruce Wayne?"
Is this a question of liking or not liking? It's a question of only one of them surviving if he continues to live at Wayne Manor with Wayne!
Theodore ranted wildly in his heart.
But he had just had a crazy outburst with the green-haired thug, so his pressure wasn't too great right now; both his expression and tone remained quite calm.
"Please rest assured, Mr. Batman. I understand. I won't speak ill of your respected investor in front of you." "—I don't respect him." Batman said flatly.
Theodore turned his head in surprise, facing Batman.
Beneath the cowl, the man's mature jawline was slightly taut.
His tone was unpleasant, but the intensity of emotion in his words was not enough to make Theodore feel uneasy or threatened.
"Bruce Wayne is a playboy." Batman, in his famous Gotham gravelly voice, gave a rather scathing assessnt.
"He's frivolous, ridiculous, conceited, and empty-headed. He sleeps during board etings, is seen with different supermodels daily, makes the headlines of eight hundred Gotham tabloids, and at over thirty, he's still smug about the idiotic title of 'Gotham Baby.'"
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